A/N: Finished just in time for the 6 month anniversary of this thing. More on that in the ending Author's Note. Anyhow, 8 reviews for the last chapter is pretty good... but MORE ALWAYS HELP! Yes, I truly am relentless in wanting these reviews. Anyhow:
Underpaid Critic: Funny that you should mention that. I dreamed up one such scene where Gorgoth went to make some black soul gems alone and ran into Mannimarco... In any case, next chapter, the entire party will run into Mankar Camoran, who has crazy magical abilities, and let's just say he won't immediately retreat into Paradise. As for the Daedric Princes, they'll get attention when the party goes hunting for their artifacts (had a good laugh imagining Aerin doing Sanguine's quest, which MIGHT happen, but it's improbable).
Zombie chow (that is a GREAT name, btw): No, Gorgoth doesn't like Bretons. He'll respect even a half-breed if they prove themselves, but he is innately racist towards Bretons due to Orsinium's on-off semi-physical war with half of High Rock, though normally he suppresses any outward display of this. And this 'batch of pointless cooing and ramblings' isn't pointless at all: it's a review, and I like reviews. A lot.
Random Reader: Ingame, Berserk might be a spell, but that's because that's the only way they could feasibly implement it... in reality, it'd involve the Orc whipping himself up into a bloodthirsty frenzy, with no magic (or greater power) involved whatsoever. In any case, Gorgoth wouldn't ever let go of himself like that, because in the berserker rage he'd actually be WEAKER, as when you're berserk, you tend to forget about magic. And I'm still wondering about what'll happen when Saliith and Owyn meet again...
Jexus: Reviews are always helpful, so leave as many as you can. And, yes, a few spelling errors invariably seep through both MS Word's spellchecker and my manual checking, but hopefully they're not too numerous.
Commentaholic's Dad: Good to see that you've caught up, though regrettably you'll have to wait to see the entire group in action at any one time... hopefully, I can write that well enough.
Commentaholic: Kharz gra-Shagren died a truly horrible death, yes, one which might or might not be revealed in a flashback much later. And, yes, the Mythic Dawn won't know what hit them.
Now that was a LOT of review replies... keep up the reviewing, people, and for those of you who read and don't review... it's just a few minutes of your life. I wrote this stuff, now you write a review to help me improve, it's not hard.
Chapter Eighteen: Hunting
Augusta Calidia, the owner of the upper-class Tiber Septim Hotel in the Talos Plaza District, had clearly never expected to host a group of rain-soaked adventurers who stomped around in mud-covered feet, irreversibly staining her fine carpets and generally intimidating the other guests. When the massive Orc walked up to her and requested two large rooms adjoining each other, the Imperial had nearly recoiled with surprise, but seeing as he was willing to pay a premium, she saw no reason not to give him and his companions what they wanted, so long as they behaved themselves and cleaned their feet. They hastily departed upstairs, thankfully refusing her tentative offer of lunch, leaving the lobby a lot worse-looking than it had when Augusta had opened the doors for business five hours earlier.
"So, big guy... remind me exactly what we're doing here, paying way more than we would for any normal inn?" Aerin was naturally curious; she hadn't thought of the warrior-shaman as someone who enjoyed luxury.
"The adjoining rooms make communication much easier, as well as making our position easier to defend," rumbled Gorgoth. "Besides, the beds are big; I'm pretty sure you wouldn't want to sleep on the floor. Clean your boots." Aerin rolled her eyes and ignored the fact that Gorgoth's own boots had accumulated far more mud than hers on the muddy roads into the City; a rainstorm had swept central Cyrodiil at a very inconvenient time. The Bosmer removed her sodden cloak and slung it over her shoulder, ignoring how it instantly created a trail of dampness along the undoubtedly very expensive carpet. Gorgoth shoved the key into the lock of the door to the first room, twisted it, opened the door, and entered.
The joint-biggest room in the Tiber Septim Hotel – apparently, the adjoining room was virtually identical – was well worth the extortionate prices. A sitting room held five chairs and a large sofa - all made from high-quality leather – surrounding a low, polished table, and the carpets were only slightly less extravagant than those downstairs. Two windows gave a magnificent view of the Talos Plaza, and would have let a comforting breeze waft through the room in the summer months. The walls were decorated with a handful of murals and tapestries, showing various battles and events in Cyrodiil's past. A large oak door led to the sitting room of the adjoining room, while another, slightly smaller door led to the bedroom. As most of the group removed their boots and generally started making a mess of the neatly ordered room, Gorgoth moved into the bedroom.
While slightly smaller than the sitting room, the bedroom was certainly spacious. A large area was occupied by the massive four-poster bed, which would easily have held Gorgoth's bulk if he'd intended to sleep in the bed. The walls were lined with wardrobes, cupboards, and small tables, while a single window let the Orc peer out into the rain that was hammering down at the magnificent dragon statue situated in the centre of the Talos Plaza. Gorgoth grunted and retreated to the sitting room.
After a brief check over the other room, Gorgoth told the others to settle in while he created a barrier around the two rooms; a modified Silence spell, it did not take much magicka to maintain and left Gorgoth reassured that no-one could listen in on their conversations, at least not without some form of magical aid that the warrior-shaman would detect within seconds. At their brief rest for the night on the journey down from Bruma, he'd taken Selene aside and taught her to perform the spell, forcing her to cast it several times before he was satisfied. She'd picked up relatively quickly, testament to her skill with handling magicka.
Gnaeus was peering into the bedroom. "If anyone seeks to deprive an old man of a much-needed bed, they'd better wise up quickly," he barked, turning to glare at everyone he could lay his eyes on. Aerin sniggered and motioned to Selene, and the only women present left and claimed the other room as their own. Gnaeus snorted. "If I have to share, I don't appreciate pondscum, greenskins, or bloody idiots who grow their hair long," he told them, looking sharply at everyone left in the room.
"That's all of us," pointed out Ilend. The Imperial was sprawled out on the sofa, cleaning the mud off his boots. The remainder of his armour was scattered over one of the chairs.
"Exactly!" growled Gnaeus, shaking his head and moving into the bedroom. "Don't wake me before dawn!"
"By the Hist, does he intend to take a sleep now?" asked Saliith, shaking his head in disbelief. He was sitting in an armchair, in a position similar to Ilend, wiping the off the mud that had collected in the crevasses of his webbed feet with a cloth. "I guess he needs sleep; what is he, eighty?"
"Seventy-eight, with good hearing!" shouted Gnaeus from the bedroom.
"So, Gorgoth, what's the next move?" asked Ilend, focusing on the task at hand; he understandably wanted to get to grips with the cult as quickly as possible. The swordsman had thrown his boots over to join the rest of his armour; the carpets were in a rapid state of decline already.
"I'll be going alone to meet whoever meets me at Luther Broad's Boarding house," explained Gorgoth. The Orc hadn't removed any part of his armour, and was merely sitting in an armchair, gazing blankly at the opposite wall, idly tapping a canine, deep in thought. "Once Selene gets back in here, I'll get her to cast the Silencing spell, then I'll leave. I'll report back before sunset."
"And what does that leave us ta do?" asked Aerin, sauntering back into the room and dropping into one of the armchairs, followed by Selene, who'd left her boots in the other room, leaving her long, slender legs completely bare. "While I'd love ta take Selene shopping for clothes, I'm pretty sure Ilend gets bored easily." The Imperial raised an eyebrow and muttered something about guard duty being the most boring job in existence, at least until a daedric invasion chose to land on one's doorstep.
In response, Gorgoth dug out his wallet and took out a small bag of coins, throwing them to Aerin, who caught them deftly. "While you're in the Market District, get some potions that will restore magical energies," he rumbled. "I do not have the apparatus or the ingredients required to make my own, and I suspect that they might be vital in future."
"Will do," nodded Aerin, stuffing the bag of coins into her pockets.
"Ilend, Saliith, one of you has to stay here to guard the place; I don't want to return to find an ambush, along with an old Imperial who has been murdered in his sleep." Gnaeus chose that moment to let rip with a loud snore. Gorgoth rose and dispelled his spell. "Selene, put up the magical wall of Silencing," he instructed. "Remember: I will do my best to be back by sunset; if I am delayed, I'll try to send a message." They all nodded. Gorgoth grunted in satisfaction and left.
The Orc had kept his cloak in his saddlebags and left them in the room. He had no need for a cloak on business; it would only impede his agility, and the Orc sensed a fight looming on the horizon. Gorgoth crossed the lobby quickly, ignoring the massive trail of mud left by him and his companions earlier, and walked out into the Talos Plaza. A guard wisely swallowed his salute to the Hero of Kvatch when Gorgoth glared at him, and gave directions to Luther Broad's Boarding house quickly and precisely. Within minutes, the warrior-shaman was walking up to the wooden door, casting a glance over his shoulder, and entering the boarding house.
Gorgoth cast his gaze over the large common room and had taken everything in before he had finished shutting the door behind him. There were a handful of patrons at the tables, mostly minding their own business or holding muted conversations. An Imperial that Gorgoth assumed to be Luther was wiping the bar clean. Two people were sat at the bar, drinking ale; a Nord that Gorgoth didn't recognise, and, further from the entrance, a Redguard whom he certainly recognised.
Baurus's outward appearance had somewhat changed from the sewers. His Blades armour was gone; he'd obviously needed to blend in, and so was wearing what any commoner could be seen wearing. The only clue to his identity was his Akaviri katana, and he'd had the sense to bind the hilt with string so that it wouldn't be as recognisable. Gorgoth took a seat next to the Blade, doing his best to look inconspicuous, which wasn't exactly one of his best skills; without the aid of his Illusion magic, he was about as inconspicuous as an ogre. Luther looked towards him, and Gorgoth grunted for a beer.
Upon noticing Gorgoth, the Redguard didn't waste time, and started talking in hushed, hurried whispers, his eyes never leaving his ale. "In a moment, I'm going to get up and go down into the basement." Baurus nodded towards a small door a few feet from where they were sitting. "That Breton sitting behind us will follow me. Wait for a few seconds, then follow me." Baurus paused as Luther brought Gorgoth his beer, which the Orc promptly started gulping down. "Luther knows something of the operation, so expect no trouble. Good luck." The Blade eased himself up from his bar stool, laid his tankard on the bar, and walked casually down to the basement. After a few seconds, Gorgoth sensed the Breton get up and follow the Redguard. The warrior-shaman got up, threw a septim down onto the bar beside his empty beer glass, and walked down to the basement, ducking under the low door.
The unmistakeable sound of a Conjuration spell sped the Orc's progress down the stairs, but he found that there was no need to hurry; when he reached the basement, the Breton was slumping forward, sparks dissipating around his body, the katana of Glenroy embedded in his back. The Imperial was garbed in a similar nondescript way to his fellow Blade, but that apparently had no adverse effect on their combat technique.
"It's good to see you again, Gorgoth," commented Baurus, smiling as he sheathed his katana. Glenroy grunted in greeting as he cleaned his katana, the hilt bound with string in a way similar to Baurus's, on the clothing of the dead Breton.
"Likewise, Baurus," replied Gorgoth. "Who was he?" The Orc nodded towards the fallen Breton, whose pockets were being turned out by Glenroy.
"An agent of the enemy who got wind of us," growled the Redguard, frowning down at the body. "Not a major player in their plans, but in death, he could be of use to us."
Baurus's assumption was proven correct when Glenroy straightened, a triumphant gleam in his eyes. In his hands he clasped a thick, hide-bound, well-made book. The title read 'Commentaries on the Mysterium Xarxes'. Baurus and Gorgoth looked over Glenroy's shoulder as the Imperial flicked through the pages. The words by Mankar Camoran seemed to be a religious rambling, or, at a long shot, a guide of some sort; none of the Blades could decipher a meaning from the often confused text. Glenroy growled in frustration and slammed it shut.
"What news from Cloud Ruler Temple?" asked Baurus. Clearly, he and Glenroy had been out of touch with the Blades since the start of their investigation in the City. As Gorgoth filled them in on the events that had taken place over the past few weeks, the Blades' smiles of relief at the safety of Martin turned to anxious frowns when they heard that the Amulet had been stolen. "This makes finding this Mythic Dawn cult a lot more important," observed Baurus, frowning down at the book that Gorgoth was now flicking through.
"This is Volume One, apparently," rumbled Gorgoth, tapping the cover of the book. "There may be more information in the other copies. There could be a coded message of some sort."
Glenroy snorted. "Good luck in finding one," he growled, aiming a kick at the dead Breton out of frustration.
Baurus was tapping his chin, in an absent-minded fashion; similar to Gorgoth's tapping of his prominent canines when the Orc was deep in thought. "You could try; we certainly don't have any better leads," he grunted. "Tar-Meena might be able to help out with that; she's an expert on Daedric cults and the like. She might be able to help you find out more; ask for her at the Arcane University."
"Where will I find you?" asked Gorgoth, stowing the book into a small bag hanging from his belt.
"I'm staying here; Glenroy is just across the street at the King and Queen Tavern," explained Baurus. "If you need to contact us, one of us is always at their respective tavern." The Redguard slammed his fist to his heart in a salute, a movement emulated by Glenroy. "We'll deal with the body. Good luck, brother."
Gorgoth returned the salute and grunted a farewell. He ascended from the basement and left the boarding house, ignoring the odd look given to him by a few patrons. The rain outside had stopped, but the black clouds still boiled overhead, threatening further storms. Gorgoth located a guard and obtained clears instructions on how to reach the Arcane University, which happened to be located on the opposite side of the city. Wasting no time, the Orc set a fast pace, reminding himself, as he did every few hours, that the magical barriers between Nirn and Oblivion were weakening by the second. Time, as ever, was precious; wasting time at this point could be defined as aiding the enemy.
Disregarding the thought of checking up on his companions in the Tiber Septim Hotel – it was many hours before sunset – Gorgoth was soon approaching the Arcane University, which was separated from the Imperial City proper by a bridge similar to the main bridge linking the City to the mainland. The gates swung open at his entry, leading him to believe that they were enchanted in some fashion. Purple-hued torches glimmered dimly around the edges of the stone-walled courtyard, and the doors were flanked by Legion Battlemages. Gorgoth walked across the courtyard, his boots ringing on the gigantic mural of a glowing eye in the centre, and entered the central building of the University, which apparently was the only section open to non-members of the Mage's Guild.
Mages of various ranks were roaming around the base of the tower, entering and leaving through several different doors leading to different parts of the University. All looked purposeful, and few gave Gorgoth a second glance; a strange Orc was apparently of no consequence when University business had to be done. The Orc looked around and located an Argonian seated on a bench against the stone wall of the tower, reading a book. Gorgoth walked over and cleared his throat, prompting her to look up.
"Are you Tar-Meena?" he asked. When she replied in the affirmative, he leaned forward slightly and tapped the hilt of his dai-katana, which protruded over his shoulder. "I'm here about the Mythic Dawn."
The Argonian mage's eyes lit up in recognition. "Ah, you must be the one I got the message about," she rasped, marking the page in her book and setting it down beside her. Gorgoth took one look at the bench and elected to remain standing; there was no possibility of it taking his weight, and he wasn't about to test it for magical reinforcement. "The Mythic Dawn, you say? One of the most secretive daedric cults. They worship Mehrunes Dagon, following the teachings of Mankar Camoran, their leader." The mage shuddered slightly, as though Camoran was a figure of revulsion. "Do you have any information of your own?"
Gorgoth removed the book taken from the dead Breton agent from his bag and showed it to her. "Ah, yes. Commentaries on the Mysterium Xarxes, by Mankar Camoran. The essential books for any of the Mythic Dawn."
"How can I find the Mythic Dawn?" grunted Gorgoth. He had no time to waste on small talk about the Mythic Dawn; he just needed to find them, and fast.
Tar-Meena thought for a few seconds, eyes searching the cover of Volume One. "It is obvious from the text that the Commentaries come in four volumes," she concluded. "If you want to find them... well, I won't ask why, I've worked with the Blades in the past. I like keeping my nose out." The Argonian glanced at Gorgoth, who motioned for her to continue. "Ah, yes, the four volumes. I've only ever seen the first two." A grimace momentarily distorted the lizard's face. "However, I think that there might be a way of deciphering a method of finding the Mythic Dawn's shrine to Mehrunes Dagon in his books." Gorgoth leaned forward, his interest undisguised. "I think, to prove yourself worthy of acceptance into their ranks, you have to find the shrine, for which you will need all four volumes." Tar-Meena rose, her tail twitching slightly. "Wait here; I'll get you the copy of Volume Two from the Mystic Archives."
Gorgoth watched her walk briskly out of another door and settled down to wait, leaning against the wall. If finding the Mythic Dawn meant finding all four volumes, and if the other two books were extremely rare... he'd find a way. The warrior-shaman had always found a way in the past, and this was no different. This time, however, a lot more was at stake. He sighed and folded his arms, waiting patiently for the return of Tar-Meena.
After several minutes, the Argonian finally reappeared, clutching a dusty purple book in her scaled hands. Gorgoth recognised it immediately, save for it's different title, it could have been the twin of the volume he was holding. "This is the library's copy of Volume Two," rasped Tar-Meena, holding it out to him. As the Orc's meaty hand closed around it, her eyes narrowed, and she growled a warning before releasing it: "Be careful with it." Gorgoth nodded.
"Where can I find the other two volumes?" he enquired, putting both books into his bag, which stretched at the seams.
"I've never seen them myself, but Phintias might know more. He runs the First Edition, just about the only bookstore in the City. He's very good with rare books." Tar-Meena blinked. "Will that be all?"
Gorgoth attached his back to his belt. "That's all," he confirmed, nodding in farewell before hurrying out of the University. Tar-Meena shrugged and sat down on the bench, returning to her book.
The warrior-shaman hurried through the City, barely pausing to get directions from a guard. Within ten minutes, he was striding into the Market District, using his strength and wide shoulders to effortlessly barge his way through the throng, ignoring indignant shoppers. The First Edition had a sign with a book depicted on it, displayed proudly above the door to the bookstore that had driven all others out of business. Phintias must have had considerable business acumen to pull off such a feat. Gorgoth swung open the door and strode in.
A middle-aged, well-dressed Redguard, whom Gorgoth assumed was Phintias, looked up and leaned on his desk, ready to serve this potential customer. The Orc paused to cast an eye over the impressive collection of books that the First Edition held; even the Palace Library in Orsinium had been lacking in certain areas, but here, wherever Gorgoth looked, there was a rare or valuable book of some kind. He nodded in appreciation and approached Phintias. As usual, he did not waste words.
"I need volumes three and four of the Commentaries on the Mysterium Xarxes, by Mankar Camoran," he explained. Phintias's face fell; Gorgoth had expected such a reaction, not daring to hope to find both rare books in one bookstore.
"I'm afraid to say you're out of luck, Orc," sighed Phintias, a frown creasing his face. "I have a copy of volume three, but it's reserved for a customer already. Gwinas has come all the way from Valenwood to get it, and he'd be disappointed, not to mention angry, if I didn't have it..." the Redguard spread his arms helplessly. "Sorry I can't help you."
Gorgoth frowned and tapped his canine. "When is Gwinas coming to pick up this book?" he asked.
"Actually, I was expecting him by now," muttered Phintias, looking out of the window. "He should be here very soon; if you want the book that badly, you could try talking to him, though I doubt he'll sell it." Gorgoth nodded and retreated to a chair to wait. To his pleasant surprise, it didn't creak or groan in any way. Clearly, Phintias provided good chairs for any customer, ranging from four-foot Bosmer midgets to massive Orcish warrior-shamans wearing heavy plate armour.
Gorgoth had barely got comfortable – as much as it was possible to get comfortable sitting in a hard chair wearing plate armour – when the door to the street swung open and a Bosmer entered the shop. He looked ridiculous in a fine red silk robe that seemed to accentuate his tiny stature; using Aerin as a comparison, Gorgoth estimated that Gwinas would only reach her shoulder, though she did seem to be tall for a Wood Elf. The robed Bosmer completely ignored Gorgoth and walked straight up to Phintias, his neck level with the high counter.
"Have you got it?" he demanded eagerly, impatiently tapping his foot as Phintias leaned down to retrieve a book from under the counter. "You cannot comprehend how long I've searched for this particular volume..." The Bosmer almost quivered with excitement as he snatched the purple book from Phintias. Gorgoth kept watching whilst pretending to read a manual of arms. "Thank, you, thank you so much!" chirped Gwinas, handing over a bag of coins, which Phintias proceeded to count. "I never thought I'd see the day... unfortunately, a rowdy bunch of adventurers have taken over the suite next to mine in the Tiber Septim Hotel." The Bosmer sniffed in disgust, whereas Gorgoth's eyebrow twitched. "They give me no peace... ah, well, at least I know a Silence spell that will keep out the worst of the noise... thank you once again." Phintias nodded to the Wood Elf, eager to get the annoying, robe-clad mer out of his shop.
After Gwinas had left, Gorgoth rose, replaced the manual of arms, and promptly walked out of the bookshop. The Bosmer's bright red robe was visible a mile off, carefully making its way through the throng. Gorgoth followed slowly; he knew exactly where the Bosmer was going, so there would be no danger if he lost sight of him. Gwinas himself did not seem to suspect that he was being followed, being completely focused on getting back to the hotel to read his precious book as quickly as possible.
Gorgoth's stomach told him that it would soon be time for dinner when they arrived back at the hotel. Before following Gwinas through the double doors, he surreptitiously cast a powerful Chameleon spell on himself. He caught the doors before they shut and eased himself through, hoping that the patrons inside put the door's odd behaviour down to the wind. Once inside, the warrior-shaman cast a temporary light-bending spell that meant no-one would be able to focus on the muddy footprints that his boots would inevitably leave. As an extra precaution, he Silenced his own footsteps before hurrying after Gwinas. While he did not look like it, Gorgoth suspected that he was one of the most masterful Illusionists in the known world, though he most often used Destruction and Restoration due to the nature of his 'work'.
The lobby of the hotel was nearly empty; most of the patrons were either in the dining area having dinner, upstairs in their rooms, or out in the City. Gorgoth followed Gwinas up the stairs, past the rooms that were occupied by the Orc's comrades, and paused as the Bosmer inserted the key into the lock, entered the room, and closed the door behind him. The warrior-shaman heard the lock click; clearly Gwinas did not want to be disturbed. Gorgoth let two minutes pass, then dispelled all his active magic, unlocked the door magically, and strode in, shutting the door behind him and cloaking the entire room with a Silencing barrier, letting no sound pass in or out.
Gwinas, reclining in an armchair that almost dwarfed him, looked up from his book, his look of annoyance turning to one of anger, then to one of fright as Gorgoth advanced rapidly across the room. Opening his mouth to inquire as to his presence, the Wood Elf seemed to have lost his voice by the time the Orc reached him. Ignoring the cowering Bosmer, Gorgoth swiped the book from his trembling hands and examined it. It was Volume Three, a fact that he'd never doubted, but it was always good to be sure.
"What are you doing?" squeaked Gwinas, finally finding his voice. "If you want gold, I have plenty of that, but please, that book..." he whimpered and trailed off and Gorgoth frowned down at him.
"What do you know about the Mythic Dawn?" he growled, leaning towards Gwinas.
The Bosmer plunged his hand into a deep pocket and drew out a crumpled note, handing it to Gorgoth. "They set up a meeting with me... on the note. I don't know anything else, now, please..."
Gorgoth gave the note a glance; it confirmed that a meeting with a certain Sponsor had been set up in the Sewers later that day. "I am a Blade," he rumbled. "I am investigating the Mythic Dawn. They are behind the assassination of the Emperor and his three sons. They were responsible for Kvatch." Gorgoth paused for dramatic effect. "Are you sure you wish to join them?"
Gwinas fainted.
Gorgoth didn't outstay his welcome. He took the book and the note, stuffed them into his bag, and left the room, dispelling his Silence spell. There was no doubt that Gwinas had no idea what he'd been getting into. When he came to, the wisest thing for him to do would be to pack and to flee back to Valenwood as quickly as possible. Gorgoth walked over to his shared rooms and barged through the doorway.
Ilend, who had been deep in discussion with Saliith, immediately leapt to his feet. "What did you find?" he demanded, managing to stop himself quivering with eagerness, apparently with great effort. Saliith was slower in rising to his feet, but there was still intensity in his gaze. Judging by the snores, Gnaeus was still asleep, and Aerin and Selene were not yet back from their shopping. Gorgoth got straight to the point.
"We have a good lead on the Mythic Dawn," he told them, pulling out the three volumes and Gwinas's note. "There may be a coded message in the Commentaries somewhere about how to find their headquarters, their secret shrine." Gorgoth held up the note. "The fourth volume can be obtained in a meeting with someone calling themselves a Sponsor, later today. We need that fourth volume."
"Well, let's get on with it," growled Ilend, casting around for his sword belt.
"Calm yourself, Ilend," muttered Gorgoth. "I need a scalpel for this operation, not your broadsword of rage. Myself, Baurus, and Glenroy should be more than enough, but it's never a bad thing to have reserves." The Orc tapped his canine. "Saliith, wake Gnaeus. You two are coming with me."
The Argonian nodded and darted into the bedroom, while Ilend angrily kicked the sofa, clearly frustrated at not getting to grips with the Mythic Dawn. "Come on, Gorgoth," he snarled. "I know how to restrain myself; it's not like I'm a half-trained sociopath."
"I will not take the risk of you charging in and killing anyone wearing a red robe," replied Gorgoth, folding his arms and fixing the Imperial with a stony glare. "Besides, you will have to be here to prevent Aerin and Selene following us; I doubt that Selene will be any more satisfied with my decision than you are."
Ilend snorted. "Selene could do whatever she damn well wants, with or without my permission; it's a bit hard to restrain someone when they can fry you in two second flat." The guardsman seemed to have accepted Gorgoth's decision, however; he flopped back into the soft leather of an armchair. "I guess I could simply not tell them where you're going."
Saliith walked out the bedroom, followed by a very irritable Gnaeus. "I'm not young anymore, damn it," he barked, marching up to Gorgoth and poking the Orc in the chest. "I don't appreciate being woken up to go chasing after some upstart cult." Another poke. "And I really don't appreciate being given orders by some greenskin unworthy of even being called an elf." Another poke.
"You will hurt your finger," remarked Gorgoth. "Get your sword. We leave as soon as possible."
Gnaeus seemed ready to explode into an apoplectic fit, but something dangerous lurking in Gorgoth's cold eyes seemed to encourage him to obey, and he set about strapping on his sword belt with his usual grumbling. Gorgoth set the books down on the table and tucked the note under his gauntlet. "When Selene gets back, see if you can help her to decipher whatever code is in these," he told Ilend, tapping the purple volumes. "She seems intelligent and fairly knowledgeable, but it might take a while without the fourth book. We'll be back as soon as possible." The surly swordsman grunted and waved Gorgoth away. Straightening, Gorgoth jerked his head towards the door and led Saliith and Gnaeus out of the room.
They reached Luther Broad's Boarding House without incident. Fortunately, Glenroy was in Baurus's room, apparently discussing some facet of their strategy. Both listened to Gorgoth's tale with undisguised eagerness, and once he'd finished and showed them the note, Baurus was quick to outline a plan of action. Gnaeus almost left when he heard that it involved walking through extensive sewer systems, but a hard, veiled look from Gorgoth sent him back to his seat on the bed. As there was no time to waste – the meeting was arranged to start within the hour – the group set of immediately, with Baurus, who had extensive knowledge of the Imperial City, both over and under the ground, in the lead.
As they descended into the sewers under the Elven Gardens District, Gorgoth was reminded of another time, not so long ago, that he'd used the Imperial sewers. Clearly, Baurus and Glenroy were also reminded of their failure to keep the Emperor alive; despite finally getting to grips with the enemy, they both seemed subdued. Gnaeus was even more vocal in his complaining than usual, whereas Saliith appeared to be quite at home with his surroundings; maybe the stench and the humid air reminded him of Black Marsh.
The only opposition on the way to the meeting consisted of large rats, a few mudcrabs, and a single goblin that looked hopelessly lost. Eventually, the group came to a barred door that led to a small room, curiously devoid of most of the slime that permeated the sewers. A small table, with a chair and candle, was incongruously placed at one end. Baurus smiled and turned to the others.
"This is the place," he confirmed. "Always did wonder who put that table there." His smile vanished as he got down to business. "There's an excellent place for you to spy on the meeting," he explained, nodding towards some slimy stairs to their left. "When I'm in there, talking to the Sponsor, watch my back, and watch his; we don't want this bastard escaping with the fourth book."
"He won't get away, Baurus," reassured Glenroy. The Imperial had taken the time to retrieve a short bow from his room, and he had an arrow nocked.
"Good to hear it," replied the Redguard. He gave a last salute and walked fearlessly into the room. Glenroy motioned with his head towards the stairs and started to lead the way up, but Gorgoth stopped him. A burst of green illusion magic spread forth from the Orc's upraised hand, covering the party with light-bending Illusion magic that would render them completely invisible.
"Hold your fire until you're sure you'll hit," Gorgoth told Glenroy. "This spell lasts only as long as you remain inconspicuous." Glenroy nodded and continued up the stairs. Saliith followed, then Gnaeus, with Gorgoth bringing up the rear, using a detect life spell to make sure he didn't collide with the others.
Baurus was right; the ledge over the adjoining room provided a perfect view over every square inch of the room below. Glenroy hissed a reassurance to the Redguard, who had looked slightly confused to hear footsteps on the ledge but see nothing. Gorgoth noted another gate leading to the ledge on the opposite side of the room, and settled down to watch it; the others could cover the meeting well enough. The waiting began.
Gorgoth was the first to notice movement; his detect life spell showed him numerous glowing silhouettes through the walls of the sewer. One detached itself from the main group, while two more appeared to be heading up some stairs, the remainder of the group staying put. Gorgoth realised that the two agents would be approaching them from across the ledge, and whispered a warning to his comrades, placing himself between them and the opposite door, exactly halfway across the ledge. Down below, the door swung open.
The Sponsor strode into the room, ignoring the grime staining his fine sandals. His face was hidden in the depths of his red cowl, but Gorgoth could tell from his height and build that he was an Altmer. He carried no weapon, but he needed none; the Blades knew all too well of the Conjuration abilities of the Mythic Dawn. The Sponsor strode languidly up to Baurus and began addressing him in a muted tone, too low for Gorgoth to pick up more than the occasional unintelligible word. While keeping half an ear and most of an eye on the conversation down below, Gorgoth was also watching the approaching two life signatures intently. They were on the same level as the hidden watchers, and approaching fast.
As the two agents appeared at the door and opened it, Gorgoth straightened and started walking very quietly towards them. A shout from below indicated that Baurus's identity had been revealed, but Gorgoth was confident that his comrades could handle whatever situation was developing. Shedding his invisibility, he drew his mace, running forwards at full speed towards the two bewildered agents.
They recovered from their initial shock, but too slowly. Just as the first one was raising his arm to conjure arms and armour, Gorgoth's mace crashed down upon his chest, compressing it beyond recognition, making a mangled mess of his ribcage and tearing his hot heart to pieces. The other cultist stepped back and successfully called forth his armour and mace. Gorgoth pushed the first agent's body off the ledge and stepped forward, kicking aside the cultist's attempted swing and jabbing his mace head-first into the Imperial's throat. The armour warped and buckled under the sheer pressure, and cartilage snapped as the cultist's windpipe, along with most of his throat, was utterly destroyed. Gorgoth swept the body off the ledge and looked down to the battle below.
The Sponsor, clutching a massive claymore, had an arrow jutting out of his shoulder blades and had been backed into a corner by Baurus and Gnaeus, his frantic defence barely keeping their flickering blades at bay. Saliith prowled behind the two swordsmen, making sure any escape attempt would be futile. Glenroy remained on the ledge with Gorgoth, arrow nocked, ready to take a shot if he saw an opening.
Shouts and the pounding of armoured feet on stone paving slabs snapped Gorgoth's head around to the right; his detect life spell showed multiple life signatures approaching rapidly from the tunnel that the Sponsor had came through. "Incoming, about seven, eight!" he bellowed as a warning to the others. Glenroy shifted his focus to the door, and Saliith took up a position just beside it, ready to pounce on the first agent through. Gorgoth jumped down to stand on the other side. A quick glance at the ongoing battle showed little change; the Sponsor was unable to do anything except defend, but Baurus and Gnaeus were finding an opening difficult to find.
The first armoured cultist through the door promptly fell with Glenroy's arrow in his throat. The second through fell on top of him with Saliith's throwing knife embedded in the base of his skull. Gorgoth grabbed the third with one hand, threw him to the ground with stunning force, and kicked his head in. The next two attempted to get in at once; Saliith smoothly impaled one in the stomach, and the other one barely made it into the room before Gorgoth parried his swing and shoved him into the wall, summoning a bound blade in his left hand. Before the cultist could even start to recover, Gorgoth had forced the daedric steel into his chest until it found the Altmer's heart. Dispelling the blade, Gorgoth turned to find Saliith emerging from the passageway; apparently, the seventh and final cultist had tried to flee, but hadn't got far.
A death rattle sounding in his throat, the Sponsor was slowly sliding down the wall, a deep slash running down most of his chest. Unintelligible words escaped his lips before he succumbed to death and was briefly surrounded by multitudes of shimmering sparks. Baurus rammed his cleaned katana into its scabbard irritably. "By the Divines, that bugger was hard to break down," he growled. Gnaeus grunted in apparent agreement, holding his ebony broadsword up to his eyes to examine for any stains.
"We're clear," rumbled Gorgoth, scanning the sewers for any other signs of life. Apart from a handful of rats and mudcrabs on the edge of his vision, they were the only living souls within earshot. "There's no more to kill. Has he got the book?"
"Yes, he has," replied Baurus triumphantly, removing a purple volume from the depths of the Sponsor's bloody robes. Gorgoth took it from him and quickly flipped through the pages, confirming that it was the fourth volume. The crazed ramblings were much the same, but Gorgoth suspected that this volume held the final piece of the puzzle. "Well, the initiative is with you now, Gorgoth," reported Baurus, bringing the Orc's eyes up. "Me and Glenroy are going up to Cloud Ruler to protect the new Emperor, hopefully better than we protected the old one." Both Blades grimaced as they were once again reminded of their failure. "See you there after you get the Amulet back," continued Baurus in farewell. He and Glenroy straightened and slapped fists to hearts in a stiff salute, which Gorgoth returned. Within seconds the Blades were melting away into the shadows, going down the tunnels that the Mythic Dawn had appeared from.
"That was more of a slaughter than a battle," snorted Gnaeus, poking the pile of corpses near the door with his foot. "In the Iliac Bay, back in my day, this'd be called a glorified pub brawl." The Imperial harrumphed loudly enough for it to echo.
"In Orsinium, this wouldn't even be called a pub brawl," retorted Gorgoth. "Whatever it was, it might well be the beginning of the end for these damned cultists." The warrior-shaman shoved the book into his bag. "Come on. The sooner we get back and figure out this hidden message, the better." He motioned for them to follow him and started back down the passage that they had emerged from.
By the time they arrived back at the hotel, the sun had set and Gnaeus's stomach was grumbling almost as loudly as the Imperial himself. Once inside, he made straight for the dining area and didn't look back. Gorgoth and Saliith went up to the room, ignoring the murderous looks Augusta shot at them as they embedded yet more mud into her fine carpets. The group was likely costing her a fortune, but Gorgoth simply couldn't care less; it was important business, and that excused some expenses. Approaching their room, Gorgoth could sense the Silencing magic in place and nodded slightly to himself.
Gorgoth threw open the door and strode in, closely followed by Saliith, who closed the door behind him. Ilend's head whipped around, and he immediately strode from where he had been standing by the window over to Gorgoth, looking him up and down sharply. "Did you get it?" he asked, making no effort to hide his eagerness. His chainmail was lying in a heap in the corner of the room, and he was clad in nondescript clothing that would be seen on any street in central Cyrodiil.
As an answer, Gorgoth removed the fourth volume of the Commentaries from the bag on his belt. Ilend hastily snatched it from his grasp and threw it to Selene, who was lying on the sofa, the other three volumes arranged around her, all of them open. Numerous sheets of paper with scrawling littered the floor, and a look of frustration was evident on the half-elf's face. The dark green dress she was wearing was as nondescript as Ilend's generic clothing; apparently, she and Aerin had little money to spare.
"Did you get my potions?" asked Gorgoth, moving over and sitting down in an armchair, which sagged under his weight.
"Got em," replied Aerin, who was sitting, still in her 'armour', with her bare feet up on the table Presumably, her boiled leathers were just as comfortable as normal clothing. "Five of em." The Bosmer motioned towards the five small vials of clear liquid sitting in the centre of the table. "And, before ya ask, Selene hasn't worked out the code yet. Time and silence is what she needs, apparently,"
Gorgoth leaned forward and grabbed three of the potions, attaching them to his belt. All three wouldn't fully restore his vast magicka reserves, but they would certainly give him enough to wreak considerable havoc. "What have you figured out so far?" he asked Selene.
The half-elf irritably threw her quill onto the table and screwed up yet another piece of parchment. "Well, I can say I know several ways of not finding the message," she sighed, tucking a few stray strands of blonde hair back behind her slightly pointed ear. "But as for actually finding it... nothing yet." She groaned and rubbed her eyes. "It's just insane ramblings. Camoran sounds like a madman."
Gorgoth stood, reached over and picked up the bulky volumes. "I'll see what I can find," he told her. "Take a break and refresh your mind. Selene gave him a grateful smile and wriggled into a more comfortable position, closing her tired eyes.
"Were they seriously that bloody helpless?" asked Ilend incredulously, having obtained a rundown of the battle from Saliith. "Green arse-kissers fresh from basic training would do better than those jumped-up rambling priests." The Imperial snorted and flopped back down into an armchair. "How the fuck did Kvatch fall to those idiots?"
"I think the massive army of Daedra had something ta do with it," muttered Aerin sardonically. "Still, at least this makes it easier for you ta tear through their ranks when we find their not-so-secret base."
"The more I kill, the better," growled Ilend, a predatory gleam appearing in his eyes as he reached for the hilt of his sword to caress it, before realising that his sword belt was lying on top of his chainmail. Saliith was slowly removing his scale armour, revealing a filthy, sweat-stained tunic, the sole purpose of which was to stop his armour chafing against his scales.
"Save some for me," cut in Selene, her eyes momentarily opening and flashing with anger before sliding shut again. "I hold the Mythic Dawn indirectly responsible for the deaths of almost everyone I've ever known." She sighed shakily.
"This is odd," muttered Gorgoth, tapping a canine. "The first word in every paragraph is massive in comparison with the others. In most books, it's normally the first letter of the chapter." The Orc began running his thick finger down the page, reading each starting letter of a paragraph, and froze.
"Parchment, quill," he barked at no-one in particular. Aerin darted forward and shoved a mostly clean piece of parchment into his hands, quickly followed by Selene's discarded quill and an inkpot. The Orc immediately began scribbling down characters as he scanned each of the volumes. Within seconds, he was finished, holding out the parchment. All of them moved closer to read what he'd written.
"Uh... what exactly does that say?" asked Aerin, screwing up her eyes in a futile attempt to make sense of the unintelligible scrawl. Gorgoth snorted and turned the parchment so he could see it.
"That is a result of being illiterate for the first eleven years of my life," he rumbled. "It says: Green Emperor Way where tower touches midday sun."
"Green Emperor Way? That's the section of the City where the palace is," muttered Ilend, scratching his chin. "The tower must refer to White Gold Tower, and the touching of the sun at midday..."
"It probably has something to do with the tower's shadow," mused Gorgoth. "Either way, we have about fifteen hours until we find out exactly what it means."
"In that case, I'm grabbing dinner," announced Saliith, striding rapidly out of the door. Gorgoth leaned back in his seat and closed his eyes.
"We are very close," he sighed, his voice low, speaking almost to himself. "Do not lose focus." His eyes snapped open. "And if some food could be brought up here, that would be good. I'm not about to sit in a dining area full of bigots and lordlings." The Orc sighed again and rose to his feet, slowly beginning to strip his armour off. Aerin got up, offering to help, but he waved her away. "Compared with my old battle armour, this suit is easy to take off," he rumbled. "It's only got a single layer, for a start, and the construction is simple."
"How do you move?" asked Aerin rhetorically, returning to her seat, lying back, and splaying her legs out across the table. "If you ask me, fighting in a tin suit is just counter-productive. You're easier ta hit."
Gorgoth grunted. "You weren't there when I saw the look on his face."
"Who? Whose face? Where?" Aerin arched an eyebrow as she looked over at the completely relaxed Orc.
"The face of the Breton knight when, in the heat of battle, fighting on horseback, he realised that his sword was just bouncing off my armour no matter what he did." Gorgoth leaned forward, and Aerin looked into his eyes, noting for the first time just how cold and emotionless they really were. She felt a slight chill, and shivered. "Aerin, I don't have to move quickly. I block, or parry, or do whatever needs doing. Why do you think people feared and reviled Orcs for so long?" The Bosmer tried to come up with a reason, but realised that she had no reason for the millennia of discrimination. "Because we are better than them. We are Malacath's chosen. We are the strongest race on Nirn, and they hate us for it." Gorgoth finished removing his armour, sat back down, and leaned back in his chair, a grim look on his face, staring at nothing.
"Gnaeus might find that ideology a little hard to accept," muttered Selene, who also looked relaxed, with her arms behind her head, her eyes closed. "Orsinium hadn't even been founded for the second time when he left the mainland. He's still got a lot to catch up on."
"You don't say," muttered Ilend, walking back into the room. The Imperial was carrying an assorted handful of fruit, which he handed to Gorgoth somewhat apologetically. "It's all I could get without bringing up a plate," he explained. Gorgoth nodded in thanks and stuffed most of an apple into his massive mouth, his strong teeth ruthlessly grinding down into it.
"Well, seeing as everyone's occupied, I'm getting this armour off," announced Aerin, swinging to her feet and swaying her way over to the door to the room shared by her and Selene. Ilend sniggered and rolled his eyes.
"Why do you keep insisting on calling that armour, Aerin?" he asked, scratching his nose as he tried to hide a massive smirk. "It's a bloody catsuit. Probably a throwback to your dancing girl days. Not all that good at keeping things out of you, but very good at getting a specific object in you." The Imperial winked. Aerin growled something unintelligible and hurried into her room, hoping that none of them would detect the flush spreading over her face. Ilend's guffawing indicated that he had.
"How did she ever survive in Oblivion with that setup?" asked Selene, genuinely interested.
"Mostly, she killed Daedra before they even got close," replied Ilend, shrugging his shoulders and flopping down in Aerin's vacated armchair, putting his bare feet up on the table and crossing them. Selene wrinkled her nose slightly at the smell, but made no comment. "She was wise enough to let Gorgoth, me, and Menien do the hand-to-hand stuff. Besides, Gorgoth's got a pretty powerful universal protection spell on him. Protected all of us well enough."
Before Selene could reply, the door flew open, smashing into the doorstop with enough force to make the entire door shudder. Ilend's instincts kicked in, and he was on his feet within a second, grasping for a sword that wasn't there. He need not have worried; Gnaeus gave him a single glance, harrumphed, closed the door, and walked straight into the bedroom. Pausing, he turned and addressed the room in general: "If you plan to open this door before dawn, then you'd better have your armour on and your weapons drawn," he told them. Nodding once to make sure they understood, he strode in and slammed the door.
"Remind me why he's so grouchy?" asked Ilend.
"He barely came out of his shack for thirty-five years, Ilend," sighed Selene. "He's not that much of a people person."
"Understatement of the century..."
Gorgoth rose to his feet, his head brushing the ceiling. His hulking presence almost made the room feel smaller. "Selene, go and get some sleep. Tell Aerin the same thing. We rise early tomorrow, and we're pushing hard." The half-elf nodded and headed off to her room. Gorgoth moved to the windows and jammed them shut, using physical means, then magical means as an extra precaution. "Selene already trapped the door to the hallway from their room," he explained to Ilend. "Means the only point of entry is this door. See what I mean about ease of defence?"
The Imperial gave him a blank look. "Sometimes, I think you're paranoid, and at other times, you make real sense," he sighed, raking his fingers through his hair. "I guess you were right in Skingrad; I'd never have thought of sleeper agents. The same could be true here."
Gorgoth nodded. "My point exactly," he rumbled.
Saliith chose that moment to walk in, looking more content than he had done for the past few days. "They have good food here," he announced, before flopping down in a chair and making himself comfortable.
"I'm surprised they didn't throw you out, with you in those rags," observed Ilend, gesturing at Saliith's ragged tunic. Behind him, Gorgoth started setting magical traps around the door.
"I brought my blades," shrugged the gladiator. "I doubt any of the bouncers had the skill to fuck with me. I have a reputation, it seems."
"Used well, reputations are very useful," remarked Gorgoth, finishing up with his trapping. "A Breton prisoner once broke within five minutes when he heard that it was going to be me torturing him." The Orc shook his head and walked over to the window, gazing out at the twilight.
Saliith looked towards the bedroom door, obviously wondering about getting some sleep, but Gnaeus's snoring dissuaded him. "I guess we'd better get some rack time," he observed, stretching out in his armchair and sliding his eyelids shut. "Best to be well-rested on the eve of a battle."
"Spoken like a true veteran," replied Gorgoth, easing himself down onto the sofa. "We should all get some rest while we can. I do not know how much we'll be getting over the coming days." The warrior-shaman used magic to extinguish the lamps, plunging them into darkness, the only light coming from the light of torches from the city reaching the window. "Sleep deeply. Do not be troubled by dreams. May you live to see the morning."
Sharing a bed was something new in Selene's experience; on Whiterock, her family's shack had been big enough for them to each have a separate space for their own bed, and the winters had never got too cold. This time, there was only one bed, and as it was a large one, Aerin was insisting that neither of them should sleep uncomfortably. The result was both sides of the bed being occupied by a woman who was trying to ignore the other's breathing. Aerin rolled over and let out a tiny snore. Selene sighed and buried her face in her pillow.
Unbidden thoughts entered her head as the peace of the night enveloped her. Ever since Whiterock, she'd managed to keep the memories and the devastation securely under control during the day. In the privacy of the nights, she'd allowed herself to let go as much as she dared, and this night was apparently no different. She snarled inwardly as memories of her lost family filled her eyes. Not now, damn it, she thought desperately, squeezing her eyes shut in a futile attempt to block out the flashbacks. Her father, her mother, her brother, all dead, suffering horrendous fates at the hands of the Daedric minions of Oblivion... despite her best efforts, Selene let out a muted sob, praying to whatever Divine that would listen, hoping that Aerin wouldn't hear it.
Apparently, the Divines slept. "You okay, Selene?" asked Aerin, eyes sliding open, full of concern as she looked over at the half-elf.
"I'm fine," mumbled Selene, speaking into her pillow. Any mer with eyes could tell that she was lying.
Aerin leaned over and grasped the older woman's shaking shoulder. "Selene, I have no idea how bad it is, but you're alive, right? And that means ya can get revenge... right?" While it seemed odd for a teenager to be offering advice to a powerful half-Altmer battlemage, it had become clear that Selene had yet to catch up on at least a decade's worth of life lessons. "Hey, don't hold it in; I know I'd be a shivering wreck if my dad died. No point in denying there's something wrong if your world's coming apart." Selene said nothing, merely letting the tears flow. Aerin, somewhat awkwardly, wriggled closer to the half-elf and put her arms around her.
Gorgoth, looking out of the window, could see the very edge of the sun starting to peek over the horizon. That was good enough for him. He moved over to the bedroom door and kicked it open. "Wake up, Magnus. It's dawn." Motioning for Ilend, who'd been awake for ten minutes, to go next door and wake the others, Gorgoth continued into the bedroom and prodded Gnaeus hard in the ribs.
The old Imperial moved fast, but not fast enough; in the act of drawing his broadsword from the scabbard kept under his pillow, Gnaeus found his sword arm held in a vice-like grip by the huge Orc towering over him. "It's still dark," spat the aged hermit.
"Look out of the window," snorted Gorgoth, releasing the Imperial's arm and backing out of the bedroom, leaving the door open.
Ilend took one step into the women's room and stopped, leaning on the doorframe, one leg crossed over the other, a sardonic smirk spreading over his features. "Am I interrupting anything?" he asked in a loud voice.
Aerin promptly sprang away from Selene, whose head had been resting on the Bosmer's chest, and in doing so almost fell out of the other side of the bed. She directed a venomous glare towards the Imperial, who was too busy clutching his sides, shaking with laughter, to notice. "If you haven't got anything constructive ta add, guardsman, get out and leave us alone," she snarled, putting as much malice into her voice as possible.
"Gorgoth wants you up and ready," Ilend told them before acquiescing and leaving the room, still chuckling to himself. Aerin shook her head and muttered something under her breath about men. Selene was wearing a slightly bemused expression.
"We're leaving soon, and not coming back, unless you want Augusta to attack us with a broom," Gorgoth was saying as he buckled on parts of his plate armour. "That gives us plenty of time for breakfast and a discussion of how best to attack the Mythic Dawn when we find their headquarters."
"Kick down the door and give the bastards what they deserve?" asked Ilend, picking up his sword belt.
"Maybe," growled Gorgoth. "Either way, I doubt it's going to be easy; there'll be at least a hundred of them, maybe more. Possibly even a small army. If they have enough powerful mages, it could be a challenge."
"That's what you and Selene are for," snorted Saliith dismissively. The Argonian had already slipped effortlessly into his scale armour and was sharpening one of his shortswords. "Besides, apparently, you were good at this kind of small-scale engagements, from what you've told us. Hope your tactics work."
"I learnt from the best," rumbled Gorgoth. "My father is an excellent general, one of his few virtues. It was an honour to serve under him." The Orc moved over to the door and started to undo the traps.
Within the hour, the party had departed from the Tiber Septim Hotel, leaving several ruined, mud-splattered carpets and a very angry hostess behind them, and were eating breakfast in the Feed Bag. Delos had been delighted to see that a high-consumption customer such as Gorgoth had brought him extra revenue, and set them up with the largest table in the place, which also happened to be the furthest from the door. Gnaeus had snorted and wrinkled his nose at what he claimed was 'substandard, ill-cooked food' but soon started eating when Gorgoth said he might not eat anything else until the next day.
After consuming a massive breakfast and discussing tactics, under the assumption that the Mythic Dawn was headquartered in a cave of some sort, the group eventually made their way to Green Emperor Way, under the shadow of White Gold Tower. The weather, thankfully, had cleared slightly, and clouds were scattered and insubstantial. Gorgoth, squinting up at the sun, ascertained that it was almost noon and told them to split up until they found what they were looking for, using the shadow of the tower as guidance. Without much idea of exactly what they were looking for, it took a while to find.
Gorgoth eventually located what seemed to be a glowing red map of Cyrodiil on the side of a tomb and called the others over. "I think we've found what we're looking for," he rumbled, a hint of satisfaction evident in his deep voice. "Look at our map and see if you can locate that position." The warrior-shaman pointed to a glowing red dot, located somewhere north of where Cheydinhal would be, marked by a rising sun.
"How long before we get there, do you reckon?" asked Ilend, leaning over Aerin's shoulder as she scanned the eastern reaches of Cyrodiil with her finger.
"It looks like it's around the Lake Arrius region," muttered Aerin, tongue clasped between her teeth as she made a mark of the probable location of the Mythic Dawn headquarters. "It's half a day's ride north of Cheydinhal, no roads there."
"Three days," grunted Gorgoth. "Let us waste no time. The Amulet of Kings beckons."
A/N: Well, it's been six months since this fanfic was first posted, and it seems to have grown far beyond my original intentions, and definitely for the better - massive thanks to regular reviewers, who know exactly who they are. Oh, and reviews do always help. Go on, click the link just below this author's note. Who knows, you might spur me on to write the next chapter quicker (not to mention helping me improve it).