Chapter 17: Bloodcrusted
The contract itched to be completed, and Nimileth felt the weight of the rumpled paper onto which Roderick's death wish had been scribbled as it sat in her pack, mocking her. She had dragged her feet on it for a week already, occupied by that foolish party and delayed by the consequences of her bad choices. The clear sky and light breeze lightened her mood after the burdensome discussion with Vicente. She knew she should be more alarmed than she currently found herself, but she wondered – why hadn't Lorise said anything to her if it really was as grave a situation as Vicente had made it out to be? Nim did her best to keep from dredging up his words and the acrid taste they left at the back of her throat.
She was halfway to the Red Ring road when she stopped, heart falling into her stomach, at the realization that she had forgot to offer prayer at the Chapel of Arkay before leaving Cheydinhal. It was the first Sundas mass she had missed in two years. The pause of guilt faded quickly upon admitting that she did not wish to commune with the Gods today anyway, not after spending a week in a dungeon full of assassins. Not after laughing with them, drinking with them, and certainly not after dreaming of them so… vividly.
Kicking a stone down the unmaintained cobblestone path, Nim proceeded away from the city. Prayer was a tortuous routine for her and always ended in tears. An expression of repentance here, a plea for forgiveness there, and really, she was glad she forgot to attend Sundas mass because what good was another choked sob going to do when she already knew someone would end up dead at her hands by the end of the week?
The further she travelled south along the Red Ring Road, the less she thought of the Sanctuary and even the upcoming contract for Fort Sutch. Across the waterway, the White Gold Tower stood proudly above green copper-stained roofs and the glittering surface of Lake Rumare. She paused as she crossed the East Bridge spanning the Upper Niben and stared toward the purple lights glowing from within the walls of the Arcane University. With the chipper calls and distant trills of the grackles and grosbeaks filling the cloudless air around her, she thought of Raminus sitting in the lobby of the Archmage's tower and grimaced.
The signposts at the intersection ahead pointed in four directions and Nim turned toward the West Weald, her mind swimming with worries of all the research and studies she was behind on back in Anvil. She ought to take a break, she told herself, from these murders and the Dark Brotherhood. There was still so much required of her as a member of the Mages Guild, and though she was still a Warlock in good-standing, she felt as though she were sinking.
By the time she reached the Gold road, the only thing on her mind was Skingrad and the impatience in Traven's eyes as he informed her of Count Hassildor's message. She wondered why the Count had requested her specifically for the meeting when they didn't have a particularly cordial interaction the first time they had spoken. Quid pro Quo seemed to be the way the Mages Guild operated, seemingly capable of only transactional affairs. If Nim had to put money on it, she'd guess that, since Hassildor already knew she was a lackey for the Council, he must have some dirty laundry that he needed her to take care of in exchange for this vital information.
Informed of Nimileth's arrival into Skingrad, Janus Hassildor waited in his study with a steaming pot of jasmine tea and two empty cups. He sat with one leg crossed over the other and twisted the gold band around his left ring finger as he gazed through the window and watched the sun's descent beyond the Colovian Highlands.
While he had seen the Bosmer put up an impressive and successful fight against three necromancers, he remembered little else of her beyond her wary glares and sharp tongue. Reports from his trusted informants had notified him of her rapid advancement within the guild. Warlock now, wasn't it? And he found it most curious indeed. It was unlike the Council to promote young mages of unknown pedigree so swiftly, and Janus couldn't help but wonder if they were being a bit too hasty with this recruit. Were they really in such dire need of replacements? He knew Irlav Jarol was getting up in his years, but surely the Imperial still had a good ten years left. Ah to be old and mortal. He did not mourn that aspect of his humanity.
Finally, his keen senses detected movement along the hall leading to his private study. The door knob turned and Nim walked in led by Hal-Liurz who gave a small nod to the Count before leaving them alone in the warmly lit room. Though Janus clearly recognized the woman in front of him from their first meeting, she looked remarkably unlike the image in his head. Her hair was much longer then the messy crop that wisped around her shoulders before, and her brown ochre skin just a shade darker than he remembered. Dressed in tight leggings and a short-sleeved tunic that cinched around her waist, he saw that she had put on some much needed muscle mass and he grinned. Though she was hardly formidable in stature, it relieved him to know that she was stronger than the gangly creature he held in memory and now he needn't worry that she'd snap under a strong breeze.
"Not who you were expecting?" Nim asked, noticing how he observed her. She held her arms out to her side and spun slowly in a circle so he could scrutinize a new angle. "Maybe you'd recognize me better if I were wearing Mercator's charred remains."
Janus stiffened at the name of his old steward and forced a smile. "Nimileth, I see you are as refined and gracious as the night we met."
"And we meet again, Count Hassildor. I never thought I'd have this honor." Even though she knew she ought to curtsey in the presence of a Count, Nim bowed deep and theatrically which drew a heavy sigh from the vampire. She grinned smugly to herself. If he wanted to see her boorish mannerisms, she'd give him exactly that.
"Though in different circumstances," Janus replied. "I fear this time you may find the results no more to your liking than the last. Less so, perhaps. The information I have for your guild will not be met with smiles and hand-shakes, I fear. Please join me." He stood, bowing his head, and motioned to the cushioned seat across from him. "Tea?"
Nim felt a weight growing in her stomach as the Count spoke and stifled it with a dry swallow. Nodding in response to his question, she found her place on the plush sofa and plopped her pack down on the lavish rug below. She crossed her legs and Janus stared briefly at the mud-caked underside of her boots. Pouring out the tea, he watched as half of a dried leaf twirled from the sole of her shoe down to its resting place on the rug below.
"I take it you don't hold many appointments with nobility," he said with a slight smirk at the corner of his mouth as he swirled a cube of sugar into his tea.
"Do I look like a diplomat to you?" Nim matched his smile and then quickly shook her head when she saw the Count's lips part to reply. "Don't answer that question. I've been told that you have information of value to the Mages Guild, and I am here at your request."
"Yes, thank you for coming so promptly." His voiced dripped with insincerity and Nim forced herself to contain her eyeroll. She had come two days after receiving word from Traven. Nobility, she scoffed to herself. Not everyone waits on them hand and foot.
"It is a minor situation, I assure you," Janus continued. "but neither I nor my guards can become directly involved."
"If it is so minor, why am I here?" She didn't mean for the question to sound so derisive as it left her lips. Janus squinted his red eyes and took a sip from his cup.
"You are precisely here because it is so minor," he replied curtly. "I have called you here because from our previous encounter, I believe you can be trusted. Consider the implications of that, as you handle this small matter for me."
His insistence on downplaying whatever task he had in mind assured Nim that wasn't as insignificant a matter as he was letting on. She drank her tea silently as he continued.
"A short distance east of this castle is a cave known as Bloodcrust Cavern. A nest of vampires have taken residence there. They are a threat to this town and must be eliminated."
Janus paused, half expecting Nim to make some half-witted comment that connected this vampire clan to himself. Her silence left him disappointed as he was rather looking forward to discussing his true opinion of such mindless predatory animals. Nim arched a brow at his sudden break and sipped loudly.
"Their presence has drawn the attention of a group of vampire hunters led by a wood elf name Eridor. He's quite good, from what I hear. You can see how this is unfavorable given my condition."
"And so these vampire hunters, you want them gone too."
The count nodded.
"Dead?" she asked, dreading his reply.
"The decision is yours. Kill them, run them out of town–" Janus shook his head. "it matters not to me, only that they are gone."
"Well, then I see no reason to kill them."
"Suit yourself. I will expect you back promptly."
Nim knew the day ahead would be long and bloodied, and so she took the brief moment of calm to enjoy her tea before getting back to work. Neither of them spoke again that evening, and if Janus took problem with her extended presence as she poured herself another cup of tea, he didn't say so.
The sky was deep blue and star-speckled when Nim concluded her meeting and returned to Skingrad through the east gate. She knew this 'Eridor' character could only be staying in one of two places within the city, and due to pure proximity to the Two Sisters Lodge, she decided to investigate there first. As she rounded the pathway leading toward southwestern Skingrad, she spied two men, a bosmer and a nord, talking in low voices on the steps of the Chapel of Julianos. Nim pressed her back up against the side of the great church and crept closer, inch by inch, until she could make out what they were saying.
"No news from Vontus?" The Nord asked. "He's out in the High Pasture. I'd have imagined he'd be seeing most of the action, keeping track of who enters and leaves the city."
Before she could pick up on the Bosmer's reply, the sound of crunching gravel travelling from behind the chapel alerted Nim to the presence of another lurking individual.
"You!" A shrill voice called out as its owner ran toward her. Nim spun around with one hand on the hilt of her ebony dagger and the other slamming against the throat of the man who had crept upon her with her back turned. She sighed heavily and released her grip on the prowler when she recognized the deep widow-peak and receding hairline framing Glarthir's wild, manic eyes. He was the last wood elf she wanted to see at this moment.
"I knew you'd finally come," he whispered with deranged excitment. "Are you sure you weren't followed?"
"Glarthir, for the third time. I don't know you, and I don't care to know you."
Her rejection did little to stop the man's incessant rambling as he began to detail his suspicions regarding one of his neighbor's, Bernadette Peneles. The first time she had set foot in Skingrad, the strange, paranoid Bosmer had approached her with the same request. At the time, she was so broke and desperate that she nearly took him up on his offer to stalk the citizens of Skingrad in exchange for a bit of gold. Thankfully, she had good enough sense to trust her gut reaction, because yes, the man was a complete nut.
Nim cast a detect life spell and let Glarthir continue yammering in her ear, though her eyes followed the flickering auras of the two men who were chatting just around the corner. Soon they began to walk down toward the residential district. Shrugging him off, Nim cast an invisibility spell to keep Glarthir from following her and traced the steps of the suspected vampire hunters to the Two Sisters Lodge.
She entered a few minutes behind them and peered over the ground floor landing to find the Nord and Bosmer had joined two other men on the tavern floor below. The four of them sat around a circular table sharing a late dinner meal in hushed voices. They certainly weren't trying to remain inconspicuous if they wandered about town bearing weapons, and they weren't exactly discrete in their very public meetings.
Nim hoped they were as competent as Janus had made them sound since there was no chance in oblivion that she'd attempt to take out the nearby vampire clan on her own. She had only fought two vampires before, Jakben Earl of Imbel and Vicente. Though she managed to kill Jakben, it had not been an effortless fight in the slightest, and she was still unconvinced that Vicente wasn't going easy on her in their spars. Janus had referred to Bloodcrust Cavern as a nest. She had no idea how many that entailed, but it was certainly bound to be more than two
Nim deliberated on the hunters raggedy appearance during her slow descent along the staircase. The men were dressed in threadbare clothing and carried equally worn swords at their sides, not at all what she had expected from supposedly seasoned and skillful fighters. She expected them to be in armor at the very least, even if not in mint condition, but it hardly surprised her to find that vampire hunting was not a profitable enterprise. Still, she had seen thieves dressed more appropriately for battle than this lot and hoped they were simply relaxing in a spare set of lounge wear after a long day of scouting.
She approached the table and cleared her throat. "Excuse me," she called out, raising her voice above the din of the busy tavern. "I hear you're a band of hunters looking for a nearby nest. I think I have something that may pique your interest."
The vampire hunters raised their brows, and Nim placed a hand on her hip, striking a stance that she hoped relayed that she meant business.
Eridor spun around in his seat to face her. "Citizen, we're only interested in one thing and that's where the vampires are hiding. If you have seen anything unusual, particularly anything implying the presence of the undead here in town, please report it at once."
"I know where they are hiding out, and I will tell you if you let me come with you."
"Little thing like you?" Eridor asked with heavy surprise in his widened eyes. "What could you possibly offer professionals like us?"
Nim squinted at the Bosmer who stood at the exact same height as she did and bit her tongue. "You may call me Nimileth, thank you. I'm trained in destruction and can sling some powerful flame spells. I set them ablaze and you do the rest, how about it?"
"Hmm," he hummed to himself and stroked the sparse hairs of his chin. "and what will you be wanting from it? We're here to keep the citizenry safe from this undead menace, and I'm afraid we can't offer any compensation for information."
"I don't want gold. I want their dust." Nim watched as the other men broke into quite chatter, slight disgust evident by the pinch of their faces. She shifted her weight onto her other foot. "It's a rare ingredient to come by in alchemical shops, you know. Let's meet tomorrow and I'll lead you to their nest. Do we have a deal?"
"Fine, Nimileth. My men and I will prepare for the strike. Let's regroup at dawn. Six o'clock sharp at the West Gate."
She agreed and then left for the bar to rent a room. Worry found her more easily than sleep, knowing that the worst was still to come.
Mist rolled over Nim's face, dampening the blood and dust that covered her skin and leather armor, as she emerged from Bloodcrust Cavern. She looked up with shielded eyes to greet the ascending sun, vaguely visible through the clouds and shedding a pale light that broke the thick morning fog with dull rays. Alone and weary, she headed for the hill toward Castle Skingrad.
The morning had been a disaster.
She had suspected the vampire hunters were in far over their heads when she first met them, and her suspicions had only grown stronger when she found them equally underequipped for battle as the night before. Nim was no warrior herself but she had changed into a set of armor that had been enchanted to protect and aid her in battle, and she wouldn't dare attempt to fight a vampire without augmented weapons. Despite her reservations, she wanted to trust that Eridor and his men knew the dangers they were facing, and so she led on towards the cavern. With each step forward, the dread bore deeper and deeper into her stomach.
As soon as they entered the cave, Nim knew they would be detected. Even if the hunters didn't move like orc berserkers, the starved vampires in the chamber up ahead were at such an advanced state of their disease that mortal blood was easily detectable from where they stood several meters away. The hunters had charged in with no formation, and Nim followed behind in panic, casting a flurry of arrows and fireballs into the attacking figures as she hung to the back walls.
But they were thoroughly outnumbered and the further they progressed into the tunnel, the weaker the team grew. The vampires were crazed by bloodlust and stronger than even Nim had expected. Busy fending off an attacker with her Honorblade of Chorrol, she watched helplessly from the periphery as Vontus was dragged to the ground by three others. The team of hunters rushed to his rescue, but after picking off the assailants they found only a butchered scene that vaguely resembled the Imperial they knew in life. Vontus, with his neck torn open and arms ripped clean from their sockets, was the first to fall. Shamar was next, and by the time they ended the loop through the cave only Nim stood standing, bloody and shaken.
Without allowing time for the shock to pass, she began to gather dust slowly from the scattered piles of fallen vampires. She coughed hoarsely, retching bile into her mouth as she knelt over the dismembered limbs of the hunters that littered the floor of the cavern. Eventually the stench of blood overwhelmed her, and she rushed out into the West Weald trembling and choking for clean breath.
Dragging her body back through the mist toward the Castle, Nim thought nothing of her torn armor and bloodied wounds. She didn't think of Eridor or chastise his misguided sense of civic duty. She didn't think of his friends and their mutilated corpses likely being picked clean by rats. She watched the morning robins pull forth worms as they hopped to and fro across the moist soil, and she thought of nothing but blissful void.
Janus had not been overexaggerating in the slightest when he spoke of grave news. Mannimarco, the necromancer who conspired to unleash Molag Bal upon the plane of Nirn and who was responsible for the death of Vanus Galerion, had returned to Cyrodiil with the Cult of the Black Worm. The wind tore across Nim's skin as she sprinted down the bridge connecting the Arboretum to the Arcane University. She had stolen a horse from the Grateful Pass Stable outside of Skingrad to cut down on the time it took to travel back to the Imperial City. She wasn't proud of it, but thievery was never beneath her and after hearing the information Janus had come to possess, she needed to see Hannibal Traven immediately.
Bothiel was alone in foyer. She leaned against the counter with her mug of tea as she sorted through the afternoon mail. When the door opened, the sudden rush of air caused the letters in her hand to fly across the lobby and the Bosmer Wizard struggled to catch them as they floated down to the floor. Nim entered with loud, frantic stomps, her hair stringy with sweat and plastered against the side of her face. The wide grin with which Bothiel greeted the young Warlock fell immediately upon seeing Nim's horrified expression.
"Where is Traven?" Nim asked, her voice a series of rapid breaths.
"The Council is in session," Bothiel replied. "What's the matter? You look like you've seen a ghost."
Without hesitating Nim rushed across the room and stepped onto the teleportation pad, rising to the council chambers in a fraction of a second. When she arrived, she found all five members of the Council seated around the circular wooden table in deep discussion. Tar-meena was the first to notice her appearance on the opposite side of the room and met Nim with a concerned look of furrowed brow ridges.
"Nimileth, you cannot be in here," she stated, drawing everyone's attention to the small elf. Nim mustered all of the strength left in her tired body to avoid meeting Raminus' gaze, and still, she failed miserably. He looked just as perplexed as everyone else in the room aside from the Archmage who was staring calmly at Nim as he examined the dried patches of blood on her armor.
"It's alright, Tar-meena," Traven spoke with a nod, rising from his chair and walking slowly toward the Bosmer. He clasped his hands in front of him and looked at Nim expectantly with soft brown eyes that hid the eagerness behind them. "What news from Count Hassildor?"
Archmage," Nim peeled her eyes away from Raminus and turned toward the older Breton. "Mannimarco is here in Cyrodiil."
"What?" His cool expression fell briefly, and Nim could just make out the flickering worry in his fleeting emotion. It was not the reply that she was hoping for.
Like a group of gossiping school children, hushed whispers broke out around the table.
"Is that possible?" She heard Irlav ask to Caranya. The Altmer was staring at Nim with intense curiosity and quickly averted her gaze when the young mage looked over to her.
"Quiet, please," Traven asked of the other Council members. "This is grave news indeed. I had, perhaps foolishly, believed that Necromancy was all but stamped out in Cyrodiil."
"It seems you couldn't have been more mistaken," Nim hissed, the venom drawing a small gasp from Tar-Meena. "How much more proof will you need before you choose to take action? How many more bodies like Mucianus will need to be piled up? Count Hassildor says Mannimarco is in northern Cyrodiil and that he is only growing in numbers. Many of our members have defected to his Worm Cult already, and I believe there are many more still hiding amongst us."
Irlav slapped his palm against the table with more force than he had intended. "Are you accusing your colleagues of betraying the Guild?" He asked, lips twisting into a sneer of contempt.
Nim's face harshened into a scowl as she addressed the Imperial. "Why are you looking at me as though I am crazy, Irlav?" While she respected him as a researcher, she had been thoroughly disgusted with his leadership on the Council, especially after the incident at Neyond Twyll. How was it that everyone was so short-sighted, so willing to bury their heads in the sand? "We already know about Falcar. The Necromancer's at Neyond Twyll were expecting the battlemages to come for Mucianus, and expecting me specifically. They referred to me as 'Traven's pet.' How would they come to possess that knowledge? It wouldn't surprise me if there was someone in this very room-"
"Nimileth!" Raminus erupted, standing up from his seat so swiftly that he toppled his chair over behind him. He had seen her this way once before, irate at the guild management and spouting insults like they were the only words she knew, but to suspect that a member of the Council was a traitor! Her quick temper with the other Council members already left her toeing a thin line, and he did not want to see how they would react to her if they concluded that she had crossed it.
Nim shriveled at his sudden outburst, never having heard the Master Wizard raise his voice so sternly, but the initial embarrassment quickly turned to anger when she met Traven's unwavering, demure smile. His calm demeanor only further boiled her insides, and she clenched her fists tightly at her sides to refrain from shouting as she spoke.
"What will we do now, Archmage?" she asked. "Our window to act grows smaller every day. Mucianus must have provided some information that could be of use to rooting out the center of the Worm Cult. If you allow me to review his reports-"
"Is that wise, Archmage?" Caranya interrupted with a pout of concern that Nim couldn't help but find forced. "Warlock Nimileth has been an invaluable asset to the guild but to trust her with such classified material… perhaps we ought to discuss this amongst ourselves first."
"I will vouch for Nimileth's loyalty to the guild," Raminus conceded before anyone else had the opportunity to second Caranya's suggestion.
Nim met him with a grateful nod before she continued. "So tell me what our next steps are, and I will make sure that we-"
"You speak out of turn, Nimileth," Irlav cut in, wagging a finger dismissively in the Bosmer's direction. "There is no 'we' seeing how you are not part of our deliberation. You must trust in the guidance of the Council instead of making demands and rash accusations. When we have need for you again, we will call on you."
"But I've been a part of this investigation since the beginning." Nim asserted. Her face fell in genuine confusion as she was met with looks of disapproval and discomfort from everyone seated in the room.
"I shall need to consult with the Council as to how to proceed with this situation." Traven walked back to the table and picked up Raminus' seat before returning to his own. He rested his elbows on the table and steepled his fingers in front of him. Nim felt her heart hammering against her sternum as she watched him turn to her with a poised smile. "Thank you for your information. It may save many lives in the days to come."
For a brief second, Nim stared nonplussed as though she had just been slapped in the face. The sting set in quickly. Taking this as her dismissal, she fled the Council chamber and ran for the lobby exit past a very confused Bothiel who was still picking letters off the floor. She burst out the door and scurried down the stone steps to the gate leading back to the City Isle. Behind her, she heard the lobby door fling open and crash against the stone wall, the hinges rattling as it swung back and forth in its rusted frame.
"Nimileth!"
She heard a man's voice calling and looked over her shoulder to see Raminus rushing after her. She quickened her pace, pulling farther away from him as she approached the tall university gate and motioned for the guards to open it.
Nim turned around to face the Master Wizard only when he reached out and placed a gentle hand on her shoulder.
"Were you running away from me?" he asked, bending slightly at the waist as he caught his breath. He didn't realize she could move so quickly and it didn't help that he was dreadfully out of shape.
"No," she spat, "I was walking briskly."
"Nim, I didn't mean to yell at you back there. I'm sorry I let my emotions get the better of me, but you can't throw such accusations around lightly. You must understand the reaction those words incite."
"Don't-" she started, knocking his arm off her shoulder with a firm shrug. She paused to regain her composure and prevent herself from launching into another purposeless harangue. "The Council couldn't have been clearer - I ought to learn my place. I acted like an indignant child, okay? I know that I behaved poorly. You didn't need to come out here just to scold me."
"We're not trying to be difficult," Raminus sighed, frustration evident in his face. "We are, in fact, working to stop the spread of necromancy. It's not a simple feat. You must believe that we are doing everything within our means."
Her silent reply, eyes lowered and refusing to meet his, told him that she did not.
"Would it- would it really trouble you to speak less aggressively with the Council, for the sake of discourse if nothing else? You're too… unfiltered when you're angry and these kinds of discussions require a finesse that I know you are capable of. The Council may be more receptive to less hostile confrontation."
Nim placed her hand over her forehead and looked up at the afternoon sky with a defeated groan.
"Would they listen, Raminus? You know that I'm only trying to do what is right. I'm tired of feeling like my opinions are unwanted because I'm not one of them. If the Council is looking for someone to kiss their feet, Traven shouldn't be asking for my help. You can tell him that at your next meeting."
She turned away toward the now open gate, but a strong grip on her wrist kept her from walking any further.
"I'm just trying to help you, Nim."
His hand lingered there, encircling her small wrists, even when she faced him. He met her with tired, sympathetic eyes and she felt so small and ashamed beneath them.
"I know, Raminus. I know." And she knew in her heart that he only meant well. He was just as bound by the will of the Council as she was. "I'm scared because I know more people are going to die. The guild is the only good thing in my life right now and I'm watching it become polluted. You don't understand what that's like, to have nothing to cling to."
Raminus watched dolefully as her shoulders fell and a knot tightened in his belly. Even if the Council did not fully appreciate her enthusiasm, he knew that she deserved more. He couldn't bear to see her like this, wilting beneath his gaze as though wrong for caring so strongly. His grip on her tightened, and she followed obediently as he led her out of the University gate and onto the City Isle bridge. They stood with inches between them while Raminus continuously double checked over Nim's shoulder to see if anyone was watching them. When the gate closed again, he leaned in closer, a grim expression growing on his face.
"Listen, I've been communicating with a member of the Bruma Mage's guild, Volanaro. Do you know him?"
Nim nodded, recalling the little prank she had helped him and J'skar pull off on Jeanne Frasoric nearly a year ago.
"He has expressed concern regarding the safety of the members up in Bruma, and at first I thought it was only a disagreement with the leadership. I know Jeanne is… less skilled than most chapter leaders and many of her constituents have expressed frustration over this. However, Volanaro has reason to believe there has been increased necromancer activity in northern Cyrodiil."
Nim's ears perked up immediately and she quickly understood why Raminus had begun acting so paranoid. "That would be consistent with what we learned from the Count," she stated. "What kind of activity did he mention?"
"Disturbed grave sites, reports from the city guard of charred and dismembered corpses found in the surrounding wilderness. Volanaro seems to think that someone may be watching the guild as well. He never seemed like the paranoid type to me, so I have no reason to disregard his suspicions."
"No, Volanaro is many things, but he is level-headed. What would you have me do?"
"I would appreciate it if you checked in with him. He must have valuable insight that could help you uncover nests of necromancers in the Jerall Mountains. Maybe this could guide us to Mannimarco. It's the only lead I have to offer you, I'm afraid."
Nim's heart leapt at the new instruction, and she breathed a heavy sigh of relief to know that not everyone on the Council was willing to sit idle.
"This is exactly what we need, to be proactive," she whispered back to him, and he could tell by the way she chewed her lower lip that she was doing everything in her power to keep from grinning. "Does anyone else on the Council know about his reports?"
"Yes, however they've chosen not to take any action on them yet." And this time, Raminus didn't bother to hide the disappointment in his sigh.
"I can't thank you enough for this chance to keep working. I'll make my way to Bruma in a few days time. I just have business in Anvil that I'm behind on."
Despite Nim's cheery turn of expression, Raminus' face soured and he hung his head briefly before meeting her with a soft shake.
"I shouldn't be giving you assignments like this without consulting them," he lamented "If you happen to find yourself in danger, it would be entirely my fault for placing you there."
"No, Raminus. I'll take responsibility for whatever comes out of my investigation. I'll say that I'm acting alone."
"I don't want you to say that."
He faltered before stepping closer and placing a hand on her shoulder. She tensed briefly beneath his palm and he felt a rush of guilt as he remembered the last conversation they had alone together. How he wished he could turn back time to that speechless daze, tell her that not a day passed where he didn't think of her, worry for her, yearn for her. But this was hardly the time for passion or hoping for second chances, not when the darkest threat to the Mages Guild loomed in the horizon. Raminus cleared his throat.
"You're never acting alone. These are going to be dark times for us, for the whole guild, and I am going to be here whenever you need me to be. Through hellfire if that is what is you require."
Nim looked up at him with a crooked grin and a heavy heart. Gods, he made it so difficult for her to move on, and even though she knew his kindness was not exclusive to her, sometimes it was too easy to pretend it was.
"Through oblivion?" she asked, biting her bottom lip.
He nodded, curled his fingers around her shoulder and resisted the urge to lean in.
"Through oblivion and back, if I must."