Lexius felt some small bit of relief when he saw the border gate in the distance. It was smaller than he remembered and the gate was closed. Imperial soldiers meandered around. Lexius didn't have to look to long to see they were bored as hell.

Farkas was kind enough to make sure that Lexius made it to the border alive. After that, Lexius was on his own. He could imagine Valleri giving him a distrustful stare as he left, but she wasn't here. She was somewhere up north. And it wasn't as though Lexius had never gone from Bruma back to Anvil before. Everything from here on out was as easy as a sweet roll. At least until he saw Skeeva again. The old Argonain was prone to worrying. But unlike quiet Alastaros, Skeeva had no qualms letting everybody know what was on his mind. Lexius was not looking forward to telling him what happened.

Despite that, the Redguard was looking forward to going home and finally leaving this gods forsaken frozen wasteland.

The Nord just a little bit of ahead of him when he stopped and turned to face Lexius. "Welp, this is where I leave you, friend," Farkas said with a tinge of excitement in his voice.

Lexius shrugged. "This doesn't feel nearly as climatic as I thought it would."

"What'd you expect? That I was gonna start stage acting out the Black Sacrament or something?"

"Well no," Lexius paused and sucked in a breath. "Its just that I didn't realize that crossing the border would be so lack luster. It's like five guys standing around a gate."

Farakas stole a glance at the guards. "must be a slow day. We can easily make more exciting if that's what you want though."

The Redguard shook his head, "Nah, I'm good."

"If you say so."

"Wanna go to Cyrodiil?"

"Not at all!" Farkas bellowed with a wide grin. "No, I want to go home and see Ysolda. Also, from what Val's told me, Cyrodiil is too hot for me."

"Bah, you're no fun. Val's gonna end up dragging your brother to Anvil at some point. May as well join in the fun."

"No kidding?"

"Let's face it; Vilkas is weak minded and Valleri's got a will of iron. Her dragging him back home is bound to happen at some point," Lexius said a matter of factly.
Farkas grimaced, "That doesn't seem right."

"Doesn't matter. Tell Val that I'll write as soon as I get to Anvil."

Farkas nodded with an uncertain smile, "Will do. Last piece of advice if it's okay."

"Go for it."

The Nord took a deep breath in before grabbing Lexius' shoulder. The Redguard shuddered when Farkas started talking. "Don't go off the road. Ever."

Lexius could only laugh. He gave Farkas' arm a quick pat and grinned, "Never again. I've learned my lesson. I'll see you when ever I see you and tell Ysolda I said hi and bye."

Without another moment wasted, Lexius turned and approached the deteriorating gate with no small amount of bravado. It wasn't until another minute later the guards noticed him. One of them stopped him with a yell. Instinctively, Lexius took a step back. "You looking to cross the border?" the legionnaire shouted.

"Yeah."

The legionnaire held out his hand, "Papers please." Sighing, Lexius gave the man a sheaf of crumpled papers. He looked them over with a disinterested eye before continuing his line of questioning, "Where're you headed to?"

"Anvil."

"You live there?"

"Yep."

The legionnaire cringed when he saw Lexius' missing hand. "Bad trip?"

"You wouldn't believe." Lexius sighed and tilted his head in frustration. "Look, can I go now?"

"By all means go on ahead. Welcome back." The legionnaire stepped to the side and signaled for the gate to open. Lexius wasted no time in crossing over to Cyrodiil. It was still snowy and mountainous around him. The landscape was no different than Skyrim only a few feet behind him. But somehow, he felt like he was warming up already.

…

Aicantar hummed as he wiped the dust of a curved bronze piece of metal. Most of the grime he was trying to clean off was stuck in the relief patterns carved into the metal. The design was pretty enough and he knew as soon as he saw it, the piece was meant to sit on the outer layer of some sort of wall. Not the most exciting piece of metal to be sure, but maybe he could have Moth do something with it.

The orc was nice enough to him. After Lexius ran off with his notes, Aicantar felt like he was falling into a pit. He'd only happened upon the forge by accident. Moth gro-Balog was happy lend an ear. Moth also helped Aicantar get Smitty fixed up much to the Altmer's surprise. By now, he considered Moth a good friend.

At the current moment though, Aicantar was busy cleaning and cataloguing what little his uncle had pulled out of the Dwarven city. The process was long and tedious and Aicantar wanted to pull his hair out. He let out an exhausted groan and leaned back in his seat.

Since he got back from Whiterun, Calcelmo was determined to run him ragged.

The Altmer let out a shrill screech when he felt something tickling the back of his leg. He jumped and looked behind. Unsurprisingly, Smitty was clawing at his leg. Aicantar sighed and mumbled an apology to the spider. At least Smitty still loved him even if was only for the pendant around his neck. Aicantar could dream.

Smitty didn't put up their usual fuss as Aicantar picked them up and placed them on the work table. The spider's machinery hummed as they scuttled around. As if on cue, Smitty reared up and waved their two front legs up in the air. A smile came to the Altmer's face as he watched his friend.

That smile did not last long. From the back of the room, Aicantar could hear someone attempting to approach him quietly. With annoyed stare, he turned to the frightened guard taking up half the door way. "What is it?" Aicantar snapped.

The guard took a minute answer, expression turning even more nervous with each passing second. "Calcelmo wanted to see you. Said that it's important," he finally mumbled

"Is that it?" Aicantar asked, this time softer. The guard still seemed increasingly uneasy.

"Yeah."

Sighing, Aicantar got up from his seat and prompted Smitty to follow him. The Altmer didn't bother to hurry as he wound around the corridors of the laboratory. If it was so important, his uncle could have gotten him himself.

At least that's what Aicantar thought until he rounded the corner leading to the workspace.

Aicantar began to panic when he caught sight of an elf in the nearly black robes he recognized immediately. The Thalmor agent clacked his heel against the ground and Aicantar could imagine the disappointment of his face. Tentatively, he walked over to his uncle and the agent at a snail's speed. Calcelmo noticed him first.

"There you. What took you so long?"

Aicantar grimaced as he answered. "I lost track of time trying to finish the…"

"I don't care what you were doing," Calcelmo interrupted him. "I asked for you almost fifteen minutes ago. Now, you remember Ondolemar, right?"

Mustering a faulty smile, Aicantar turned to meet the agent. "Hard not to forget." Immediately, Aicantar felt sick. He promised himself to choose his words more carefully. "Sorry."

Ondolemar's face stayed unfalteringly blank as he looked down at the shorter elf. Calcelmo clicked his tongue before going off on another tangent. "He asked for you specifically. I'll expect you back in the laboratory when you're done."

Aicantar watched with horror as his uncle slinked back to whatever shadows he usually hid in. The Thalmor agent coughed loudly, dragging Aicantar's attention back to him. "I understand you're one of the only people who can translate Falmer documents."

"Yeah?"

"Good. I have a little project for you." Ondolemar paused only to pull out a leaflet of papers. He all but shoved them into Aicantar's hands before continuing. "I was given these not too long ago. Its imperative we know what this says."

The younger Altmer glanced over, eye brows furrowing when he recognized some of the words. Suddenly, he turned back to Ondolemar. "Is this from Mzinchaleft?"
"I'm not at liberty to say where these papers are from."

"I can see right of the bat it mentions Ayleids."

"Logically you could reason that this could be from the far south as well from that line of thought."

"Not… really."

Ondolemar's frown morphed into a scowl. "I told you that you only needed to translate the damn thing."

Aicantar sighed with exhaustion, "Is there a time you need this by? A due date perhaps?"

The Thalmor agent pinched the bridge of his nose and sucked a hard breath in. "You ask the most ridiculous questions for someone who's apparently intelligent. Just get it done."

Without another second wasted, Aicantar watched Ondolemar walk off. The older Altmer grumbled and moaned and Aicantar couldn't hear him. Not that he really cared. He actually felt some relief watching him leave.

With a sigh, Aicantar began walking back to the laboratory. Smitty at least wasn't upset with him for anything and followed him like a puppy. Much to Aicantar's chagrin, Calcelmo came next to him as he walked. The old elf wore a frown. It wasn't unusual but it still set Aicantar off.

"What'd they want this time?" Aicantar didn't answer immediately, prompting Calcelmo to stop him. "Are you in trouble? I can't help you if you don't tell me anything."

Aicantar sucked a breath in, "Its just that Valleri's been stalked by this one Thalmor guy for months now and he followed us to that Dwemer ruin. Everything sort of fell apart after that and Lexius had his arm cut off and then Alastaros died. Valleri said something about another war but she's been out of it for a while." Finally, Aicantar stopped to take a breather. Calcelmo only stared at him with wide eyes. "Listen, a lot happened."

"Alastaros died then?"

Calcelmo's somber tone made Aicantar's heart sink.

"He did."

"I'm sorry to hear it. He will be missed."

The younger elf took a step back, "I thought you hated him."

"You can say that word as much as you like but feelings like that hardly ever manifest. Alastaros was a despicable man by my standards. But that doesn't mean I had no respect for him. He achieved more than I could hope to. I knew the day he would end up dead in a hole somewhere was coming. I just hoped it wouldn't have been so soon. I'd give my condolences to his family."

The old Altmer began walking towards the laboratory again. Aicantar could only follow him for now. They were too busy for old sentiments anyway.

…

Valleri and Vilkas didn't make it very far before the Breton started to wake up. Valleri didn't notice it at first until Vilkas stopped. With a roll of her eyes, she followed him a few feet off the road. The Nord dropped their impromptu friend next to a fallen tree. The Breton groaned loudly when his head collided with the wood.

"You don't have to be so rough with him," Valleri said from behind him.

"This guy got us kicked out of Windhelm, remember? He also tried to kill me."

"Doesn't mean you have to pay that particular favor back."

Vilkas rolled his eyes. She had a point. "Fine."

The Nord crouched down, coming face to face with the Breton. Vilkas slapped him hard across the face until their friend woke up. The Breton awoke with a start, knocking his head into the stump a second time. Valleri cringed when he yelled in pain. His eyes went wide when he finally looked over to Vilkas in front of him.
"Fuck. Fucking hell! Where in Oblivion am I?"

"Not in Windhelm," Vilkas said with a sigh.

The Breton swallowed hard before mumbling a few more words, "You're not going to kill me, are you?"

Vilkas reeled back in surprise, "What? No!"

"Then what am I doing out here?"

"You tell us. You tried to kill Vilkas here before getting us kicked out Windhelm," Valleri explained from the back.

"Oh, right…"

Vilkas glanced over his shoulder back to Valleri. The Imperial shrugged before taking his place in front of the Breton. "Do you have a name or something at least?" she asked.

"And why should I tell you? You realize you're traveling with a monster, right?"

"Yeah, I know way more than you can imagine, friend. My name's Valleri and then you know Vilkas already. Who're you?"

She watched the Breton mull over his options for a moment. Soon enough, he was talking again, "Marcel. My name's Marcel."

"Nice. Why were you following us?"

"I don't mean you any particular harm, Imperial. But that monster over there committed the massacre at Driftshade. I was the only one to make it out alive. He deserves to be put down like the dog he is."

Valleri looked over her shoulder at Vilkas. The Nord cringed to himself. The Imperial could only shake her head before turning back to Marcel. "No one's denying that happened. And I don't think a worded apology is gonna smooth things over. It does beg the question though; what did the Silver Hand have against the Companions?"

Marcel grimaced, "I don't know. All I remember was something about literal blood thirsty animals running the largest warrior band in Skyrim. Something to do with Deadra. Most of the new recruits were Vigilant rejects. I was recruited from Stendarr's Beacon."

"Why didn't you just walk away?" Vilkas asked from the back.

Marcel shot him a sharp glance, "Why'd you have to kill everyone?"

"Because you people murdered Kodlak!"

"Will you two shut the fuck up?" Valleri yelled. Both men looked away as Valleri got back on her feet. Her eyes darted between Marcel and Vilkas as she spoke, "Look. Arguing isn't gonna fix anything. What's happened, happened. I've been with the Companions less than a year and it seems like lycanthropy doesn't seem like it's going to be around for much longer."

"That doesn't make up for what they've done already! How am I supposed to feel safe knowing that a trusted organization may just end slaughtering citizens whenever Hircine feels bored."

"Great. Now we're bringing gods into this," Valleri said flatly.

Vilkas raised his hand, "Can I put in my own two septims?"

"No!"

"Yes!"

Vilkas waited another moment before talking, "I don't really know how to apologize. I know what I did was wrong, terrorizing even. And I'm trying to atone for that. A lot of us are actually. Kodlak tried. And then he died."

"Get to the point, dog."

Vilkas narrowed his eyes before throwing up his hands. "Fine. If you don't believe me, come with us."

Marcel crossed his arms in a moment of retaliation, "Why? What would that accomplish? Are you just going to kill me in some secluded corner of the frozen wasteland?"

"No," Vilkas paused, taking a deep breath in. "Kodlak didn't want to be a werewolf anymore and I'm trying to fix that. I owe him that much at least."

Marcel narrowed his eyes and looked over to Valleri. "You look sane, Imperial. You don't actually believe any of this do you?"

Valleri shrugged with a smirk, "Yeah, I do actually."

"Gods, I thought you looked smart."

The Imperial laughed, "Jokes on you, Marcel. I'm smart enough to give the benefit of the doubt to anything. So, are you coming or not?"

Valleri and Vilkas watched Marcel think over his options. The Breton sighed and looked up at Vilkas, "My options are to either freeze here or go with you two. Both of those options suck. But I'll go with you. At least if I die, I know who to haunt."

Valleri exchanged a relived look with Vilkas. The man grimaced but Valleri didn't pay him any mind. Without further ado they made their way back to the road in silence. At least Marcel wasn't trying to kill them anymore.