Last night: Xander fell from the College of Winterhold, L'laarzen escaped Snow Veil Sanctum with Karliah, Dulurza began escorting Cassia to Solitude, and Hjar agreed to help Margret finish her mission.
If you read this chapter without listening to Secunda on loop, you're doing yourself a disservice.
Cold
8˂
The wind was freezing up at the shrine of Azura. The mountaintop offered no protection from the elements, and the storm still roared, buffeting everyone there with ice and stripping all the heat from their bones.
L'laarzen still struggled to breathe. That, or walk, or just exist in any state at all. The encounter in Snow Veil had damaged her ribs, throat, and lungs, and even with the time to tend to her wounds fully she didn't have the expertise to heal them. The desperate retreat through knee-deep snow had done nothing to help her recover, rather, it had left her aching everywhere she wasn't numb.
L'laarzen was hurt, and cold, and tired, and hungry.
It was only the third or fourth worst state she'd ever been in.
"Thank you a thousand times for letting us stay!" She once again insisted, walking up to the Dunmer priest that they had found praying at the shrine. "It is an honour to take refuge under Azurah's watchful gaze!"
"Hm." The Dunmer, Aranea, glanced past L'laarzen to look at her companion. "Your friend does not seem to share your gratitude."
Karliah (who L'laarzen was still far, far from trusting) had scarcely said a word since arriving, standing off to the side and looking out into the snowstorm. "I'm going out scouting!" She called to them. "Make sure we've left no tracks, try and see if he's following us! This statue is massive; stands to reason that if he spots it through the storm, he'll assume we've done the same!"
"Is that wise?" L'laarzen asked, also having to shout over the wind. "Braving this weather may be the death of you! For Khajiit as well, if you are seen!"
"I won't be!" With that incredibly persuasive and verbose argument, Karliah vanished into the snow.
L'laarzen turned back to Aranea with an apologetic smile. "L'laarzen apologises for her. She is...not the most personable of people."
Aranea just shook her head. "Come. Sit by the fire, you must be cold."
L'laarzen was, so she did.
The fire being warm was unsurprising, but it being warm enough to actually help her was a pleasant development, as was the smell of cooking rabbit from the spit above it. Aranea had clearly been here a long time, and while her home was minimalist, it certainly made the most of the space and the natural cover the shrine provided.
L'laarzen gingerly sat down on the rug she was offered, and began the process of cleaning and drying herself by the flames.
"I confess that I know little of your people." Aranea said, sitting across from her. "But my goddess is important to the Khajiit, is she not?"
"Highly." L'laarzen nodded. "So much so that, for all the strange names you give to your gods, Azurah is almost identical." She stretched, enjoying the chance to speak of her home culture to an interested audience. "Fadomai's third litter of children birthed Azurah, Nirni (the world) and the moons. It was Azurah who created the Khajiit; the fastest, cleverest, and most beautiful of all creatures. Not that you are not clever and beautiful yourself, of course."
Aranea chuckled at the compliment, and L'laarzen continued. "She taught us how to understand the moons, and change our shapes, and survive the harsh world we lived in. Had I known such a great shrine to her existed, I would have made pilgrimage here sooner."
"It was my ancestors who built this statue." Aranea explained. "Many of our race hate Azura, for it was she that cursed our ancestors with red eyes and ashen skin. But those that remain faithful recognise that it was our own hubris that brought this change upon us. And it is hard to hate a deity who has had such a great effect on your race's past..." she paused. "It is fascinating, how so many different cultures all have their own stories of the gods. Names, personalities, histories all change. Yet there is always a thread of consistency that binds them all."
L'laarzen nodded enthusiastically. "It is fascinating. If only more of Nirni's children would focus on that thread of common ground, rather than their differences. Tamriel might be a much kinder place."
"Perhaps..." Aranea looked out into the snow. "Yet your friend does not share your views. She serves a different goddess."
"Truly?" L'laarzen hummed. "We have only met recently. She does not strike me as the religious sort..."
"Servants of Nocturnal rarely do." Aranea sighed. "I confess, I would ordinarily be loathe to offer her shelter. You as well, as her associate. You may claim not to be close now, but your paths will only bind you together tighter."
"But..?" L'laarzen flicked her ears.
"But you are needed." Aranea explained. "There is another who journeys to my shrine, this night. His journey is not yet over, and I fear he will not be able to complete it unaided."
"Intriguing..." L'laarzen couldn't help but look back out into the snowstorm for this visitor. "You can see what is to come?"
"Bits and pieces. My sight is never as sharp as I would like."
L'laarzen's eyes narrowed. "Khajiit's vision may also be flawed, but...is that a figure climbing up towards us?"
Aranea followed her gaze, then stood abruptly.
"He's here!" She gasped, running over, and L'laarzen quickly followed.
The figure was small, thin, and even Khajiit eyesight had barely been able to pick it out in the darkness. It stumbled slowly up the hill, arms crossed about its chest in a vain attempt to stave off the cold. Poor fool. They're hardly dressed for the weather, they must be frozen half to death. Who would be mad enough to try and...She got close enough to make out facial features, and gasped. "ALEXANDER!"
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Do you want to kill me?
Shut up.
I wouldn't be surprised if you do. Many people have before you.
Shut up.
Now if you're worried about dying, don't be. If things had gone to that silly vampire's plan, my soul would have consumed yours, but fortunately for both of us that wasn't what happened. At this rate, I'm just going to...bond with you. Intertwine.
Shut. Up.
Come now, it won't be so bad. I'll be the one in control and your consciousness will be locked in some distant corner of the brain, yes, but I promise you'll enjoy it. Our senses will be as one, and I personally intend to be having lots of fun.
Shut up shut up shut up...
If you're good, I might even acquiesce to some requests from you, every once in a while. You know, a specific food you'd rather eat, a specific zombie you'd like raised, a specific guard you'd rather I bend the mind of. Ooh, I know; I might even let you control the body on occasion, while we're spending time with that wonderful greenskin Thane of yours.
What do you-
I'm in your thoughts, my dear. I know what you want to do to her~
Dulurza would kill me before letting you take control of me.
Would she? Would she really? If she was stood there with her axe, and we were sat with trembling lip and wide eyes, "Please, Dulurza, I don't want to die-"
"Shut up!" Elisif spat, fists clenching.
...There was a moment of silence.
"...My Jarl?" Erikur blinked. "If-If you don't like my plan to more effectively tax the docks of the city, feel free to tell me what's wrong with it."
Oh, for the love of Talos...
Right. Elisif was in court. She was in court, and everyone was staring her, and she'd missed everything that had been said for about the last-
Five minutes.
Thank you. LEAVE ME ALONE.
If you'd like, I know all sorts of ways to make your delegates less inclined to question you. Some are magical, some just require proper application of a parsing knife-
"Apologies, Erikur." Elisif waved her hand, dragging her attention back to the present with significant effort. "Your idea has merit, I would love to discuss it more with you at a later time. But for now, I find that I am growing tired." She stood, prompting the rest of her court (many looking confused) to do the same. "I think we'll cut this short here. You're all quite busy enough as it is."
They took the hint, and all gave their own individual goodbyes as they filed down the steps and out the palace.
Bolgier walked up to her, quietly whispering "Are you alright? Was that..."
"It was." Elisif grit her teeth. "She only gets louder as the days pass."
"That's not good." Styrr, also present, once again felt like stating the absolute bleeding obvious. "It implies her influence is growing..."
I won't be able to get away with making excuses to the court if this keeps up.
Parsing knife, my dear. Parsing knife...
I will kill you.
Hahahaha! Mmhmmhmmhmm...Potema's laugh made Elisif feel sick. You can't! You'll realise that soon enough. But right now, I'll leave you to your fun. Your pet orc has just walked through the door.
Dulurza! Elisif's head snapped up, she turned towards the stairs leading to her throne-
And promptly got hit full in the chest with a ball of blue fire.
TALOS' LEFT TESTICLE OW-
TALOS' LEFT TESTICLE OW-
Elisif shrieked, the flames exploded and washed over her whole body, she felt as though her soul was burning-
Then the moment passed, and she staggered backwards. There was an explosion of movement all around her, and by the time she looked up it was already over. A young woman in mage robes was giving a very pointed look at the axe that was tickling her throat.
Dulurza, holding said axe, looked five seconds away from murder. "If you ever" She bit out. "cast a spell on my Jarl without her permission again, I will cleave your head from your body, and to Oblivion with what your brother thinks of it."
The girl did not look impressed. "You remember how I held a flame cloak around us the entire walk here just to keep the snow from getting on my robes? I could incinerate you before your axe landed, warrior." She said the word with disdain.
"Don't be so sure. I've killed a vampire, girl." Dulurza warned.
"Oh really? Me too." The girl took in her surroundings, the sighed. "I acknowledge your point, agree to your demands, and concede that you have defeated me in this contest of wills. Now can you move the axe please?"
After a moment, Dulurza huffed and did so. The blade had left a thin red line in the girl's neck, but she rubbed across the wound with a glowing golden thumb; the cut vanished where the digit touched it.
"Right, now then." The girl walked a few steps forward, and curtseyed in a formal Imperial fashion. "Jarl Elisif of Solitude, my name is Cassia Meteuse. It is an honour to be at your service! I absolutely love your palace."
"...You just shot me!" Was all Elisif could think to say. Behind her, Bolgeir was gripping her shoulders tightly.
"I did, yes." Cassia had the decency to look embarrassed. "I was hoping that that blast would immediately exorcise you and then I'd be able to stand there smugly having already succeeded. But no, you're still clearly very much haunted, so it looks like I'll have to think about the problem." She squinted, looking Elisif up and down in a way that made her feel a little uncomfortable. "Oh, that is weird. It's bound itself really tightly to you. I don't really know of a way to free you short of setting you on fire."
"Please do not set her on fire." Dulurza grit out.
Do not let her set us on fire.
"No, yes, please don't set me on fire." Elisif gave Cassia a once-over. "Shall I take it you're the mage the College sent to help me?"
Cassia shared a glance with Dulurza. "...Kinda." She hedged. "Things are complicated over there. But I was uniquely available on short notice, and I am absolutely thrilled to be lending my services to the Jarl of such an important city."
Her grin was a little too excited. Elisif raised an eyebrow. "But you are qualified?"
"I've...done my first year of higher education?" Cassia offered. "But I'm really good. The best. Believe me."
"Is that so." Styrr spoke up. "Name the six types of ghosts."
"There's seven." Cassia replied, immediately. "Oblivion-fled, Aetherius-fled, soul-gem-bound, skeletal, draugr, wraith, and ectoplasmic. I imagine they were still grouping those last two as 'Nirn-bound' when you last studied. Maybe read a publication that came out in the last ten years." She crossed her arms and looked at him. "Name all the star constellations used to power restoration spells, I'll let you stick to standardised ones to keep things brief."
Styrr spluttered. "But-There's over a hundred and seventy! Nobody can memorise all of them!"
Cassia side-eyed Elisif. "Wow. You really do need my help."
Dulurza (despite being prepared to kill the girl a few minutes ago) snorted in amusement.
"Alright." Elisif sighed, waving a hand. "What do you need to do?"
"First step, I'll need a detailed observation of what's going on." Cassia crossed her eyes. "I'm gonna need to examine you. Strip."
Dulurza's eyes shot up.
"I-We're still in the throne room!" Elisif spluttered. Who is this girl?
"Right, yeah. We can do that later." Cassia blew out a breath. "Well...I was gonna try this after, but we could lead with the artefact of the dark god."
Elisif just stared.
Cassia glanced back at Dulurza, who sighed, pulling a satchel off one shoulder and working open the drawstring.
"Yeah, yeah, I know it's a ghost, shut up." The Thane growled, seemingly at the bag, before pulling out...
Oh bugger. Muttered Potema, which was the most promising thing Elisif had heard all week.
"By the Divines." Styrr gasped. "That's a Daedric artefact!"
"Do you do anything other than state the obvious?" Dulurza sighed. "Yes. This is Meridia's beacon." She winced at nothing visible, "And I'm starting to regret letting Xander tell it to talk to me...Now I'm no expert on Daedra that aren't Malacath but I know (because she won't stop saying it) that Meridia hates ghosts." Her brow furrowed. "I can relate."
"And from what Dulurza won't stop telling me it won't stop telling her," Cassia chipped in, with a smile, "We've come up with a plan."
"Why am I suddenly terrified." Elisif replied, flatly.
"We do a quest for the Daedra, get a powerful magical artefact, and use it on you to make the ghost go away." Dulurza summarised.
"Horribly dangerous, but what isn't nowadays?" Cassia beamed.
Styrr looked at them in horror. "This is...so blasphemous." He moaned. "So, so blasphemous..."
Elisif frowned. "As much as I do trust you, Dulurza, this sounds like-"
A terrible plan. Terrible, no-good plan. Won't work. Rubbish idea. Scrap it.
"-an amazing plan, and you have my full support in it." Elisif amended her statement mid-way, the screech of protest from her tenant music to her ears. "How long do you think it will take? I know you just got back, but..."
"Less than a day's hike to mount Kilkreath." Dulurza answered. "Me and Cassia will get it done immediately."
"We will?" Cassia looked up at Dulurza, and got a dark look. "I mean, uh. We will! Your majesty." She inched closer. "I'm new to the whole political game, that was always Octavia's thing, but uh. This is the sort of task that gets people in close with the people in power, right?"
"...Yes." Elisif eventually said. Dulurza, I said they needed to be not crazy.
"Fantastic! I am on it!" Cassia clapped her hands, and whirled around. "Alright, let's go! I am going to be very sore from all this walking tomorrow but I'm Not There Yet!"
Elisif watched her start back down the steps, before turning to share a meaningful look with Dulurza. "I'm sorry for putting this all on you." She told her thane, grimacing. "I just don't know who else to-"
"It's fine." Dulurza smiled at her, expression looking slightly forced. "Nothing's going to happen to you on my watch. Trust me."
"I do." Elisif smiles, gratefully. "And Dulurza? Please hurry."
Her Thane nodded once to her, before making her way back out into the world.
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Xander sat by the fire, wrapped in blankets, and tried his best not to freeze to death. He'd spent a solid two hours thinking about almost nothing but how cold it was, so continuing in that vein felt sort of self-indulgent. But to sum it up; everything numb, everything hurting, body wouldn't stop shaking, and his brain wasn't working properly. That last point was probably a blessing in disguise, since it was probably the only thing stopping him having another panic attack. Still, it was also stopping him focusing on anything. People were talking at him and he couldn't even work out what they were saying. He'd read a book on what happened to people who got too cold once, he was sure about it...
Okay, focus. What do we know? What are we certain of?
"Feim." He muttered it under his breath, and nothing happened. Of course it didn't, you have to mean it. Still, he understood it now. He'd been so foolish before, thinking that he'd understood the dragon language. He'd been able to speak it, but that wasn't the same thing.
It wasn't enough to know that Feim meant 'fade'. In fact, that was wrong, Feim wasn't fade, Feim was just...
"Feim!" He breathed in, and Shouted it. It bloody hurt his throat, he wouldn't be doing it again for another few hours, that was for sure. But his body flashed, and went a translucent blue.
Feim was Feim. Fade was just some silly word he'd used to describe it. And he hadn't really understood what the word meant until...until he'd really, really meant it.
He couldn't feel the cold like this, couldn't feel anything, in fact. He was ethereal, practically a ghost. Ethereal enough to fall from the window of the College of Winterhold, hit the icy sea below, and not feel a thing. But feeling nothing also included the comforting warmth of the fire.
He breathed out, and let the form go. The world went back to normal again.
"...What was that, friend?" Asked L'laarzen, sat by his side.
"Shouting." Xander replied, with a weak chuckle. "I can do dragonshouts. An dragonshout, but still. Dragonshouts. Ha hah, ha ha hah...I should be ecstatic, and instead I'm just hurting."
He shook his head, trying to get to grips with his situation. Azura's shrine, that makes sense. Aranea, also sensible. L'laarzen, less so. "Okay, I'm...here. Got it. Sorry for crashing at your home, Aranea, I saw the statue through the snow, and-"
"You are more than welcome here." Aranea reassured, leaning over the fire and carving off a chunk of the meat cooking there. She handed it to him, continuing, "Azura's champion has a greater right to this shrine than I do. Here."
He took it, and started chewing gratefully. The meat was too hot to swallow safely, and charred all over, but right then it was the best thing he could have ever eaten.
"Mm. Thank you. And hi, L'laarzen, how've you been? I haven't seen you in...hours."
"Oh, everything's awful." L'laarzen smiled brightly. "Azura's champion? My my, you have been busy. Khajiit must ask, what were you doing out in the storm all alone like that?"
"I got into a fight and almost died." He answered, simply. "And why are you here?"
"I got into a fight and almost died." L'laarzen giggled. He saw her eyeing his rabbit hungrily, and handed over the rest of the chunk. Aranea didn't complain, and L'laarzen started tearing into the meat.
They sat together like that for a while, saying very little as they finished off the rabbit. Aranea declined her fair share, before standing and telling them she was going to pray at the altar. If he had been properly lucid, Xander might have realised that was a blatant excuse. But he wasn't, so he didn't.
He glanced over at L'laarzen. She glanced back.
They were both blatantly trying really hard not to say something.
...Xander broke first.
"What am I going to do." He croaked, dropping his head into his hands.
"I imagine that depends." L'laarzen replied, evenly. "I would need to know what happened if I am to help."
"I...Everything's fallen apart. That's what's happened." He snorted, bitterly. "Not sure what I expected. Of course it did. What, did I think I could just lie forever and it would all work out? Divines, I'm an idiot." He sucked in an unsteady breath. "L'laarzen, I'm not...I'm not a mage. I'm just a liar. And I was so damn proud of that when I last said it, like if I owned it it would hide the fact that I was a total bloody coward..."
"Not a mage?" She frowned, from beside him. "L'laarzen does not understand."
He held a hand out, pointing it at the fire. Focusing, he was able to make a spluttering of flame emerge, a weak stream that petered out after a few seconds. "That's it. That's all I can do. I don't just have 'an embarrassing weakness at illusion', L'laarzen, I have an embarrassing weakness at everything. Everything you've seen me do is just staves and scrolls and cheap tricks." He pulled his knees up to his chest, face tightening. "And now the College knows! Or if they don't, Mirabelle will soon tell them. And it couldn't just come out during a lesson one day, no no no, it's worse than that. It came out when I couldn't muster up the power to save them! If any other apprentice had been there, if you had been there, you could have gotten Mirabelle out. But they were stuck with me. The stupid kid who had no business being there in the first place. And now the Archmage is dead, and some elf I don't think I've ever met is tearing the College apart, and it's all my fault, and-"
He paused, then reached into his clothes. There it was, the metal cool against his skin, and he laughed brokenly, pulling it out. "And I'm sat here with the key to the place they need to go to save themselves! I-Hah! I've ruined everything for everyone! I've-" The laughs turned to sobs.
"Oh, you poor thing..." L'laarzen scuttled around the fire to sit behind him, and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. "It's alright. Shh, it's alright..."
Talos, look at me now. I'm pathetic. Twenty one year old full grown man, and I'm sat here crying like I'm fourteen again and I've just realised I'll never cast firebolt...
But there wasn't much else he could do, so cry he did.
He spent a solid few minutes just curled up, sobbing, with the knocker pulled into his chest. L'laarzen stayed there the entire time, saying reassuring words that didn't mean much but didn't have to. One of her arms wrapped around his shoulder, while the other moved to stroke his hair, which should have felt incredibly patronising but was actually quite nice.
Eventually he ran out of tears, and just sat there silently. Some time after that, L'laarzen spoke.
"The storm is beautiful, no?" She said, not ceasing her ministrations. "L'laarzen has seen rainstorms and sandstorms in Elsweyr and Morrowind, but snowstorms are new to her."
Xander lifted his head. Outside their shelter, the wind continued to howl, ice and snow swirling through the night air. He could barely see ten yards past their firelight. "I suppose so."
"Khajiit suspects that they are her new favourite." She continued, which prompted a bewildered look from him.
"Oh, not to walk in." She chuckled. "L'laarzen doubts she will remember her trek here fondly. But...there is a very specific feeling one gets when they are sat inside and the storm is outside." She sighed, blissfully. "When one can sit warm and toasty by the fire, with some good food and a small sample of Skooma, and just...listen. Feel the force of nature just out of reach. L'laarzen thinks it is one of the best feelings in the world."
"...Mm." Xander nodded, after a second. "It's like there's a blanket pulled over you. A soft barrier between you and the outside world."
"Precisely! One can just sit for a while, and know that while the storm lasts, they may leave their problems for another day." L'laarzen paused. "However...all storms must pass eventually."
He tightened his grip on himself at the thought, and L'laarzen batted him on the head with one paw. "Ap-bap-bap! Relax. We have a phrase for what you are doing, Alexander: Sticking your head in the sand."
It was fairly intuitive what the phrase meant. "What's wrong with not talking about things if we can't do anything about them?" He bit out.
"Only that you will feel very overwhelmed if you have to do all the thinking and the doing all at once." L'laarzen replied, reasonably. "Come now. Your problems cannot bite you until the storm passes, and it will last for some hours yet. Relax, and think them through."
Xander breathed in, then out, and tried to let some of the tension out of his muscles. "...Okay. Problems. The problem is that the College is in danger, and they also know I'm a liar. The quest to save them is dangerous, and nobody can do it without the key that I have. Savos gave it to me right before...right before he died. So what can I do?"
"Well..." L'laarzen hummed. It sounded a lot like a purr, really, but 'hum' was a less racist-sounding thing to think. "Option one is to run away from everything."
He turned to give her another incredulous look, and she shrugged. "It would be remiss for L'laarzen to disregard the option, she has used it enough times in her life. If you fled back home, or to some other place in Tamriel, you would never have to confront this problem again. Quite reasonable, especially if you believe it may kill you to stay."
"Have you ever ran away from something this big?" Xander asked her.
"Oh, yes." The smile accompanying her reply was a sad one. "Why do you think this one came to Skyrim in the first place?"
Xander looked back to the fire and thought about it. It was hard not to panic, thinking of all the horrifying consequences of everything, and-
No, come on. Snowstorm's still up. We can think all we want, we don't have do do anything yet.
"I...don't think I can run." He replied. "If I disappear, there's nothing they can do to stop what's going on in there. And...I don't want to leave them to die."
"A good choice, Khajiit thinks." L'laarzen squeezed his shoulders reassuringly. "You are still young. Far too young to start that life. Once one has started running away...it becomes difficult to stop. So, any other ideas?"
Xander pondered it, twirling the knocker between his fingers. "I could...I could go back, give them this. Then scarper. I mean, I could just throw it at the first mage I saw and then bolt if I needed to. They're far more equipped to deal with this than I am, anyway."
"Deferring to authority, often wise." L'laarzen nodded. "Can you think of any flaws for this one?"
He scrunched his eyebrows up. "Well...something about what the Archmage said...it was like he didn't expect their experience to help. He didn't like their chances going on the quest, and if a bunch of their top mages leave for Labyrinthian then there'll be nobody to hold the line at Winterhold. Also, I..." he winced. "I'm really, really afraid of what they'll say or do if I go back there. They might have me thrown in prison!"
"Valid concerns." L'laarzen allowed.
"But I don't really know anything else I can do..." he pursed his lips, looking out at the storm.
"There is a third option." L'laarzen told him.
"Which is?"
"You do as this Archmage clearly wanted you to do, and go on the dangerous quest yourself."
He widened his eyes, looking back at her bewildered for the third time. "Are you crazy? Did you not hear the part where I told you I can't-"
"Alexander." She told him, sternly. "If a liar is pretending to be a scholar, and he is asked what is sixty eight times twenty two-"
"A thousand two hundred-four hundred, and ninety six. 1496." Xander interrupted, after a moment's thought.
"-Then he may not know all that scholar does, he may be using a cheat sheet concealed in his robes, but he must be able to answer the question." L'laarzen finished. "If a liar means to convince a crowd he can lift a giant boulder, then maybe he will cheat with a lever, or a spell, or the help of a hidden ally. But regardless, the boulder has been lifted."
"Unless they used illusions..." Xander muttered.
"Alexander, in Mzulft the other day, L'laarzen witnessed a young man tearing into a horde of Falmer with sword and spell." She moved around so she could look him in the eye properly. "Whether you were fighting with might and magic or trickery and smarts, still you were fighting. Whatever your means, Alexander, you have been able to produce some rather impressive ends."
"But I don't have any means!" He protested. "My scrolls, my staves, I left everything in my room! I have a knife and a pair of pyjamas!"
"But it is the Man that wields the tools, Alexander. Not the other way around. You have told me about many of your escapades, and the common factor is not your equipment. It is you. There is something special in you, Xander, I can feel it. The heart of a warrior."
He flushed from the praise, but still snorted. "Me? Sure. I'm not some kind of hero, L'laarzen. Never was."
"'Hero' is just a label." She rolled her eyes. "All you can be is you. And you are enough."
Her words reminded him of something. He frowned and looked down, recalling his conversation with the Augur in the catacombs beneath the College. "Ask yourself what being a mage means..." he muttered, aloud. "And then stop moping around doing philosophy, and do what you believe a mage should do."
L'laarzen looked at him, expectantly.
Liar or not, if I can lift the rock, then I'm someone who can lift the rock. Liar or not, if I can do what a mage should do, then...
He realised where his mind was going. Groaned internally.
"Has anyone ever told you you're an excellent motivational speaker?" He asked L'laarzen.
She grinned. "Once or twice."
"I...thank you. Really."
"You are very welcome, friend. It would be quite rude not to help after you have done the same for L'laarzen in the past."
He sighed, and leaned back, looking up at the sky. He could see one or two stars poking out among the clouds. Lok Vah Koor. The storm is clearing.
"I...don't have five septims on me currently." He said. "I can write you a check, though. The Meteuse family always pays their debts, but if you'd like I could offer you my dagger as collateral-"
"Mister Meteuse." L'laarzen tilted her head. "Are you asking this one for what she thinks you are?"
"Yep."
"Right now?"
"Of course." He sat back up, rolling his shoulders and cracking his neck. "I've just made the decision to do something really, really stupid. The laws of every storybook ever dictate that I need a dramatic haircut."
L'laarzen smiled. "For you? I shall do it free of charge."
There was a cough, as a figure in dark grey armour appeared by the fire. "Uh." Karliah said. "We're clear. What did I miss?"
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Urzoga Gra-Shugurz was a really boring woman. Seriously. She practically never left the mine. After a day of slowly realising that, Hjarnagredda had had to take matters into her own hands.
Spotting the green-skinned woman through a slitted window, Hjar backed up and took up her position by the door. It opened, Urzoga stepping through calling "Mulush! Are you in here? This had better be urgen-"
Hjar darted up behind her, grabbing her arms and putting a knife blade dangerously close to her neck. Urzoga stopped talking.
"Do you have any idea" Hjar sighed, conversationally, "how awful your brother's handwriting is? Faking that letter was a real pain in my rear."
"He had better not be dead." Her captive grit out.
"Nah, he's fine." Hjar dismissed. "Passed out on his bed for the next few hours; I bought a sleeping draught from Muiri (lovely woman) and slipped it into his food." Alone in the Orc's house, faking a letter requesting the mine boss' urgent presence had been easy enough.
"How nice of you." Urzoga growled.
"I don't kill innocent people." Hjar replied, brightly. Then she thought about her track record over the past few weeks, "Or, well, I only kill dubiously sorta-guilty people. Speaking of~"
Urzoga's laugh interrupted the chatter. "Hah! You are exactly how Madanach said you would be." She crossed her arms, seemingly unconcerned by the knife at her throat now she knew her brother was safe. "I've not been in the mine. I've been looking for you. You were supposed to keep one of the Forsworn guards alive, you know, or at least get one to shout the meet-point to you. I was sat waiting in the shrine of Talos for you for hours."
Hjar blinked. "Excuse me?"
Even from behind, she could see Urzoga smile. "Well met, Reachman. Sorry about threatening to break your legs."
"Oh, no Hircine-damned way." Hjar reached down and plucked the Orc's mace from her belt before removing the knife and shoving her forwards. She levelled the weapon at Urzoga, who stumbled briefly before turning around to look at her.
"You are with the Forsworn?" Hjar asked. "You run Cidnah Mine!"
"Madanach runs Cidnah mine." Urzoga replied, far too smugly.
"I watched you beating on Braig less than two days ago!"
"And if I was working for Thonar I would have already killed him. Not to mention the 'king in rags' wouldn't be able to get away with half of what he does." Urzoga shrugged. "I do what I need to to keep my cover. Thonar hands me good money and I hand Madanach the keys to the mine whenever he needs them." She tilted her head. "Why did you break into my house?"
"I needed to know what was going on with the Silver-Bloods and what was going on with the mine." Hjar replied, slowly lowering the mace. "You seemed the most likely to know both. Also I wanted to get you back for kicking Braig."
"Fair. Alright, ask your questions. I'll do my best to answer them."
Hjar thought about what she wanted to know. In the end, it was fairly simple. "...What in Oblivion happened?"
"What, before you spread a murder scene across half the city?" Urzoga rolled her eyes. "Thonar wanted you brought up to him and killed. Madanach saw an opportunity to set you loose in the city." She growled. "My mercs weren't supposed to come with. Annoyingly, the Silver-Bloods vet everyone they hire, so everyone else under my command still work for them."
"Well that's convenient." Hjar thought about it. It's not like grandfather to plan a 6v3 and think I've got a chance. But the mercs weren't in on either plan... "So now what? I'm alive. I take it he wasn't just giving me a chance to leave the city?"
Urzoga shook her head. "'Course not. Your king has a mission for you."
"I'm not sacrificing myself to stab a woman in a marketplace." Hjar deadpanned, immediately.
"Nothing that simple." Urzoga replied. "You've caused an awful lot of chaos around here recently. Madanach wants you to cause an awful lot more."
Oh, wonderful. Hjar tried not to sigh. "He wants me to kill a Silver-Blood, doesn't he?"
"Close. Think bigger." Urzoga urged. "You're getting the honour to kill the man every Forsworn in the Reach wants the head of."
It took a second. Then Hjar's jaw dropped. "He wants me to kill Jarl Igmund?"
Urzoga grinned, and it was all the confirmation Hjar needed.
The man that had been fighting the Forsworn for the last decade. The man that had killed Braig's daughter, and so many others.
The man who had forced Hjar out of her home.
She tightened her fists. "Details."
And we're back into the swing of things!
This chapter had a whole lot of getting into peoples heads. The mainstay obviously being Xander's talk with L'laarzen. My main reference point for what he was feeling was the familiar case of 'please for the love of god don't make me think about my future' that I think we've all been through at one point or another. Especially when it comes to leaving education and having to decide what the hell to do with ourselves. Though most of us don't exactly have our friends' lives on the line...
Meanwhile Potema is causing Elisif a great deal of distress, and Hjar is at this point wondering who in the city isn't a Forsworn. Seriously, they're just crawling out of the woodwork.
Next Time: Someone hardens their heart, someone hardens their resolve, and someone tries really hard not to punch their travelling companion.