4E 195 Mid Year

Uriel rarely hated his job. Some aspects were frustrating or tiring. But in the end, the old man was able to get through it all. Maybe it was because his job was never very messy.

Each step that took him closer to the castle on the outskirts of town only made Uriel feel heavier. A dark cloud followed him around town. His guardsmen saluted and greeted him on the street like they did everyday. But Uriel couldn't find it in himself to answer back. Ulia didn't mention his gloomy mood earlier, but she knew. Ulia always knew. It was probably the lack of sleep that tipped her off initially.

Count Jaras was the first one to acknowledge his presence when he crossed the threshold into the Great Hall. His brow line was higher than usual when he glanced over to the guard captain from the throne at the head of the room. "Hayn?"

"Yes, my Lord?"

"It is not usually within my notice, but you look worse than usual."

Uriel groaned internally. He wanted to throttle the Count. Instead he paused to think then answered, "I… didn't sleep well last night."

"Well, don't make a habit of it, yes?" The Count shifted in his seat, crossing his legs and resting his elbow on the arm of the throne. "Do you plan on visiting the guest we have in the dungeon today?"

"I do."

A smile came to the Count's face. The expression made Uriel's heart sink. "Don't be afraid to go hard on him. Remind him that he's under my jurisdiction now and I will do with him as I please."

Uriel said nothing and turned the corner into a back corridor. The sounds of maniacal laughter echoed from behind him. Uriel had to remind himself the Count had no idea what he was really asking for. The man had never personally harmed the food on his table let alone another sentient person. All Jaras was doing was putting on another show.

Dull orange light created flickering shadows on the wall of the guard barracks. Few people meandered around, chatting and playing card games. All the better that people weren't around. Uriel halted when he saw the jailor manning the desk before the dungeon. The younger man nodded in greeting.

"How many people do we have today?"

"Just that elf you brought in yesterday."

Uriel sighed. At least he was going to be alone. That made him feel a little more at ease. "I'd like you to leave your post, please."

"Sir?"

"Don't worry. I'll be down there for a while."

The jailor's brow furrowed. "Is this allowed? This doesn't seem exactly safe."

"I'll be fine," Uriel reassured. "Just… Just make sure no one follows me down unless I ask them to."

"Are you interrogating the prisoner, sir?"

Uriel didn't respond. Instead he stared at the jailor until he left then turned to the door. The wooden door was heavier than usual. The creak of the hinges was louder than he anticipated, making the Imperial cringe.

A flight of stairs led Uriel down to his destination. The dungeon was a simple rectangular chamber with two cells on either side of the room. Oil lamps on the walls filled the room with an orange glow. Warped shadows danced around him, taunting Uriel from the corners of his vision. In the far cell, he spied the Altmer laying on the bed with his arm held over his eyes to block out the meager light.

The Altmer cracked an eye open when he noticed Uriel standing at the cell gate. A sly smile grew on his face. "So the captain comes to visit me finally?"

Uriel's stomach churned, but he made sure to keep his face composed. "My men haven't been treating you badly?"

"No, no. Apart from sticking me in the dusty backend of this city and feeding me table scraps fit for mongrels, this is exactly like the Crystal Tower."

"Then well at least. I'm relieved."

The Altmer eyed him suspiciously, "Say, captain… How old are you? Old enough to have served in the war at least."

"Yes. I don't see how that's relevant."

"Probably not. All the same, I'm not surprised. I'm also assuming you're alone down here so you won't be pressured into violence. Is that instinct also a remnant from the Great War?"

Uriel took a deep breath in. "Yes. I've done enough harm to the world. I don't intend to cause anymore. Even towards someone who may want to harm me."

The Altmer's smile grew to an entertained grin, "Best intentions and all!" The mischievous tone in his voice made Uriel's stomach churn. "Anyways, it doesn't matter. Things will always burn in the end."

"I can argue philosophy all day, but we have more pressing matters." Uriel dug in his pocket for a minute before finally finding his keys. He felt the wide eyed stare of the Atlmer as he unlocked the cell door. The door almost flew all the way open before Uriel grabbed the edge in a panic.

"You're not… you're not letting me go, are you?"

"Hardly," Uriel said. He stepped into the cell then relocked the door. "This isn't special treatment either."

"Then what is it?"

"Easier to talk this way than through the bars." Uriel sat down on a stool across from the bed where the Altmer was sitting.

"And what if I try to kill you?"

"That's a chance I'll have to take. What's your name?"

The Altmer huffed, "Who cares? Call me Malacath for all I care. Names are never important."

Uriel stared at him for another second before continuing. "What exactly were you doing on that island? What was that ritual?"

"Honestly, what's the point? I was there, you were there. It's all done by now."

"We both know that's not true." There was a heavy silence when the Altmer flopped back down onto the bed. Uriel scowled and crossed his arms. "We can both help each other, but you have to start talking."

"No, there's nothing to talk about."

"Are you absolutely sure about that? You'd rather stay here and rot than go back out into the world?"

The Altmer's blank face was suddenly twisted. He grumbled to himself and sat up. "Fine. I'll play along. But I have my own terms."

"What are they?"

"Passage back to Alinor. You can contact any Thalmor embassy nearby and they will be more than willing to take care of the specifics."

Uriel's heart sank when he noticed the wide grin on his companion's face. He spoke hesitantly, "You do realize that no one is coming for you, right?"

The Altmer laughed, "Of course they'll come back for me."

"They won't," Uriel continued. His eyes never left the Altmer. "Think about it. They left you on an island for who knows why in Imperial territory with no way to contact them. If the Thalmor wanted you back, they would have been here already."

"You don't know what you're talking about."

"I do. Pretending they don't know you give the Aldmeri Dominion plausible deniability when whatever you did reaches a culmination. You're just fodder crushed by the machine."

The Altmer shot up from the bed. "That's not true. We agreed that as soon as I was finished, they would find me." Uriel said nothing and glared at the Altmer. Something about that only set the Altmer off further. " I demand I speak to the nearest Dominion representative."

"You're hardly in the position to make demands. And besides, there are no Dominion agents on the Gold Coast considering how locked down it is." Uriel got up from his stool and left the cell, making sure to make a point of locking the door behind him. He turned to the Altmer a final time, "Now if you ever come to your senses, let one of the jailors get me. Until then, enjoy your stay." With that, Uriel made to leave.

"Wait," the Altmer whispered. Uriel tried desperately not to smile. "Just… I don't want to waste my life here. Even if I can't go back to Alinor."

"I'll see what I can do. But I need details in exchange." he watched the Atlmer's scowl deepen as he weighed his options. For a moment, Uriel feared the deal was off. In another moment, the Altmer gave him a slight nod. Uriel nodded back and went back into the cell. "Let's start with your name, then. Unless you'd still like to be called Malacath?"

The Altmer shook his head, "I hardly want to be called by the name of a heathen god. My name is Panamar."

"Fine, fine. What exactly were you doing on that island?"

"A ritual obviously."

Uriel rolled his eyes, "Details, Panamar. Details."

"Understand my hesitation, Captain. As soon as I tell you, I'll be a traitor to my people. It's not a decision I take lightly."

"I am far more familiar with that situation than you can believe."

The Altmer's brow twitched. "Oddly enough, I think I can believe that." He paused for a moment, "Fine. We were testing some new weapons. The high ranked wizards are obsessed with the idea of simulating disasters remotely. It's a new concept."

"How new?"

"What you came across was the first test of the prototype spells. There were other tests planned for other locations believed to be uninhabited islands."

"So this wasn't necessarily an attack on the Empire."

Panamar breathed unsteadily, "If it was, I wouldn't know. I was only just the person tasked with making sure the test was complete. Apparently they didn't think I was important enough to tell me much of anything."

"Been there too. Considering you were left on the island, is it safe to assume you know how the ritual worked?"

"Would you understand it even if I told you?"

"Probably not," Uriel admitted. "But I'd like to hear anyway. I want as much information as I can get regarding the incident."

"What would it matter then? Just tell your military. They'll take care of it."

"There are reasons why I'd rather deal with myself."

"Fine. I'll start with the basics." Panamar drew in the dust that collected on the bed posts, too preoccupied to spare a glance in Uriel's direction. "It's basically a large-scale summoning circle. The stones you and your fellow guards found were points on the circle, giving it form. You probably didn't notice it but there was an anchor circle with the specific runes for the ritual."

"What were you summoning?"

"Right, that's more of a concern for you. The disasters we're trying to conjure are meant to be distractions."

A flash of hope lit up the Imperial's face. "Is there a chance that I can assume that they are just illusions?"

"No. They are definitely real. As to how much harm just one of these summoned disasters can do, we don't know."

Uriel scowled, "What in Oblivion does that mean?"

"Exactly that," Panamar said with a shrug. "The ritual I was in charge of was only one in the string of first tests. Even those who've created the spells have no true idea whatsoever."

"Ludicrous. Absolutely ludicrous," Uriel whispered half to himself. "This just seems like an attack!"

"Again, I had no idea." Panamar ran his hand through his hair. "I get that that isn't necessarily an excuse, but you have to believe me."

A heavy cloud hing over Uriel's shoulders. His head hung low and he closed his tired eyes. With a sigh, he continued. "What should I expect?"

"Expect?"

"Yes. You technically finished your summoning ritual by the time I found you. It worked. And I need to know what to prepare for."

"A storm, rising up from the sea. Anvil will probably be in its path. There will be some destruction but I don't know how much."

"When?"

"I have no idea. It could be a month from now. It could be a week."

Slowly, Uriel rose from the stool. "I'll start making preparations. At least I won't be completely off guard. I'll come back tomorrow to check on you."

"Thank you, Captain. Best of luck."

Panamar laid back down when Uriel lef the dungeon. He passed by the jailor he passed by earlier was waiting patiently at the door for him, wearing an expectant expression. He wrung his hands when he addressed Uriel. "How'd the interrogation go, sir?"

"There… There was no interrogation. Just answered some questions for me."

The jailor's brow furrowed, "It couldn't have been that easy."

"It really was," Uriel muttered, giving the jailor a pat on the shoulder. He didn't think as he snaked his way out of the castle and back into the city streets. For a moment, he could have sworn he heard Count Jarras calling for him. But Uriel didn't pay enough attention to go check. Uriel didn't stop walking until he made it to the threshold of his home.

In the back room, Ulia tended to her mortar and pestle. She was creating a sweet smelling concoction whose scent filled the house. She only paused when she saw the exhausted purple rings around Uriel's eyes.

"You look terrible. What happened?"

Before he knew it, Uriel brought his wife into a tight hug. "Nothing yet."

Ulia's voice was more soothing than he remembered. "Then don't worry about it today. Give yourself a break, Uriel."

"I'll try."

...

Valleri tiptoed past her mother's workroom. She heard her parents whispering amongst themselves. The expression on Uriel's face told her that he wouldn't be willing to share the conversation. Still, Valleri paused.

"When will it happen?"

"Panamar had no idea. Soon though, Maybe a week? A month?"

"Will that be enough time?"

"Who's to say? I'm not entirely confident though. No one can be totally prepared for the unknown."

Valleri shivered and decided that she really didn't hear the rest. She didn't know who Panamar was or what her father was planning. Perhaps it wasn't as important as she initially thought. Even then, the goosebumps on her arms weren't going away. Thoughtlessly, she made her way to the back garden.

Vilkas was already out there, busy digging a hole in the corner. He almost didn't notice her coming up behind him. He grunted and planted his shovel in the ground. "What's up?"

Crossing her arms with a sigh, Valleri fought for an answer. Her mind was still caught on Uriel. "Not much. Just one of those days."

"More like one of those weeks," Vilkas remarked. A smile came to Valleri's face.

"What exactly are you doing here though?"

"What's it look like? I'm planting a fucking tree."

"No need to get all defensive." Valleri finally caught a glimpse of the bright little sapling sitting at Vilkas' feet. "Isn't that the tree you and Marco brought back?"

Vilkas' previously blank expression softened. "Yeah. A strawberry tree of whatever he called it. Marco offered to pay me a little extra to get in the ground."

"Right, there's a fee of course. But that's usual for a Companion," Valleri joked.

"Yeah… Was there anything you needed, Val?" Again, Valleri hesitated. Her skin crawled for another moment as the back of her neck went cold. The Nord titled his head to get a better look at the pale expression on her face. "Hey, are you still there?"

"What? Yeah."

Vilkas sucked in a breath, "Just making sure after what you told me last night." He grimaced when he noticed the glare Valleri was giving him. "I'm going to assume that something bad happened. And probably more recently than last night."

"No."

"Yes," Vilkas prodded.

He tapped Valleri's shoulder. Frustrated, she waved her arms in the ari wildly and she poured out whatever she was thinking without any sort of filter. "Fine! I overheard my parents talking about something terrible that might happen in a week or so. Dad was pretty freaked out, so I'm assuming it's bad. And the worst part is he's going to keep it to himself. Like he always does. Its just… absolutely fucking vexing." She paused, staring wide eyed at Vilkas.

"Do you even know what he was talking about?"

Valleri squirmed. "No, but still-"

"Right, you have your answer. Besides, maybe you shouldn't have been eavesdropping." Valleri's stomach churned. It wasn't as though Vilkas was wrong. The Nord tried not to smile. "So, maybe just give him a bit of a break. Get mad about it later or something"

"That's what I've been doing for years though. I'm so sick of how he deals with things. He doesn't fucking communicate." The Imperial noticed her friend glancing between her and the ground with a scowl. "What? Spit it out, Vilkas."

"You're just… You two are a lot alike."

Valleri bit the inside of her cheek in a desperate attempt not to immediately blow up. She took in a sharp breath, "Look, you're not wrong, but you're not entirely not right either."

Vilkas went back to digging his hole. "It's evidence based. You both don't communicate well and are both super opinionated. The only difference is that you don't have good impulse control."

"You're not...wrong. But, Dad just learned that running away from his problems is what works," Valleri muttered half to herself. "That doesn't help anything!"

"Give it a shot, Valleri."

Narrowing her eyes, Valleri watched Vilkas put the sapling into the hole and begin to fill in the empty space. "Right and how's that working for you?" Her words were sharper than she meant, but Valleri couldn't bring herself to apologize.

Vilkas slapped the flat end of his shovel against the ground to flatten out the loose dirt around the roots of the sapling. He grinned as he worked. "Actually not bad. My problems aren't gone but things look okay for now."

"That's the point though!" Valleri blurted. "Nothing ever gets solved then it just wears you down until nothing is left."

Valleri and Vilkas stared at each other blankly. The hurt look on Vilkas' face made Valleri feel sick. Her fingernails dug into her arms as the anxiety stewed in the pit of her stomach. After another second, Vilkas looked back to the tree dejectedly.

"Look, I'm sorry. It's only… I don't know... anymore."

"No, it's fine."

Valleri thoughtlessly grabbed onto Vilkas' hand as tight as she could. She watched Vilkas' stop breathing and go as straight as a plank when she did. Valleri refused to let go.

"It's not though. Nothing is fine. And I can't do anything to help Uriel or myself."

"Valleri, I didn't come here specifically for you to fix me."

"I know. Vilkas." Valleri ran a hand nervously through her hair. "But I'm still going to try at least a little."

Rubbing his eyes with his free hand, Vilkas laughed. Valleri couldn't hear anything but relief in his voice. Finally she allowed the tension in her shoulders to wash away. A slight smile came to her face.

"Has Kodlak tried to find some way to change you back at all?"

"Yeah, he has. The old man hasn't come up with anything though. Apparently what the Companions get is a little more different than normal werewolves or something like that. Kodlak didn't give me a lot of details."

"Kodlak sounds kind of useless."

Vilkas grimaced, "He's got a lot on his plate usually."

"Still, running away and blacking out for a few days isn't great either." Vilkas was about to open his mouth to speak when Valleri broke him off, "I know you're about to say you already know that."

"Well then don't waste your breath, Val. Its-"

"Have you ever thought about just lessening the severity instead of a full cure?"

"Well…" Vilkas started, rubbing his neck. "Yes, of course. But so far nothing has seemed to work. And then even then it's not as though I have all the time in the world to figure things out." he glanced nervously back to Valleri.

She said nothing for a long while. The silence grew heavier with each passing moment. Her eyes glanced from side to side and her brow knitted together as she thought. Vilkas watched her, chest tightening.

"Good thing I know how to easily find information."

"What?"

Vilkas noticed the sly smile on Valleri's face. He would have called the expression mischievous. "It doesn't matter now. If I come up with anything, I'll let you know."

"What does that mean?"

The questioning tone in Vilkas' voice made Valleri laugh to herself. "Nothing. But we're friends." A wide grin grew on her face running from ear to ear, making the corners of her eyes wrinkle. "We're friends."

It was impossible for Vilkas not to notice the sunny gleam in Valleri's eyes. After watching Valleri be consumed by gloom for so long, the lightness in her face was a welcome change. Vilkas couldn't think of anything to say, despite his desperate want to reassure her.

Valleri looked at him expectantly, searching his face for any kind of answer. The grin on her face slowly disappeared the longer Vilkas held off. He tried his best to muster a smile and pat the top of her head.

"We are… friends," he said finally, voice barely louder than a whisper. He shuddered at the flash of disappointment in Valleri's face.

Without warning, Vilkas let go of Valleri's hand and left the garden. Valleri followed him to the gate and watched on with curiosity. She chastised herself when her heart dropped.

Vilkas paused in the middle of the road when Marisol approached with a wide smile. The Nord leaned to give Marisol's hand a kiss and caressed her cheek. Marisol leaned into the motion and laughed, remarking on the welcome attention. They stood there together for a moment before strolling down the road.

"Valleri? You okay?"

The young woman turned around to see Marco standing behind her. His bangs were tied back, revealing the pointedly suspicious glare on his face. It made her skin crawl. She sighed with frustration, "Yeah, I'm fine."

Marco rolled his eyes. Nothing Valleri could say would convince him otherwise, even if she believed it to be the truth. He leaned against the fence next to her and watched Vilkas and Marisol.

"They've been pretty chummy recently.

Valler hummed affirmatively, "I certainly wasn't expecting them to get along so well."

"I think the prevalent rumor is that they may have stuck up a more permanent relationship or something."

"Where in Oblivion did you hear that?" Valleri exclaimed, blanching in horror.

Marco shrugged, "Just around. It's not hard to overhear things when just walking around town. Besides the priestesses over at the chapel don't know when to shut up sometimes"

"You don't think there's any truth to that, do you?"

"Probably. They seem to be spending a lot of time together."

"How in the world did you find out before me? You're practically a hermit at this point."

"Hell if I know. Maybe because I'm easy to talk to."

Valleri's chest tightened. She stared down the road, hoping to catch a glimpse of the couple again. They were far gone by then. Her voice was croakier than she hoped, "Why didn't he tell me?"

"Who? Vilkas?" Marco shrugged once more. "Probably because you're nearly impossible to approach and have a tendency to yell at people when they do something you don't approve of. And you do hate Marisol. Shall I go on?"

"No!" Valleri yelled. Marco rolled his eyes. She knew he was being a little shit on purpose. "Gods! Sometimes you don't know when to stop."

"And my point?"

"Yeah, fine. You made your point," Valleri droned. She grumbled to herself for another moment before anxiously running her hands through her hair. She wasn't sure what she was mad at anymore. Was it that Vilkas was seeing Marisol? Or was it that Vilkas obviously didn't think she needed to know?

Thoughtlessly, Valleri strode out of the garden. The gate slammed behind her. The loud crash made Marco jump as he rushed to see where Valleri was running off to. Valleri didn't bother to turn around when she waved him off, yelling, "Not today, Marco. Not fucking today."

"But where are you going?"

Valleri paused in the road and stared up at the sky, daring whichever gods were watching to strike her down. When nothing happened, she looked over her shoulder. Marco was staring at her expectantly through narrowed eyes.

"Skeeva has work. At least it'll take my mind off things."

The younger man groaned to himself then went back inside. Defeated, Valleri halted and her eyes darted between the cobblestones and the clouds above her. The sky was darker than she realized. Then Valleri felt cold pinpricks on the back of her hand. A cold feeling enveloped her the longer she stood in the road.

It was raining.