Last Time: Xander reunited with his sister alongside L'laarzen, Dulurza was sent to Winterhold for a way to help Elisif, and Hjar freed herself from Cidnah Mine
Bargaining
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It was the early hours of the morning, and two great beasts came to rest on a mountaintop in the Reach.
To Hjar's amusement, the stranger seemed to grow tired first, his wolf form panting heavily before slowly shrinking, shedding fur and losing the hunch of a creature not really built to be bipedal.
Satisfied, Hjar followed his example. After their escape from Markarth, they had spent long hours essentially on a romp throughout the area, working together to bring down and share prey. Her wolf was (for the moment) content, and she allowed herself to relax, taking a seat on a nearby rock as she beheld the human form of her saviour.
He was a Nord, she could tell from the ruggedness. Old, from the hair, but clearly still in peak physical condition.
And damn if that isn't peak physical condition. Werewolf hormones are telling me this guy is an alpha.
The fact that the two of them were outside together buck naked was a lot less weird than it looked, she swore. He was even wearing a satchel thing that he was tightening about himself, that was clothing, right?
"Don't even think about it." He told her, gruffly, catching her looking. "I'm married."
"Hah! Good for you. Don't worry, I'm taken as well." Hjar leaned back on the rock, stretching. "Thanks for the save back there, friend. I'd have had to transform to kill them, and I'm not sure what I'd've done to that city if I hadn't had your scent to follow."
"Don't mention it." He crossed his arms and looked at her. "You're a difficult woman to track down. I picked you up most recently in Whiterun, of all places. Wasn't expecting you to head back to Markarth, and I really didn't think to find you in Cidnah Mine."
"Trust me, I didn't spend a second longer in there than I had to." Hjar squinted at him. "Who are you?"
"My name's Arnbjorn." He replied.
"Hjarnagredda. Arnbjorn, mind telling me why you've been tracking me across Skyrim?"
"Because you've caught the attention of my family." He replied. "That was one hell of a stunt you pulled in Riften. City was in uproar over how you killed the poor matron."
Riften? She frowned. I've never even been to Riften. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"Sure you don't." He scoffed. "Just like I'm sure you've never heard of Aventus Aretino." He walked closer, sitting on the grass across from her. "You're obviously not with the Companions. You smell all wrong. You're just a werewolf who's using her powers as she wishes, and using them carefully. I can respect that." His look sharpened. "But a contract killer should know better than to poach targets from the Dark Brotherhood."
...Okay. There's a lot to unpack there. But one of the revelations was a lot more immediately concerning than the rest. Hjar tensed, asking, "You're with the Dark Brotherhood?"
He nodded.
...Oh, Hircine's left testicle.
"Are you here to kill me?" She asked, though immediately upon doing so she realised that wouldn't make sense.
"No, I'd rather not." Arnbjorn told her, which was a massive relief. "If I was, it would have been you I jumped on, not those guards. But I am here to collect on what you owe us."
"I'll pay it." Hjar replied, immediately. Nope nope nope nope nope- "Whatever it is, I'll pay. Just give me a couple days to get the coin together and-"
"Astrid isn't interested in your gold." Arnbjorn spoke right over her. "You don't owe us money, you owe us a kill."
"You...want me to kill someone for you?" Hjar gaped at him. This was so not how I expected tonight to go- "Listen, there's been some sort of mix-up, you've got the wrong woman-"
"I think we're past the point where I might actually believe you." Arnbjorn responded, frankly. "I would like for you to come with me. My wife would probably have just kidnapped you, but you're a wolf too, and I'd rather this be done amicably."
Hjar narrowed her eyes. "Now's not a great time for me, actually."
"I don't think I need to explain what happens if you refuse." He growled.
Oh, would you look at that, I'm being trapped in a corner again. Don't like that.
"First of all, quit talking about everything in your bored Nordic monotone, thinking it makes you sound cool. It's hot, but now it's pissing me off." She jumped off her rock, taking a step towards him. "Second, stop pretending you're the one with the immediate power here." She raised her left hand.
Arnbjorn looked at Hircine's ring. "I sensed it. Lord Hircine's ring grants greater control."
"When it's gifted freely. Long story, but mine is cursed." She wiggled her fingers, grinning. "And it just makes the wolf angrier. I can go again if I have to, but let me guess, one round was enough for you?"
He furrowed his brows at her. She wasn't entirely sure whether it was a bluff or not, the wolf inside her was awake but it didn't want to emerge again. But if he did attack her, there was a good chance he'd push it over the edge.
She spun on her heel before he could call her on it, deliberately exposing her back both to show confidence and hide her uncertainty. "Of course, you can threaten me with a cult of angry world-infamous assassins out to kill me, so I don't really want to leave your corpse up here either. Also, you seem nice, and I don't have enough werewolf friends. But at the same time, I can't afford to leave Markarth right now, which puts us at odds."
She turned back to him with a smile. "I'm willing to compromise."
Arnbjorn hadn't moved an inch. "How do you mean?"
"I mean, give me time." She stressed, trying not to think too hard about how she was bargaining with the Dark Brotherhood. "I don't need long to finish up here. Once I'm done, I'll come pay you your kill."
"What's to stop you running the moment I leave you here?" He asked, face showing no reaction, positive or negative.
"The fact that you can track my ring across half of Tamriel, most likely?" She offered. "The fact that your organisation is touted as being able to find and kill anyone? I'm fully aware that you're in the position of relative power here. My only chip is that you want me to repay you a favour rather than, well, kill you and die. I'd rather help you than die, but I'd rather die than leave my work here unfinished. All I'm asking for is a little time."
"...How long?" He asked, after a long period of staring at her.
YES! She smiled. "Maximum of a couple weeks." His eyes narrowed, "One week! Give me a week and I'll be done."
He continued to stare at her for a long time. Then, eventually, he spoke again. "There is an abandoned shack in the swamps between Morthal and Solitude." He told her. "It's not mapped, but my scent will be all over it. You have two weeks to meet me there, starting today. I would advise allowing yourself a generous amount of spare time, I'm not very patient."
"Got it." Hjar sagged in relief. "Thank you."
"Be late and die." With that, he turned around, and began walking down the north slope of the mountain.
Hjar stood there until she couldn't make out his retreating back anymore, then finally allowed herself to blow out a breath and flop backwards onto the grass.
"Okay." She groaned. "What in the actual realms of Oblivion just happened?"
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Alexander Meteuse sat at his desk in the College, and put quill to paper.
'Dear mother and father'-wait, is that too formal?
MORTAL! WHY DO YOU CONTINUE TO IGNORE MY SUMMONS?
Leave him alone, Meridia, he's busy.
OH, EASY FOR YOU TO SAY. HE'S ALREADY DONE YOUR QUEST!
Clearly mine is more important.
Ah, crap, gotta include everyone. Okay, 'Dear Family'
"Wait wait wait, pause." Cassia called from his bed, staring in wonder at the godly paperweights on his desk. "You have two Daedric artefacts? And you didn't think to bring that up?"
"Didn't seem relevant." He shrugged. 'I would like to inform you all that I am, in fact, not dead.' Hehe, I like that, very funny.
YOU MUST BRING MY BEACON TO MOUNT KILLKREATH!
'I have travelled to Skyrim to join the college of Winterhold, where I am...' okay, how do I look good without blatantly lying... 'learning many new things and making great strides in various areas'. Haha! I do in fact walk lots of places! Not a lie, go me.
You know, he took my artefact to my shrine very promptly.
MORTAL! ARE YOU SHOWING FAVOURITISM?
'I hope you are all doing well-' wait, is that too brief? Ah, crap, how long are they expecting this to be?
"XANDER!" Cassia shouted. She pointed at the swirly purple blue star, and the frankly enormous white crystal sat next to it. "You expect me to just ignore those? You expect me to be calm about any of this? You have the EYE OF MAGNUS just SITTING IN YOUR LECTURE HALL!"
"I know, it gives me a headache." 'P.S, love you all-'
"And the Thalmor man was looking at it funny earlier!"
"Eh. I'm sure it's not important." He glanced over at her. "Shouldn't you be heading back to Cyrodiil instead of bothering me?"
"I just trekked across half of Skyrim! I'll head to Solitude port tomorrow."
"Well you're not having my bed tonight!"
"Well where in Nirn do you expect me to-"
Xander, darling, Meridia is going to get very upset with you at this rate.
MORTAL! STOP IGNORING ME!
Xander's eyebrow twitched.
"Can you all just be quiet for maybe two minutes!" He shouted up at the ceiling.
Amazingly, it worked. Everything around him flashed grey, and his sister froze mid tirade.
"Oh, for the love of..." He spun around in his chair, looking with lidded eyes at the hooded figure stood in his doorway. "Hi, uh. Quandary."
"Quaranir." Snapped the Psyjic monk.
"Whatever." Xander's head slumped on the back of his chair. "What now?"
"You have yet to report the location of the staff of Magnus to your superiors." Quaranir bit out.
"I've been back for like twenty minutes!" Xander moaned. "I haven't bathed! Look at me!" He gestured at the tunic and slacks he was wearing, "I don't even have any clean mage robes since the only ones I haven't sold are either covered in Dwarven oil or the blood of dead Synod mages! And I am tired!"
Quaranir looked absolutely baffled. "Young mage, this is a matter of incredible importance-"
"Oh, everything's a matter of incredible importance nowadays!" He pointed back at Meridia's beacon, "There is a literal god that wants me to trek halfway across Skyrim, shouldn't I do that first?"
YES YOU SHOULD! screeched Meridia, prompting Xander to turn around and shout "And HOW aren't you frozen?"
We're Daedra. Said Azura, with some amusement. This Psyjic's tricks mean little to us.
WAIT, YOU CAN HEAR ME? Meridia exclaimed.
Xander rolled his eyes, "Of course I can hear you! I can hardly hear anything else!"
YOU-YOU'VE BEEN IGNORING ME EVER SINCE YOU FOUND ME?
Xander turned back to Quaranir, pointing a thumb over his shoulder, "Daedra, am I right?"
Quaranir didn't look impressed. "Young mage-"
"My name, Quaranir." Xander interrupted, eyes hard. "Use it."
"Alexander." Quaranir sighed. "This is a matter of life and death. The chain of events set in play by your arrival in Winterhold concerns the fate of the whole of Skyrim, Tamriel, even Mundus itself. Please, just...just take this seriously?"
Xander looked up at him a little longer.
Thought about it.
Then he turned to his desk, grabbed the letter, gave it a cursory once over, and held it out to Quaranir. "Here. Copy this out in neat handwriting onto some fancy paper, and deliver it to my family."
"E-Excuse me?" Quaranir looked at him, aghast.
"You'll need to make copies, actually." Xander remembered, putting it in the Psyjic's hand before he had time to respond. "I'm pretty sure Octavia and Julius are out, doing...I dunno what they do. Surfing down volcanoes. Partying with Sanguine. Running the empire. Whatever badassery they get up to on the daily. So find them, get them each a letter, and then get one to the Meteuse Manor in Cyrodiil."
"I-You-" Quaranir looked like he was having a fit. "I am a Psyjic monk! Not a courier!"
"Hey don't insult couriers, they're very professional people." Xander reprimanded him. "And I'm sorry, I was under the opinion that you wanted me to go talk to the Archmage now?" He hardened his eyes. "My family are my priority, Quaranir. If you don't take it I'm gonna have to walk into Winterhold proper and hire someone to deliver this."
"But...but I'm busy!" Quaranir protested.
"Don't you basically own the concept of time?"
"No! Time is of the essence!"
"Exactly. Then you'd best save me as much of mine as possible so I can go about doing...whatever it is you want me to do." Xander gave one of his patented winning smiles. "Eh? Eh? Come on~"
For a few seconds, Quaranir looked very much like he was swallowing a large toad. Then he sighed, and seemed to deflate. "Your two older siblings and your family manor, yes?"
"Yep! Oh, and can you also write 'and Cassia is fine too' since I don't think she was supposed to be on her trip for this long. Just stick it in the middle somewhere."
"...Sure. Whatever."
"Awesome!" Xander stood up and pat him on the shoulder. "Right, then I'm off to go deliver the report to the Archmage like a good little prophesy child. Warm sands! Ooh, I like that one, L'laarzen has such good idioms..."
"Meridia's beacon." Quaranir added, pinching his nose with one hand and holding the letter with another.
"Pardon?"
"Take it with you. Trust me, it'll...it'll make this next bit easier."
"Oh, got it, thanks."
Quaranir vanished, and colour returned to the world.
"I mean seriously, this place is-whoa." Cassia blinked, trailing off. "What did I just sense? Xander, what did you just do?"
Xander walked back to his desk, hefting Meridia's beacon. "Simple, Cassia. Your big brother just saved himself ten septims on the courier! Whoop whoop! Oh, if you touch my stuff while I'm out Azura will set you on fire. Bye!"
He waltzed out of the room.
...Are you actually this confident, or just sleep deprived? Meridia's voice echoed out after him.
The latter.
I thought so.
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Dulurza stood in the Archmage's chambers, fidgeting with both nervousness and impatience, as he read over the letter she had delivered.
"How...Intriguing." He said eventually, which struck her as an entirely pointless thing to say. He looked up at her. "It says your name is Dulurza, is that correct?"
"Yes, Sir." Respect was important, this man could probably disintegrate her with a finger twitch.
"'Sir', again, how amusing. My name is Savos Aren. You're not one of my students, so feel free to use it."
"Fine then. Can you help, Aren?"
"Isn't that a question." He took up a pen, began writing on a piece of paper. "At almost any other point of my tenure here this would have been the most important thing on my mind. Yet here you are, arriving right when an ancient and powerful artefact appears in my care." He glanced up at her, eyes sparkling. "These are exciting times, are they not? The proverbial winds are picking up."
Dulurza was able to stop herself demanding 'get to the point'. She couldn't stop the long exhale blowing out from her nostrils.
Aren noticed it, and laughed. "Hah! Forgive me, you must grow tired of the self-indulgent drivel that we mages so love to pour out. I shall get to the point."
He leaned back in his chair. "Firstly, I do not possess an immediate answer to your problem. Untethered ghosts are fairly easy to deal with, and when one possesses a mortal through some ritual or another, there is usually nothing of the host left. Both such events are very well documented. But I do not know of any cases such as you are describing. A part-failed, part-successful possession attempt. I'd be travelling to Solitude to study it myself, were I not occupied as I just said."
"So you can't help." Dulurza summarised.
"No, that's not what I said." Aren steepled his fingers. "Colette Marence is our eminent master of Restoration, and Phinis Gestor is our best conjurer. Either may have insights that I have missed. Not to mention it's rare that any problem is solved by an idea we have immediately that works first time. I make no promises, but with some time to analyse the subject, brainstorm, and test methods, there is a good chance we could solve the problem."
"Then give me them both." Dulurza asked, glad the solution was so simple. "I'll take them to Solitude and they can fix everything. My Jarl has promised to pay handsomely."
"She has indeed." Savos chuckled, eyes drifting down to the impressive sum quoted in the letter before rising back to Dulurza's. "However, matters are not so simple."
"Ugh." Dulurza growled. "Why?"
"Because I get the feeling it is not some stableboy who is the victim in this predicament." Aren explained, smirking in a particularly annoying way. "For the Jarl herself to be sending a personal guard to deliver the request, with such a high offer of payment, suggests to me that this ghost has taken someone of importance in Solitude. Perhaps a noble, or a high ranking member of the guard. Perhaps even an Imperial officer. Perhaps it is you yourself." His eyes darkened almost imperceptibly. "Perhaps it is someone who the Empire would be remiss to lose, in this war they are waging."
"The College is neutral in the war." Dulurza repeated what Elisif had told her, frowning.
"We are. But we do reside in Winterhold." Aren sighed. "Tell me, what do you think happens if Jarl Korir decides that, not only did we sink most of his city, we also helped in the war against the Stormcloaks? Do you know how troublesome it would be if he attacked us? Killing him would mean so much paperwork." The Archmage shuddered. "Perhaps the Stormcloaks declare us an enemy and move to take the College? Most likely they would fail, but we have not the resources to survive a siege; we would have to flee to Imperial protection, and hence, Imperial restrictions and demands. I've spent too much effort fending off Ancano's nosing to give all our secrets to the Thalmor now."
Dulurza narrowed her eyes. She could see his point.
"Or perhaps we set the precedent that any faction may hire us in matters of war. We're lucky that so far, we are mistrusted enough that they do not ask. I don't want the desks of my fellow teachers swamped with letters offering grand sums from conflicting groups to tear one city down or another. Or worse, they may make the same offers to the apprentices here, and those may not be wise enough to refuse."
"Fantastic." Dulurza turned away, throwing her arms into the air. "Even when you don't pick a side, you're picking the side of not picking a side. I trek across Skyrim's whole north coast to find unaffiliated mages, and you still can't help!"
"It is delightfully ironic, isn't it?" Aren chuckled. He tilted his head at her, "But you need to understand my position. You are an Orc. Surely you must respect that I place great value in protecting my own."
She did, and that was the worst part. If she'd been in charge of Mor Khazgor and people had been asking to hire her men as soldiers, she might have made the same decision Aren was. The tribe came first, and that was that. Though of course she'd never stop someone from her tribe fighting for glory, a cause they believed in, or even just money, so long as it didn't endanger their fellows.
Come to think of it, is father throwing that wisdom aside? If we attack Solitude, what happens to us..?
"I do." She said eventually, meeting his eyes. "But one of my own is suffering."
Savos looked at her for a long time, before nodding. "I understand. Allowing the deaths of a few for the safety of many...It's a decision I have had to make more than once in the past." His eyes sharpened. "I have grown sick of it."
He tapped the paper he had written on earlier. "That is a list of books in the Arcanaeum that I believe may help, and instructions to Urag that you have my permission to borrow them for a period of up to four months. The final decision is up to him, however; try to convince him that you're the reliable sort. And bring a well-padded rucksack."
He stood, walking over to her and offering the paper. "Colette's office hours begin early tomorrow morning. Ultimately, she is her own person; I trust her to make her own decisions, so you may try and persuade her to help you. I will ask Mirabelle to set you up with a guest room in the Hall of Attainment until then, and I wish you good luck in your endeavours. But I'm afraid that's all I can do."
"I understand." But I sure as Oblivion don't like it. She took the paper, nodded stiffly, and left.
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Dulurza hadn't made it more than halfway down the spiral staircase before she bumped into someone who wasn't looking where they were going. They promptly bounced off her, swore, tripped, dropped some big white thing they were carrying, and started falling backwards, meaning Dulurza had to reach out and snag the front of their tunic to stop them cracking their skull open on the stone. The white rock (she thought crystal at first glance, but there was no way any crystal was that big) started bouncing down the stairs.
"Hey!" She snapped, irritated after her meeting. "Watch yourself, you little-" she met the stranger's eyes and blinked. "You?"
"Dulurza!" Alexander grinned up at her. "How are you doing! Uh, can you put me down?"
Not at all trusting him to find his feet in the narrow stairwell, she instead picked him up by his armpits ("Hey!") and carried him down to the floor below, depositing him in the entryway to the Arcaney-whatsit. Seriously, just call it a library. Even Orcs have those.
"There." She told him. "And aye, glad to see you haven't gotten yourself killed since we last met."
"Ohoho, not for lack of trying." He chuckled, nervously, before looking around. "Oh, no, where did it go, please tell me I didn't break the thing-"
She looked him up and down. He wasn't carrying his usual assortment of staves, or his sword, or in fact even his robes. "You look like crap."
"Thanks, I feel worse. Oh, there you are. Yeah yeah stop complaining, you're fine..." the white rock had eventually stopped rolling and jammed itself under a bookshelf, and Xander pulled it out with a tug. "Sorry, talking to the beacon. How are you doing? Oh, are you here to get your axe enchanted?"
Oh damn, that would be nice...But Dulurza shook her head. "If I'm lucky, I won't have the time to, though at this rate I might be hovering around for days...I'm on a mission for my Jarl, I just got down from talking the Archmage."
"Oh, okay." Xander nodded. "Yeah, that makes sense, it is the only room up those stairs...Yeah I was about to do the same."
Dulurza tilted her head. "You were going to see the Archmage in your nightclothes?"
"These aren't nightclothes!" He insisted, seemingly outraged. "They're undergarments! Okay, that sounds worse..."
She snorted. "Seriously, where's all your gear?"
"In my room, dirty or trashed. And I don't need it, it's not like he'll attack me. Oh, but-" he reached down to a small sheath on his belt, pulling out a very familiar green dagger. "Still got this!"
"Well done." Dulurza smiled with some genuine pride. "Put it to any use?"
"Some. Stabbed a guy."
"Well it is a dagger."
"Hah! Funny. Yeah I take it everywhere, just in case. I sleep with it." He froze right after saying so. "Uh. Was that a weird thing to say."
"No, you're fine." Dulurza grinned. "I may have smelt it, but it's none of my business what depraved things you do to it."
"Hey!"
"Relax. I keep a dagger in my bedroll too."
They shared a laugh, and Xander leaned against one of the bookshelves, setting the beacon down on a nearby cupboard. "So, what business is it? Must be important if you've come all the way here for help."
Dulurza narrowed her eyes. She glanced left and right, checking that they were alone, then leaned in. "Can you keep a secret?"
"Absolutely not. Tell me anyway." Xander whispered back, glee obvious on his face.
"I'm serious." She growled, and he quailed. Malacath as my witness, this Man...Still, odd as it was to think it, she did trust him. He'd had chance to sell her out before. "Solitude's gotten into some bad business with a conjurer." She summarised. "I killed the wench, but a ghost's latched onto our Jarl, and we can't get rid of it."
Xander made a face. "Oh, wow. Unlucky him."
"Her, you don't know your own Jarls?"
"I'm not from Skyrim, lay off!" Suddenly, Xander winced, hands moving up to block his ears. He glared at his rock and shouted "I know, I KNOW! I'm in the middle of a conversation here!"
"You have a rock that talks?" Dulurza looked at it, incredulously.
"Yeah, it's getting it to shut up that's the trick." Xander rounded on it. "Listen, I know that routing undead is your entire thing, but it's not like you're going to..." he trailed off. Looked at Dulurza out of the corner of his eye. "...Undead are your whole thing, aren't they?"
Dulurza's self defence instincts started to prick up as she raised an eyebrow.
"Say..." Xander turned back to her. "You said Solitude, right?"
"I did." She replied, concerned.
"Is Mount Kilkreath near there?"
"A couple miles northwest, aye. A shrine or something."
He grinned. "Dulurza, I have an idea."
"Oh no." She replied, taking a step backwards.
"What if I told you that I could get you a highly talented restoration mage and an artefact specifically made for smiting ghosts for the price of one measly escort-then-dungeon-crawl?"
"...I'd be suspicious but interested." Dulurza said, after debating for a moment whether it would be better to run screaming from the room.
Xander's grin widened. "Meridia, honey." He called to the rock. "Would you mind talking so both of us can hear you?"
There was a beat. Then,
SPEAKING WITH ONE OTHER THAN MY CHOSEN CHAMPION IS A SERIOUS BREACH OF TRADITION.
Dulurza jumped away from the rock, one hand on her axe, what in Malacath's name-
"Yeah, well, if I was one to respect tradition I wouldn't have wired all the Synod's data crystals together into a hive mind." Xander sidled over to it, "So, this big Daedric quest thing. What exactly are the details, requirements, and rewards?"
"That's a Daedric Prince." Dulurza pointed at the rock. "That's an actual Daedric Prince. You dropped a Daedric Prince down a staircase."
"A Daedric Prince's artefact." Xander corrected. "Relax, they make them sturdy."
MY CHOSEN CHAMPION MUST DELIVER MY BEACON TO MY SHRINE AT MOUNT KILKREATH. Meridia recited. THERE, THEY WILL REMOVE THE CURSED TAINT, RETRIEVE DAWNBREAKER, AND BECOME AN INSTRUMENT OF MY CLEANSING LIGHT.
"Dawnbreaker, yes! Perfect!" Xander clapped his hands together. "So, 'deliver'. Quick tangent, would you say that if I hired a courier-slash-Psyjic monk to send a letter to someone, I would have 'delivered' it?"
...WELL, YES, BUT-
"So if I got my fine courageous Orsimer friend here to take you your Beacon, I would have fulfilled the first part of that?"
"You want to outsource a Daedric Quest?" Dulurza gaped at him.
BUT-YOU MUST BECOME THE-
"Instrument of your cleansing light, yes, sure, I can wield Dawnbreaker afterwards. Dulurza can just bring it back to me!"
"You want me to do your quest for you and then give you the reward?" Dulurza was impressed by his audacity if nothing else.
"I'm offering you the opportunity to quickly retrieve and use a tool you would otherwise never have access to." Xander countered. "Meridia, the Dawnbreaker is good at smiting ghosts, right?"
IT IS EXCEPTIONAL AT SMITING GHOSTS. The goddess replied, smugly.
Xander smiled innocently at Dulurza.
"You certainly have a way with words." She admitted, grudgingly. I am low on time. We have no idea how long it will take before Elisif...we don't even know what will happen to Elisif. "And the restoration mage?"
"I know one who's planning to head to Solitude anyway, who would be absolutely thrilled to do a quest for a Jarl of the nation's capital, and who's one of the most talented in Tamriel at turning undead." He smirked. "Cassia Meteuse. My sister."
...Ah. "Is she...like you?" Dulurza asked, tentatively.
The genuine horror that appeared on Xander's face threw Dulurza off for a second.
"No!" He insisted. "No, no no no no no. Trust me, she's brilliant, she's smart, powerful, everything you could want. Please don't base your opinion on her off of me, she..." he took in a breath. "My siblings are nothing like me. Trust me."
Oh, wow. That was heartfelt. "Alexander." She put a hand on his shoulder. "I was joking. If your sister is anything like you, I'd be honoured to work with her."
"You...really?" He blinked up at her at the admission.
"Really. But your loyalty to your family does you credit." Dulurza stepped back and hummed. "It's a damn good deal, thinking about it. Assuming everyone agrees."
I HAVE STILL NOT AGREED. Meridian spoke up.
"Oh come on." Xander looked at the rock. "Your beacon and my sister show up in the same dungeon, right as my friend shows up needing an undead-slayer? This is prophesy, right?"
YOU DON'T GET TO TELL THE DAEDRA WHAT IS AND ISN'T PROPHESY! Meridia retorted.
"But if, hypothetically, you had planned this entire thing out." Xander mused. "Then it would be really, really impressive of you. And it would be an amazing story, right? Everything coming together perfectly? And you'd be able to tell all the other Daedra about how much of a genius you were for making it all work out." He sighed, theatrically. "Of course, if you're saying that you didn't mean it, then-"
WAIT A MOMENT. Meridia interrupted. THE...THE INTENTIONS OF US DAEDRA ARE OFTEN HARD FOR YOU MORTALS TO COMPREHEND. PERHAPS ALL THIS IS OCCURRING ACCORDING TO MY PLAN.
"I'll certainly say so to anyone I meet." Xander leaned in. "So..?"
...FINE.
"She's in! No take backs!" Xander hefted the Beacon and tossed it to Dulurza. "Yours now. Enjoy, good luck!"
She caught it, finding it to be heavier than she'd expected. Significantly heavier than it had seemed in Xander's hands.
"Thank you. You are really going all out for this." She mused, looking at him. "What do you hope to get out of it? I don't believe for a moment you couldn't complete this quest for yourself."
"Well, because I'm busy enough as it is." Xander replied with a shrug. When that got a flat look, he sighed. "Because...I have it on good authority that something serious is about to happen here at the College. I want my sister out of harms way when that happens, and you're in the top five people I'd trust her safety to. And also," he scratched the top of his head, smiling embarrassedly, "This is obviously important to you. I want to help."
"Hmph." She couldn't help but smile at him. "You know, I remember you being a lot more pathetic than this."
"Hey!"
"Heheh. Alright, I've got books to borrow, then I'll go find your sister."
"My room, hall of Attainment. Take care."
"You too." She reached out her forearm. He clasped it, they shook, and with a final nod she walked into the Arcaeneum proper, leaving him to continue past her up the stairs.
8˂
The walls of Snow Veil Sanctum provided some cover from the biting northern winds, and L'laarzen was thankful for it. There is such a rugged beauty to this land, she thought, stepping down into the central pit, but does it have to be so cold?
"Well you certainly took your time." Mercer stepped out of the shadows. "Didn't I give you instructions not to make me wait?"
L'laarzen smiled sweetly. "Khajiit is very sorry, she came as fast as she could." She lied, shamelessly. "But these roads are treacherous, and the storms here are much stronger than those of my homeland."
"Excuses are meaningless. Learn. Improve." He gestured, and she followed him to an iron door in the side of the cairn. "Karliah's here alright. Her camp is just nearby."
"L'laarzen saw." She had done some scouting of her own. "Was it you who gutted her poor horse?"
"Yes. And trapped the camp, not that I expect it to do much good. If she wants to escape, she can do it under the cover of the snowstorm and there's not much we'll be able to do to track her."
"Then we must catch her before she can escape." L'laarzen glanced sideways at him. "You never explained exactly what this Karliah did. I have only heard snippets and hearsay, both from yourself and from the rest of the guild."
"You need to know?" He gave her a glare, indicating that she really ought to back down.
She didn't. "If I am to help you kill this woman, then yes."
He held her gaze for a few more seconds, before huffing. "Back in the old days, before all this sabotage and bad luck started, there was a trio of us who ran the Thieves Guild. Gallus was the guild master, and beneath him were me and Karliah." His lip quirked. "She was a better thief than me, I'll admit as much, if not a better fighter. Gallus loved her. Was in love with her, I'd bet. But Karliah...there was a reason she took her missions alone, kept her own loot. She always hated sharing."
He leaned down by the door, fishing an ornate-looking lockpick from his pocket and getting to work and positioning himself so L'laarzen couldn't see what he was doing. "Karliah called me and Gallus out to a meeting, right here at Snow Veil. Me and him met, started talking, wondering where she was...and then an arrow sprouted from his throat. He was dead before he hit the ground." Something in the door clicked, and he stood up. L'laarzen couldn't help but admire his speed. His time in Skyrim must have granted him experience with such locks; I took much longer on the Dwemer chest earlier.
"There was a snowstorm that night, just like this one. Karliah is the only woman I know who could land a bow-shot in that weather, but I was just lucky enough to use it to escape. Almost died of frostbite before I could get to Winterhold. But this time we're on the offensive. And there's no storm on the inside of a tomb."
"Her tomb." L'laarzen agreed. "As L'laarzen said. She despises traitors."
I regret what I did to the Falmer. But this...this is justified. This is right. She unsheathed her claws. "Let us go."
Mercer nodded, pushing the door open. "Alright, but be careful. Knowing Karliah, she'll have riddled the place with-"
He jerked to the left, as with a snap of rope and a rumble of stone a giant sharpened log swung down from the roof just within the entrance, spearing through the doorway and missing him by mere inches.
"...Traps." He finished. He glanced at her. "You're going first."
Oh, of course. "As Khajiit's guildmaster commands." Rolling her eyes, L'laarzen crept past the log and through into the barrow.
I'm late! Bollocks!
I have no excuse, I literally just forgot to upload yesterday. Spent the whole afternoon at a lockdown-obeying barbecue. Food wasn't even that good, either...
Still, the chapter is here. This chapter is the drumroll, building up to some pretty big events. You can tell because the next chapter is obnoxiously long by my standards. Hey, think of it this way; now you've only got a six day wait until that chapter arrives! Aren't you lucky.
Next Time: Someone has tea, someone's a little bit racist, and someone has an excellent reaction time.