Hi everyone! Sorry I have not updated this story in so long. I just lost interest in it for a while and also had a lot of other things going on. But I have a lot of free time right now, and since I have the rest of the story planned out I am going to try to finish it with updates regularly! Thank you if you are still reading this, and I hope you like the new chapter! Please let me know what you think :)


Remel wanted nothing more than to find Rune and Cynric and ensure that they'd completed their part of the plan, but Dinya and Maramal insisted that she stay in the Temple that night to recover from her "ordeal". Dinya's matronly side emerged with a fervor; she plopped Remel into the spare room and ordered her to stay put, returning a few minutes later with a wash basin filled with steaming water, a fluffy towel, and a warm night robe.

"Get yourself cleaned up," Dinya said, patting Remel on the shoulder. "I'll put the kettle on for tea, and there's a little bit of soup left if you're hungry."

"Thank you," Remel said with a demure smile, forcing down her urgency. Dinya couldn't know why she was so desperate to leave.

She cleaned herself up and had some soup and tea, and then retired to sleep, claiming exhaustion—which was true. But even so, it was late at night when she finally drifted off to sleep, mind whirring, hoping that Cynric and Rune and Dorei were all right.

She woke early the next morning and hurried through a simple breakfast with Maramal. "You're welcome to stay another night," he said kindly.

Remel shook her head. "Really, I'm all right," she insisted. "Thank you for your kindness. I know the Temple is open to me, but I hate to intrude more than I need to."

"Well, all right." Maramal sighed and sipped his tea.

Remel knew he worried about her—they all did. For all they knew, she slept in the Ratway beneath the city, with the other beggars and downtrodden. Little did they know that she had a warm bed and a loving family down there too.

Finally, Remel was able to slip away. She gathered her things, said her thank-you and goodbye, and hurried out of the Temple and down to the Cistern.

Rune saw her come in and hurried to meet her.

"Remel! You're okay! How did it go with Molgrom?"

"Fine—he's long gone," she said distractedly. "What about Dorei? Did you get him out?"

"Yes, he's fine. He's in the warrens, with Cynric. Your potion worked perfectly—they were all dead asleep in minutes. It was a walk in the park to get Dorei out."

Remel felt some of the tension leave her chest, and she relaxed, wrapping her arms tightly around Rune. "Thank you," she breathed. "And the others?"

"They were executed early this morning, in the prison. Maven was going to make a scene of it, but she couldn't after one of them escaped right under her nose. It was a quiet affair, instead."

Lundras and Rokath were dead, then. Remel was relieved.

"Elf," came a barking voice, and Remel whirled around. It was Mercer. He wore a thunderous expression, and for a moment Remel's heart seemed to stop. Did he discover what they had done?

"I've found Karliah," he snarled, and Remel realized that his anger wasn't directed at her. She sagged again in relief. "She's at a place called Snow Veil Sanctum. I'm going to go confront her, and you're coming with me."

"What?" Rune blurted, just as Remel gasped out, "Why me?"

Mercer snapped his gaze to Rune, then back to Remel. "You're nimble and clever," he said shortly. "You know more than you give yourself credit for. We're leaving in half an hour. Meet me at the stables."

"I—" Remel began, but Mercer had already pushed past them and disappeared out the door.

Remel and Rune took one moment to look at each other, bemused and worried.

"This isn't a good idea," Rune said under his breath. "I wonder if Brynjolf agreed to it?"

"I can't say no to Mercer," Remel broke in. "I have to go pack. I want to see Dorei before I go—can you help me?"

Rune nodded and placed his hand comfortingly on her shoulder. "Don't worry," he said with a smile, but Remel could see the shadow of doubt in his eyes. "Go pack your bags. I'll throw together some food for you and then go bring Dorei just outside the Flagon. Meet us there."

Remel didn't think she could convey her gratefulness with words, so she gave him another hug and then hurried to her chest.

She didn't have any idea what she might need, or where they were going, so she threw on her Guild jacket, leather pants, boots, and gloves, pulling her cowl up over her head. She tossed a few extra shirts and pairs of pants into her backpack, as well as the bedroll she'd gotten for her first mission, and then donned her wolfskin cloak. Her dagger went in a sheath at her waist; her bow she stuffed into her quiver and slung across her back. She swung over to her potions closet and swept all the potions off the shelf and into her bag, and then stopped by the kitchen to pick up the bag of food that Rune had packed and left for her. It was full and heavy; Remel smiled gratefully. Rune didn't want to take any chances, either.

Finally, she was ready. She pulled on her pack and hurried out of the Cistern.

Rather than going past the prying eyes of the thieves in the Flagon, she went out the back and around, back through the Ratway. When she reached the entry room, Rune and Dorei were there already. Rune paced back and forth; Dorei just watched him, eyes a little groggy. Remel felt a dash of guilt for drugging him, but quickly shook it off.

"Remel!" Dorei gasped, lurching to his feet. "What's going on?"

"I don't have much time to explain," she said, voice hushed. She pulled him into a quick embrace. "I have to go—the Guildmaster chose me for a mission. I hope we won't be gone long, but I can't know for sure. You should stay in the Warrens for now. It's the safest place, if you stay on Hefid's good side, and the city guards won't venture down there to look for you. When I get back, we can figure out what to do next."

"Wait—where are you going?" Dorei insisted. "Is it dangerous?"

"I don't know," she answered truthfully, glancing at Rune. "But I promise I'll come back. We can work this out together."

"But—"

"Please, trust me," she implored, squeezing his arm. "Just—stay hidden, for now. I'll be back in a few days."

Before Dorei could argue further, Remel leaned onto her tiptoes and pressed a quick kiss onto his cheek. She turned to Rune, and gave him a hug. "Keep an eye on him, will you?"

"Of course."

Remel smiled, turned, and hurried out of the Ratway.

Mercer was waiting impatiently by the stables, beside a huge black charger that was already saddled. Remel blinked in surprise; she'd thought they'd be taking a carriage, not riding. She'd never ridden a horse before.

Apparently, Mercer had accounted for that possibility. "Give me your bag," he said, and fastened the pack on the saddle, next to his saddlebags. Then he wrapped his hands around Remel's waist, drawing a startled squeak from her lungs. Effortlessly, the Breton swung her up onto the horse; it was so large that her feet dangled far above the stirrups. Mercer pulled himself up in front of her, and Remel suddenly became very anxious about what to do with her hands.

She soon didn't have a choice, however, as Mercer kicked the horse into a swift canter, and Remel had to seize him around the middle or risk being flung off.

Mercer didn't seem to be in a mood to talk, and Remel was glad of it. It was nearly all she could do to hold on, unfamiliar as she was with the bounce and rhythm of the horse's gallop. They headed north, along the road towards Windhelm; Mercer pushed his horse hard, despite the sweat growing on its sides and the spittle flying from its mouth. This path had taken her almost two days by foot, but by the time the sun found the horizon, Mercer and Remel had come within sight of Windhelm.

He pulled up to the stables, and Remel slid off the horse, legs numb and stiff from the long ride.

"Take a quick break," Mercer said gruffly. "Stretch those legs. I need you in your best shape when we get there."

"Where is there?" Remel said under her breath. Mercer had already headed into the stables, and he didn't hear her.

She followed his advice, though, and stretched, and did a few jumping jacks to warm herself in the icy evening air. By the time Mercer returned, leading a fresh horse now saddled with their belongings, she was warm and limber and ready to go. Mercer lifted her onto the horse and then followed, and off they went.

They headed west and crossed the river, following the road as it curved beneath the mountains and then turned sharply northeast. It was fully dark now, and despite her exercises and the swift pace of the horse, Remel was shivering, her teeth clattering together, by the time Mercer pulled off the road and slowed the horse to a trot.

"We're here," he said under his breath. "Have you ever been in a Nordic crypt before, little elf?"

"Um…no," Remel answered through her chattering teeth.

"Expect traps with every step," Mercer was saying. "Both from Karliah, and leftover from the builders of this place. If we're lucky, we can sneak through without waking anything—that's why I chose you, not some blundering fool like Thrynn." He swung down off the horse and lifted Remel down after him. He untied their packs, tossing Remel's at her. She took the opportunity to pull out a lump of cheese and take a bite, replenishing her energy for what was to come.

"What happens if we do wake something?" she said around the mouthful of cheese.

Mercer laughed humorlessly. "Well, I hope you know how to use that little peashooter, then."

Remel gulped and tucked her cheese away, then pulled out her bow and strung it, and pulled the string back a few times, warming up the stiff muscles in her arms and shoulders.

"Ready?"

"I suppose I have to be," she responded, and followed Mercer down the stairs and into the crypt.

Following Mercer's lead, Remel placed her feet carefully with every step, scanning the darkness and swiveling her ears after every little sound. They slipped down a set of crumbling stairs and past two massive black boxes. "Sarcophagi," Mercer whispered. "Except what's inside might still wake."

Remel swallowed and silently knocked an arrow.

They kept going, keeping to the walls and treading silently around the sarcophagi, stepping over tripwires and sidling around puddles of oil spilt on the floor. Remel's heart was pounding in her chest, and it was all she could do to keep her breath steady and quiet as they dove deeper and deeper into the crypt.

"Wait," Remel whispered suddenly, lurching to a halt. Mercer stopped, glancing back at her.

"What is it?"

"Skeevers, up ahead," she breathed. "I can sense them. I think there's two."

"Just what we need," Mercer grumbled. "If they wake the Draugr, we'll have a real fight on our hands. Can you silence them from here?"

Remel gulped and stepped forward. "I can try," she whispered.

She slid forward against the wall, arrow knocked loosely in the bow, ready to be drawn. She wasn't sure how she knew the skeevers were there, but as she crept closer, she could hear their chittering and the clatter of their claws against the stone floor. She took a deep breath, and knelt, drawing the bow back to her ear.

It was dark in the crypt, but her mer blood lent her catlike vision. She narrowed her eyes, tracking the skeevers with her ears, waiting for them to show themselves—

There! Remel exhaled sharply and released the arrow. It flew forward and slammed into the skeever with a dull thunk. The other skeever sprang forward, chittering angrily, but Remel had already knocked her second arrow and she released it calmly, catching the other skeever in the throat.

She waited a few moments, pricking her ears, but there were no more skeevers. Satisfied, she crept back to Mercer.

"It's done," she whispered, and Mercer nodded. Before he turned to continue, Remel thought she saw a flicker in his eyes—could it be that he was impressed?

No, probably not that, Remel reasoned to herself. It must have been a trick of the light.

They kept going, Mercer choosing his footing carefully and Remel following in his footsteps. They came to a large iron door, and Mercer quickly picked the lock.

They slipped through the door, and Remel took a deep breath, placing her feet with the utmost care as they crept past three Draugr, sleeping on their stone slabs. The bow began to tremble in her hands, and she willed herself to still it. Mercer wielded a massive sword of some sort of golden-bronze metal, but she had never seen him use it. Although it was undeniable that he was strong, if the way he tossed her onto the horses had been any indication.

"Watch your step," Remel gasped, and yanked Mercer back by the arm as he went to step on a loaded plate.

He stumbled a little, and shook her off, eyes wide. He cleared his throat. "Thanks," he whispered, and Remel nodded.

They came to an iron door, and Mercer stopped, frowning. "This seems like a great place for an ambush," he mused. "But I can't see any way to get around…"

Remel peered at the door; she wasn't sure how Mercer could tell, but she wasn't about to doubt him. Casting around, she spotted an oil lamp hanging from the ceiling, and an idea sparked into existence.

"Mercer, I have an idea," she whispered, and quickly explained. He looked impressed once again, and nodded.

"Seems I chose my companion well," he said, patting her on the shoulder. "All right, then. Let's get this over with."

While Mercer carefully detached the lamp from the ceiling, Remel pulled one of the old torches from a sconce in the wall and re-wrapped it with fresh cloth, so it would burn. She pulled out a set of matches from her pack and carefully lit the torch, making as little noise as she could.

"Ready?" Mercer asked.

"Almost," Remel responded. She propped the torch up against the wall, then drew an arrow and lit it carefully on the torch. "Now," she hissed, and Mercer shoved open the door, flinging the oil lamp through. As soon as it hit, shattering on impact, two inhuman screeches echoed inside the chamber, and Remel caught a glimpse of two wretched, decayed figures stumbling out of their sarcophagi and into the pool of oil.

She released the arrow and it hissed into the room. The second its met the oil, the room went up in flame, and Remel had to stumble backwards to keep the heat off her face. The screeches escalated, horrid, twisted noises that grated her sensitive mer ears, until suddenly they stopped.

Remel wiped the sweat off her brow, glancing at Mercer. He was creeping forward, seeming unaffected by the heat of the flames, and Remel scrambled to her feet and followed him. He crept around the fire—rapidly dying, now that it had eaten up all its fuel—and scanned the room for additional enemies.

"It looks like we got them all," he said in a low voice. "Nice work, little elf."

At the back of the room was a huge stone structure, curving inward, with a series of scratches running along the base. Remel scooted toward it, curious. "Mercer, what is that?"

He glanced at it, and shrugged. "Just another old Nordic relic. It's writing in the dragon language, which I don't think many speak anymore, except maybe the Graybeards. Either way, it's useless to you and me."

"Hmm." Remel studied it for a moment more, then followed Mercer down the next passage.

A moment later, they came to a massive stone door, inlaid with a strangely-shaped hollow in the center surrounded by three concentric rings.

Mercer rose from his crouch and strode forward. "Of course," he sighed. "Karliah has probably taken the claw inside. Well, that's no matter—" he pulled a lockpick from his pocket and began fiddling with the hollow. "You've not seen one of these before, then?"

Remel shook her head, trailing behind him. "What is it?"

"A Nordic puzzle door. Very fancy, and supposedly impossible to pick. Unless…" he twisted his wrist, and with a shudder, the door began to slide downward. Mercer grinned, glancing at Remel. "Every lock has a weakness, little elf."

Remel nodded somberly. Every lock has a weakness.

"Karliah must be close now," he said, and drew his sword. "Be ready for anything."

Remel nodded, knocking another arrow and tightening her grip. "I'm ready."