Chapter 15: Rewriting History
Blink. Don't laugh. Blink.
The Gray Fox droned on. Nim was staring through him. Past his exaggerated hand movements. Past the ghastly cowl that adorned his face. Past his empty promises of glory and legend immortalized.
Don't stand up and shut the door in his face. Blink.
They were sitting in the ground floor of a lavish Imperial City Townhouse. He was speaking about the Imperial Palace, something about the Old Way and the Glass of Time. Nim was counting the threads of yellow fabric in the tapestry directly behind his left shoulder and biting the tip of her tongue.
An Elder Scroll. He wanted her to steal an Elder Scroll. She snapped back to him when he mentioned the Imperial Sewers. She hated that place after having to crawl through it when she escaped the prison. Almost as much as she hated sitting in the Gray Fox's presence. He placed a key on the table. Apparently, he had picked it from the pocket of Ocato himself. Nim raised her brow, impressed. All he seemed to talk to her about was scrying and demanding respect. Until this moment, she hardly believed he was an active thief these days.
The Gray Fox laid a length of parchment on the table and continued on, listing the details of his plan as he pointed to the black ink where he wrote the instruction. For the first time in the entire history of their interactions, Nim was speechless, and not because she was trying to hold her tongue from insulting the cowled imperial. The value of the Boots of Springheel Jak and the Arrow of Extrication were soon made clear to her. He even arranged for her to take the place of Celia Camoran in the reading room of the Imperial Palace. Perhaps she had been wrong about the Guild-Master all this time. Few could draw up a plan as elaborate as this one. But even fewer could pull it off.
Nim tracked a long trail of mud, dust, and blood across the pristine floor of the Imperial reading room as she approached the ornate wooden chair situated before a stone brazier. Both her palms were sweating furiously and the flickering fire so close to her face did nothing to calm or cool her. She debated casting a calm spell, worried that the trained priests could pick up on the rapid beat of her heart as it threatened to leap out of her mouth in one long retch.
As she sat she did her best to funnel her energy toward listening for the sound of footsteps against the stone tile and fighting the impulse to stand and scan the bookshelves lining the walls of the room. It was a rare collection afterall. Who knew when or if she'd have the chance to browse them anytime soon.
The sewers had been full of rats and marauders that she had easily snuck past with the aid of an invisibility spell. That much she anticipated. The Old Way was a long stretch of Ayleid ruin running beneath the Palace District, much like the secret passage she had taken with the Emperor and his Blades. By now she suspected that a subterranean ruin ran throughout the entirety of the Imperial city and was inhabited by the restless spirits of the Ayleids and their slaves. And probably mudcrabs and goblins as well. She encountered her fair share of both as she traversed the narrow halls.
Nim spied a blur of white fabric in the upper corner of her periphery and glanced up to see a priest descend the staircase with a large scroll wrapped around a broad wooden handle. It was a literal scroll. She wasn't sure what she had expected. A stone tablet? A leather bound tome? Not an actual scroll.
"Celia Camoran, the scroll you requested," the priest said, placing it on the stone surface before her. Nim's chest felt so heavy with fear, she wasn't sure she could will herself to speak even if she tried.
Nim reached out and grasped the wooden handle, pulling the scroll closer to her. She ran her trembling hand across the yellowed parchment. She expected to sense a magical aura or an inexplicable power yet unnamed to her but instead, she felt only paper beneath her fingertips. The scrolls were said to be of unknown origin and their contents could tell of the future or allow the reader to see the past events as they transpired with one's own eyes. The Moth Priests were said to have the ability to read the scrolls after years of practice, but only with the cost of their ordinary eyesight.
Nim peeled the edge of the scroll away and rolled the handle to the left. If she read its contents, would she go blind too? The curiosity compelled her despite the fear. She opened the scroll to reveal row upon row of runes of unknown script. Or were they columns? They weren't daedric, that she much she knew. Radiating out from the center of the parchment were a series of concentric ellipses bisected by lines. Some of them formed what looked like constellations or triangles. Some connected circled runes to one another. To Nim, they looked like a celestial orbit, a map of the cosmos. None of it made sense. She felt relieved… and a little bit disappointed.
Slowly, she wrapped up the scroll and secured it with the thread fastner. She clutched it in her sweaty hands and as silently as she could, made her way toward the exit of the reading room. The entrance to the Old Way was now sealed, meaning she had to find another escape. The guards would be on to the ploy as soon as the Priests went to retrieve the missing scroll. The Gray Fox had mentioned that the enchanted boots were enchanted to protect her from long falls, but Nim was uncertain exactly how long a fall she would survive. Her best bet was to look for a window or balcony, even a chimney or garbage shoot would suffice.
Nim ascended the palace floors with her invisibility spell and ducked into the room behind the first open door she came across. Though lavishly decorated, It was mostly empty save a single desk and pair of chairs in the center of the room. Nim continued to move on behind another set of doors that led to a bedroom area. An empty fireplace was built into the far wall. Nim approached it and held her nose to the grate in the floor, smelling for any sign of fire. She could cast frost if necessary, but the scholar within her winced at the thought of carrying an Elder Scroll through open flame. Seeing as there were no alternatives leaping out at her, Nim removed the grate, tucked the elder scrolls under her shirt and leapt to whatever fate await below.
Nim stumbled into the Anvil running on two hours of sleep and three cups of coffee. Carrying an Elder Scroll across the city was nerve-wracking enough, but somehow her trek halfway across the province after she dropped it off with the Gray Fox was one of the most exhausting experience she had ever endured. Not a quarter of an hour went by that she wasn't glancing over her shoulders to check for someone following. Every voice, every footstep, every shadow was a guard approaching with a warrant for her arrest. She was sure that no one had seen her during the heist, but something about being wanted by the law stirred awake a child-hood terror from the recesses of her memory.
Once she reached the West Weald she thought to steal a horse to expedite her journey to Anvil, and the Gods knew how well that worked for her last time. She even contemplated purchasing her own mount just to avoid the fear of being stopped with a stolen steed while trying to get to Anvil faster. However, she was travelling light due to the nature of her mission was as penniless as the day she was born.
Nim rushed to her newly cleansed manor the minute she entered Anvil. She didn't know what the Gray Fox wanted from this ring-exchange in the middle of the County Hall, but her exhausted body couldn't handle the mental strain of thinking it over for herself. She laid on her bed for a brief moment, hoping to catch up on at least a few hours of deep slumber that she had missed running the Gray Fox's latest, and hopefully last, heist.
She laid on her bed and tried to calm her breathing as her eyes flickered closed, but the images guards breaking down her door and hoisting her away from her newly purchased property caused violent thrashes and restless lethargy as she stared at the ceiling above her. She would be getting no sleep until this mission was completed and her house was free of looted goods. Well, mostly free of looted goods. There were still several trinkets she was unwilling to part with.
Nim left a bowl of frost to melt on her dresser as she opened her wardrobe to choose a suitable outfit for her excursion. She settled on a gown of green silk. If she was headed to the castle, she might as well blend in. After splashing herself with the frigid water and running a wash-cloth down her body, Nim braided her hair into a long ponytail and left for the eastern gate.
Milona sat silently on her throne in the County Hall. She had grown used to the spells of emptiness. Being a Countess was not dull business by any means, but just like any other occupation it had it's peaks and lulls. Most of the time, she didn't bother to get worked up when she heard the creak and heavy slam of the castle's front gates. There were many workers that kept the castle running and they had their own duties, visitors, and errands to attend to.
A small Bosmer appeared before her suddenly. She hadn't even seen her enter though the main archway. She walked up the foot of the steps of the throne's elevated platform and curtsied with a bow of her head. The woman was dressed in fine silks and carried herself as any other individual of noble blood might, with shoulders back and chin held high. Milona searched her memory, attempting to recall the bosmer's angular face. Was she a relative of Dairihill? Milona swore she recognized the woman.
"Good afternoon, Countess Umbranox."
"Good Citizen, what can I do for you?"
Unprompted, the bosmer ascended the steps and presented her palm to the Countess. On it lay a gold ring with Colovian engravings. Enchanted by an overwhelming sense of familiarity, Milona picked it up and held it before her eyes.
"I- I don't believe this," she murmured. "This ring belonged to my husband! He's been missing for over 10 years."
A flurry of emotions raced through her mind. She thought she had come to terms with Corvus' disappearance years ago. Being the standing ruler of the county, she had no choice but to reassemble the shattered pieces he had left her as. She heard the rumors. That he had been beheaded by bandits while travelling to the capital, enamored by a young courtesan that whisked him away, even that he had been spotted in Skyrim as the owner of a lumber mill with a pack of small children running at his feet. She didn't care into who's arms he fled to, only that he was still alive.
As the years progressed and the throne beside her remained empty, Milona had come to accept the worst. No matter where he was, he was not returning. The rumors never stopped, but as much as the words caused her heart to ache, Milona couldn't listen to any of them. She had a county to run.
But now she clutched his wedding band between her fingers. This was the first piece she had seen of him since he vanished that night so long ago. Following the swirls of gold metal with her eyes as she spun the ring around her finger, Milona couldn't hold back the rush of emotions.
"How did you get it?" She asked. "Do you know his whereabouts?" She scanned the bosmer's eyes for any clue, but the woman's stare was blank. She was young, not young enough to be Corvus' illegitimate child as rumor would have it. What about a lover? She was an elf and her true age might be decades older than what her physical appearance betrayed. What did she know? Is this what became of her husband?
Milona spoke just above a whisper, her eyes cast down to her lap. "Why are you showing it to me?" The pain etched itself plainly in the lines of her face.
"My name is Nimileth. I've been asked to give this to you," the bosmer replied.
"I never thought to see it again," Milona sighed and squeezed the ring tightly in her fist. "What I wouldn't give to see him once more."
The creak of wood drew both Milona and Nimileth's attention to an imperial man dressed in leather armor who approached the throne. Neither woman had even realized he was present.
The man was covered in a thin layer of grime and soot. His blue eyes sagged at the corners, giving the appearance of a droopy old dog. Nim felt her stomach flutter as he crouched before the Countess and cleared his throat. She scanned the room quickly, realizing that no guards were present in the throne room. Milona cast a confused glance at Nim and watched as a stroke of fear swept across the bosmer's eyes. Nim moved swiftly to place herself between the unknown man and the Countess as he began to speak. With one arm extended across the Countess's torso and the other hand gribbing the hilt of her dagger, Nimileth waited to hear the stranger's words and watched in anticipation as he slipped a gray hood over his head.
"By the power of the Elder Scrolls, I name Emer Dareloth as the true thief of Nocturnal's cowl!"
The body of the man before them was enveloped by a swirl of healing blue light. He stood to his feet and removed the cowl from his head. At once, his identity became clear. It was Corvus Umbranox! The Gray Fox himself!
Nim felt a squeeze on her bicep as Milona gripped her arm from behind. "I-I've been betrayed!" She cried out.
"I am the Gray Fox, Milona, but you have not been betrayed. I am also your missing husband, Corvus Umbranox."
"Corvus-" The fear in Milona's voice had melted away to a wounded ache. "Twelve years. Why were you hiding from me?" She was still gripping Nim's arm, and despite the fact that Nim was certain neither Corvus nor Milona were thinking much about her presence in the room, Nim didn't dare move.
"Twelve years ago, I inherited this cowl from the former guildmaster of the thieves guild, thus becoming the Gray Fox. I also received his curse. Whoever wears the cowl shall have his name stricken from history. Once I wore the cowl, no one in all of Tamriel could recognize me. Not even you, Milona."
"I don't understand. You were unable to return to me?" Nim could feel Milona trembling behind her as she spoke.
Corvus took a step forward and reached out to his wife. Nim felt Milona pull away and squeeze her arm tighter. Corbus recognized his wife's fear and looked away briefly in shame
"I stood right next to you and you didn't even know it. I cried out to you 'Here I am! It's me Corvus.' And you looked right through me."
Finally, Milona released Nim from her grip and stepped away from the elf. She straightened her posture and looked down upon Corvus with a small shake of her head. "You have broken my heart for a second time. I cannot let an infamous criminal, the Gray Fox, become the Count of Anvil. If you try to announce yourself as Corvus, I will deny you!" she shouted, pointing an accusatory finger at the imperial. "I will deny you before the emperor if I have to!"
"I guessed you would react so strongly to me, Milona. This is why I brought my friend along."
It was Nim's turn to feel the cold chill of shock flood her body. Her body went rigid as she stared, wide-eyed at the Gray Fox.
"From this moment forward, I renounce my life of crime forever. I am passing the Gray Cowl to the next guildmaster to lead the thieves guild onward."
Nim recoiled, taking a step behind Milona as she watched Corvus approach her. She kept her eyes locked upon the hideous cowl in his hands as she circled Milona, refusing to allow Corvus near her. Eventually he stopped chasing her, his face bent in confusion at Nim's sudden refusal to be near him. He stood in place beside Milona and reached out toward Nim dangling the cowl in the air.
"The Gray Cowl is now yours. I am passing it you as the new guildmaster of the Thieves Guild."
Nim responded with a firm shake of her head. Corvus furrowed his brows and chuckled.
"The curse no longer remains with the cowl. I have undone the detrimental effects." The confusion on Corvus' face grew as he realized this explanation did not stop Nim from steadily shaking her head. He cleared his throat and continued on. "If you go to the ruins of Dareloth in Imperial City and don the cowl, you will find that no one will have noticed the change in leadership. However, you can remove it and still be recognized as yourself. Your identity will not be struck from history as mine was."
Corvus raised the cowl once more, motioning for Nim to take it. Nim stared blankly at Corvus for several seconds before bursting into shrill laughter. Both he and Milona grew uncomfortable listening to her dry heave as she regained her breath.
"No, no, no" Nim chuckled, and shook her hands up in front of her. No matter how hard the Gray Fox shook his cowl at her, she was not going to accept the gift. "I'm just a petty thief. I don't want to be the guild master. I do not under any circumstances accept those terms." She smiled at the Gray Fox as though waiting for the punchline of a great joke.
Corvus stood with his mouth opening and closing like a suffocating fish. "But-"
"You can't be serious," Nim laughed again. "You didn't think you could just wash your hands of the guild and push this responsibility on to me. I said I would help you, not that I would lead the guild." Nim paused, watching the surprise spread across the imperial's face. His droopy eyes were the largest she had ever seen them, wide with shock, bewildered. In that moment, Nim realized that he had never once thought of this possibility. She felt her stomach her burn. After all she had done for him, all she had risked, he never once thought about what she wanted. Gods she had been a fool to think he ever would have done such a thing in the first place!
"Nimileth, I'm not sure you-"
"Who do you think you are barking orders and such- Emperor Uriel Septim?" Her tone had changed from slight to confusion to steadily growing rage. "This is daedric magic. A dark and terrible aura emanates from it. Can't you feel it? Your soul is cursed for wearing it and I will not bear that mark upon mine. What if this falls into the wrong hands? What if it is used for evil instead of petty theft? No, I don't want this power. I am not right for this position. You're certainly not a count anymore, and you hold no more sway over me."
"I-I admit I find myself shocked," Corvus exclaimed. Milona shifted in her stance and took a step away to increase the distance between them. "I don't think you understand the power I am granting you. I didn't mean to lord my position over you in anyway."
"So you didn't think to ask me?" Nim began to pace around the elevated platform waving her hands in the air as she spoke."Even bring it up as a potential 'maybe'? Something as simple as 'I'm thinking of giving up my position as the Gray Fox. Would you be interested?' Simple as that, and now you stand here a fool in front of your wife that you abandoned for the sake of Daedric power because you're too incompetent of a leader to even secure a replacement. Have you no loyalty to anything beyond yourself? You have used me for your personal gain for the last time. I refuse. Ask Armand, ask Skrivva, Methredhel, anybody else."
Nimileth's voice had steadily grown to a powerful timber. She was shouting loud enough for her words to echo off the castle's walls. Milona's eyes were bounced between the entryway of the throne room back to Nim, wondering if the commotion was going to call the attention of the guards anytime soon.
"I chose you because you are the most competent thief." Corvus spoke in a soft voice, hoping to calm the elf, to help her see reason. "Anybody in the guild would agree to that. We all trust you with the future of the guild, Nimileth. I thought you would be thrilled!"
"Being a great thief does not make you a great leader," she growled through gritted teeth. The nerve of the man! Had he even listening to guar dung that was leaving his lips? "Perhaps if you reflected on your past for a brief moment, you would understand that. I have responsibilities to myself and to others and accepting leadership of the guild would make this quite difficult for me. Maybe it's easy for you to run off and create a separate life to play guild master in, but not for me."
"How dare you suggest I didn't suffer for the sake of the guild!" The calm façade that Corvus had been trying to maintain was broken. "You could not even imagine the things I gave up to ensure the guild thrived under my leadership! I spent the past decade working to reverse this curse and return to my wife. Nothing will keep me from this. This is what matters most." Corvus reached out for Milona's hand which hung loosely by her side, but the woman pulled it to her chest with a gasp.
Milona shook her head softly. "I don't know what to say, Corvus. Where do I even begin? Twelve years it's been, and I've had not a single word from you."
"This is absolute rubbish," Nimileth cried, turning her attention to the Countess. She swept her arm across her chest and pointed at Corvus who puffed up his chest at the accusatory finger. "You needn't say anything to this man. He abandoned you. I live in this town, Countess Umbranox, and I'd rather see the ocean swallow it whole than see this man sitting beside you in the County hall."
"That's enough!" Corvus shouted, hoping his voice would overpower the rambling Bosmer. He watched as her eyes narrowed furiously and realized that this shouting had quite the opposite effect when Nim jabbed her finger into his chest.
"Enough?" she snarled."You encouraged me to murder a Court Wizard. You paid me to steal from blind Moth Priests. You had me steal an Elder Scroll from the Imperial Palace. Is there really such thing as enough for you?"
"Corvus!" Milona exclaimed with horror in her eyes. She shielded her face behind her hands and wept into her palms at the realization that the man standing before her was nothing like she had remembered.
"Milona, I did it for you! Only so I could return to you!" Corvus fell to his knees and clutched the hem of her skirt. Nim looked on in disgust.
"Is this the man you married, Countess? Is this the man you trust to stand beside you and lead Anvil? You don't know half the wicked crime he's responsible for."
Nim turned to Corvus, who looked ready to strangle the bosmer.
"You are nothing, less than worms, less than dirt. You hold no loyalty to the guild, no loyalty to Anvil, no loyalty to your own wife. What a pathetic little man you are. In your selfishness, you have stolen the past twelve years of marriage from the countess and in bestowing the cowl to me, you have stolen my freedom.
But know this, every item you have asked me to steal, every breath you have taken to get back here, to put me where you want has a price. And you have not paid. Think well on what you have done, Corvus Umbranox. You have wronged me unforgivably."
Nim snatched the cowl out of his hands and vanished, leaving the two nobles alone in the empty hall.
In her trembling fist, Milona clutched her husband's wedding ring. She glared at the stranger before her and fought back the second onslaught of tears welling in her eyes with a hard swallow. Corvus reached out to grasp his wife's hand once more but she recoiled at the first contact of his skin and took off for the staircase. Corvus followed behind her, kneeling at the foot of the staircase as he watched his wide ascend much more defeated than he had anticipated.
Nim watched from the shadows as Corvus shook his head, his eyes went wide in disbelief. In all of his time scrying with Savilla's stone, he must not have forseen this outcome.