Chapter 8: Retaliation

Rosette had been with the group for about a month. They had travelled all across Skyrim for a solution to the current dragon problem. They were led by Rosette's information and Izeera's impeccable sense of direction. Mostly Izeera's sense of direction. Of course, there were still problems. New problems. Since Windhelm, where some information had been revealed about Shame's past, Hildegard had been growing increasingly mistrustful of the Altmer. She tried to hide it, but the perceptive Izeera knew. She had a hunch that confrontation was inevitable. "So," Hildegard asked, "Where are we going next?"

"We're going to High Hrothgar to speak with the Greybeards." Rosette anounced. "I need to learn a special Shout. It's the only way to defeat Alduin."

"Come, then." Izeera said, taking the initiative and leading the way.

Rosette fell to the rear, walking next to Shame in a comfortable silence. The Imperial girl really was thrilled to see her former mentor again. She clearly cared a great deal about him. Izeera had a hunch that Rosette cared about him even more than she knew. Of course, the Khajiit spellsword would keep quiet about this and let things play out as they should. Izeera's hunches were rarely wrong. Hildegard moved up to Izeera's side. Leaning slightly to speak into the Khajiit's ear, the Nord finally asked, "Are you sure that you want to take him to a place like High Hrothgar?"

"What do you mean?" Izeera inquired.

"I mean that if he could lie to us about the fact that he is a Thalmor wizard, who knows what else he might do?" Hildegard replied.

"Was." Izeera corrected sternly. "Shame was a Thalmor wizard. That was many years ago."

"He could be lying about that, too." Hildegard whispered.

"Shame is a good man. Elf. Whatever." the Khajiit insisted.

A bit louder than she meant to, Hildegard barked, "There are no such thing as good Thalmor! He's a liar and a drunkard!"

The silence changed from comfortable to awkward. Finally, Rosette asked, "Is that really what you think about Edrian?"

"Don't tell me that it hasn't crossed your mind!" Hildegard snapped. "He'll probably betray us the first chance that he gets!"

"Hildegard." Izeera said with a hiss. "Shut up. Now."

"I wish for this quest to be completed properly, Dragonborn." Hildegard insisted. "And it would be best completed if we left behind this no-good, lying, black-hearted coward!"

"Edrian is different!" Rosette cried.

"THEY'RE ALL THE SAME!" Hildegard snapped.

Before anyone could react, Rosette opened her mouth and barked, "FUS RO DAH!"

The force of the Shout sent Hildegard flying. She collided with a hard surface. A horrible sound came from the collision. Rosette was mortified. She immediately rushed over to the fallen Nord, praying that the worst hadn't happened. "I'm sorry!" the Imperial girl cried. "I'm so sorry! I didn't mean it!"

There was a long, painful silence before Hildegard groaned, "Stupid Imperial, you broke my armor!"

The rest of the group let out a collective sigh of relief. However, that did not change the fact that Shame was, well, ashamed, Rosette was upset, and Izeera was very, very angry. The group's de facto leader folded her arms over her armored chest and said, "We will take a detour to Whiterun to make new armor for Hildegard. Then Hildegard and Izeera will have a talk."

Hildegard's blood ran cold. She had just run afoul of Izeera. There were many reasons not to piss off the Khajiit. Izeera was extremely competent with her Dwarven war axe and a skilled Destruction mage. There was also the possibility that Hildegard would be ejected from the group. It would be a serious blow to her honor. Thalmor agent or not, Shame was Izeera's best friend. Hildegard was in deep, deep shit.

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Lost-In-The-Forest had travelled all around Skyrim in her hunt for Neema's killer. Of course, there had been complications. Namely, Sparkticus and Meris. A few days after they found Neema's body, it was revealed to Meris that Sparkticus was, in fact, a Dremora. For the first few weeks after that, they hardly spoke to eachother. Now, they were speaking to each other. That wasn't all that the Dremora and the Wood Elf were doing. They started having sex. No, that was an understatement of how often they did it. They went at it like rabbits. Of course, they tried not to let it interfere with their investigation. Unfortunately, it seemed that Neema's killer was always a step ahead of them, leaving a trail of bodies as the group followed him. The most recent one was a Dunmer female. It would probably be best not to describe the state they found the corpse in. It seemed that their enemy was becoming increasingly proficient in his attempts to change a person's race. It was clear that the Dunmer woman had been killed after the fact. Judging from the expression on her face, she must have died in agony. They had to stop this man, whoever he was. He would just keep killing people until his twisted desires were fulfilled. Lost-In-The-Forest's face held a grim expression. Their most recent lead had sent them on the road to Whiterun. They were not there yet, but they would be within a few days. Until then, they would take the road from Riften to Ivorstead. They would take a rest there and then they would take the road through Helgen, then heading to Riverwood. From there, they would head to Whiterun. Currently, they were in a hot spring area. As soon as they had arrived at a semi-private place, Sparkticus had immediately started disrobing. Lost-In-The-Forest headed off to a short distance away to give him some privacy. She could use a dip as well. Once she had disrobed, she slid into one of the hot pools with a sigh.

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It had been pure coincidence when Monica arrived. She did not expect things to go the way they had. When she was in Riften, she heard of a Dremora and a short Argonian planning to go to Ivorstead. Naturally, she followed. She'd had to deal with a few wolves along the way, but it was nothing she couldn't handle with her magic. She wasn't as experienced a mage as Lost-In-The-Forest, but she could hold her own against a few wolves. Since she was rather impatient, she took a shortcut. This led her through the area with the hot springs. When she arrived at a rocky outcrop, she could hear noises coming from the top. Growling, gasping, and moaning. She moved closer. She saw a loincloth laying near some large rocks, which blocked her view of whatever was going on. Carefully, she picked up the loincloth. It smelled like Sparkticus. Lifting it to her face, she inhaled deeply. She let out a soft moan. Quietly, she crept around the rock. She was met with a horriffic sight. It was definitely the cause of the noises. It was definitely Sparkticus and he was definitely naked, but it was what he was doing that gave her cause for alarm. He was pistoning in and out of a rather noisy Wood Elf. The Dremora was making some noises of his own. Monica stood there in silence, completely horrified. Sparkticus and the Bosmer woman were so involved in what they were doing that they didn't even notice the Breton. Not until Monica screamed, "NOOOOOOO!"

A startled Sparkticus pulled out of the Wood Elf with a wet noise. Monica noticed that he was very well-endowed. How had that thing even fit into that Wood Elf? Said Wood Elf appeared to be extremely angry. The naked elf walked through the hot spring, walked over to the Breton, wound her fist back, and punched her in the face. Monica, of course, retaliated. She swung a punch of her own, but the Bosmer woman moved gracefully out of the way. The furious Monica didn't even think to use her magic. She let out a screech and tackled the naked elf. The two of them rolled around on the rock, throwing punches and kicks until, finally, the Wood Elf grabbed Monica's head and slammed it against the rock, rendering her unconscious. The Dremora, whose mood had been killed by Monica's interruption, was standing alert again. That was not the only thing that was standing alert. He had found Meris' display of violence to be highly arousing. He walked over to the thief, lowered her down to the rock, and moved on top of her. "Now," the Dremora purred, "Where were we?"

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Sparkticus was rather annoyed. Lost-In-The-Forest had declared that they couldn't just leave Monica there. So, they would take her with them to Ivorstead. As the largest and strongest of the group, he was tasked with carrying the Breton. Lucky him. If it were up to him, he would rather she be on one side of Skyrim and he on another. He wanted to be far away from her, not carrying her. He froze when he felt Monica beginning to stir. She seemed to move towards his neck, as if she would give it some sort of attention. She squinted and stopped. "What the fu- is that a hickey?!" She barked.

Sparkticus released her. He dropped her, practically threw her, to the ground and backed away from her. "She's awake." Sparkticus said. "She can walk now."

Just keep her away from me, he thought. Of course, that was merely wishful thinking. He knew that his wish would not come true when the Breton mage stood up, pointed at him, and cried, "You were having sex!"

"I know that." Sparkticus snarked. "I was there."

Monica's mouth opened and closed like a fish's. Finally, she asked, "Why an elf? Everybody knows that elven women fake it!"

Sparkticus shot Meris a look that obviously said, 'really?' The thief put her hands on her hips and said, "What are you looking at me like that for? I wasn't faking it. If I was, it would mean that you don't know how to pleasure a woman."

Sparkticus let out a threatening snarl. Meris continued, "I enjoyed it as much as you did, so calm down."

Monica refused to look at the thief. Instead, she turned her attention to Lost-In-The-Forest. "So, where are we going?" the Breton asked.

"Ivorstead." the Argonian replied. "You will tbe staying there. Meris, Sparkticus, and I will be moving on."

"Why can't I go with you?" Monica asked.

"Because you keep undressing me with your eyes." Sparkticus said. "It makes me feel dirty."

"Sparkticus, we all know that you have no sense of modesty." Lost-In-The-Forest sighed.

"It still makes me feel dirty when she does it." the Dremora grumbled.

Monica glanced over at Sparkticus. He didn't mean it, she told herself. He was obviously still upset at being interrupted earlier. The group continued in awkward silence. When finally they arrived at Ivorstead, the group got out some drinks. Meris insisted on pouring Monica's drink, as way of apology. Monica smiled at the Bosmer woman and took a swig. As she progressed through her drink, she began to grow woozy. By the time she was done with her drink, she was out like a light. Lost-In-The-Forest and Meris dragged the Breton over to a building and propped her against it. "Now can we go?" Sparkticus asked.

"Yes, now we can go." Lost-In-The-Forest replied.

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"Ah, yes, Whiterun." Izeera said upon walking through the gates of the city in the evening. "Smells like... lavender, ash, and body odor, with a hint of wet dog."

"Izeera, are you making fun of Whiterun?" Hildegard asked with her hands on her hips.

"No." Izeera replied. "Izeera just has a very, very good nose. Why do you think that Izeera tries to make you bathe as often as possible?"

"My father said that if you bathe too much, your skin will fall off." Hildegard insisted.

"Your father was full of shit." Izeera said flatly.

"Why, you-" Hildegard snarled, preparing to draw her weapon.

"If you draw that warhammer, you had better be prepared to use it." Izeera said with a frown. "You will probably try to strike first and, when Izeera kills you for your hubris, Izeera can claim self-defense."

Hildegard seethed, but she knew that the Khajiit was probably right. Though she was not as physically strong or tough as the nineteen-year-old Nord, the twenty-nine-year-old Khajiit was much more agile and a lot better trained than she was. Hildegard removed her hand from her weapon. Izeera nodded and said, "Wise choice."

Hildegard fumed, but she followed the Khajiit in silence. Izeera turned to Shame and Rosette and said, "Go, see the sights of the city. Sit under the tree and catch up. Hildegard and Izeera still need to have that talk."

Izeera then started reaching in her bag to pull out some ingots and leather strips. Not only was she a talented axe-wielder and an able Destruction mage, she was also a gifted smith. She was the one who had crafted her own Orcish armor and Dwarven war axe. She knew that Hildegard favored iron armor, but it was time for an upgrade. So she set about making Hildegard a new steel breastplate. She heard Hildegard attempting to walk away and said out loud, "Stay where you are. We are going to have that talk and we are going to have it now."

The Khajiit kept her eye on her work, but she kept her ear on Hildegard. As she began to craft the armor, Izeera calmly began to speak. "You and Izeera need to discuss your treatment of Shame."

"He's a Thal-" Hildegard tried to say.

"He was a Thalmor wizard." Izeera said coldly. "He is not anymore. Izeera has a hunch that he hasn't been for years."

"But-" Hildegard tried to protest.

"Be silent!" Izeera said with a hiss. "Izeera will talk and you will listen."

The Khajiit said wit with so much conviction that Hildegard actually kept her mouth shut. Izeera then continued, "Shame has been a priest since before Izeera knew him. He is far from what he was before. He is a good person, a great friend, and a worthy ally. There is zero chance of him betraying any of us."

Pausing from her work, Izeera turned to face Hildegard and said, "If you can't accept that, don't bother coming with us when we leave Whiterun."

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Rosette and Shame walked side by side through the streets of Whiterun. After a while, Rosette looped her arm through the High Elf's. He gave her a strange look, but he did not try to remove himself from her grasp. He glanced down at her arms. He could still see burn scars on them. Again, he felt the shameful knowledge that she had almost died and he had been unable to save her. But here she was, by his side. For once, he had the faintest hope that one day he might be able to redeem himself. Until then, he would not leave her side unless she dismissed him. He glanced at Rosette's face. She had a look of contentment, as if the dragon problem was worlds away. It was nice, to see her like this. Izeera had suggested that they catch up on things. Unfortunately, Shame had no idea what to say. Rosette took the initiative. "So, you're a priest of Stendarr now." she commented.

"Yes." Shame replied. "I am."

"How long have you been a priest?" Rosette asked.

"Going on three years." Shame said.

"So... what does that entail?" the Imperial girl inquired.

"Praying. Showing compassion and mercy. Upholding righteousness." Shame replied. "I provide healing when needed."

"And acting as Izeera's conscience?" Rosette added humorously.

Shame chuckled and replied, "That, too."

"She's your best friend, isn't she?" Rosette asked.

"She is." the High Elf said. "She's gotten me through some pretty dark times. I can say with certainty that I wouldn't be alive without her."

Rosette probably assumed that the Altmer had been speaking of his time travelling and doing jobs with the Khajiit spellsword. He was actually speaking of the times he had tried to take his own life. Without Izeera, he surely would have succeeded. If he had committed suicide, he would have never lived to see Rosette again. Words could not describe how thankful he was to the Khajiit, for both saving his life and leading him to be reunited with Rosette. If he wasn't still so messed up, he would have offered to be Rosette's mentor again. As things were, he would provide support to her and keep the newly-reforged bonds of friendship. He had meant it when he said that he would follow her to the ends of the world and back. Unfortunately, the end of the world might be closer than he thought. He gazed at Rosette's visage. She was so young. A woman of nineteen should not have to deal with the weight of the world on her shoulders. She should be doing normal things, like chasing after men her age. Well, there was also her service in the Imperial Legion. That in and of itself was an honorable pursuit. When he reached the area with the great tree in it, Shame attempted to do what Izeera always suggested that he do when he was in that area: ignore Heimskr's fanatical rantings. This proved to be more difficult than usual when the preacher spotted the Altmer male and the Imperial girl, walking arm in arm. "Behold, proof of the elves' treachery! Behold this elf, corrupting this young girl to his deviant desires!" Heimskr belted out.

"Deviant desires?" Rosette echoed.

Shame wanted to melt into the ground to escape this embarrassment. "The poor girl does not know that she is being manipulated!" Heimskr declared. "The Empire looks the other way as the elves seduce young maidens to-"

Suddenly, the space at Shame's side was empty. Rosette had moved quickly, rushing over to the proselytizing Nord and punching him in the face. In less than a minute, a guard had rushed over to them, sword drawn. "By the order of the Jarl, stop right there!" the Guard shouted.

Rosette took a step back and said, "I submit. Take me to jail."

"The elf made her do it!" Heimskr shouted, pointing an accusing finger at Shame.

Another guard grabbed Shame. Rosette glared at Heimskr and said, "You are so full of shi-"

"Silence, criminal." the guard who had arrested Rosette said.

It seemed that the two of them would be spending the night in the dungeon. Not an ideal way to spend the night in Whiterun.