Last Time: Xander and L'Laarzen fought Falmer in Mzulft, Dulurza discovered Elisif was haunted, and Hjar was summoned to Thonar's home.

Sister

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"H-Hello?" The voice called from the other side of the door, as Xander frantically tried to fit the key into the lock. "What happened out there? Are...are there people out there? Because I just heard a lot of growling and screeching and now that's all stopped...and you're messing with my door..."

"Be more gentle with it." L'laarzen advised, quietly. "Don't just jam it in there and wiggle it about, you need to be-"

"I'm being gentle, it's not working!" Xander hissed back.

"Have you tried turning it the other way?"

"Yes I've tried- Uh. Hold on-"

"Were those voices? Those were voices right?" The voice from the other side continued, "Because if you are people then you should probably know that I am both very armed and very scary. I have so many arms. Arms for days. Four of them! And they're all big and muscly, and also I'm nine feet tall and-"

There was a click.

Xander turned the key, grabbed handle looking objects, and then yanked the doors open with a screech of metal on stone.

He looked up-

And ducked beneath the fireball that immediately went flying over his head.

It exploded impressively against the far wall.

"Faaz Nah, Cassia, stop it with the hair-trigger fire magic!" Xander shouted, standing to his full height and glaring. "I thought you'd learned after the time I took the blame for the Synod's kitchen catching fi-"

His brain caught up with his mouth, and his eyes widened.

Stood in front of him was a girl he hadn't seen in long months. A spry little thing of nineteen years, her dark hair (matching Xander's own) was pulled up into a practical bun. There were grease marks on both her cheeks, and the sleeves on her mage robes were rolled up to past the elbow. Her features were angular and fair, slightly too fair to be completely Man, and her inquisitive eyes widened the moment she saw his face.

"Alexander?" She gasped.

"Cassia!" He shouted, sprinting forwards.

They crashed into each other, arms wrapping each other up, and Xander squeezed her like she might turn ethereal if he let her go.

To the side, L'laarzen was squealing. "This is the most adorable thing Khajiit has ever seen!"

"By the Aetherius Cassia thank the Nine you're safe the moment I heard your voice I was so worried I-"

Xander released her and paused for breath. Then he grabbed her shoulders. "What in Oblivion are you doing down here?"

"I'm looking for the staff of an elder god!" Cassia retorted, "What are you doing here?"

"I'm looking for the staff of an elder god!" Xander shot back, "And I'm sorry, what? You're supposed to be studying in Cyrodiil!"

She looked affronted. "I am! This is my bridge project!"

"Bridge project?" Xander wrinkled his nose up.

"Yeah! We have to do those in between teaching years." She tilted her head. "You did them too, right?"

He had, but his first had been on the system of magical record-keeping in the capital (which he'd had to abort after uncovering that the Thalmor were stealing priceless books and covering it up in the bureaucracy) and his second had been on the prophesy of the Dragonborn (which he had been given an F for due to the negative implications it had for the Aldmeri Dominion). He'd been kicked out before the end of year three. Still...

"You're allowed to leave the country for those?"

"Sure, if you get grant funding." Cassia shrugged. "My GPA was 97% this year so they pretty much let me do whatever I wanted."

"Oh wow you averaged 97%? That's amazing!"

Cassia nodded, giving him a look. "Yeah, it's better than getting perfect hundreds on half your exams and then failing the rest because of 'incidents'."

"Ehehe..." Xander looked away.

"I'm keeping ahead of Julius' 94, but I just can't catch up to Octavia's 99. Course big J never revised for the written exams; I don't want to take 'second best in the school's history' when I have no idea what he'd've gotten if he'd really-" Cassia narrowed her eyes. "Hold on. You're distracting me."

Xander gulped. "Uh-"

"Where in the name of JULIANOS' LEFT TESTICLE DID YOU GO!" She screeched.

"I-"

"You RAN AWAY!" Cassia pointed a finger at his face, screaming in a register that had L'laarzen's ears twitching.

"I left a note!"

"A note! You vanished from the manor in the middle of the night and you left a NOTE?"

Xander winced. "It was a long note!"

"It was a tiny note! With even tinier writing! We had to get Octavia in cos she's the only one who can read your chickenscratch, and even then she had to use a magnifying glass for most of it! And you wrote the last third in dragonese!"

"Dovahzuul! It was hard to explain what I meant in Tamrielic prose-"

"And you're distracting me again!" She shoved him in the chest. It didn't do much. "Brother, please." Her voice broke a little, and he looked up to see tears forming in her eyes. "You...you left us. You didn't even say goodbye to me."

...Faaz. I knew it would come to this if I didn't send them a letter. But I still put it off, and put it off, and... Xander hung his head. "I...I'm sorry. I just had to...I couldn't be there anymore. It was just too...I'm sorry."

Cassia looked at him for a few seconds, then sighed. "It's fine. I'm just...I'm glad to see you're okay."

"Yeah. You too."

He took a step forward, so did she, and they shared another hug. This one slower, calmer, as they both took the time to catch their breaths.

"So." Cassia said eventually, breaking it and looking past him. "Who's the cat?"

"Cassia!" He rebuked, sharply, before backing up and gesturing between the two of them. "The Khajiit is my very good friend L'laarzen, the best stylist in all of Mundus. L'laarzen, this is my younger sister Cassia. Biggest pain in the rear end in all of Mundus."

"Hey!"

Xander rolled his eyes, a small smile forming. "As well as a diagnosed pyromaniac and the most brilliant practitioner of aggressive restoration magic you'll ever meet."

L'laarzen rushed up with a wide smile, taking Cassia's hand and shaking it. "It is an absolute pleasure to meet you! You must let Khajiit do something with your hair sometime, it is such a mess but the aesthetic you are presenting is lovely!"

"Oh, um, sure." Cassia looked caught off guard. "Are you a mage too?"

"L'laarzen dabbles." she giggled. "But she is mostly here to assist your elder brother on his current quest."

Cassia gave Xander a look. "You hired a travelling companion to keep your hair looking good? Julianos, that is so like you."

Xander's gaze flicked past the outside of the brass doors for just a moment. "Sure. Something like that. Uh, do you have any classmates you want to introduce us to?"

"Oh, no, everyone else is dead." Cassia smiled. "Come on in, I'll show you what I've been working on!"

It took a few minutes for Cassia to explain what she had discovered about the Oculory, as she brought them up into the massive central room dominated by...Xander didn't know how to describe it. A big metal ball thing. Bloody Dwemer, nothing ever makes sense about them...

Regardless, his sister certainly seemed to know her way around it. She was as rough 'n' tumble as ever, snatching the focusing crystal from them without so much as a thank you and clambering up the metal struts to affix it to the big central focusy-thingy. That was about when Xander zoned out of her scientific rambling, and realised that L'laarzen was missing.

"Crap, the focusing crystal has gone out of sync." Cassia tutted. "And after we waited so long to get the thing transported here. This is gonna take months to rebuild..."

"Just flash-cool it with a frostbite spell." Xander replied, unthinking, as he looked around the room for his companion.

"Isn't that super dangerous?" Cassia thought about it. "Nah, screw it, you're right. Hey do you wanna do it? You're the expert here on crystals, I still can't understand your second year report on soul gems."

"Uh..." Xander started walking back towards the ramp. "Actually, would you mind doing it? I gotta...do a thing..."

She snorted. "Why not? Don't tell me you can't even cast frostbite?"

"Are you saying you don't want to reactivate the centuries old Dwemer artefact?" He countered.

"Hey, don't put words in my mouth!" She turned back to the machine, and he kept walking.

Eventually, he found L'laarzen about where he'd expected her. She was stood in the doorway to the Oculory room, looking out at the large room where they'd had their...altercation. He walked until they were stood shoulder to shoulder, and stopped there, looking out alongside her.

"So..." he began, awkwardly. "When were you planning on telling me that you're actually a badass?"

The scene laid out before them was one of devastation. Falmer corpses littered the Dwarven floors, blood flowing freely across the stone and down deeper into the complex. Some of the bodies were impaled with their own weapons, others bore marks of targeted spellfire, but by far most of them bore the exact same wound. A quadruple-line slash across the throat, all perfectly parallel, as though some strange fork had been swept across the gullet at the speed of lightning. Dozens of murderous creatures reduced to dinner for the Chaurus. And from what Xander remembered (having spent the entire period hiding behind a hut waiting for the screaming to stop), it had taken two minutes, tops.

He glanced down at L'laarzen's hands. She held a dirty cloth between them, and was working it very thoroughly between her claws. There was an awful lot of stain coming off on the fabric.

"L'laarzen is not a badass." She said, in a quiet, shaky voice. "L'laarzen is a hairdresser."

"...Right." He replied, succinctly. He looked her over, and noticed that she was visibly shaking, patches of fur stood on end.

Say something, damnit! He coughed. "The, uh. The reading I did on the way in mentions that when the Snow Elves were originally enslaved by the Dwemer, they were fed a certain toxic mushroom that grows deep in the underground caves. Based on studies done by House Telvani (because of course it was house Telvani), this mushroom not only permanently damages the eyesight of those that consume it, but also the brain. It makes people and animals stupid, impulsive, and violent. It particularly damages their capacity to form social bonds, though when this was done on skeevers, it was noted that they would still act as members of groups for their own gain. Sentient subjects were driven to madness within a few months of regular doses."

L'laarzen didn't look up. Xander continued, "These Falmer...they live on those mushrooms. Have done for millennia. They were fed it through the womb of a mother who had also fed on it, and then fed on it throughout their lives. They became...less than people. Whatever it is that makes the races of Nirn truly alive, it...they've lost it. I meant it when I said that their souls are white, not black." He turned to face her fully. "They're monsters, L'laarzen. Not people. No more sentient than trolls or mammoths, they don't...they don't count."

"Monsters." A lip quirked upwards. "Strange. Yet they bled the same as Men and Mer."

And oh, did they bleed. Xander quashed the rising bile in his throat, and reached out, putting a hand on L'laarzen's shoulder. She flinched, but didn't pull away.

"Listen to me." He told her. "You saved my life today. You saved my sister's life. You did a good thing."

L'laarzen took in a deep breath. Then let it out, folding up her cloth neatly and storing it in a breast pocket. Her claws retracted. She looked back at him and gave him a weak smile. "You are too kind to L'laarzen, friend. Much too kind."

She pat him on the shoulder and turned. "Khajiit is not upset because of what she did, Alexander. Khajiit is upset because she enjoyed it so much."

With that, she walked back into the Oculory.

Xander waited a moment, then closed the two doors on the carnage, and followed her.

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The Blue Palace, to all outside observations, was in a brief repose of lethargy. Following the chaos of the attempted coup, the court were taking a collective breath, putting aside petty disagreements for once and keeping their discussions to lighter matters. Voices were calm, tempers were low.

Except in Elisif's quarters, where everyone was losing their minds.

"Get her out of me get her out of me get her out of me!" Elisif shrieked, standing in the middle of her room with her arms stretched out to either side like she had slime on her dress or something.

Styrr, who had been shining golden light from his hands at her for the last minute, stepped back with an extremely awkward look on his face. "I...can't, my lady."

"What?" Dulurza looked outraged, stood to one side. "You're the priest of the temple of the capital of Skyrim and you can't get rid of a ghost? What's even the point of having you?"

"My Jarl, I've struck you with every spell to turn undead in my arsenal." Styrr fidgeted. "Whatever is inside you has resisted all of that. It is clearly a very powerful spirit, and there's not much else I can do to stop it save...well. Setting you on fire."

"Do not set the Jarl on fire." Dulurza pinched her nose.

"No, yes, what the Thane said. Do not set the Jarl on fire!" Elisif insisted. The laughing in her head, which she had only just started to notice, intensified.

Bolgier Bearclaw, who had come in to see what the ruckus was (and promptly slammed and locked the doors behind him) was pacing back and forth, muttering hysterically "Queen's haunted. Queen's haunted. Jarl of Solitude, rightful High Queen of Skyrim. Haunted. On my watch."

"Where did it come from?" Elisif demanded, focusing on Styrr. "Who is it? What's it doing here?"

Dulurza snorted. "As if it isn't obvious. It's the ghost the vampire tried to put in you. The potato lady."

"Potema." Elisif corrected, flinching.

"Whatever. Who was she again?"

"What, Potema Septim?" Styrr chuckled nervously. "Oh, nobody. Just self proclaimed empress of Tamriel, member of the Septim dynasty, the woman responsible for the War of the Red Diamond, necromancer and conjurer, one of the most unabashedly evil people in all of history."

Elisif cringed as a new spike of pain drove through her head. "Ow, okay, can we please not insult her while around me?"

"She's hurting you?" Dulurza was at her side in an instant. "That's it. I'm killing her. How do I kill her?"

"I could try performing rites in the temple of the Divines, but Potema was the one who had that temple built!" Styrr was pacing too now. "The skull she possessed after being summoned by those necromancers? It was stored under that temple! It might just make things worse!"

"How are we going to spin this?" Bolgier groaned. "The Jarl of Solitude is possessed by a ghost. If this gets out it'll leak to the Stormcloaks and Ulfric will have a field day, his only rival completely discredited!"

"Actually." Styrr pointed out. "If you think about it, Potema's claim for the throne is stronger than our current emperor's is."

"That really doesn't help, old man!"

Elisif clenched her fists. "Can everyone just be quiet!" She shouted, and her voice echoed off the walls of the room with another flicker of darkness. "Of course it's going to leak to the court if you go raving about it at the tops of your voices!"

She paused, realised everyone was staring at her, and took a deep breath. "Is that going to keep happening?" She squeaked to Styrr.

He shrugged. "My Jarl, I've never seen anything like this before."

"Then let's think this through logically." Elisif said, forcing herself to sit down. "We don't know enough to make an informed decision, so we need to know more. Who would know more about this?"

"Sybille? She was trying to do it to you in the first place, right?" Bolgier offered.

Elisif nodded. "Most likely. Go search her room, turn the place inside out. If there's anything in there that seems related, find it."

"Yes Ma'am!" Bolgier bowed and turned to unlock the door, letting himself out.

"Any other suggestions?" Elisif asked.

"I could pen messages to my colleagues, keeping it in the abstract." Styrr offered. "But I doubt any of them are more experienced than I. Certainly, none of us are experienced as Potema."

"Wonderful." Elisif tutted. "Another reason we need a court mage..."

"A mage..." Dulurza, after standing thinking for a decent while, looked up with bright eyes. "A mage. What about the College of Winterhold?"

"Skyrim's only magical college..." Elisif thought about it. "That's an idea. You've heard of them?"

"I worked with one some weeks back." Dulurza nodded. "Clever man. Honourable, if on the small side."

"You think he could help?" Elisif asked.

An expression passed Dulurza's face almost too fast for her to catch it, something that might have been horror. "Malacath, no, I wouldn't let him within ten feet of you." The Orc shuddered. "Not for fear of malice, just that he might trip over and set you on fire. But he still owes me a favour, and there will be more than just him in Winterhold, surely."

"Winterhold is a Stormcloak allied city." Styrr pointed out.

"But the College remains neutral." Elisif retorted. The more she thought about it, the more merit the idea held. "They're academics, but I've heard they accept gold for magical services, enchanting and such. As a matter of fact, if we're looking for a new Court Mage, we're probably best looking there. Independent, talented, and the teachers should be more than experienced enough."

"If this is all true, why weren't they our first thought for a replacement?" Dulurza asked.

"Because some eighty years ago the majority of Winterhold collapsed into the ocean and we think it's the College's fault. Still, desperate times..." Elisif stood. "I'll write a letter to the Archmage. If I recall correctly, he sent a missive to Torryg as High King when he first achieved his position, I'll see if I can ferret it out. Ah, but all the mail I send is intercepted, and I can't have news of this getting out..."

"Intercepted?" Dulurza looked outraged. "What, the Elves read your letters too?"

"Dulurza, the Thalmor usually get Imperial military information before it filters through to Castle Dour. Of course they read my letters." Elisif sighed. "I'm going to need a courier. A reliable one, who I can trust with important information and a large sum of money without..." She paused, and looked up at her Thane.

Dulurza realised what she was thinking quickly, her eyes widened and her teeth gnashed together. "Of course you can trust me to do it," She said, "but I'm not comfortable leaving you undefended."

"You already stopped Stentor, and you can't fight against...this." Elisif pointed out, gesturing vaguely to herself. "I'm safe here."

"You might be in more danger than you think..." Dulurza muttered, eyes downcast.

Elisif walked towards her, laying a hand on her shoulder. "I have Bolgier, an entire castle of guards, and the Imperial army to protect me." She said, looking her Thane in the eyes. "What I don't have is someone who I can trust to cross a war torn country and wrangle some assistance out of infamously antisocial wizards. That is, unless I have you. Do I?"

Dulurza looked at her for a while, then nodded. "Alright. I'll pack my things."

"Thank you." Elisif smiled, and then realised exactly how close she was and stepped back with a small cough. "And please, make sure you're actually wearing something sensible when you leave my room?"

"What? Why-oh, okay." Dulurza looked down, and seemed to finally realise that she hadn't been wearing a tunic for the entire conversation.

Oh, I like her. When all this is over, I'm definitely keeping her.

Elisif stepped back, blushing and shaking her head-

Before realising it hadn't been her who had just thought that.

"Uh, Styrr?" She asked. "What do I do if the ghost starts talking to me?"

The priest gulped. "I would start writing that letter faster, my Jarl."

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"It works! It works! It-Oh, come on, what in Oblivion is this?"

Cassia groaned, and made a very rude gesture at the image that appeared on the wall.

Xander crossed his arms, looking at it critically. "It's...a map." He said. "A map of northern Tamriel. Cassia, if you give me five septims I can get you one of those with cities on it."

"Shut up!"

"Give me a lesser soul gem and I can make it glow, too."

"It's not just a map, moron!" Cassia stomped up to it, bringing her fingers up to her chin. "This is supposed to be showing me all of the magical signatures across Tamriel!"

"Magical signatures?" L'laarzen piped up from the sidelines.

"Just a buzzword, doesn't mean anything." Xander whispered across, before calling "What's it tracking? Magicka degeneracy? Because you know that wouldn't account for the-"

"Yeah I know, brother, I sorted it. I've spent my whole first year focusing on this area." She huffed. "I wanted it to show me all the powerful magical artefacts across the continent."

"That's what you've been doing?" Xander tilted his head. "Just looking for cool magical trinkets?"

"Uh, yeah? Duh?" Cassia turned back to him, spreading her arms wide. "Think of what I could find! Daedric artefacts, historic soul gems, enchanted cities of centuries past, more Dwarven artefacts like this! No more having to go trawling through old legends to find them one at a time, I could have one big map that shows me where they all are and peruse at my leisure!"

Xander frowned, recalling his conversation with the Augur. "Are you sure that's a good idea? Sure, you'd become famous, but that would only be because of all those old mages' achievements. You probably couldn't even understand everything you found in one lifetime."

"Well at least it would be all there." Cassia seemed confused by his reluctance. "What, you're telling me you wouldn't go find Azura's Star if you knew where it was?"

Xander coughed, hand straying down to his satchel.

L'laarzen spoke up, "There would be great danger in it. If you became known as the owner of so many powerful items, there would be a target on your back. Many rich and influential people would pay to have you robbed or killed."

"Yeah, and what if you did find Mannimarco's staff of instant death?" Xander piped in. "All you've done is bring a dangerous murder-stick back into the public eye. Nothing good can come of it."

Cassia looked between them, defensively responding "Well, I'm not afraid of stuff like that! And hold on, you're looking for the staff of Magnus too!"

"Yeah, for a reason!" Xander protested, weakly.

"Oh, whatever." She turned back to the map, pointing up to the top-middle of Skyrim. "Well, it doesn't matter anyway. See those two big dots? They're completely over-saturating the entire picture. Even down to the south of Cyrodiil, nothing is bright enough to show up. It's like how you can't see the stars during day because of the sun."

And which Magne-Ge created the sun again? Xander had a very worrying thought. "Are you telling me that those are the two most powerful artefacts in all of Tamriel?"

"By far." Cassia agreed. "And it's weird that they've got the exact same brightness, five septims says they're linked together somehow."

"Oh. Good." AAAAAAAAAAAAAAH-

"Wait a minute...that top one's in Winterhold!" Cassia turned back to him. "Those obstinate northern hicks! They were hiding something from us!"

"Now now, be fair." Xander replied, looking at the second dot. That's gotta be Labyrinthian. Oh, of course, where else would it be except Shalidor's funhouse... "Us hicks only got the Eye of Magnus just recently, there was nothing there when you asked."

"What do you mean you-" Cassia blinked. "You're with the College? Wait, Eye of Magnus?"

"Yep and yep." Xander leaned back and stretched. "Right, that's me done, thanks for your help. L'laarzen, you coming? I'm checking for loot."

He began walking away. L'laarzen gave Cassia a cheery wave and followed, and it was only another second or so before the girl went storming after them.

"Hold on, hold on hold on. Xander, you joined the College of Winterhold?"

"Uh-Huh." He continued, continuing into a back chamber. "There's bound to be a chest back here, there's always a chest..."

"Why would you leave the Synod to join the College of Winterhold?" Cassia (when he glanced back at her) looked genuinely baffled. "That's like leaving the Penitus Oculatus so you can become an Imperial footsoldier!"

"Oh yeah? Well this footsoldier has the Eye of Magnus, and that pretty much trumps everything. Oh, here we go, loot!"

"Tch!"

L'laarzen giggled from behind, and spoke up "He's embarrassed about something, so he's trying to distract you! He's doing it very well, in fact!"

Xander scowled, as he came up to a locked gate in the way of a large, impressive looking chest. "Thanks, L'laarzen. Really." He gave the gate an experimental tug, then (sick to death of keys) brought his sword up and started using it as a crowbar. "I suppose I went to the College because they didn't know me. I needed to get out from under all your feet."

"Why?" Cassia called over his shoulder. "It's great at the Synod. They love us there."

"Exactly." He grunted in exhaustion, trying to pry the gate open. "If I'd wanted to use my 'bridge project' to go touring Elsweyr's rainforests I could've -ngh- asked, and they'd have fallen over themselves to do it. Gngh." He blew out a breath. "You didn't get funded to visit Skyrim because of your GPA, Cass. You got it because you were a Meteuse."

Cassia looked at her feet, eyebrows furrowed. "That's not-Are you saying I wasn't-"

"No, you're doing amazingly because you're amazing, and I'm incredibly proud of you. But-" the gate clattered, but wasn't budging, "they'd already made their minds up about you before you walked in the door. Julius was the only one who got to prove himself, the rest of us just had the doors opened in advance. Oh screw this-" he sheathed his sword, then drew his new Falmer staff from his back. The first ice bolt bent the lock, and the second shattered it entirely, allowing him to push the gate open. "I wanted the chance to be myself. I wanted to impress them because I was impressive. Heh, or at least because I could convince them I was..." he walked up to the chest, pulled at the lid. It didn't budge, and he groaned.

"Would you like L'laarzen to pick that for you?" L'laarzen offered.

"Yes, please."

"She could have opened the gate for you too-"

"Yes, I know."

He shifted to let her pass, smiling gratefully.

"Wait, but-" Cassia looked at him in confusion. "If you didn't have the Meteuse name opening doors for you...how did you get in?"

Xander's fists clenched. "What was that?" He asked, icily.

"I'm just saying." She raised her hands placatingly. "Don't get me wrong, you're one of the cleverest people I know, even if you can be a moron sometimes. But you're not...I mean, you know."

"Not what?" He snapped, annoyed. "Not good enough? Because I'm not as gifted as you?"

"That's not what I-"

"They love me up there!" He pointed probably north. "I'm bringing in new books, I'm helping the other students, I'm writing a thesis! They don't care that I'm not-"

"Don't care?" Cassia countered, testily. "Or don't know?"

That I 'have the Magicka capacity of an Orc teenager'? Thanks for coming up with that one, Cass. Funny. Xander grit his teeth and took a step-

There was a click, and a cough from behind him. "Done!" L'laarzen remarked, cheerily. She stood up from the chest and looked between them both. "Perhaps, once we get back into the sunlight, we should all share a meal, take a nap? It has been a very stressful few hours, no?"

Xander looked back at his sister's face, taking in her expression. Angry, yes, but most importantly, hurt.

Get it together, man, she's your sister. Where's all this coming from?

"Yeah. Good idea." He sighed. "Sorry, Cassia. That was my bad."

"No, you're fine, I shouldn't have brought it up."

Situation resolved to his satisfaction (as in, problems hidden rather than confronted), Xander turned back to open the chest, feeling the exhaustion really start to creep up on him. "Right then. Food, sleep, travel to Winterhold, and then I can finally write that letter telling the family I'm not dead. Sound good?"

"Sounds great." Cassia smiled.

"Excellent." He reached in, feeling for coins. "Now, unless something else ridiculous would like to happen before we finish-"

A NEW HAND TOUCHES THE BEACON!

"AAAAAAAAH-!"

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No air had ever tasted as good as the sweat-and-rockdust tainted Markarth air in that moment. Hjar took in a deep breath as she was escorted out of Cidnah mine.

"Ah, this is the life." She exclaimed. "Great prison, everyone. You kept me in there for almost half a week!"

One of the mercenaries shoved her in the back; she chuckled and kept walking.

The Warden left her not far from the entryway to Cidnah Mine, where a squadron of six full guards (helmets covering their faces) arrived to take custody. The two mercenaries, however, stayed, saying that their job was to escort her to her 'final destination'. Didn't really matter to her if she had six or eight guards; her hands were bound either way.

Speaking of being bound, the wolf inside her was absolutely furious at the predicament. As nice as the fresh air was, it did nothing to pacify the beast, which was pacing around inside her growling with pent up frustration. The mine already had the beast high strung, but then she'd gone and teased it with release against the Orc woman before denying it. And now she was doing the exact same thing with her newfound freedom.

Combine that with the aggravating effect of the cursed ring, and she was ready to phase any moment, needing to actively focus on keeping it suppressed.

It was late evening, and there was no way she was going to make it until the morning.

So we're unleashing it on Thonar then. Wonderful. Just need to keep ourselves from going after Margret...oh, Hircine, can I control it that well?

They didn't take her up the high street, which was a shame, she'd've been interested to see how the citizens reacted. Instead, she was brought up through the mining district, then across in front of Understone Keep. The two guards outside the entrance tracked her with their gazes as she passed, and she gave them both cheery smiles.

Eventually, they came to what Hjar recognised as an unusual turn. Instead of going left, which she thought would have been the fastest way up to Thonar's manor, they went right, down a smaller alleyway. She thought about asking, but was beaten to it when one of the mercenaries called out "We taking a detour or something?"

"Just a shortcut." The guard at the head called back.

"Heh, right. Shortcut."

Hjar narrowed her eyes, as two of the guards glanced at each other. She couldn't read expressions beneath the masks, but from the subtle head tilts and hand gestures...they weren't aware of this?

Hjar started looking more closely. The two mercs weren't bothering to control their expressions, naked glee on their faces. As for the guards, many were unusually stiff of posture, twitchy, with hands on weapon hilts. When she deliberately skittered a pebble with one foot, five of them flinched towards it. Caution was sensible when escorting a prisoner, but this was increasing as time passed, and it had spiked when they'd taken the wrong turn.

And as the two lead guards took them down turn after turn, leading them further and further away from the busy, civilised parts of the city...

Oh, I see. I'm not meant to make it to Thonar, am I? But some of these fine officers don't seem in on the plan.

They reached a T-junction, and she stopped walking right in the middle of the intersection.

The guards stopped with her, and she remained completely surrounded.

The distant bustle of the city had receded, it was quiet enough that she could hear the individual breathing of the men through their helmets. She cracked her neck.

"Before we get started." She said, eyes forward. "Would anyone like to back out?"

There was a beat.

One of the guards (who had seemed perfectly relaxed so far) looked rapidly between his compatriots and said "Oh, hold on, is this one of those-Oh, no. I don't want any part of this." He threw his arms up and started walking off, loudly proclaiming "I signed up to fight bandits! Arrest criminals! Have a well paid job where I can stay close to my wife! Not get involved in this thrice damned conspiracy nonsense..." his voice faded into the distance.

"That happen a lot?" Hjar asked.

"There's usually at least one." A guard to her left answered.

She snorted.

And then she moved.

The Oakflesh spell she'd been charging flashed into place just as she collided into one of the guards in front, clamping her hands down on his sword and preventing him from pulling it free of its sheath. Around her, all of the others immediately drew their own weapons and turned on each other, and the street devolved into complete pandemonium.

Hjar wrestled with her guard over his sword, she drove a knee into his groin and he backhanded her across the face. Her flesh spell absorbed most of the damage but she still growled with rage, relinquishing her grip on his sword and ducking. He yanked it free of the sheath and she ducked under his wide, clumsy swing, arms stretching out towards his belt. The dagger she'd spotted there came free of its fastenings at her tug. The guard was fast enough to grab her by the throat with his offhand, but not fast enough to stop her gripping the knife in her bound hands, twisting her arms awkwardly and yanking the blade upwards. She buried it up under his chin, and saw blood drip from beneath his helmet.

His grip slackened and she spun free, rolling beneath one axe-swing but being tackled by one of the mercenaries and thrown into the wall (OW). She bashed him in the face once, twice, looked up to take a glance at the combat and oh, wow, that's absolute chaos. One of the guards she'd pegged as an ally had a brief reprieve and turned towards her, and trusting her instincts, she held out her hands. He took a step towards her, swinging his handaxe. Hjar tried not to flinch as it buried itself between her hands, snapping through most of her bindings in an instant.

That guard then got a shield smashed into his face for his troubles, and the mercenary that had wall-slammed Hjar was backing up to have room to swing his mace, but it didn't matter; she was free.

Hjar pushed herself off the wall, one arm blocking his swing at the elbow while her other reached up into the open air.

Dear Lord, who art in Oblivion, I think now would be a good time for some domination, don't you?

Hjar didn't get a response (except perhaps a dark laugh in the back of her mind) but when the fingers of her raised hand came together, they curled around a cool metal handle.

The mercenary had the time for a shocked look as the Mace of Molag Bal crunched into his head, smashing through his iron helmet like it was so much tin foil.

He slumped and she shoved him away, bringing the mace around for an upward swing that took him entirely off his feet, before taking stock of the battle.

Eight, one had left, she'd killed two, that left five and one of those had been impaled already. A quick glance at the three-vs-one currently taking place, her lone ally being dogpiled (were there one or two Forsworn at first? Ah whatever) told her that staying wasn't a good idea. She spun on her heel and started sprinting down one of the alleyways.

"She's getting away! Catch her!"

Oh, really, you think?

Hjar panted, throwing herself down one passageway after another as fast as she could as heavy boots charged after her. She had no idea where she was going but she could start to think about that when she wasn't in immediate danger of evisceration, bandits and Forsworn enlists were one thing but city guards were made of sterner stuff-

Windows glowing from fire light flashed by her vision as she passed them, stone cobbles echoing beneath her feet, Come on, faster, faster-

She noticed her control slipping and viciously clamped down on it, stumbling as her senses flared. Her adrenaline was up now, and her ability to control the wolf was going to fail any minute. Just need to find a way out of the city. Come on, Hircine, lend me strength.

She tore around a blind corner, and slid to a stop. Houses left, houses right...house in front. Dead end.

Oh, yeah, Hircine's disappointed in me. Or maybe this is just because I'm two-timing Molag Bal. Either way, DAMNIT.

Hjar rushed up to the door and tried to yank it open, but it was locked, of course it was locked, and the noise did nothing but give her away.

She turned, resigned, to see the three remaining guards turn the corner behind her, boxing her in.

And of course, there was nothing the wolf hated more than being boxed in.

Gritting her teeth, Hjar raised her mace threateningly, looking between the three aggressors as they moved slowly down the alley towards her, weapons drawn.

"Alright then. Let's do this." She spread her arms. "Come and have a go if you think you're-"

A great grey shape dropped down from above and crashed into the three guards. It batted one of them aside, grabbed another in a great clawed fist and swung him round into a wall so hard Hjar heard the man's bones crack. The third guard tried to swing his sword at the beast, but the blade didn't even penetrate it's fur. The monster simply spun, grabbed the man's head in one claw and his legs in another, and tore.

The remaining guard, the one that had been dismissively knocked aside, was desperately trying to crawl away, but the monster wasn't having any of it. It stomped forwards, trapped the man on the ground with one arm, opened it's jaws, and bit down.

There wasn't much sound after that except for a lot of rending and tearing.

Eventually, the werewolf finished, and looked up at Hjar.

Her breathing was still heavy, vision blurry, and her mind was racing with a thousand questions but she didn't have time for all of them and she couldn't think well enough to form most of them. But she knew one thing: whoever this was, they weren't immediately trying to kill her.

"I need to turn." She gasped out. "I can't...I need a way out of the city, can you take me-ngh!" Her body spasmed. "Please? Quickly?"

There were shouts from elsewhere in the city, clearly someone had heard the commotion.

The werewolf looked at her, huffed, then swung it's arm in a 'follow me' gesture and took off throughout the streets.

The relief was what finally did it. Hjar sighed, and let go.

Imagine writing a fanfiction about a youtuber's OC and then realising that you've been spelling the name wrong this whole time. Welp, not changing it now.

Also imagine being the type of person that will reference the lord's prayer, the avengers, and a seventies UK political sitcom in the same chapter. I'm sorry, folks, I don't know why I'm like this.

Cassia is shedding more light on Xander's family, and Dulurza's straight up not having a good time. And who's Hjar's new mystery ally? Well you can probably figure that out, I think I've been good enough at foreshadowing for that to be possible at this point.

Next Time: Someone confronts authority, someone avoids responsibility, and someone ends up naked in the woods for like the third time this month.