Last Time: Xander agreed to cleanse Azura's star, Dulurza rushed to stop Elisif from being possessed, Hjar rushed to save Margret, and L'laarzen escaped from Solitude's jail.

Growing a Collective Pair

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Surprising absolutely nobody, the interior of the crystal was crystalline. Glowing, aqua coloured hexagonal structures stretched downwards as far as Alexander could see, and surrounded him in what looked half like a cave and half like some strange beehive. Looking down, he saw a path spiralling downwards. Wandering aimlessly were men and women in robes. They had pitch black skin, red eyes, and red face paint.

Oooooh no. Not Men at all. Dremora. Not as powerful as a Daedric prince, but dangerous in that they could be more tangibly summoned into Mundus. Or, well, wherever this was.

Oh, dear. Ooooh, oh dear.

"Ah, my disciples have sent me a fresh soul. Good. I was getting...hungry."

Xander froze, and looked up. Forwards, moron, first thing you check is forwards-

Looking across at him was a dunmer man with very pale skin for his race, wearing robes that looked...actually, they were the same as the ones Xander was wearing.

Malyn Varen, flanked by a pair of dremora, took in the invader with keen eye. "Wait. There's something...different about you."

This was it. This was the moment, the final confrontation. Alexander's staves and hastily learned combat knowledge against Varen's decades of experience in magic, and the countless millennia of of training the dremora had accrued.

This was a battle only a fool would take. A fool...or a hero.

...nah.

"Oh dear lord." Xander exclaimed, voice cracking in a way he wished he could say was deliberate. "Where is this? What's going on? Who were those mages in there? I-I was just carrying my master's enchanting supplies to Falkreath, whatever this is I swear I have no part in it!"

Some of the suspicion vanished from Malyn's face, and he grinned, walking forwards. "Ah, you poor thing. I'm afraid to say that you just died, young man."

"What?" Xander gaped, throwing his hands to his cheeks. "No! I can't be, I'm still-wait, is this the Aetherius? Am I in Sovngarde?"

"Oh, I'm afraid not." Varen cackled. "Welcome to the Azura's star. My own personal plane of Oblivion."

"Oblivion?" Xander's mouth fell open. "Me? But-but I only cheated with Byalen that one time!"

"Ah, the petty concerns of you mortals." Varen got right up Xander's face. His arms came up, glowing with some unfamiliar spell. "You're all so wonderfully childish. I imagine you're about to tell me you had some great dream you planned to achieve before you died. Adventures you planned to have, beauties you planned to marry. What are you, a mage in training? Those are some of the tastiest." He licked his lips.

Xander sighed. "No. I'll admit I'm not much of a mage." His hand came to rest on his belt.

"But I am a damn good liar."

Malyn had a brief moment to look surprised before Xander yanked Dulurza's knife from it's holster and buried it in the side of his neck.

The Dremora both started, but Xander wasted no time yanking the dagger back out of Malyn's gurgling throat and ("Ngh!") jamming it a few times into his gut for good measure before jumping backwards out of range of the man's flailing arms.

Varen's eyes rolled up into his forehead and he toppled forwards to the floor, blood pooling about his body, and "Whoa whoa whoa waaaiit a minute!" Xander shouted at the two Dremora moving towards him with broadswords raised.

His legs were shaking, but he tried to look calm as he wiped the blood off the knife (mimicking the way he'd seen Dulurza do it) and gave the Daedra pointed looks, saying "Whatever bargain he made with you, he's in no position to make good on it now, so there isn't much point in you getting into any more fights on his behalf. Sorry about stealing your payment, fellas, but I work for someone higher up the proverbial ladder. You know how it is."

They exchanged glances, looked back at him, then sheathed their weapons. "Heh." One said. "Damn right. I can relate to that, I once spent a hundred and twenty years working for Molag Bal. That guy has no idea what employee retention even means."

"Oh, tell me about it." Xander nodded. "Like, if you're doing five minutes of combat for a quick magicka payout then 'no strings attached' is fine, but if he's got you in here long term like this you'd expect he'd have clauses for his own death, that's conjuration 101."

"Not to mention he just wouldn't shut up about how he'd 'conquered death' and all that." Said the other Dremora. "Like sure, you want the whole 'maniacal genius' thing when you're frightening your enemies, but don't keep it up in your downtime, you know? Hey, what's your name?"

"Alexander." Xander replied. "Feel free to hit me up if you're ever low on work again, I'll see what I can do."

"Know what? I just might take you up on that."

"Alright, children, playtime is over." Azura's voice echoed through the chamber. "Adds; get out of my star. Alexander, excellent work. I'm returning you to the real world now. Brace yourself."

There was a flash, and the world around Xander went all white. Once his vision returned, he was back at the summit of the mountain, with Azura's statue looming over him.

"...Did it work?" Asked Aranea.

Xander's body caught up with what in Oblivion had just happened, and his legs cut out from under him, sending him crashing onto the floor. "Oh, sweet Divines I just stabbed a man in the throat, I think I'm gonna be sick again-"

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Dulurza roared and brought her axe down, smashing Potema's skull into pieces.

There was a boom, and the room was suffused in flash of purple light and smoke. The table cracked under the pressure, and Elisif, paralysis ending, scrambled backwards over her chair, landing in a heap on the floor.

"No!" Stentor shouted, through the blinding light. "You barbarian! Do you have any idea how long it will take me to get that accursed spirit back under control?"

Dulurza didn't respond; Sybille had made the classic error of wasting a visual distraction by making noise. She had revealed her location.

Dulurza yanked her axe out of the table and charged, swinging it at head height, appearing out of the dissipating smoke just in time to catch a stunned Stentor in the neck.

Except, the court wizard dodged.

Elegantly as you please, Sybille ducked under the swinging axe then exploded outwards with a straight kick, catching Dulurza in the chest and throwing her the whole way across the room.

"I've genuinely never hated anyone as much as I hate you. And that's an impressive feat." Sybille remarked, as Dulurza crashed into a bookshelf. "Oh, and YOU can stay where you are-" She fired off another paralysis spell at Elisif, who had been crawling away across the floor, "and-oh, perfect; the guards-"

Shouting began to echo down towards them through the corridor. Sybille flicked a hand and the door slammed shut, and then with another gesture an adjacent bookshelf toppled over, landing in front of the entryway. "Honestly, can one thing go right? Just one thing that I leave to someone else? Ahtar is going to pay when I next see him."

"You are a vampire." Dulurza said, getting back to her feet and gingerly touching her ribs. "No normal human your size has speed and strength like that."

"Of course I'm a bloody vampire." Stentor snapped at her, throwing her hood back for the first time. Her eyes glinted a very odd colour. "You figured that out early enough, didn't you? With your questions, smashing apart every carefully laid plan you came into contact with, with all the subtlety of a dragon in a cattle shed!"

"Sounds like me alright." Dulurza grinned, and charged.

Stentor charged up another spell, ice by the looks of it, but Dulurza had no intention of playing dodgeball; halfway across the room she ducked low and grabbed the table by its end, hefting it upwards as a makeshift shield. A massive spike of ice buried itself into the wood, coming within inches of Dulurza's eyes, but before Stentor could charge another spell the two were in melee range.

The Orc threw the table forwards, and the Breton swept on hand up and cut the thing in two, the halves falling to either side just in time to let the butt of Dulurza's axe jab through and smack Stentor in the face. She recoiled back with a howl of annoyance, but was able to jerk left to avoid the followup strike. Dulurza changed her grip, turning the downwards motion of the axe into an upward swing even as she shoulder-checked Sybille to get her in range.

Sybille moved with the momentum of the attack, edging back just barely out of range so that the axe blade cut a line through the front of her robes, then brought her own hands up to forcibly continue the swing up above both their heads. She leaned in, and slammed her forehead into Dulurza's nose, forcing her to stumble backwards, and then pushed.

Dulurza fell to one knee, blood dripping down her face, both her hands on the haft of her weapon. Stentor was holding the axe as well, shoving it downwards so that the blade slowly approached Dulurza's face.

"Look at me. I'm behaving like an animal. This is what you've done to me." Stentor seemed more annoyed than in any sort of pain, inhuman vampiric strength pushing inexorably downwards. "What do I do now, hm? I suppose I can blame this fight on you once that obnoxious housecarl Bearclaw comes stumbling in. Note to self, kill him at some point. But I'll have to kill Elisif first since the transfer is completely ruined." Sybille's eyes strayed over to the Jarl, who had been freed from the paralysis at this point and had scrambled over to the window, eyes wide and panicky. A strange expression came over the witch's face. "Oh...or maybe it isn't..."

Dulurza's eyes narrowed. She heaved, muscles shaking, and the axe blade stopped its movement towards her. It paused, haft almost shattering under the pressure, then began to slowly reverse direction. "No." She snarled.

Stentor looked back down, first in frustration, then in genuine worry as Dulurza began to force the blade upwards again. "What?"

"No." Dulurza repeated, pushing herself off of her knees and into a standing position, axe forced horizontal between them. "I will not." She grunted, it felt like her arms were on fire, "Let you hurt." She reached her full height, and now she was the one pressing downwards, "My Jarl."

Sybille hissed. One of her legs came up, kicking Dulurza between the legs. Dulurza didn't so much as flinch, and Sybille lost more ground for her trouble.

Sybille grimaced, her grip slipping-

Then there was a flash, and fire erupted from her hands.

Dulurza cried out as flames washed over her, blistering her lower arms and charring the wood of the haft black; she dropped the axe and stumbled backwards and Sybille reached through and grabbed her by the throat, briefly thrusting her upwards before choke-slamming her into the floor.

Dulurza saw stars.

"Congratulations, Orsimer." Sybille spat, disproportionally large incizors on full display as she leaned down. "You get to die knowing you pissed me off more than any mortal ever has. After all this, the Thalmor had better come through on their promises when I hand them the city."

Wait, what?

Dulurza didn't have much time to think on it, Stentor's fingers were tightening around her neck, there was no blood going to her brain, black spots began to dance in her vision-

"Get away from her!"

There was a flash of light. Not magical light, this was simple, unadulterated sunlight, and Stentor fell back with a howl as a horrible hissing sound began to emanate from the hands that had moments earlier been choking the life out of Dulurza. Said hands fell away, and said Orc spent a second or so gasping for breath before she realised what had just happened.

As absurd as it sounded, Jarl Elisif the Fair had just opened the curtains.

Dulurza didn't waste the opportunity, staggering to her feet. Stentor had scrambled backwards, one arm covering her face, and that arm had begun to blister and turn red, as was all the rest of her exposed to the harsh light of the morning. She tried to run for a corner of the room not properly illuminated, stumbling over the axe in the process.

Dulurza wasn't worried. At this point, all that was left was the short fight.

She reached forwards, grabbing the back of Stentor's robes, and hauling her backwards into the light again. In one smooth movement, she pivoted in place, throwing Sybille into the bedframe with one hand and reaching down to pick up the axe with the other. She continued the spin, and Sybille's head cracked back against the wooden post, dropping her to her knees, as Dulurza brought the axe up above head height, and back down.

There was a nice smooth schwing.

Ahtar had kept his weapon in excellent condition, it seemed. The axe cut through Sybille's neck flawlessly.

8˂

Deep inside Brinewater Grotto, Gulum-Ei was rapidly stacking crates of things he didn't exactly own but most definitely possessed. "Carlos! Go get the boxes of Skooma from downstairs!" He shouted to the mercenary in the room with him, the Nord man nodding and walking out of the cave's end section.

Alone, Gulum-Ei sighed deeply, pausing briefly and leaning on one of the nearby boxes.

"Rough day?"

BY THE HIST'S LEFT TESTACLE- Gulum-Ei jumped halfway out of his scales, spinning around at the unfamiliar voice.

A Khajiit woman was sat tending the fire in the centre of the room as if she'd been there the whole time. A woman he recognised. "You! What are you-" His hand went to his belt, and when he found that his weapon (main and backup) were missing, he went silent very quickly.

He remembered a piece of advice his teacher had given him once: If anyone approaches you having already entered your pockets, be afraid. It means they have had the opportunity to kill you from behind, and instead chosen to meet you face to face.

"Your friend will not find the Skooma you sent him after." The Khajiit (L'laarzen, he remembered) pulled a bottle of the stuff out of a pocket somewhere in her clothes. "Khajiit took a couple of bottles and dumped the rest into the water. Skyrim has a big enough issue with moon sugar as is, she thinks."

"I..." He gulped. "Look. You can't blame me for you getting arrested. I told you ahead of time that the Firebrand wine wouldn't be-"

"Oh, no, Khajiit does not blame you for that!" She looked up and smiled at him, pulling the cork out from the Skooma bottle. "You could hardly have been blamed for the actions of the power hungry nobles, can you?"

"Of course not." He shook his head, relieved. "I only worried-"

"But." She stood up, and began walking towards him. "Perhaps the Guild might take a disliking to this one smuggling goods in and out of the country. Without giving them their proper share."

"Listen." He gulped. "This isn't-I was going to tell Mercer all about it! I just-"

"Ah!" She interrupted him, putting one finger on his lips. The clawed digit dug, not-quite-painfully, into his scales. "Not so loud, please. L'laarzen has been hit in the head quite recently, and the headaches are making her somewhat...Irritable."

She reached up to the collar of his tunic, and began to quite carefully cut a tear into the fabric. Gulum-Ei acknowledged the fact that this was a female feline with no particular body mass that was at least a foot shorter than him, intruding in his personal space.

He didn't move a muscle.

"K." L'laarzen asked, cheery tone not leaving her voice. "Who is she?"

"A woman called Karliah!" He whispered, as quickly and quietly as he could. "Wears all black, big attitude! She's a member of the Guild, or at least was. She's the woman who killed the last Guildmaster, Gallus, and ever since then she's been on the run! I swear I didn't know it was her until after our business was concluded!"

"Where is she now?" L'laarzen asked, still very carefully ruining his second favourite shirt.

"I don't know! I just heard her muttering on the way out that she was 'going back to where it all began'."

"Hm." L'laarzen nodded, slowly.

He waited a good few seconds, then squeaked out "...am I in trouble?"

She looked up at him. Her amber orbs seemed to glow in the dim light of the fire, and for a moment, her expression was a very, very frightening thing. It was almost completely impassive, and every instinct in Gulum-Ei was screaming at him to either run or beg for mercy. I have exhausted all your use, said that face, and have stopped all attempts to act like a real person, as I have already decided how you are going to die.

But then, abruptly, the wide, warm smile came back. "Not at all!" She made a quick yanking motion and tore off the strip of cloth she'd been working at, and he flinched backwards so hard that he crashed into the boxes behind him.

"No, you have been a great help! Somewhat reticent at first, but that is to be expected, no? You are a criminal after all!" She worked the scrap of fabric into the top of the skooma bottle, and reached down to light the tip of it with the fire still burning in the middle of the room. "All I will ask is that you report your little side project here to the Guild as soon as possible, if it's no trouble."

"Tell them?" Gulum-Ei gulped. "If I tell Mercer I've been shaving off profits from him, he'll-"

L'laarzen threw the bottle, burning fabric still inside. The homemade molotov shattered onto a stack of crates not too far from him, and immediately caught on fire, lighting the wooden boxes ablaze.

"...Right." He replied, over the crackling of the fire. "I'll get on that right away."

"Excellent! Well, perhaps we will meet again. Goodbye!" She turned, and with a flick of her tail, slowly and calmly made her way out of the cave.

Gulum-Ei sagged. If Argonians could sweat, he would have been by now.

"Should have just stayed working at Windhelm docks." He muttered to himself, before running to put out the fire that was spreading across his merchandise.

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There was a thud, as Sybille Stentor's body hit the floor. It began to sizzle in the light as Dulurza staggered backwards, gasping for breath, letting the axe hang listlessly by her side.

"I told you." She panted. "Put her out in the sun. If she blisters and burns, behead her."

She looked up, and was almost knocked over as Elisif crashed into her.

It took her a second to realise that this wasn't an attack; Elisif threw both arms around her and began sobbing uncontrollably, burying her face in her breast.

"Hey. Hey. Easy now." Dulurza dropped the axe, and wrapped Elisif in a hug. "Deep breaths. You're safe."

"I...She..." Elisif was gripping her almost hard enough to hurt, which was saying something considering that she was as skinny as a rake.

Although she does fill out well enough in certain areas-HEY! Enough! Battle trauma to deal with!

"Just hold on to me and keep breathing." Dulurza advised, speaking softly. "If you're feeling weak or shaky that's normal; the first brush with death is enough to spook anyone. I was this bad after my first fight. Heh, I should tell you what this one Imperial I met a few days ago was like..."

"I thought you were a murderer." Elisif hiccoughed, still crying into Dulurza's shoulder. "I'm so, so, sorry, I shouldn't have-"

"It's fine. I probably would have done the same in your place. Actually, I'd probably have killed me where I stood."

The banging from the door interrupted Dulurza's train of thought, and she sighed. "As much as I'd like to give you a few minutes, you might want to get ready. Your guards will be coming in any second now. And I should probably get out before they do-"

"No!" Elisif shouted. She looked up, meeting Dulurza's eyes in desperation. "You can't, I...I don't have an advisor, I don't have a court wizard, I'm...don't leave me alone again."

The most sensible thing to do in that moment would be to calmly set Elisif down and make an escape out the window. Instead, Dulurza looked at her for a moment, and nodded. "Alright. I won't."

Elisif's look was one of surprise as much as joy, and Dulurza grinned down at her, wiping her bloodied nose with one hand. "What did you expect? I'm yours to command, my Jarl." And she meant it. Whatever in Oblivion that might mean.

Dulurza separated them, and brushed down Elisif's shoulders in a gesture more symbolic than useful. "Now come on. The future High Queen does not beg things of her servants like some desperate wench. Get your act together."

Elisif laughed, reaching up to wipe the tears off her face.

That was when the doors were finally forced open.

"My lady!" Bolgeir shouted, vaulting the fallen bookshelf and immediately brandishing a sword at Dulurza. "Stay away from-"

"Put your weapons down." Jarl Elisif the fair demanded, drawing all eyes to herself. "Immediately. The danger here has already been dealt with."

Her chin was high, her posture straight, and her eyes narrow. Despite the dishevelled nightclothes and sunken eyes, it was still the most regal look Elisif had posed in a long time.

"But-" Bolgeir looked flabbergasted. "But that prisoner-"

"'That Prisoner'?" Elisif's derision was almost tangible. "Bolgeir, I strongly advise you rethink whatever you are about to say." She looked down at the corpse in the room and poked at it with one toe. "'That prisoner' has just saved my life. You and the rest of court had best refer to her by her proper title from this point forwards."

Bolgeir slowly lowered the tip of his sword, looking between the two people left in the room like he wasn't sure who was the more threatening. "And...what title is that?"

"Ah yes, I suppose I haven't announced it yet." Elisif gave a small smile. "This is Dulurza, daughter of Larak. Thane of Solitude."

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Urag Gro-Shub looked up to see a young man walk in, trailing snow and dirt across the floor. "Huh. You survived. I've gotta admit, I wasn't sure-"

Alexander slammed a trio of books onto the desk, looking at Urag with deadened eyes. "Read these things. Tell me later if they have what I'm supposed to be looking for. I am going to bed. If anyone tries to give me any more sidequests in that time, I will not be held responsible for the consequences."

He turned around, and then yelled "And yes, that includes you, princess!" at a crystal on his belt as he was walking away.

Urag blinked, and pointed. "Is...that Azura's Star?"

"It's not worth the effort! Trust me!" Xander called over his shoulder, shoving open the doors to the Arcaneum and walking away.

"You there, mage." Ancano was waiting in the hallway. "I have some questions for-"

Xander completely blanked him.

After the field trip he'd just been on, there was sleep, and then there was everything else. Only one of those categories was going to get any progress tonight.

?

"Honey?" Was perhaps not a word you'd expect to hear in the base of the Dark Brotherhood, but it rang out nonetheless.

Arnbjorn looked up from sharpening his battleaxe. "Yes, dear?"

"You haven't, by any chance, been taking any errant strolls in Riften, have you?" Astrid asked her husband. The two sat in their shared quarters, Astrid was poring over some new reports she'd gotten.

"Not in the last few months." He replied, putting his weapon down."Why? Something come up?"

"You could say that." She purred. "An old woman has died."

"Really." He deadpanned. "Other breaking news: Water is wet. Skyrim is cold. The Stormcloaks are stupid. The Imperials are bit-"

"Quite enough sarcasm, thank you." She gave him an exasperated stare. "This wasn't a heart failure or someone freezing in the cold, dear. The woman in charge of Honourhall orphanage has been killed."

"One of us?"

"Not one of us. But definitely one of ours." He gave her a look for the cryptic remark, and she elaborated. "A boy in Windhelm has been performing the Sacrament, asking for her death. I only learned about that yesterday. But it appears that someone...or something...got to her first."

"What 'thing' could get into Riften?" Arnbjorn asked. "It's walled. Unless it was skeevers coming up from the ratway, it's not like an animal could have gotten her."

"Ah, but you may be wrong." Astrid tapped the page she was currently reading. "Apparently, one of the Orphanage's children watched it happen. He claims some great furred beast leapt from the shadows on top of this Grelod woman, tearing her apart with it's claws before disappearing into the night. Quite an account. Oh, look, he's even included a little charcoal drawing, that's adorable~"

"A Khajiit?" Arnbjorn offered.

"A naked one, if so. The boy was adamant that it wasn't wearing anything, but thinks he might have seen a satchel of some kind on it's back."

"Oh." Arnbjorn caught on. He himself had a specific satchel that was tied to a very long strap, the type that could be fitted easily with very large unwieldy digits. Even, for example, claws. "You think it was a werewolf."

"It's a possibility." Astrid agreed. "And a werewolf very much in control of themselves, to be able to enter a city, kill one specific woman, and then leave unseen by anyone else."

"Seems like a stretch." Arnbjorn dismissed.

"Oh, I would agree." Astrid told him. "If I hadn't also been receiving reports from further west. You recall that that girl was killed just close by in Falkreath, and everyone blamed poor Sindig? Yet recently some other werewolf tore out of the city, and one of the guards swears Sindig was still in his cell at the time, though he later escaped in the chaos."

Arnbjorn raised an eyebrow.

"And." She continued. "There's more. An influential businessman by the name of Nepos was recently found dead off in Markarth. The coroner, a good friend of mine, claims that he's never seen wounds like it. Claw marks bigger than swords, he says, bites that no wolf could have made..." She looked up, and met her husband's eyes.

Arnbjorn sighed, and stood up. "I'll look into it."

"Thank you, beloved." She leaned back again. "I promise I'll make it up to you when you get back. But if there is a werewolf out there...one who's capable of committing assassinations across all of southern Skyrim...well, I'd certainly like to meet them." She palmed the blade of Woe at her hip, and smiled to herself. "After all. They owe us a kill."

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Deep inside Cidnah mine, Madanach sat working at his desk. There was a knock on the wall outside his chambers. "Whatever it is, it can wait!" He shouted, not looking up. "I'm busy!"

"Actually, my king." Said the voice of Borkul the Beast, "I really think you might want to see this."

"Hng." Madanach sighed, putting his quill down, and stood up from his chair. "Sure. Make the old man walk..."

He nodded to his Orc bodyguard, and followed him through the tunnel. "So what's the matter? Does it have anything to do with the chaos going on upstairs?"

"Oh, yeah." Borkul grunted. "It's one of the girls who did in Nepos."

"You're certain?"

"She admitted it."

"Hmph." Madanach scowled. "Bold of her. What's she doing in here?"

"Guards brought her in not half an hour ago. Say she strolled right in through the front gates and handed herself over." Borkul looked back at Madanach, expression unusually uncertain. "She...she says she's one of us. Says she knows you."

"What?" Madanach frowned, pushing past Borkul and walking out into the central room of the mine. His jaw dropped.

A woman with pale white hair stood in the middle of the cave. Two men were groaning at her feet, and she was just finishing choking another unconscious as Madanach entered. She looked up at him.

"...Hjarnagredda?" Madanach gaped.

"Madanach." She replied. She dropped the person she was strangling. "Long time no see, grandfather. Where's my damn girlfriend?"

And with that, the first arc of this story comes to a close. Hjarnagredda makes some choices, and enters Cidnah mine. Xander has grown as a person, a warrior, and is beginning to develop the attitude all university students can recognise. Dulurza is technically doing amazingly at part one of the 'befriend then murder the Jarl' plan. As for L'laarzen...well, we're beginning to learn a lot more about her.

Now, sadly, this story will now be about to go on Haitus. Do not fret! It will return to weekly updates some time in the next 6-10 weeks, while I write the next part. In it's place, Thursdays will be occupied by a different story I've written, one that's only meant to be five or six chapters long. Now I don't know if this will appeal much to Skyrim players, but...have you ever heard of Steins;Gate?

Follow/Favourite so that you know when this continues, and feel free to check out anything else I've produced in the meantime (Ignore anything that started more than four years ago, it's trash).

And until we meet again, may the Gods watch over your battles, friend.