Guide:
Dwemeris
Thoughts
"Speech"
"Dovahzul"
Warnings/Disclaimer: see chapter 4
Chapter Warning(s): Thalmor, politics, trolling jarls, mentioned gore.
Last time…
"I don't believe we've met. I am Elenwen, the Thalmor Ambassador to Skyrim. And you are..?"
Chapter 39 - Embassy
Who am I?
I am going to be your biggest problem of the night…heh. Not that you'll know.
I plaster a friendly, vaguely familiar smile on my face.
"My name is Fjaldi. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance." She doesn't seem pacified much, but I was expecting that.
Let the semi-political games begin.
I let my smile transform into a proud smirk pretending not to take note on the sharpening of her eyes. Smoothly, I continue my introduction.
"I am one of the current leading experts on Dwemer in Tamriel, visiting Skyrim to oversee any current expeditions. You might have heard of me from my esteemed colleague, Calcelmo, who is currently stationed in Markarth. It's always a joy to hold an intelligent conversation with peers, I've found, when compared to most of Skyrim's native… Residents." I make sure to inject a little venom in my voice when talking about the Nords. I'm sure she'll like that.
And right now my goal is to make her tolerate me without asking too many questions, so I may slip away easily and without raising alarm immediately. If she distrusts me, the guards will keep a closer eye. If she likes me too much… Err, I don't even want my own thoughts to venture there.
Judging by the easing of her shoulders and the lightening of her eyes with interest, I've said the right things so far. "I see. How fascinating. Perhaps we may talk of your exploits later, Dwemer had such… marvellous inventions."
Weaponry, no doubt. I nod in agreement, inwardly wincing. I hope she'll be too busy attending to other things to actually inquire to my people's skill in warfare.
With that, I plaster the neutral look back on my face and move ahead to the rest of the party, while Elenwen gets distracted by the other guest, 'Razelan', entering.
A small note in the back of my mind: He seems to cause problems often. It might come in handy later.
I take into account which faces I recognise, and which ones I don't. A blonde Nord I don't know, Razelan, a woman who may or may not be the Jarl of Solitude, Jarl Balgruuf, Jarl Idgrod… and Ondolemar. Now there's a face I'm truly glad to see. But first, I should at least give the impression of socialising… With my jarls. Jarl Balgruuf to start off with, I suppose.
"This gathering is nothing more than a boast! The Thalmor are reminding us we are at their beck and call. But my friend, I admit I hadn't thought to see you here." I give him a small grin.
"Neither had I, to be fair. This isn't the usual venue I'd seek out to get a fine bottle of mead."
The jarl spends a few minutes eyeing me shrewdly. "Something tells me it's not the mead that brought you here tonight." My grin sharpens.
"Not at all, my Jarl. But I must admit the conversation is marvellous."
He returns the grin. "Indeed. You used your status to trick that elf into trusting your word. Consider it a tactic I approve of."
I blink at him innocently. "But my Jarl, I only spoke the truth! In fact, Calcelmo asked me to drop by to help him with his book." At this point, Idgrod Ravencrone seamlessly moves herself into the conversation.
"Truly, you're more interesting than I'd thought! Is there anything you need, dear Thane of mine?" I shake my head ruefully.
"Not at the moment. There is one last person I ought to speak with before… conducting my business here." I glance at the Ambassador briefly, to see her eyes on me. I let my face shift into a curious smile and turn back to my jarls.
The Ambassador is interested in me alright.
"Though… If it isn't too much trouble, could either of you manage to get Elenwen off my case? I think I caught her interest… In the worst sort of way." Perhaps an exaggeration, but it has the intended effect as Balgruuf's face shifts into one of disgust… before he brightens with a gleam wickedly similar to Nelkir's plotting face.
"She won't be overhearing your conversation with your friend, I assure you. Give us a few minutes."
While he and Jarl Idgrod set to plotting, I order a drink from an increasingly twitchy Malborn and drift closer to Ondolemar, who's eyebrows lift upwards briefly in surprise, his pristine Thalmor robes swishing with every step.
I can feel Elenwen's eyes on us, and desperately hope that my Altmer friend doesn't bring up something sensitive, or even calls me 'friend'. I want to avoid odd questions, after all.
"None of these people care a wit about the religious aspects of this war. Another sign of the degeneracy of your Empire… No offense meant, of course." He begins in a dull, placating tone, and I know for sure that I need not have worried.
"Head Justiciar Ondolemar. It has been a while since we last spoke." I mumble pleasantly, staying carefully neutral in the midst of enemy territory.
"Too long, I would say. Intelligent conversation seems to be increasingly rare in Markarth. Your colleague has done little more than devote himself to his research and his books since you passed through." I feign embarrassment, scratching my cheek and glancing to the side briefly.
"Has he now? Well, one must admire his dedication, if nothing else. I ought to stop by and remind him to eat sometime. He will be of no use to my own research should he perish. What a dreadful shame it would be to never hear his fascinating theories again." The drawl in my voice is mocking, jesting, and it draws a sliver of a smile from my friend, who merely nods.
We both know Understone Keep would be a better place if Calcelmo didn't feel the need to prattle on and on for hours to every poor soul that asked the wrong question.
Right then, I see my favourite two jarls walk up close to Elenwen and start a hushed discussion, Jarl Idgrod exclaiming 'My, such thing I did not foresee! Surely you jest!' Incredulously, just loud enough to draw the First Emissary's attention.
I quickly turn to Ondolemar. "I need a scene. I need to slip out of this party without anyone noticing." I whisper to him, and he nods sharply, once, before pausing.
"Or, I could just give you a brief 'tour' of the Embassy since you are such a trusted individual to the Head Justiciar. I might even be able to slip you whatever you need."
Now we're getting somewhere.
"No, my gear is still squirreled away somewhere. But it would be wonderful if you could go ahead, through the kitchens and then to wherever the 'Solar' is."
My friend grins conspiratorially, glancing sideways to where the jarls are still having all of Elenwen's attention, seemingly having a ball by talking increasingly louder over some poor sod's secret affair.
"I will go now and take over the guard's post at the Solar entrance. Until then."
After he leaves, I wait a few minutes, loitering about and listening to other people's conversation, Jarl Balgruuf and Idgrod having stopped their conversation due to Balgruuf 'needing stronger drink if he was going to speak of that'. I then make my way over to the guest that entered after me after grabbing another drink, sitting next to him and offering it.
He expresses his thanks profusely, and I almost, almost feel guilty about using him so blatantly. "Could you give me a distraction?"
As the crowd gathers around the man, I swiftly make my way past Idgrod, who only whispers 'good luck, friend' before I duck into the kitchens with Malborn. Seems like I have a minimum of four people at my side in this. Hah! And Delphine so harshly stressed that I'd be alone.
After Malborn guides me through the kitchen and opens a chest that hold my gear, he tells me I'm on my own. No, I just have to move until I find my Altmer friend. My grandfather's amulet sits comfortably on my collarbone, back where it belongs.
The first hallway is empty, and I briefly wonder why until I carefully sneak ahead and hear voices of guards, talking with each other in the next room. "Did you see those robes march in this morning? Who are they with? More or the Emissary's treaty enforcers?" For a brief moment, I'm confused.
Robes? Do the Thalmor have walking clothing articles? How does that work? Or do they fly? I think it might just be another one of those linguistic quirks –
"No, they're high mages, just in from Alinor. I guess Herself is finally getting worried about all these dragon attacks."
Elenwen, worried? Good.
I move ahead as quietly as I can, ignoring their conversation but keeping an eye out for any movements they make as I sneak past them, ducking behind a pillar when their conversation finishes and just barely avoiding getting caught. I hope their ears aren't sharp enough to hear my accelerated heartbeat or sharp intake of breath when they suddenly go back to their rounds.
I have to find Ondolemar. Also, I should have brought in an invisibility potion. Or five.
Somehow, I manage to pass them by without incident, making it out into the courtyard after snagging a set of Thalmor gear. Lock picks aren't meant to hold the heavy fabric up so as not to make me look like a child playing dress-up, but the robes are too large on me and short of cutting off parts of the sleeves and ends, there's no way to make it fit. Shortly after putting the clothing on, I tear it all off again.
This plan would have been viable had I been three feet taller. Damnit.
Nevertheless, the courtyard will prove a huge problem. Unless Ondolemar helps, I might have to resort to killing them all. I have no Shouts in my repertoire that may make me invisible. I CAN slow time to make my way to the other side and barge into the Solar, but that, too, poses a risk.
I gnaw on my bottom lip from where I'm crouched in the shadows, only able to see a lone Thalmor wizard ahead. A brief exhale is the only outward sign of my displeasure.
I sincerely hope that my Housecarls don't start rooting through my gear. I have my Dark Brotherhood uniform – Shit, I left my Dark Brotherhood clothing with Lydia and Rayya! The enchantments would have really helped right now… And I don't want them to find out about my involvement with the assassins.
But, now is not the time to be worried about anything other than the matter at hand, so I reluctantly push the matter aside.
A sudden yell, of an unfamiliar voice: "What did you just say?!" draws the attention of all High Elves in the courtyard, and I grab the chance with both hands, hurrying along the snowed-over path, hating the way the snow crunches under my feet.
Instead of walking straight across the courtyard, thus showing my face to all the people here, I nimbly cross to the other high path, where there currently aren't any guards since everyone seems concerned with the discussion between Ondolemar and another Altmer.
"I said, that if you are so concerned about the college since Ancano… left, I'd be more than willing to take your place as potential new overseer. After all, unlike…some, I am a, shall we say, competent justiciar."
The corners of my lips twitch upwards even as I press myself against the wall right next to the solar. I watch from the shadows, intrigued as Ondolemar sighs condescendingly, shaking his head minimally.
"Of course, I only ask you consider. I daresay none will be able to take my station in Markarth, considering the politically sensitive situations currently afoot there. Being subtle enough to handle such a… delicate operation has never been your style, has it, Mirulien? I believe we have all seen how you carry yourself in such operations in Firsthold, hmm?"
The other Thalmor agent, Mirulien, stands proud and annoyed in front of the door. The entrance to my ultimate goal. I tilt my head sideways, just enough to allow Ondolemar to glimpse me, and then the Altmer smirks.
"Why don't you ask the First Emissary, if my comments concern you so?"
The smaller wizard proceeds to make the Thalmor equivalent of a huff and leaves for the other building. While all eyes turn to other places, Ondolemar enters the solar. Once I'm sure nobody is paying attention to the entrance, I slip between the crack, grinning at my friend as he shuts the door securely behind him, blocking it with a broad beam of wood.
"We ought to make haste. It won't be long before someone notices you left the party."
"I don't call that a party. I call that a political gathering. I hate those." I reply dully, dutifully staying in Ondolemar's shadow.
Inside the solar, a man is talking to yet another Thalmor mage. "But I need that money! I earned it." The smaller of the two is saying as I duck behind a pillar, letting Ondolemar wait at the entrance patiently. The mage is talking about not making presumptions. Whoever Gissur is, I almost pity him. Almost.
As Ondolemar finally decides to step into the conversation, his status as Head Justiciar allowing him some leeway, I sneak into the small office area. It's rather barren. A desk, a chair, a few shelves, and the jackpot. That is, a chest filled with documents.
Let's see here… Dragon investigation, aye? Sounds like the Thalmor don't know as much as they like to admit. A key is always useful somehow, this one doesn't have a label though, I wonder what door it's for? And… A-ha! Thalmor Dossier: Delphine and… Ulfric Stormcloak? Confused, I take all three files. Delphine only wants the dragon investigation one. She need not know that I acquired a little more than the necessary information. I wonder what Ulfric has to do with the Thalmor. This has to be good.
I wait for the Thalmor interrogator – so that's what he is – to lead Ondolemar downstairs a the latter's prompting.
"I wish to see for myself how far you have gotten. There must still be something missing, or he would not still be alive, correct?" My friend asks as they enter through the sturdy iron door, probably leading into dungeons of some sort.
Ondolemar is going to get in trouble for this, isn't he? Maybe I can… convince him to come along with me.
But for now there's no time to waste, and I follow after the interrogator, happy to find that the key I found earlier fits perfectly once I see the door has been locked again. Before passing, I take a deep breath of the stuffy air before moving through what's like an invisible barrier, blocking out the reek of bodily fluids, blood, and death.
A shudder passes through me. Wait… Can I even trust Ondolemar? The Thalmor are looking for me, after all, or so Nazir said. There's no going back now. If I made a mistake, it will likely be my last.
There's another chest behind the interrogator. I don't know what's in it. But I have a feeling it's important. As if on cue, Ondolemar opens the chest and takes out a worn journal.
"This is everything?"
"Yes, Head Justiciar. We believe he is hiding out in Riften, in the sewers under the street."
"As befits a rat on the run." My friend states mildly, making eye contact with me before his gaze moves to the Thalmor soldier standing at attention next to the bars where a haggard, heavily injured prisoner is kept and groaning.
I nod once, slowly moving ahead even as I spot Ondolemar draw an Elven dagger from underneath his robes. "Has the First Emissary tried her hand yet?"
"Not yet, she seems to be too busy with the other problems that have come up. They still cannot get even a basic profile of the Dragonborn. If the people of Skyrim rally behind him, we might have… More trouble than our contingent can handle. Skyrim might even be lost to us, in the worst case."
I'm stumped for all of a second, I could have so much influence? The second, the hitched breath, is enough to alert the soldier in front of me.
"Who's the-?"
An unnoticeable 'snap' sounds near my neck, disregarded and ignored in the following chaos.
But I'm already pouncing, burying my dagger in her eye even as Ondolemar smoothly slits the interrogator's throat. I don't even know the bastard's name. Once we've ensured they're dead, I free the prisoner after he reveals both who the Thalmor are hunting and how to get out of the Embassy.
Ondolemar gives me a single nod when I look at him. "The prisoner is correct. We must leave immediately."
"W-wait! You're with the Thalmor! Is this a trap?" I shake my head just as shouts echo from upstairs. I turn just as Malborn comes running into the room, two elves on his tail. A few beats pass as everyone, shocked, assesses the situation. My heart jumps to my throat and my eyes go wide. We've been caught!
Then Ondolemar fells the soldiers with a wave of electricity, grim and expectant.
"Fjaldi. I cannot stay here. They will kill me." The High elf says shakily, and I don't wait a second longer before running up to the elves, searching for a key to the locked trap door the prisoner – Etienne – is crouched over.
We can't waste another second.
"Great, now I'll be hunted by the Thalmor for the rest of my life. I hope it was worth it." Malborn complains worriedly and I send him a scorching glare.
"I don't think they'll fucking prioritize you over the rogue Justiciar and the Dragonborn, Wood elf." I bite, getting a curious look from Etienne as I wrench open the trap door. "Everyone stay behind me! Who knows what kind of filth lives down here." I order, before jumping down the bloodied chute into a cavern.
Where's my amulet? Where's my amulet?
Luckily, other than a frost troll, a vomit-inducing stench, and an inhumane amount of blood and rotting corpses, we don't encounter much trouble in our journey to the exit.
The night sky and fresh air have never been more welcoming – and I've delved into ancient crypts for days on end. Taking a deep, shuddering breath I fiddle with my torn, bloody sleeve as Etienne thanks me. I hand him my coat before he takes off. Malborn sticks around for a few minutes longer than I anticipated.
"So, you're the Dragonborn. No wonder Delphine chose you. What convinced the Thalmor, though?" I nearly groan at Ondolemar's less-than-impressed glare, before tugging at the Altmer's robes. "Let's go someplace warm and dry first. Then I'll get you some new clothes. You're coming with me for now, if that's okay with you?"
The elf nods solemnly. "Go, and I will follow. I have nowhere else to go." I give the man a considering glance. "Not yet. I have contacts in several associations across Skyrim. We'll get you an alias later."
Now, I just want my bed at the Winking Skeever, and of course, my armour. But… My pendant… I only allow myself a brief glance over my shoulder and a shaky sigh. I can't go back in there, not if I don't want to be caught. My pendant… Grandfather's pendant… Gone.
I need to put it behind me.
…I don't want to leave behind the last anchor to my past, the final proof that my life Before wasn't just a fever dream, but I… I have no choice.
"I'll also attend a wedding in two weeks. Afterwards, I'm possibly-maybe-certainly getting us both into Stormcloak territory." I quickly check – no, Malborn has run off.
"I have blackmail on Ulfric Stormcloak and a house in the city of Windhelm where we can rest up, if no better ideas come to me along the way." Another nod.
He's really stressed. I suppose I should be, too. The Thalmor were after me already – now, they'll probably go berserk at seeing my face. I purse my lips, pressing them tightly into a thin line as we take off.
I wish I could go back to when things were easier.
A/N: Last week I was a day late, so now I'll just upload a day early! Heads up: updates might be a tad more sporadic, though I'll try to stick to my schedule. I've got a pretty tough exam period coming up. I'd love your thoughts on this chapter!