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Chapter 11:
Call to Arms
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2 Days after Skitter's transformation began
The Blue Palace, Solitude
High King Torygg
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Breakfast was just ending, and Torygg was mentally preparing himself for another day of court, when General Tullius appeared at the top of the stairs with 'Ambassador' Elenwen. Neither looked particularly pleased.
Outwardly, Skyrim's High King didn't react positively or negatively to their arrival, merely watching with polite interest as his steward, Falk Firebeard, checked both the high-ranking persons over for hidden weapons, giving apologies for the increase in security. Torygg noticed his wife, Elisif, sending him a subtle, concerned glance as she finished her porridge – mixed with some of Khepri the Beekeeper's fine honey, the first proof having arrived just last week, much to his chef's delight.
Torygg only twitched his lips and shifted his shoulder slightly in reply to his wife's unvoiced worries, actions that went unnoticed by the General or 'Ambassador'. He had a fairly good idea why the two were in his palace, and if he was right… well, the following minutes might be entertaining enough to see him through another tiring day of ruling Haafingar and Skyrim.
After Falk announced the arrivals – with the ghost of a mischievous smirk hidden in his beard – Torygg dabbed his beard with a napkin and greeted the 'honored dignitaries', who his people didn't appreciate being in Skyrim for one reason or another, "General, Ambassador. What can I do for you this morning?"
Tullius looked even more incensed than when he arrived, to Torygg's humor, brandishing a sheaf of paper, "You can tell me why this… Muster has been called," ah. Torygg expected as much, "The timing, given that my Legion is just arriving in force to deal with dissidents to the Concordat, is rather… alarming, as I'm sure you can appreciate."
The High King smiled, as one would to a child – because, while it would no doubt piss the Imperial off, there wasn't much the other man could do about it, as Torygg was King – and replied airily, "A coincidence, nothing more, General. Why, I would've expected Ambassador Elenwen," here, he nodded to said 'dignitary', "would've told you the reasons before you came here."
"I have," replied icily the Thalmor wench, who Torygg longed to see Shouted off a high place, "As I understand things, and have related to the good General," ah, and Tullius didn't seem to like her either, if his sour expression said anything; Torygg shifted a few plans around in his head as the woman prattled on, "Khepri, the Beekeeper of Dawnstar, made some ridiculous report of the Falmer preparing for a push to the surface, stirring up all manner of panic across your Holds." The knife-eared bitch looked like she was going to continue, with something disparaging no doubt.
Torygg didn't let her.
"I'm sorry," the High King smiled, his tone saying he was anything but, "it seems as though you're implying that Khepri does not communicate with the Chaurus, that they do not protect her at all times of day, and that Khepri herself does not have an intrinsic understanding of all types of insect. Really, Elenwen," chuckled Torygg, delighting in the color taken by the woman's cheeks, under all that ghastly foundation she wore, "it's like you don't trust your own agent's reports."
"I have read the reports," she snapped, "but the idea that these beasts are intelligent enough to-"
"The Skyrim Guar was nearly intelligent enough to speak, by all our ancestor's reports, yet they long served as a beasts of burden, or farm animals; indeed, if not for their service to the people of Skyrim, Whiterun and the Rift would be less bountiful than they are now," interrupted Elisif with a mild, but kind, tone, ignoring both the General's interested glance and Elenwen's glare as she buttered a roll.
It was times like these that made Torygg glad he married the beautiful woman. Yes, she wasn't ready to assume the duties of High Queen in full – yet – but her knowledge of history and sharp wit served her well, and him by extension.
That he loved her dearly was just icing on the sweetroll that was their marriage.
"Well said, my Queen," Torygg chuckled lowly, exchanging a smile with his wife before looking seriously at the two 'dignitaries', "I have received letters from Jarl Sklad of the Pale, Keeper Carcette of Stendarr's Vigilants, and the East Empire Company's supervisor in Dawnstar. Khepri the Beekeeper's word is above reproach; she is not a Daedra worshipper; by the power she holds, the Pale has enjoyed – and will continue to enjoy, if I have anything to say of it – peace and bounty unheard of since the Great Collapse. If she claims the Falmer are coming to remove her as a threat, and the Vigilants and Jarl vouch for her word, I'm inclined to believe such a claim. Falk? Tell them of the most recent missive, please."
While Torygg stood, straightening his robes and making sure his crown was on straight, his steward reported calmly, "The Vigilants and a team of Dawnstar's guardsmen examined a Dwemer ruin near the town of Dawnstar; according to Keeper Carcette, the Falmer are up in arms over Khepri sniping the Chaurus out from under them, and are preparing a force in the deep to assault the Pale. More than this, according to Khepri, the Chaurus are preparing to rebel against the Falmer, who they hate for their enslavement."
"And that's why the Muster's been called, to stop them from killing Khepri," murmured Tullius, rubbing his chin and frowning, while Elenwen looked thoughtful; then the General addressed Torygg directly, as the High King held out a hand for his Queen to rise from her chair, "What of the Chaurus? What will be done about them, once this rebellion has run its course?"
Torygg sighed and smiled condescendingly at General Tullius, "General, I have a nation to run," and keep from falling into chaos, he didn't say, but the implication was there, "If you want to know what the Chaurus will do, once these millennial-old terrors have been wiped out, I suggest you send soldiers to the Muster and have them ask Khepri what will happen. Although, from what I've been told, so long as Khepri is left alone and they are not harmed, the Chaurus are willing to live and let live; whether that will last past the Beekeeper's death is anyone's guess, though I sincerely hope it will be the case."
He wasn't lying either. Torygg truly hoped that, once the threat of the Falmer was removed – hopefully in a very permanent fashion – and Khepri went to the hills, the Chaurus would continue to clean city streets and cavort peacefully with children, as Skald's reports claimed was their wont.
That there would be assistance in the fields, a lasting supply of chitin and potions ingredients, and defenders of the lands should Skyrim come under attack once more… well, he'd have to ask Khepri himself, after the dust settled. Not that he was about to air his doubts to the 'dignitaries'.
"Now, it's good you've come here, as it saves me the time it would take to send the summons," and Torygg sat on the throne, his wife flanking him on her own, and they became High King and Queen of Skyrim, "By all reports, a foul threat seeks to devastate the Pale and assault Khepri the Beekeeper, someone with a, frankly, terrifying ability. None of us want someone who is capable of wiping out armies thinking us cowards, when the Chaurus, who have endeared themselves to her, seek to usurp their overlords, the godless Falmer.
"To wit, a Muster of Skyrim has been called, for the third time in this nation's history, begun when Tiber Septim made the precedent with the first Red Legions, and again, when the world was imperiled by the Oblivion Crisis. On this day, the 27th of Sun's Dawn, in the 200th year of the 4th Era, I, High King Torygg I of Skyrim, declare this Muster official," a small smile might have touched his lips, "Though my Jarls and other residents of Skyrim have already taken the initiative, it seems.
"I have already received missives from Jarl Ulfric Stormcloak of Windhelm, Jarl Skald of Dawnstar, Jarl Balgruuf the Greater of Whiterun, Jarl Idgrod Ravencrone the Elder of Morthal, Harbinger Kodlak Whitemane of Jorrvaskr, Arch-Mage Savos Aren of the College of Winterhold, and Keeper Carcette of the Vigilants of Stendarr. From Windhelm, Jarl Stormcloak commits 150 men-at-arms, 10 Dunmeri sappers, and has enlisted the assistance of 7 Proven of Boethiah, led by Grand Proven Drevas of Mournhold."
Oh, how Torygg relished the looks on Elenwen and Tullius' faces, hearing the name of the 14th most wanted being in Tamriel, who also happened to be the most experienced dungeon delver north of the Jeralls.
"Dawnstar commits 40 warriors of the Hold, under the joint commands of Jarl Skald, Guard Captain Frokmar Banner-Torn, and Houscarl Bori, and will be assisted by the town's Priests. Harbinger Whitemane has sent Companions Skjor One-Eye, Farkas, and Vilkas, commanding 20 Whiterun guards protecting 8 Priests and Priestesses of Divine Kynareth. Jarl Ravencrone will be supplying the Muster with potions ingredients and the Alchemical expertise of her household; I will be sending reinforcements to shore up her Hold's defenses until the event is concluded. Arch-Mage Aren sends his regards, and will be attending the Muster personally with four mages of the College, as the rest are busy with an important dig-site on the Pale Glacier. Finally, the Vigilants of Stendarr will commit all they have at their headquarters, 50 servants of the Divines all.
"General Tullius of the Imperial Legion, Ambassador Elenwen of the Aldmeri Dominion… you stand on Skyrim's soil, and, like all who have paid heed the call to arms, are bound by the laws of the Empire and the land to provide whatever aid you can for this noble endeavor: the everlasting destruction of the Falmer threat. What are your commitments to the Muster?"
If he was being honest, Torygg mused with an internal chuckle, noting that Tullius would send two full companies of Rangers under Legate Rikke, with 50 auxiliaries versed in siege warfare from the main Legion, while the Thalmor would be sending a platoon of forty guards with four Justicars…
Even though he hated his position at times, Torygg had to admit, sometimes… it was good to be a King.
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3 days after Skitter's transformation began
Suite 4, Silver-Blood Inn, Markarth
Katria
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Bang-bang-bang-bang!
Katria returned to consciousness with a splitting headache; that someone was knocking on her door only made things worse. Nonetheless, she blinked crust from her eyes and tried to remember how she'd gotten to where she was… and why someone was banging on her door at… four bells in the fucking morning.
A week ago, she and her beau, the lovely Sorine Jurard, in their bid to better understand Skyrim's brand of Dwemer ruin – and to prepare for plumbing Arkngthamz, where a clue to the Forge might rest – threw in with that Falmer eccentric in Understone Keep, Calcelmo, and delved the ruin of Nchuand-Zel, which the High Elf was in the process of excavating.
Four days of dodging traps, skewering Falmer, and generally getting stressed-out in the forbidding dark were enough for Katria to decide that the mission was a bust. After nearly dying to a thrice-damned Sphere Master, her Sori agreed; let Calcelmo hire someone else to plumb the labyrinthine deathtrap.
Thus, after reporting the complexities of the inner ruin – crawling with Falmer and Chaurus, automatons by the score, and full of head-scratching puzzles – Sorine dragged Kat off to Dibella's Temple for a much-needed "healing session".
Katria didn't like a lot of Markarth, but the two days they spent in the high Temple reminded her why she loved her fiery Sori.
Unfortunately, they couldn't hare off to Arkngthamz after the Temple, as a thunderstorm rolled through the previous day. Neither could they stay at the Temple; the Priestesses' hospitality was limited, after all, and the pair were rather loud with their… healing rituals.
So they'd spent the previous day getting drunk and making a couple Septims with their tale of exploring the Dwemer ruin, as well as making love in their suite.
Thus, hungover and pleasantly sore, Katria just wanted to sleep for a day, recover, and head off to continue her mission to discover the Aetherium Forge. But…
Bang-bang-bang-bang! "Katria! Miss Jurard, I know you're both in there!" Bang-bang-bang-bang!
Calcelmo… apparently had a death wish.
On Kat's bare chest, her beloved partner – much more trustworthy and pleasant company than that tree-hugging s'wit who stole her historic notes – groaned through her own hangover and murmured sleepily, "Ima crack 'is skull op'n wit' a fork."
"I'll chase him off, love," promised Kat, giving her sexy lass a sound kiss – both giggling and gagging at each other's morning breath – and reluctantly left her girl's breasts and the bed for a robe and slippers.
Before the goldskin fucker could knock again, Katria unlocked the suite's door, grabbed her sword, and ripped the Dwemer obstruction aside to see Calcelmo himself, one hand raised to knock again. He looked rather surprised by her lack of dress – Kat was nearly flashing the man as it was – but, unfortunately for him, Katria wasn't in the mood for mercy.
"What in Molag's pox-riddled starfish is your fucking problem, waking me at this ungodly hour?!"
Kat would treasure the look on Calcelmo's face until she went to the hills. Sori's snort of humor just made it better.
On the other hand… the High Elf wizard looked rather excited for some reason. Which was weird; not much could get the Mer in such a state-
"Blackreach," the Elf gasped, making Katria's mind seize up, "A Muster of Skyrim has been called, to purge Blackreach."
Katria barely noticed Sorine's squawk of surprise as she tumbled from the bed.
Everyone who researched the Dwemer heard of their deepest redoubt, Blackreach. Few ever found it; fewer still returned sane. All who returned gave the same report: it was infested with Falmer by the hundred, a madman's folly to explore. Yet, for all the warnings, there was one fact: the one who delved it successfully would find treasures of the Dwemer unheard of. What's more…
"Kat!" Sorine was next to their journals, still naked, but excited with professional glee, "One of the ruins, you theorized they mined the stuff from a deeper mine!"
…it was where aetherium came from, Katria was sure of it! And if the theory proved correct, they might find another clue to the Forge.
What was more, if a Muster had been called, there'd be hundreds of warriors and experts there to help them delve the ruins! And they might find other allies, to help her and Sori locate the Forge and, if they were lucky, the schematics needed to reproduce a Dwarven Crossbow!
Whirling back to face Calcelmo, who was dancing in place, Kat asked, "When and where?"
"Seventeen days' time, in the Pale," gasped the Elf, "The Jarl has insisted, given your lack of success, that I assist the endeavor with all I have. I leave, with 25 personal guards and 20 Hold guards, in two hours."
"We'll meet you at the gate," and Kat slammed the door in the bastard's face, just in time to catch her Sori as she jumped into her arms with a squeal of delight.
After giving her Breton girl a searing kiss, Katria grinned, "Feel like skewering a few hundred more Falmer, love?"
"So long as it's with you, I'm ready for Oblivion itself!" Kat could practically see a Candlelight go off in her love's head, "But, before we go, I have to send a letter off to a friend of mine!"
"Who?" asked Katria, confused, while her woman dashed over to the suite's desk, where she grabbed paper and quill.
"Oh, Isran, a former Vigilant. That hermit probably won't hear of this, but he'll think it a good training exercise…"
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4 days after Skitter's transformation began
Market Square, Riften
Mjoll the Lioness
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"…and the most heinous act of torturing children," the Jarl's voice could've sent shivers through a Dremora, with those last words, "I, Jarl Lalia Law-Giver, sentence you, Grelod, to hang by the neck until dead. May the Divines have mercy on your pitiful soul."
The crowd was, mostly, silent, though there were cheers – and more than a couple jeers – for the bruised, weeping woman. Just the day before, after a Companion of Ysgramor came to the city and delivered a pot of honey to the Jarl, that same Companion heard a sound at the orphanage, the one Maven Black-Briar funded and staffed.
When the Companion tried to investigate – something the guards agreed with, as the sound was a whip and a weeping child – Black-Briar's thug, Maul, tried to stop him. Short story even shorter, Maul was in the Temple with a busted jaw, the burly Companion stayed long enough for a drink at the inn before heading off to Iverstead, as he had more of Khepri the Beekeeper's pots to deliver, and Grelod…
The bottom fell out of the platform.
Short drop, sudden, cracking stop. At least they put a bag over the pathetic woman's head, first, Mjoll mused while a few in the crowd plastered the vile bitch's corpse with rotten tomatoes.
"So much for being 'kind', eh?" Brynjolf muttered next to Mjoll, receiving hums and grunts of agreement from Sapphire and Delvin; ordinarily, Mjoll wouldn't let the thieves within five paces of her person, but circumstances conspired to place thieves and adventurer on the same path.
All the same, Mjoll spat and growled, "Serves the woman right. I've been trying to get her arrested for months now," and a Companion strolls into town and does her work for her. Thank the Nine for the Muster; after the events of the previous day, Mjoll – and Aerin, who would follow her through Oblivion gates, he would – was finally convinced.
She'd rather be on the road, doing good, helping others, than wasting her time in Black-Briar's city.
That… and the corrupt woman was, by all accounts, seething at the – perceived – blatant disrespect shown by Khepri's gift to the Jarl. Mjoll didn't want to be anywhere near Riften when the bitch finally blew her top.
"Ready Mjoll?" Aerin had finally arrived, and was giving the members of the Thieves' Guild a neutral look, one which was returned with faux-innocence.
"Of course, Aerin," she assured her dear friend warmly, before turning a heated gaze on Brynjolf and Delvin, speaking quietly, "Before we leave, assure me of something: is Black-Briar sending you to steal from the Beekeeper?"
Delvin snorted, while Sapphire rolled her eyes and Brynjolf faked a cough, "Mjoll, lass… we had Vex go and get the Beekeeper's measure two weeks' past. Black-Briar doesn't have enough money to have us rob her."
"You? Passing up coin for a robbery?" Aerin observed just as quietly as they passed the gates, Mjoll in the lead with her freshly-sharpened Elven greatsword, clad in shining Dwemer plate. Their group were the only ones who were answering the call to Muster…
At Mzinchaleft. She wondered whether Grimsever was still in the deep.
"Boy," grunted Delvin; a glance over her shoulder showed the man wincing, "There's robbing a house, then there's robbing Khepri. One can be done, easy. The other… well, I like my arms right where they are."
Mjoll grunted and nodded at Aerin, letting him know to drop it. Though… "If Maven hates her so much, why doesn't she have the Dark Brotherhood go after Khepri?" It was known Black-Briar wasn't above such things. Mjoll still had a scar on her forearm, from when she'd thrown that child-like vampire through a wall; at least the assassins hadn't come back.
"She did."
The tall woman whipped her blonde head around to stare at Brynjolf, who looked… haunted.
He met her gaze, then shook his head, "Like I said, Lioness. Not for all the gold in the world. Besides," and his face lit up in delight once more, "A Dwemer ruin, one that no-one's ever fully plumbed, likely full of riches?"
"Aye," Sapphire agreed with a smile as they got on the road to Windhelm, "There'll be gold aplenty, without pissing off the lady that can rip your legs off from the next Hold over."
Exchanging a glance with Aerin, who shrugged, Mjoll sighed and set a brisk pace. It'd take the better part of a week to reach Dawnstar. Once there… she'd see with her own eyes, just how dangerous a woman who was called 'Beekeeper' could be.