I'm on a roll. Hopefully saying this won't incur Murphy's wrath and end my good run with updates.

Cheesecake244351 - Yes, it will be explained, though it will take some time. I can't get to explaining this before Azirra finds her way into the Cavern of the Incarnate and that will take some time. And again, thanks for pointing out the plot hole, fixed it.

Nosferatu2255 - Meeting with the gods of the Tribunal is inevitable - so far our dragon hero kept some distance from our cat hero, but that is going to change, hence he will meet Vivec and Alma. As for magical items, Rotheimaak already grabs some in this very chapter.

Chinchi37 - My improved rate of publishing has less to do with secret sex dungeons and more to do with finding a new use for my breaks at work. It actually works great - since due to the nature of my job I have plenty of tiny breaks and a single long one, I use those short, two minute long breaks to write. Since I have so little time, I end up writing short sentences of low quality, but I make actual progress. After that I correct what isn't to my liking. It's actually a confirmed technique of breaking a writer's block - writing down something, no matter how shitty, and then just improving it is easier than composing good sentences right off the bat.

HermitWitch - Rotheimaak is aware that there are in fact no rules to follow in the first place - despite accepting he is in actual Tamriel, he still can't completely let go of the fact that it used to be a game. In other words, he is searching for exploits that a sane person would never look for exactly because they don't expect them to work. People like to believe a world has many rules and some things are unavoidable - like, say, killing bandits requires a lot of luck, skill and preferably a numerical superiority. Roth was flung into another world without any good reason and so he knows some things are impossible only because we believe so. And so makes his own rules.

slayst - The sad fact is that all it took for Blades to change like that is PTSD from the Great War and being forced underground by Thalmor. Delphine and Esbern now see enemies everywhere, because they do have enemies everywhere. Combine that with their lack of purpose (the group remained around the falling Empire out of having nothing else to do, but their loyalty to the Septims was due to their dragon blood) and we get a faction resurrected by two veterans of a terrible war, that eagerly grab onto anything that would make their lives make sense again - in this case killing dragons, including one that repented his ways. Yeah. Blades of Skyrim are way different than those of Morrowind and Oblivion.

Moikan Yoloko - *shudders* Yeah, no. Caius is what, fifty years old? Somewhere around that - he is in good condition, given his ridiculous six pack, but the fact remains what little hair he has left is gray. Azirra is, according to my fanfiction documentation, exactly 23 years old.

Let's get to reading. This chapter is the longest one so far, over 9k words - let's just say that Azirra's meltdown took more place than expected.

The rest of Azirra's day could be summarized as 'taking care of unfinished business'.

There were two tasks she set out to accomplish once the meeting of the Blades was concluded and both involved her official activity as the member of the Mages Guild: to cash in on the reward for the index in Caldera and to give Edwinna Elbert the rare book she asked for. Since she decided to save on a single teleportation (guild discount or not, those shortcuts remained her biggest drain on resources), that meant going to the first town on foot. That was fine - according to Caius the road was short and simple. That was not quite the case with the route between Caldera and Ald-ruhn, so she would teleport between the halls to skip the more dangerous part of the journey.

The path turned out to be indeed as banal as Azirra was told - after leaving Balmora through the northern gate all she had to do was go forward (north) all the time. That's it. There were no convenient places for bandit ambushes either - just steep hills on both side of the road with no place to hide to spring a surprise attack on a traveller. Since her body mostly recovered from the recent beat down, not counting a minor sore in her chest after a major effort (like, I dunno, maybe sprinting through the entire city right after waking up), she made that trip just fine.

The city Caldera was as unremarkable as the last time she saw it - a few houses, a forge, some pawnbroker, an out of place tiny castle functioning as the quarters of the local governor and the only building of any interest to her, the hall of her guild.

Folms Mirel was in particularly good mood today.

"A second index delivered on the same day? The Divines smile on me."

"At least they smile on someone..." mumbled Azirra giving him the item in question, which was an indirect cause of her breaking several bones. "How many do you have right now?"

"Four. The search is going much faster than I expected. Here's five hundred gold we agreed upon."

Finally. That horrible adventure might actually pay off... no, scratch that. Mental damage is not going away anytime soon. If Caius will send me to some canalworks again, I'll cry.

"You found it? Splendid!" Edwinna eagerly took the book she asked Azirra for in their first meeting. "You have no idea how long I was looking for it. Where did you get it?"

"I have a friend in Vivec that owns a shop with rare books. I simply asked him and he just so happened to have a single copy."

"In Vivec? Interesting. I knew only one major bookseller there, Simine Fralinie, and she didn't have that book."

"I suppose it's not surprising." Azirra shrugged. "Jobasha is at odds with the Temple since some of his wares aren't well seen by the priesthood. They even ordered an Ordinator to patrol his shop, most likely in hope of finding something dubious enough he can be arrested."

Elbert simply shook her head in disappointment.

"More often than not it's not the rarity of the materials we need to study or the high requirement of necessary skills, but the ignorance of others that prevents a scientist from finding the truth. Hold on, I need to get my enchanted coinpurse. I tell you, get yourself one as soon as you have the means, they are very convenient..." the older mage finally fished out a glowing coinpurse from beneath her robes. "How much you paid for the book?"

"Four hundred septims. I may be friends with Jobasha, but it's still a rare tome."

"Alright then, here's four hundred for the book and a bonus for the job."

The gold switched owners even faster than 'The Chronicles of Nchuleft'.

"Got any new job for me?"

"Indeed. Two of them, in fact. One counts towards the progress towards your next advancement, the other... not so much. In fact I would prefer if you treated the other objective not as a task, but a favor repaid in two very useful enchanted necklaces."

While Azirra wasn't really your typical Khajiit when it comes to behavior, it doesn't mean she would miss the subtext.

I suppose Ajira told Edwinna about the less fair ways in which I helped her win that bet with Galbedir.

"The second job is illegal then. What kind of crime?"

"Theft... and then returning the stolen item without being noticed. I'm pretty much out of options in this case - it concerns a book even more rare than Chronicles and an old rival of mine has the only known copy in Vvardenfell. It should be easy enough to take the book, but I can't do this myself - my presence in the hall at the same time a Dwemer related book owned by my rival goes missing wouldn't be ignored. I learned owner's schedule, so if you agreed, I could tell when to do this at the smallest risk."

"Uh huh. And the reward?"

"Two enchanted necklaces. One with the enchantment of Divine Intervention and the other with Almsivi Intervention. The job has two parts. The first is to steal the book so that I can have a look at it and the other is to return it as soon as I'm done, so that my involvement is never discovered."

Azirra hummed in thought.

If this is really as easy as she makes it out to be, then the deal is good. So far I had no reason to use those spells save for that one-time shortcut between Vivec and Ebonheart to get a treatment as soon as possible... but now that I think about it, the ability to appear at the nearest place full of healers would be quite convenient and much less painful way out of that situation when three smugglers at once spotted me at the ruins.

...I'm already sold, aren't I?

"Fine, we have a deal. I'll get you that book as well, though not today, it's already late. Tell me about the other job."

The Breton clapped once.

"Splendid. As for the other task, it's relatively simple - I need a specific piece of machinery often used in Dwemer constructs for my study. It looks like a glass tube with metal at both ends. It's entirely up to you how you will acquire it, but I recall seeing at least a few in Arkngthunch-Sturdumz when I was there for another project some time ago. If you feel like it, you can also just try some closer ruins, it's a quite common item."

Our protagonist shrugged.

"While I'm not exactly happy about the increase in difficulty, I suppose one can't always get everything. I will get you one such tube."

If it's so common, I'm pretty sure I'll find at least one at the ruins I've already cleared. There is still a lot of items there that I didn't loot since I lacked information on how much those were worth and my backpack was already full of things I knew had a value.

"Then I'll look forward to seeing you again, Azirra. Either with the tube, or to get Sirilonwe's schedule and some extra items so that everything goes smooth."

Once the two mages wrapped up their business, our heroine climbed the set of stairs and, upon reaching the entrance, opened the door outside. She sighed wearily upon witnessing the weather outside.

Not even a second later she was spitting out a bit of sand that managed to find its way into her mouth in that short moment.

"Stupid sandstorms..." grumbled Azirra, this time covering her face with hands. Without any further delay she braced herself, stepped out, shut the door and started a quick march through Ald-ruhn in order to find both the place where her informant stayed and she planned to rest for the night.

Third time. Third time the face of gold was haunting her dreams.

There was nothing beside her and Him - a dark void as far as one can see, even though she felt the ground under her feet. In other words, nothing to distract her from the Sharmat. Three glowing, red eyes glared at her in the darkness, even as His words seemed friendly and the tone of his voice implied the smile under the mask.

She wasn't laughing with him. She didn't know the meaning of the words, even though she heard them clear.

The old friend reached out to touch her, his long, claw-like nails splattered with red towards the end. Blood? She wanted to move away, but the fear... or something else... had her stuck in one place.

As the claws approached her head, she attempted to cry out, only for sound to die before even beginning. She couldn't run, she couldn't scream. The entire time He acted the same way, giving no indication to her struggle to pull away. Sharmat kept speaking in known language, but with unknown meaning, smiling, even though his mask should hide it. In her desperate effort to get away, she realized with terror that the god tried to put her under a spell.

The claws grasped her head.

With a gasp Azirra sat up and started to glance all over the small room in panic. After a few seconds her breathing slowly returned to norm. She held her head with both hands.

Just another dream. That's all.

With trepidation she put the blanked to the side and released held breath.

It's clean this time. It wouldn't be fun to explain otherwise.

She shook her head and stood up.

"I really need to find some way to deal with those dreams."

Given the modest conditions of her lodging, preparing for the day didn't take much time - all she had to do was change her clothes and brush her fur so that it wasn't obvious she woke up from a nightmare just a few minutes prior. Once everything was in order, she left her rented room and went upstair, to the bar.

"A bottle of weak wine, if you have it."

"Sorry, we don't." A Dunmer woman behind the counter stated. "We run out yesterday. Next delivery will come in a few hours. We have shein, though, and that is..."

"A comberry wine, I know." Thank you, Ajira, I actually learned something while getting drunk. "Very well, shein it is."

"Seven drakes."

As Azirra handed over the coins, she decided to sort out her task for Caius and quickly get back to Balmora.

"I'm looking for a specific trader that trades with Ashlanders, name's Hassour Zainsubani. I've heard this is the inn that is most likely to host him, given how wealthy he is these days." Yes, just a bit of praise should do it. "Could you tell me where can I find him?"

"Hassour? Yes, I know him, he is a regular. He is in the lower bar right now, you will recognize him by a dark brown mohawk. Not exactly common for a mer of his age and profession. Be mindful, though - lately he seems to be a bit moody."

Khajiit nodded and took the stairs leading down to a small, separate part of the inn, not forgetting to grab her bottle of the swill the locals called their version of wine. Given the early hour, there was hardly anyone to confuse with Zainsubani - other than him, sitting at the opposite end of the room by the wall, there was only some Bosmer in another corner. As she approached she took in the sight that was her informant.

There wasn't much that implied his profession, to be honest. For one, he wasn't dressed in rich clothes, he wore a simple light armor, netch variant if she remembered the name correctly. He had just enough wrinkles he could no longer be called middle-aged, but healthy build meant he was still going strong and wasn't going to kick the bucket anytime soon. The Dunmer was slowly sipping from a distinct bottle Azirra learned was traditionally used to contain cyrodilic brandy. The trader in question had somewhat bitter, but also a bit melancholic expression.

"Are you by chance Hassour Zainsubani, a trader?"

The Dunmer glanced at her with disinterest.

"That is my name, yes, though the days of my activity in trade are mostly gone. I do not wish to be rude, but if you have business, just speak it."

Azirra's tail twitched.

"I'm sorry, am I intruding at a wrong time? We can speak later if that's the case."

The trader kept looking at her for a moment before he sighed and waved towards the seat opposite of him. The agent sat down.

"Not really, no. Right now is as good time as any other for a talk. So then... why do you want to speak with me?"

I can't get a read on this guy. He seems a bit out of it, that's the only thing I'm certain of.

"I've heard you were born in an Ashlander tribe and I would like to learn something about Ashlanders. Call it a scholarly curiosity." Azirra wisely decided to put on her best robes before this meeting. "I'm particularly interested in their gift-giving customs."

"Gift-giving customs, you say?" Zainsubani put away the bottle and scratched his chin in thought. "A curious question, most people of other cultures do not bother with learning about my kin. I suppose there's no harm in telling you. A gift is a sign of courtesy among strangers and affection among friends. Among strangers, a thoughtful gift is a sign that you are cautious, and considerate, and aware of the other's wants and needs. Such is particularly useful for traders and travelers. Among friends, it is a private thing, and subtle, with great risks, for the test of the gift is how well it is tailored to the receiver."

"A thoughtful gift between strangers, you say?" repeated Azirra. "Could you perhaps give an example of what is considered thoughtful?"

Gotcha! He is almost certain to use himself as an example and then I'll just have to get it for him to make him generous in intel.

Zainsubani hummed.

"It's rather simple - a gift that shows you have taken the care to learn something of the receiver. The gift must be something the other will enjoy or find quite useful, but to a limit - too generous gift for complete strangers would make anyone suspicious. Let's take me for example. Since I'm already retired and have no issues regarding material needs, that means one would have to know my hobby to give me a really good gift. And I can assure you that a mere stranger is unlikely to know my love for poetry. If one were to learn of this and give me a book of poetry, that would show the giver respects me, and has made a special effort to know and please me."

And Caius once said my people skills seemed a bit rusty. Heh. Shows what he knows.

The trader continued, now with a small smirk on his face.

"Of course, one would be hard pressed to find one such book I haven't read. I'm pretty sure you would find it impossible to win me over with whatever the local bookseller has, since I know his offer well myself. This is what you really wanted to know, didn't you?"

Crap, crap, crap, crap.

"Er..."

The Dunmer chuckled. His mirth only slightly calmed down Azirra. In the back of her head she was aware of the fact her tail was swishing wildly behind her seat.

"I must admit, you are pretty good, I almost didn't caught that change in expression when I told you about my hobby." He took a swing from his bottle. "You have given this old mer some good laugh. Well. Let us take your earnest thought and effort as a token of your gift. You have behaved courteously, and I am inclined to help you. Now tell me, what is it that you really want to know?"

Azirra sighed in relief. Perhaps being caught in her small manipulation didn't ruin everything.

"It's actually not far off from what I've asked you about already. I'm curious about Ashlander culture - namely their customs and religion."

Hassour sat back and focused.

[Exposition incoming. Some of it copy-pasted from original lines in the game with some changes, some written from scratch.]

"Where to begin? Well, let's start with the most important part: don't call them Ashlanders. It's a moniker given by our settled cousins of Great Houses. My people generally call themselves Velothi - as in, followers of prophet Veloth, who brought us to this land many ages ago. The moniker become so common even Velothi often refer to themselves with it, but awareness it wasn't always the case is very appreciated. The Ashlanders retain the modest nomadic life and simple ancestor worship of their forebears, and despise the soft lives and decadent worships of the settled Great House Dunmer cultures. The Wastes are harsh and unforgiving, and we are a hard people. But there is a beauty and honor in our simple lives, and the snobs of the Temple and Great Houses are fools to dismiss us as crude savages."

"What is the reason behind the conflict with the Houses?"

"There are plenty of them, but all came to be due to a division caused when the six tribes settled and called themselves Great Houses. That separated them from us, the disregard for nomadic ways given by Veloth. As time progressed, their settled way allowed the Houses to grow in greed, which caused many conflicts with tribes. Of course, the War of the First Council is the point when our relations worsened beyond a point of recovery."

"The settled Dunmer aren't the only ones Velothi people dislike. Most wish all foreigners and their false gods could be driven from Morrowind. At very least, Ashlanders wish the foreign devils would leave them in peace. Velothi think it shameful to attack unarmed persons, but they will kill without hesitation an armed person who offends them or their clan laws. No Ashlander is fool enough to make war against the Empire. However, if such a war might be won, many Velothi might cheerfully give their lives to win such a war."

"So the best way to approach a Velothi is to do so openly and without weapons?"

"Correct, though there are of course some exceptions to the rule. Velothi may challenge a stranger who enters a yurt without invitation. Customs differ with different tribes, but leave when requested, and you may be forgiven. Be particularly careful about ashkhans - tribal chiefs - and wise women - tribal seers and counselors. Some are welcoming, some are hostile. Be courteous, and leave if requested. If offended, they may attack."

"Challenges? How one should react when faced with a challenge? Are there some rules, a way out?"

Hassour nodded.

"When challenged for sport, it is acceptable to decline. When challenged for honor, it is shameful to decline. Honor challenges come from offense given in speech or action, or may represent customary formal challenges of status or ritual. So yes, it is always possible to decline a challenge. However, unless the challenger is significantly stronger than you, doing so will make you a coward in the eyes of the tribals. One might as well completely break all ties at this point, very little could make them talk with you again after being publicly humiliated like that."

"I see. Is that all when it comes to customs?"

"Pretty much. Remember to refer to them as Velothi, be respectful, always be ready to apologize for braking some very local taboos, do not give gifts without learning more about the receiver and don't show any disregard for religious beliefs."

"Right. Speaking of religious beliefs, what can you tell me about them?"

"There are two types of cult amongst Velothi. All Ashlanders in a tribe, young and small, are born into the Ancestor cult of their clan. The Nerevarine cult is different, though; it is a very small cult, with only a few wise women with the gift of prophecy, and a few holy warrior-heroes who guard and protect the seers. Sul-Matuul, Ashkhan of the Urshilaku, is the Warrior-Protector of the cult, and Nibani Maesa, also of the Urshilaku, is the Oracle-Seer of the cult. Your average Velothi will still have basic knowledge about Nerevarine, however the entire cult is... how to put it... very static. There were very little changes to it in centuries. They worship the Great Ashkhan and Hortator, Nerevar Moon-and-Star, who in ages past destroyed the evil, godless dwarves and banished the treacherous Dagoth Ur and his foul hosts beneath Red Mountain. The cult is of small consequence in Ashlander worship, and only among the Urshilaku do its followers have any influence. Others Ashlanders tribes share the sentiments of the cult, but regard the Nerevarine prophecies with suspicion and skepticism."

Azirra frowned.

"That's it? The Nerevarine cult is that small?"

"Yes, it's not very common. It's not really strange: the cult itself is merely an extension of common ancestor worship. They give respect to one specific ancestor and at the same time foretell his return when time comes to fulfill the Nerevarine prophecies, which means to drive the foreigners from the Ashlands and cast down the false gods of the Temple, and restore the true worships of the Ancestors. It is a dream that would appeal to every Ashlander, but many Velothi think it is a silly ancient legend, and little more. Your typical tribal won't even be able to tell you much more about the beliefs of the cult, maybe save for the Sign of Thunder-Lizard."

"What's that?" Sign of Thunder-Lizard? I'm sure no other informant mentioned it to me.

"It's part of the legend on which the entire cult was established. By tribal account the Tribunal murdered Nerevar Indoril and the body of Hortator was brought back to Ashlanders by his steed, Thunder-Lizard. As the remains were given to the founder of the cult, Thunder-Lizard promised to return alongside Indoril Nerevar once the time comes to fulfill the oaths given to ancestors. That would be the final Sign that marks the time of the Nerevarine."

Azirra smiled.

So they also call him Thunder-Lizard. I'm so going to rub it in the next time he shows himself. I'm pretty sure it's a derogatory term to a dragon.

"The steed was a dragon," elaborated Hassour. "That's kind of part of the reason the cult doesn't have wider following, what with Empire using a dragon as a symbol. I doubt any tribal outside of Urshilaku tribe even knows the beasts real name, Rotheimaak."

It's about time someone told me how a monster from Nord myths fits into modern Vvardenfell. It's a long shot if even Blades archivists found nothing, but I don't think they would pay attention to beliefs of local nomads, so I should try.

"If I recall correctly, dragons were native to Skyrim. What was this one doing in Morrowind?"

"Not much is known about him. He was a trusted friend of Indoril Nerevar and aided him in the final battle. Afterwards he disappeared without a trace." Zainsubani took a swing of sujamma. "Until now, that is. I think that the dragon that gave us a scare so recently is Rotheimaak. When I was still a boy, the Wise Woman described him in great detail and everything matches up."

Go figure, another lead I can't follow up. Somehow I'm not surprised anymore.

"So you think the time of those prophecies has come?"

"I don't know, to be honest. True, Empire isn't as strong as it used to be, same goes for the Tribunal, but it's difficult to imagine Velothi succeeding in defeating either. On the other hand I'm quite sure I saw exactly what generations of Urshilaku Wise Women foretold."

Azirra nodded slowly.

"So the only ones who have deeper knowledge of the subject are chief and Wise Woman of Urshilaku tribe. Any idea how could I get in touch with them?"

"That shouldn't be too hard, but it's not banal either. The Urshilaku are the Ashlanders of the northern Ashlands and the West Gash, in the northwest of Vvardenfell. The Urshilaku camp moves with the herds, but usually lies close to the Sea of Ghosts, north of the village of Maar Gan, on the northern coast of the northern Ashlands. I'm afraid there's no safe way to travel there - since I retired there's no caravan to tag along with that regularly travels between the cities and Velothi camps. If you want to contact them, you will have to walk through the Wastes with whatever company you can get by yourself."

Azirra made an expression as if she bit into a lemon. In other words, no company at all. I think I know where Caius will tell me to go next.

[End of the wall of text]

Nonetheless, she decided to thank Hassour for the news, as unwelcome as that last bit was.

"Many thanks. You were very helpful, mister Zainsubani."

The old trader waved her off.

"Not a problem. I actually am rather grateful for a distraction. Otherwise I would just sit here and drink local sujamma or my imported Cyrodilic brandy, waiting for any word from my son."

"Is something wrong?"

"Not as far as I know. The thing is, I know little to begin with. These days I'm too old to travel and my adventurous son, Hannat Zainsubani, assists me in my trade, seeking out sources of fine ebony, and fetching them at fine prices. I wonder at my son - he has been so long away, without a word to his father, surely he wishes me to die of worry, so he may inherit this fine brandy." At this point he shook the bottle, though he clearly meant nothing by those words if his small smirk was anything to go by. "He has proposed to chart the rarely visited ancient underground complex at Mamaea, west of Red Mountain; if you should chance to see him in your travels, chide him, and tell him an old man longs for news of his son and heir."

"It's unlikely I'll run into him, but I'll tell him so if it happens. Farewell."

"Have a good day, miss."

"I'm ready."

Edwinna rubbed her hands gleefully.

"Perfect timing. I know for a fact that Sirilonwe won't be at the Vivec guild hall until noon. If you get the book right now, I'll have plenty of time to check if it is of any use in my studies. I'll of course cover the costs of all four teleportations."

"What is the title and where should I look?"

"It's called 'Chimarvamidium' and it's the sixth volume of Marobar Sul's 'Ancient Tales of the Dwemer' series. Given the value, Sirilonwe definitely keeps it in that trunk she put in the small magazine in her room. Her quarters are down the hall to the left looking from the teleportation circle." She removed two scrolls from within her robes. "Unless you are good with locks, you will need those - there are at least two that you have to open, one to magazine and the other to the chest. Sirilonwe will notice, but as long as everything will be again in place once she returns, I don't see her causing any problems about it. It's not theft if there's no proof anything was taken... as you probably know, given that story with the Bosmer enchantress Ajira told me."

Azirra rubbed the back of her head in embarrassment.

"About that... I, uh, can't read daedric. Didn't have time to learn it yet."

"Oh." The older mage paused for a moment. "I don't think that's really a problem. Many mages that focus on spells rather than enchanting doesn't have that skill. There are only a handful of phrases used to activate a scroll. Can you believe that almost all scrolls enchanted with Destruction spells have only a phrase 'Woe upon you' written on them?"

I have a feeling someone was feeling very uninspired while manufacturing those.

"Anyway, here's the phrase to use the scroll."

Much to Azirra's misfortune the phrase sounded just as impossible to word as the only other time she used a scroll.

Edwinna couldn't help but be surprised as the Khajiit returned not even three minutes later.

"So soon? I assume there where no troubles?"

Azirra wordlessly handed over a thin tome with brown cover to her. The Breton eagerly started to flip pages to judge books worth.

"You know Edwinna... I think you need to upgrade to better rivals."

"Really?" Asked Elbert, not really paying attention. "Why?"

An expression associated with phrase 'I'm done with this shit' made it's debut on Azirra's face.

Azirra peeked into the room and sighed in relief - it looked like the intel was good and the owner wasn't around. She slipped into the room and quickly spotted the door opposite the bed. She pulled out one of the scrolls and stood in front of the entrance.

"Alright," stated Khajiit while grasping the doorknob. "Let's... eh?"

The doorknob turned without any magical assistance. Azirra just blinked in confusion.

"Who keeps the chest in a separate room meant to hold more valuable items, if that room has no lock?" After a second she shook off the surprise - if it's in her favour, there's no point to question the difference.

The inside wasn't spacious - it was more of a closet rather than a room, as there was only enough space for a bookstand, chest and a single person. She leaned over to cast the spell, only to pause.

On one of the shelves, between two small chests of the style most often used to hold jewelry, was lying a single key. It was a little too big to fit the lock of two jewelry boxes, but...

"I better be wrong," mumbled Azirra while inserting the key into the keyhole of the only chest that was of importance to her.

She couldn't help but to facepalm as the chest opened just fine.

"Just a hunch."

"Mhm. And you are absolutely right, I must do so. This book is of no help at all. It's about an armor rather than an animunculi, can you believe it? Useless. What kind of mage reads books about that?"

...A battlemage?

"Here," Edwinna handed the younger mage two necklaces. The meaning of various symbols engraved on them flew completely over Azirra's head - while she knew about gods, the only feelings she had towards them could be compared to those one would give a neighbor who kept throwing thrash on their lawn. "Amulets of Intervention. The yellow is for Almsivi, the blue for Divines. I suppose there's no charm in giving them to you already. Just make sure to put the book where you found it."

After returning the book, Azirra decided to sort out the other task given by Edwinna. Instead of teleporting back to Balmora, she hired a siltstrider caravaner and prematurely stopped not far from the city, giving him an excuse of wanting to do something at the fort and letting him know she will walk the rest of the road by herself (getting off from the massive flea in a place not designed for doing so was a pain in the ass, but in the end she managed to do so without breaking her legs). Within twenty minutes Azirra surveyed the ruins of Arkngthand and found a single dwemer tube, left behind by her due to already having a full backpack at the time. She decided to return it at her convenience. She had a more pressing matter to solve.

Said matter involved entering the home of Caius Cosades and reporting to him. Normally she would wait a bit - the spymaster made it clear she was already very often appearing at his place and it would be better to report with some delay (as long as said report wasn't urgent) to lower the risk of unmasking either of them as agents. Those circumstances however were different - before Caius never gave her a promise of actually explaining everything to her about the reasons she was chosen as the agent and everything connected to the subject. As such, to appease her superior, she picked up a little something to satisfy his need to feel inconspicuous.

"Here's the one thing that makes your life bearable, Caius," stated teasingly Azirra while tossing at her boss the small package she was given at the South Wall Cornerclub before coming to him. He caught it effortlessly.

"Would you not do that? What would I knock myself out with all week long if you broke the bottle?" grumbled Caius, though one could easily notice he said so with a hidden mirth. He set the content of the package - two bottles of skooma - on the table. "Now then, since the matter of both keeping my alibi convincing and justifying your visits was handled for a few days, how about you will tell me what you learned from that retired trader."

Both agents sat down to discuss their findings.

"I learned several things about Ashlanders or, as they prefer to call themselves, Velothi. Mostly how to act around them, how to show respect and what is considered as taboo in their culture. I also know the most important parts about their religion, both ancestor cult and Nerevarine cult. He mentioned the reappearance of our dragon wild card, Rotheimaak, is actually in their beliefs part of the Nerevarine prophecies foretold as the sign that they are close to being fulfilled. Zainsubani also told me who leads the Nerevarine cult and where should I look for them."

Caius nodded.

"Great. That's all I need to know. This information will be more useful to you than me - I only needed to know where to direct you to get to the bottom of this. Who leads the cult?"

"Urshilaku tribe is the heart of the cult, since in the other tribes only their shamans, Wise Women, know the lore of Nerevarine. Urshilaku is led by the ashkhan Sul-Matuul, who is also official protector of the faith, while Wise Woman of their tribe, Nibani Maesa, is their oracle. By Hassour's estimation around this time of the year their camp is somewhere north of Maar Gan, in the wastes." Azirra gave the spymaster a pointed look. "Let me guess: I have to trek over there on my own?"

"Mhm, I'm afraid so. It will be a longer mission, too - we will be out of touch for a long while, so you will have to make all decisions."

"Wonderful, just what I wanted: getting all buddy-buddy with illiterate barbarians for weeks on end." The mage rolled her eyes. She straightened up and gave her superior a more serious look. "I belive you promised me something when we last met."

Cosades nodded.

"Yes, an explanation. Where to start..." After a few seconds Caius stood up and took a. "I suppose the fastest and most convincing way would be if I gave you the decoded message that you were tasked with delivering to me upon your release. Give me a moment..."

The Imperial without any concern proceeded to toss everything off the table. Azirra observed, too shocked to say anything, as her superior placed the furniture on its side, pulled out tweezers and put the tip in a narrow slit between two planks on the underside of the table. She blinked as Caius pulled out a single sheet of paper from inside.

"Keep that simple trick in mind," stated Caius as he started to fix the mess he just made. "If you are a spy and are found out, enemy is bound to look for anything of use. If all you need to hide is a single page, which is often more than enough for our work, don't overdo it. If, say, a group of Ordinators raided this house, they would pull apart all items in the room that are wider than my finger in search of hidden compartments and make holes in walls and floor, but no one would think about the spot like this. Everything would be wrecked, but a note secured with a weak glue would remain undetected." Once everything was back in its place, Caius handed over the letter to Azirra who was still too surprised to answer. She quietly took it and just stared at it.

"Go ahead," added Caius. Azirra nodded and glanced at the paper. The original message was still here, as the unreadable rows of seemingly random letters, but below was a certainly readable text.

"Spymaster Caius Cosades, Knight-Errant of the Imperial Order of Blades," she started reading out loud and glanced at the receiver of said package out of the corner of her eye as she continued, "Director of blah, blah, blah..." She could have sworn the fifty years old spymaster pouted at this dismissal of his title. "I have the honor to acquaint you with his Majesty's wishes concerning Azirra, an individual... of no rank or consequence?!" She glared first at the letter and then, after a peculiar sound, at Caius.

His face was now as neutral as possible, but she knew better - that sound was definitely a snicker.

"Azirra has been released from prison by his Majesty's authority and sent to you with this missive." The younger agent returned to reading. "Azirra is to be entered as a Novice in the Imperial Order of the Blades, and is to serve under your absolute authority as you shall see fit, except insofar as his Majesty's particular wishes are concerned. His Majesty's particular wishes are as follows: a local superstition holds that an orphan and outcast, a youth born on a certain day to uncertain parents, shall unite all the tribes of the Dunmer, drive out the invaders of Morrowind, and shall reestablish the ancient laws and customs of the Dark Elven nation."

"This orphan and outcast is called in legend the 'Nerevarine', and is supposed to be a reincarnation of the long-dead Dunmer General and First Councilor, Lord Indoril Nerevar. Azirra has the appearance of... meeting... the conditions..."

Caius pulled out the letter from her suddenly limp fingers. By contrast the rest of her body, tail included, was frozen solid as a terrible feeling of foreboding made itself at home in her guts.

The older agent sighed and went to read the rest of the note for her.

"Therefore it is his Majesty's desire that Azirra shall, insofar as is possible, satisfy the conditions of this ancient prophecy, and shall become the Nerevarine."

Azirra just sat there, the only sign of her listening being an occasional twitch of her ear.

"Though this prophecy is indeed only an ancient local superstition, his Majesty has taken counsel on this matter with his most expert informants and confidants, and his Majesty is persuaded that the prophecy is genuine and significant, either in its entirety, or in its several parts, and he earnestly demands you treat this matter with the utmost seriousness."

Caius paused, noticing his subordinate's tail now swishing madly. After a moment, he continued.

"Certain aspects of this ancient superstition are described at the end of this document, and further materials will be forthcoming by courier at the earliest occasion. It will, of course, be necessary that you acquaint yourself better with the details of this ancient superstition from your local sources. Since this matter intimately concerns Azirra, it is expected that you will employ her to gather information on this subject. His Majesty has taken a great personal interest in the legends and prophecies of the Nerevarine, and eagerly awaits your reports." The Imperial tossed the letter aside and sat down next to Azirra.

Suddenly so far quiet Khajiit chuckled. He frowned.

"Why are you laughing?"

"Oh, it's just, heh, I wouldn't expect you to ever prank me like that, Caius. Good one, if over the top."

"I didn't."

She rolled her eyes.

"Oh, come on! I'm a nobody, you've written it yourself, thanks for another blow to my ego by the way. And I'm supposed to be some, I don't know, reborn ancient male general with a prophecy to my name? Ugh, no, just no. Don't expect me to fall for that."

"Journeyman Azirra!" She stiffened at the usage of her rank. "That is not a prank. It's an actual message from Emperor's secretary, as good as direct order from Uriel Septim himself. I know this is sudden, but you must accept it."

Her hands, now clenched into fists, shook.

"Accept it?! Caius, do you even listen to yourself?! You tell me I'm meant to con an entire nation into thinking I'm their resurrected hero?!"

Caius was never so grateful his small house was constructed with his job in mind, meaning those screams weren't heard all over the street. Nonetheless, it was better to put an end to this before he lost his hearing or Azirra her voice and possibly sanity.

"Calm down, Azirra. It will be fine. You have a full support of the Emperor himself, there is literally no greater ally one could possibly have. Me and other Blades are here to support you." Seeing she was about to argue further, he cut her off. "Also, notice that the orders state that you have to satisfy the conditions of the prophecy only as much as possible. If it turns out that even one of them can't be fulfilled by you, we can forget about this entire matter and move on."

Azirra's seemed to deflate at his words.

"Is there... no one else to do this?"

"I'm afraid not," answered Caius, doing his best to pacify his subordinate without resorting to the 'order is an order' card. "I know all my other agents well. All of them know their parentage."

"But I know mine too!"

"Really? Alright then. What is the name of your mother?"

"Aziini. She was a servant at count's castle. I don't remember her, but her friend, who adopted me, told me about her."

"And your father?"

"A merchant, Ji'barri. From one of the Khajiit caravans. My mother... she was seeing him back then."

"Given that in the end you were in the care of a family friend, I assume he died before your mother?"

Azirra scowled.

"If only. He left as soon as he learned about me. He claimed I wasn't his."

Caius looked at her with pity. She clearly hated it.

"Sorry to dig like that, but I hope you see my point. This prophecy doesn't say that Nerevarine doesn't know their parents. It merely states that they were born of uncertain parents. Given Ji'barri's claim your ancestry is under question, thus fulfilling that particular condition."

Azirra hung her head low, but she gave Caius a weak glare.

"...You have led this conversation too well to be going blind. You already knew all of this."

"...I did, yes. The file on your background was delivered shortly after joining the service."

For a minute or two neither said anything.

"Again, sorry to drop this at you like that, but it's not like I could do so right away after recruiting you. You do not have to go to Urshilaku right away either. A trip into the wastes requires preparations. Take your time, let everything sink in. I'll contact some friends at Fort Moonmoth, they will have some gear for you once you are ready."

The possible Nerevarine simply numbly nodded.

The day went pretty good for Rotheimaak.

After one more counter-ambush in the Ashlands, our hero decided to spice things up a little. Instead of preparing another fishing trip under open sky, he brought his little helpers to two places of interest for a bit of looting. The first one was the cavern of Sud, some shithole filled with lesser daedra led by two necromancers. The other one was an ancient, ruined Velothi tower of Ald Redaynia, which contained a bunch of undead.

The first location caused them some trouble, not the smallest of which was getting the dragon past the front door. The corridors themselves however were wide enough the group couldn't use the tactic Rotheimaak called 'Wall of Flesh' (one warrior at each side of the corridor, followed by Rotheimaak blocking the escape route and securing the center, thus forcing any opposition to fight three opponents at the same time), which they heavily abused at the tower. The daedra were also a bit persistent and the undead sorcerer teleporting into the chamber once everything else was re-killed was quite a surprise. In the end however they claimed their prizes, which, not counting your typical loot, consisted of one valuable staff and a freaking daedric artifact.

Rotheimaak had plans for both items. From their last meeting he knew Nerevarine was a member of the Mages Guild, which meant that sooner or later she will need the Wizard's Staff to advance to one of the higher ranks. As for the Bittercup, in the game it was used to bribe the leader of Balmora Fighters Guild. Unless Nerevarine joined the Thieves Guild, it could serve only the function of quickly acquiring a lot of funds - he was certain it was absurdly valuable. How valuable? Let's try 'five times the value given to Dragonborn to kill the fucking emperor'. Yep, Morrowind was just plain broken.

I wonder if the Mudcrab Merchant is real, thought Rotheimaak. He was resting on a small hill in the middle of nowhere, after his little helpers left for the camp. It was already around midnight at this point. If so, I'm bound to cause a worldwide economic crisis within three weeks of meeting him and mantle Dagon for the title of Daedric Prince by causing more destruction than his Oblivion Crisis. Hold on, what's that?

Ted frowned and focused on the light that he just noticed. Being who he is, he couldn't help it and made another popculture reference, even though there was no one around to confuse with it.

"What is this ominous glow in the distance?"

He squinted his eyes. All senses of dragons, with the exception of touch and possibly taste, are much more sensitive than those of humans, but even he had to put some effort in order to recognize such a distant target. Once the "distant land vision", as Ted liked to call it, kicked in, the former geek however was able to see them almost as good as if he was next to the crowd - which was in fact the source of light.

There was quite a lot of people, definitely more than twenty, but most likely not fifty - their constant movement made it impossible to tell for certain. All were armed to the teeth, literally in case of some orcs. The most common theme were bows, blades and hammers almost big enough to be useful only to anime characters and finally furs instead of real armors, not to mention all those torches. It seemed to be a party consisting of members of all races, but mostly humans.

Rotheimaak hummed.

"Interesting. What kind of purpose such group would have here, in the middle of nowhere? Because it's unlikely they are just passing by, there are no roads nearby."

As he had nothing else to do, he decided to guess the identity and objective of the strangers.

Let's see. They don't wear uniforms, so they aren't guards of any House, not to mention legionaries. Furthermore, their armors clash with the style common in this province, so they are not from around here. Some new bandit gang? Nooo, there's too many of them. Some abandoned fortresses might have this many thugs inside, but they wouldn't move around in such numbers. Mercenaries then? Most likely, but I don't know who would hire such a ragtag group. Wait... What is that in front of them?

There was a quick, grey shape slightly ahead of others. It was obvious it wasn't a chase - Ted was certain that it wasn't the warriors' top speed. A dog?

"Yeah," grumbled the dragon as the being stood up much like a man and howled at the moon. "More like a wolf. Werewolf."

And then the understanding hit him like the meteor hit the dinosaurs.

It's a hunting party. A dragon-sized hunting party. Led by a freaking werewolf. There were only two groups that would use an undisguised werewolf as a hound. The Companions were out, they would never act with so many members at once, not to mention they handled only Skyrim. The other faction...

Rotheimaak glanced to the sky. At first everything looked normal to him, but then for a few seconds one of the brightest "stars" on the sky - one of those that weren't holes in Aetherius left behind by the gods nope'ing out of the mortal realm, but the actual realms, other planets - glowed even brighter, like a red dot in the sea of darkness.

There was only one thing Ted could say to that.

"Fuck you too, Hircine."

I've taken a look at the events of this story and I have to begrudgingly admit that Kazerad ain't the only chap around that keeps on making a cat cry - there are more scenes with Azirra being miserable than with her being really happy. Good thing soon she's gonna be pretty much chained to Rotheimaak, he isn't the sort to ignore that. If you are curious - YES, the key to the chest Azirra had to open to get the book really is pretty much right next to the chest. And yes, the door to the 'closet' really is open. You can just enter, close the door after yourself and steal everything inside. That's Bethesda to you.

Next chapter will most likely focus almost entirely on Rotheimaak.