Important Note: From now on, I will be judging distances with the AGM scale (Adjusted Gaius Maro scale). This was taken by trying to use his schedule as a good estimator of how long it would take to cross the country, then realising he can apparently WALK from Solitude to Windhelm in a day.

Like, what? How? Why is the order you travel the cities in so wrong? Why does Windhelm even care if the Emperor is coming, they're rebelling!

Anyway, the scale I'm using is that it would take a full day of travel (eight hours of marching, with extra time on top of that to rest and eat) to walk between two adjacent holds (Falkreath to Whiterun, Riften to Windhelm, Dawnstar to Winterhold, etc). That taking a horse would cut that time in half, and that willingness to push said horse to it's limits could make it even faster at the expense of tiring it and risking harming it.

This is my compromise between Skyrim's ridiculously shrunk in-game size (the whole overworld is like the size of Manhattan), and a more realistic size (where travel takes weeks and my characters ever meeting is statistically nigh-impossible).

Of course, while I will be sticking to this from now on, the timing of events may not necessarily be linear. For instance, L'laarzen's segment here takes place several days after Hjar's, even though they were together at the end of last chapter. Making four individual stories merge together is as hard as it looks, folks, especially when I'm trying to fit at least a mention of all four in each chapter.

Anyways, on with your scheduled chaos...

Confronting Authority

̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶̶ ̶ ̶͜͡|

Dulurza's stomach hurt. It wasn't anything major, really, just this godawful tension in her gut that had appeared when she'd spotted Borgakh at Meridia's temple, and hadn't gone away since. It spiked every time she thought about what she was going to do.

Is this...nerves? Really? I haven't had nerves about battle since I was fifteen. Get it together girl.

She swallowed, trying to ignore it, and continued her walk towards Elisif's room...only to pause as she saw Cassia Meteuse cheerily skipping the other way.

"You're still here?" Dulurza asked her, frowning. "Shouldn't you be heading back to Cyrodiil?"

"Hm?" Cassia blinked at the sudden question. "Oh, no. I mean, I was, but then I had a talk with Elisif just now, and-" She paused, then leaned in. "She says that she's considering taking me on as Court Wizard! Can you believe it?"

Dulurza's mood plummeted further. "Aren't you supposed to be at school?" She asked, testily.

"Well, yeah, but I mean screw that." Cassia snorted. "This is gonna come across as kinda vain, I know my parents will disagree, but...I'm not going to the Synod to improve at magic. I've already learned everything I need to from them. I'm going to the Synod to get a piece of paper that says I went to the Synod, because I'm more likely to get hired if I have it. That's it. But this opportunity is insane! Court Wizard to a Jarl? First of all, that's a bigger position than either of my siblings had as their first gig, and second of all, Elisif isn't just any Jarl." The glee on Cassia's face was tangible. "If the Empire wins this civil war, she becomes High Queen of Skyrim! I can fast track up to the personal mage of the ruler of a country before I even turn twenty! Damn right I'll drop out of school for that, I've already drafted the withdrawal letter!"

"Okay, wow. That's...really good for you." Dulurza wracked her brains. "But, your parents. Don't you think you should at least visit them? You said you were locked in the Dwemer ruin for a long time, right? Do you want to leave it up to Xander to convince them you're alive and okay?"

"Oh, that is a good point." Cassia winced. "It's been what, three months since I last saw them? Letters can only do so much to...hey, wait a minute." She frowned, looked up at Dulurza. "Are you trying to get rid of me?"

It was Dulurza's turn to wince. "No, I just thought-"

"What, do you still not like having me around?" Cassia accused. "I thought you said if we fought together we'd start to like each other!"

"I do like you." Dulurza insisted. Before smiling and adding, "Even if you are maddeningly annoying sometimes."

Cassia snorted, and Dulurza quietly continued "But I would prefer it if you were out of Solitude for the next few days."

Cassia's eyes narrowed. She leaned in closer. "Is something bad going to happen?"

Damnit. "Why can't you be as oblivious as your brother-" Dulurza muttered.

"There is!"

"No, there isn't-"

"Don't lie to me!" Cassia snapped. "If something's wrong, I want to help!"

"I KNOW!" Dulurza shouted. The word echoed through the palace, and Cassia jumped back a step with wide eyes.

Dulurza reigned in her irritation and sighed. Look at me, treating her like a fool. We're the same age, and she's got twice the mind I have. "I know." She repeated, putting a hand on Cassia's shoulder. "You've got a good heart, girl. Too good. But I carried you out of Winterhold before things got too sour. I won't be able to do that again." And if I had to kill you, your brother would be furious...

She muttered something about going to see Elisif, then walked past the confused girl and headed to the Jarl's door.

Elisif had specifically told Dulurza she didn't need to knock before opening, so she didn't.

She had been expecting all the curtains to be shuttered again, but found the opposite; the windows were thrown open, and Elisif was stood in the far corner of the room with her hands on the sill.

"Are you alright?" Dulurza asked, before she could help herself.

"Hm?" Elisif turned to see her, and smiled (Oh, Malacath, she's smiling at me) "Oh. Coping. Well, I suppose I'm just feeling...trapped. Stifled."

The Jarl turned back to the window, continuing "I used to ride, did you know that? I would take my best horse out early in the morning and just...take off, down the roads. See if I could go fast enough to lose my guards. Get to Dragon Bridge, have my lunch there, and then head back. Oh, or just take walks in the forests up above the city. It's beautiful in autumn, up among the trees. Of course, after I lost Torygg, I wasn't allowed to leave the city anymore. The one thing Bolgier and Tullius would agree on, that; too much risk of attack by brigands or Stormcloaks. Nowadays, I'm either holding court in the throne room, or just...sitting in my chambers. Waiting for the war to end."

Dulurza walked closer, gingerly. "And Potema?"

"Making it all worse." Elisif's smile was strained. "I don't know how much of the frustration claustrophobia is mine, and...how much of it is hers."

Dulurza opened her mouth, but stopped. She'd meant to ask Elisif to rescind her offer to Cassia. It wouldn't take more than a few heartfelt (and true) accounts of the girl's tendency for friendly fire to change Elisif's mind. After that, a furious Cassia would possibly skip town in a huff as soon as she could.

However, in her heart, Dulurza knew it wouldn't work. The stubborn girl would probably try and continue to prove her worth, now she'd gotten a taste of the opportunity. Either that, or sit and sulk in the city for a week. A trip back to Winterhold was possibly, but would probably take her a while to plan. And Dulurza was no sailor, but she knew you couldn't get a boat to navigate half of Tamriel with less than a day's notice.

And a day was all Cassia had. Mor Khazgor was going to attack that evening.

...Or perhaps those were just the excuses Dulurza made to herself, because ruining Cassia's dreams would make her feel bad.

She shut her mouth with a click. Then opened it again. "So you want a chance to get away from it all?"

"I'd love one." Elisif chuckled. "But like I said, there's no chance. Perhaps I could wrangle a walk up Castle Dour, get a breath of fresh air from the high walkways there...but then I'd have to walk the streets. Procession, a squadron of guards, pomp, ceremony." She turned back and raised an eyebrow. "Look at me. Should I let the people see me like this?"

"Beautiful?" Dulurza replied, without thinking, before stiffening and looking at the floor. Stupid, stupid, stupid-

She couldn't help it. It was true.

To her surprise, Elisif let out a genuine laugh. "I was going to say bedraggled, you charmer! Dishevelled? Exhausted? Those aren't the first things that come to mind?"

Dulurza mutely shook her head, before looking up to see Elisif's face suddenly redden, and her head whip back around to the window, cheeks red.

"Well. Th-thank you. I'm sorry, the ghost is being vulgar. Besides, you strike quite a figure yourself, if you don't mind me saying so."

"That in the armour or the dress?" Dulurza felt the need to ask.

"Both. Though you're clearly more comfortable in the former." Elisif composed herself, then turned back, leaning against the windowsill. "Still, even with us both wearing the most radiant of raiment, I still don't think I could face the crowds today. Not while I'm trying to hide this from them, not with Potema whispering in my ear. Especially not if she's going to keep making comments about parsing knives."

That last comment was seemingly directed to a random corner of the room. But still, Dulurza saw an opportunity.

"Then what if it was just us?" She offered. "No guards, no crowds."

"Just the two of us?" Elisif blinked. "I told you, Bolgier would never allow it."

"Alright." Dulurza shrugged. "So don't tell him."

"...Are you suggesting that I sneak out of the Palace?" Squeaked the Jarl of Solitude.

"The palace has back doors, doesn't it?" Replied her Thane. "So does the city, actually. We throw a cheap robe over your head, leave by a side gate. Spend an hour or two in the woods then come back. We'd never have to go more than a mile or so from the walls."

"B-But the guards-"

"Say you're 'not to be disturbed'. Our chief does it plenty, everyone'll just assume you're still in your room." Dulurza reasoned. "Leave a letter there explaining what happened in case anyone does come in and panics. If you're lucky, nobody ever knows you're gone. Worst that happens is you get an earful when you come back."

"Worst that happens is I die out there." Elisif corrected, causing Dulurza to wince. Oh, good, the ache is still there.

The Jarl turned back to the window, looking out into the sunlight with longing on her face. "But...if we don't stray too far from the walls..." She looked back. "Do you promise to keep me safe?"

It took all the willpower Dulurza had left not to look away. "Of course." She promised, her tongue tasting like ash. "You can trust me."

While she said so, she picked the spot where the ambush would take place.

̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ Ϫ

I cannot believe that after all this I am going back into another Dwarven ruin.

Hjar was drenched, cold, bruised, broken, and exhausted. Nonetheless, she walked. The door to Markarth's ruins opened with the key Madanach had smuggled to her (Thank Hircine I didn't lose that in my swim) and she crept inside, the shouts of guards cutting of as she pushed the door closed behind her. The room ahead of her was unlit by torchlight, a telltale hint that modern Nords hadn't occupied it yet. 'Keep the door locked and just go about your day', I'd imagine. Because it wouldn't be like Igmund to fail to deal with a problem, would it? Ahead could be any of the Dwemer's traps, ready to spring, not to mention their automata...

Hjar sighed heavily, leaning back against the door, and reached down to her hip. The handle of Molag Bal's mace found her fingers; cool, weighty and comforting. Come on, girl. We made a promise to ourselves. Let's follow through on it.

'Stamp them out. Starting with you.' The words kept circling in her head as she pushed herself back to her feet and started walking.

The hallways were cool, and the stone was mostly smooth against her bare feet, but that changed whenever she had to traverse a ruined or overgrown area, a fact not helped by the dim blue glows emitted by the Dwarven wall-lights. As she moved, Hjar stripped off most of the (still sopping) outer-garments she'd appropriated from Urzoga's house, leaving her not quite naked but still rather inappropriately dressed for anyone who wasn't a Reachwoman. There was the niggling worry that she might die of hypothermia before even reaching her allies...but fortunately, she only reached the second room before noticing the flickering of torchlight and the chatter of voices from up ahead. Caution made her duck behind a brass statue (praying it wouldn't come to life on her), but when she recognised the distinctive, gnarled voice of her grandfather, she stepped back out into the centre of the room.

Approaching through a tunnel on the other side of the room was a large group, almost thirty people in all, with Madanach at the head. Hjar recognised most of them from her days in the mine, Borkul the Beast standing out as a head taller than all the others. Braig she also made a note of, with a wry smile. He might not have been a Forsworn when you first arrested him, Igmund, but he certainly is now.

"Hjarnagredda!" Madanach called, walking towards her with arms outstretched. "How are you, granddaughter? Because you look like death warmed up."

His statement merited laughter from the crowd behind him, and she tilted her head with a hand on her hip. "Oh, I'm sorry. I was busy carrying the whole Forsworn on my back, didn't have time for the usual makeup routine."

That got laughs too. Seemed like everyone was in a good mood. Madanach chuckled, as he walked closer to her.

"It is done, then?" He asked, quietly.

"Aye." She replied, matching his tone. "But I wasn't quiet about it."

"No matter. Stealth was never part of the plan." Madanach turned to address the others. "My people! Jarl Igmund lies dead!" Raucous cheers met his words, the Forsworn shaking pickaxes in the air and echoing sentiments such as "The oppressor is dead!" "The Reach is ours again!"

"Indeed! And now that the dam has burst, we shall be the crashing wave that sweeps the filth from Markarth!" He turned, and pointed back the way Hjar had came. "Through that door is the city that trapped you for years! The air they refused to let you breathe! The sky they refused to let you see! Follow me, and seize it!" There were more cheers, for which he waited to die down. Then, "We will carve down to the main gate! Kill anyone who stands in your way! Once we are finally free in the hills of our homeland, we make our way North to Druadach Redoubt! Come, my brothers and sisters! For the Reach!"

Amongst roars of determination, the group moved onwards at a jog through the cave.

It didn't surprise Hjar that all the Forsworn were caught up in the moment. This was their first shot at freedom in years, perhaps decades. But she herself had...one or two questions.

One was 'Wait, was Druadach Redoubt that one Forsworn camp I massacred? Or was that another Redoubt? Why are there so many Redoubts?'

The second, she moved up alongside Madanach to ask.

"We're just leaving the city?" She had to speak loudly to be heard over the shouting. "That's the whole plan?"

He at least understood her meaning, if not her motives. "Temper your bloodlust, granddaughter. Even with Igmund dead, we do not have the men to take the city by ourselves. The guards outnumber us two to one, to say nothing of the resistance of the Nord populace. But with them in disarray, we have an opportunity to punch through and out, dealing a crippling blow to Markarth's forces and escaping into the wilds. From there, we can regroup with the scattered Forsworn encampments, and plan our next moves."

"So everything just goes back to the way it was?" Hjar demanded. Forsworn raiders butchering trade caravans to Solitude, nothing more than glorified bandits?

"No. Because now, they have us." Madanach's eyes had always seemed alert, but today they were alive, with a spark Hjar had never seen before. "I have sent letters throughout the Reach, my dear. With the events you have set in motion today, they will know that change is upon us. The Forsworn will band together behind us, Hjarnagredda, behind the King in Rags...and his successor." Her eyes widened and he looked at her, meaningfully. "Markarth is weakened, now it's mine lies empty and it's Jarl lies dead. With the Empire once more too busy with war to provide aid, we will once more be able to storm Markarth and reclaim it for its rightful people."

Hjar's mind was whirling. So, Markarth is to be sacked again. Not twenty years after the last time. Isn't it funny how they call these uprisings 'revolutions'? Like a spinning wheel. Like they know in the end it's going to happen again...or just end up the same way it was.

Sometime in the past, the Nords had forced the Reachmen out of Markarth. Then the Reachmen had reclaimed it for themselves. Then the Stormcloaks had forced them out and put the Nords back.

Would Hjar really be the next person to conquer the city?

If she did, who would come around to conquer her?

"Of course. It's you." Was what she said aloud, as they moved into the last room. "When you told me to kill a Jarl, I should have known you had something bigger planned."

"You give me too much credit." He chuckled. "Before you arrived I was content to maintain the status quo. Your actions taught me that I needed to take action to get results. And besides, it was you who offered to assassinate the Jarl, before I had so much as voiced the idea."

"What?" Hjar frowned. "No I didn't. You sent word to me that you wanted me to do it."

"I sent a letter after receiving your message, about wanting to use your freedom as an opportunity to kill him. Is that what you mean?" Madanach scrunched his nose up in confusion.

"What? No, I didn't send a letter." A sinking feeling started to form in Hjar's gut. She noticed, but didn't quite register, that the bravado from the people behind them had cut out. "I broke into Urzoga's house and she said she was with us, and you'd told her to find me and tell me you wanted to-"

"Urzoga the mine boss?" Madanach interrupted. "She was never one of us, what do you-" he looked forwards, and stopped talking.

Hjar did the same. And swore quietly to herself.

Arrayed in front of the entrance to Markarth were over a dozen city guards, augmented by almost that many mercenaries. Stood at the front of the lot was Thonar Silver-Blood, sneering at them imperiously. "Well, well, well." He remarked, his voice echoing now that the Forsworn had gone silent. "Looks like we have a prison break on our hands."

"You..." Madanach growled, but Hjar barely even noticed Thonar. Her attention was drawn to the figures stood to the right of him.

Margret, hair much more in disarray than the last time Hjar had seen it, had her hands bound in front of her, and was looking down at Hjar in genuine surprise. Next to her, Urzoga Gra-Shugurz was grinning maliciously, one hand on the scruff of Margret's neck, and the other on a sword that was angled up across the spy's body.

Next to the two of them...

"Oh, you son of a bitch." Hjar growled.

"Hello again, champion of Molag Bal." Greeted the ratty, black-cloaked form of Logrolf the Wilful. "Did you really think that I would let you escape me so easily?"

̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶̶ ̶{o

The first thing Xander noticed were the magic pools. Or, whatever they were called, the blue glowy things that sat on the bridge to the College and lit up its insides. Every single one of them he had seen from miles away, blazing ten times as bright as normal and shooting their beams up into the clouds that rumbled darkly above they city.

"These things are powered by magicka, right?" Xander whispered to Mirabelle as they passed the first one.

"Yyyep." She replied.

"Great..."

There was another spherical shield that cut across the bridge, which Xander was forced to use the staff on again. He'd began to worry he might run the thing out of charge, but it didn't seem to need it. It wasn't expending magical power to produce an effect, it was just connecting the wielder with a magical phenomena and telling the energy where to go. Once more, magicka rushed into his body, and once more he found a way to use it before it fled his cells; tinting it with fire magic and pulsing it outwards towards the blue pools.

Their colour changed to red as they began radiating heat, and all the mages following him gasped in surprise as the snow on the bridge began to melt.

Seriously? None of you thought to use them as radiators? The Synod has radiators, and they don't live in a frozen wasteland!

Trying not to visibly react, Xander walked forwards, using the last flicker of power to telekinetically open the gates ahead of him.

The Statue of Shalidor was still as impressive as it had been when he'd first seen it, but now it had the advantage that the air around it hummed with magical energy. Xander could feel it prickling against his skin, a pressure that had slowly intensified the closer they'd gotten to the Hall of the Elements.

In front of him, the doors loomed.

"You might all want to stay here!" Xander warned, over the whipping of the wind. "Once I get in there...it's going to get hectic!"

The masters took the hint of 'stay a long way away when the wizards who outclass you start duelling' and took up positions around the courtyard. Mirabelle stepped up to Xander's side, and told him "You had better stay safe in there. I've had quite enough of watching you die for one week."

"Oh, so on Sundas the timer resets?" He joked, and got a glare. "It won't be safe, no." He admitted, coughing. "But I don't intend on dying either."

"Then that will have to do." She let him go, and he walked up to the doors with some trepidation.

Oh, get over yourself. It's not like these are what's holding the Eye in.

He was right. Pulling the door open didn't cause any explosion of light or burst of force. It just revealed another glowing sphere, this one pure white and opaque. He pointed the staff and got to work.

Whatever it was, it was plainly much denser than the ones outside; if he tried to absorb too much of it he might just explode. Instead, he focused on creating an eddy in the swirl. The spinning stream parted at his will where he aimed the staff, and he bid it grow larger, until the gap that formed allowed him to see within, and eventually step over the lower edge and inside.

Within...was another thrice-damned sphere. But this one wasn't the same as the others. It glowed purple, not blue, and knelt in front of it, connected to the energy by a long purple stream...

Ah.

Xander sat down next to the kneeling robed figure. "I just want you to know you're doing a lousy job of this." He remarked, casually as he could. "Before I arrived they had picked up Winterhold and taken it ten miles East."

"If I wasn't here, everything North of Falkreath would have already burned." The ghost of Savos Aren turned to Xander, and smiled dryly. "Well met, apprentice. I see that you were successful."

"Barely." Xander twirled the staff in his lap. "How many decades, and you never considered using a non-mage to kill Morokei until I arrived?"

"Have some faith in me." Savos chuckled. "A mere warrior would have fallen to his spells, a mere mage to his staff, and a mere thief would have been unable to avoid his gaze. I needed someone who truly understood magic, would be able to fight a strong mage on equal terms, but would not be overcome by the magicka drain. When I saw the truth of your reserves, compared that to your feats...you were a godsend, apprentice. And even then, you were a long shot."

"Yeah...sorry for lying my way into your school."

"I'm dead." The Archmage replied, simply. "Don't waste time apologising to me. Mirabelle, however..."

"Alright, alright..." Xander sighed. "What now?"

"The Eye is unstable. You'll need to fix that."

"Oh, thanks."

"What do you want from me? I don't know how. Point the staff at it, or something." Savos stood. "Once I release the barrier, it will be free. And the Mer responsible is still in there. If you fail-"

"Maybe don't say it out loud?" Xander winced. "I'm panicking enough as it is."

"Very well. But you were right, in our little discussion earlier." Savos brought his hands together, and the light of the beam intensified. "There is no victory in stalemate. One need only look at the 'peace' of Tamriel to realise that. Problems must be solved, not put off for the future. We all have but one lifetime on Mundus, after all."

"Or several, if you're talented." Xander replied with a smirk.

"Quite." Savos chuckled. "And I suspect that you are very talented indeed. I shall add another regret to the pile; that I will not get to witness where you take my College in the future. But I am sure it will be...well. Morokei."

Glorious.

He took a deep breath into his spectral lungs. "May my friends forgive me, and my ancestors accept me. Time to see this 'Aetherius' everyone is so excited about."

Savos pulled his hands apart. The line connecting him to the shield shattered, and so did the shield itself, as Savos' body flashed into spirit and darted away, flying through the outer shields and to who knows where.

Note to self. Try to be at least as epic as him in the future.

Xander stood, and walked forwards.

8˂

L'laarzen arrived at Whiterun at just before midnight, and could barely keep her eyes open. From the chaos that had enveloped Markarth as she clambered up and over the walls, it had been quite clear that she had needed to skip town as quickly as possible. So she had stolen another horse. In fact, the same horse she'd ridden to Markarth on, the lost steed having made its way there after she'd left it near the city limits. And then she'd ridden it hard the whole way back up to Whiterun, stopping once along the way to rest when she was certain she was free of the Reach's jurisdiction.

Suffice to say, not enough sleep.

Agh. Here Khajiit is feeling tired; but she cannot imagine what it is like for the poor horse. Skyrim breeds are certainly hardy.

"There, there, friend." She patted its mane reassuringly. "You will be able to rejoin your masters soon."

She left it some distance down the road, close to a recently destroyed watchtower, before walking the rest of the way. The man who ran the stables was still awake, despite the time, and she walked up closer to him with a hand raised. "Um, excuse me good sir-"

"Hm? Oh, what do you want, cat?" He growled back, clearly in something of a mood. "Can't you see I have enough on my plate?"

"Yes, only," she coughed. "Khajiit saw a horse wandering listlessly just down that western road. Saddled, dark brown fur, no owner. Would you happen to be...?"

The man's eyes widened. "Allie!" He declared. "I-theres no way. Wait here!" He took off at a run down the cobbled stone, to where his steed awaited him.

She did not wait there, slinking away the moment he turned his back.

There. Now it is not horse thievery, just horse borrowing. Ah, except for the one I took from Winterhold to here...

Anyways, she needed a place to sleep. The city might have been unwilling to let Khajiit in (especially at this hour), but that didn't mean she was out of options.

The door to the recently renamed 'Black-Briar Meadery West' opened with a creak, and she was met with a rush of warm air and the sound of merriment.

The meadery was still open, it seemed, and many of the city's populace was still there drinking. Having more success now that there isn't a mad wizard in your basement, hmm?

Mallus Macchius was still manning the bar, and he looked up with wide eyes as he spotted her approach.

She opened her mouth, but he shook his head, before pointing his eyes towards the door to the back rooms and walking in that direction. Somewhat nonplussed, she followed him.

"You know, L'laarzen would actually not mind a drink-" she chuckled, as he shut the door behind her-

Then her ears flickered flat, and her eyes narrowed. Who is...

"Damnit. I was really hoping to get past you that time."

The voice came from the rafters; L'laarzen looked up to see Karliah perched there, casually as you please.

"You?" L'laarzen frowned. "Are you not supposed to be waiting at Winterhold?"

"I was. There were complications." Karliah hopped off her beam, landing on the floor beside L'laarzen with nary a sound. "Mallus, you alright with giving all three of us boarding?"

She addressed the question at the master of the house, who shrugged. "If it's guild business, it's Maven approved. Miss L'laarzen," He glanced back at her, "there's an open barrel upstairs if you do want that drink. Should be food there too, and rugs to sleep on. Just don't expect luxury. I'm running a meadery, not an inn."

"Khajiit understands. Thank you for your generosity." She bowed her head, then followed Karliah up the steps as Macchius went back into the main drinking room.

"How long before he learns from the guild that we are not his allies?" She asked the Dunmer, quietly.

"I've already intercepted one letter from Riften." Karliah replied, with a smile. "I'll leave it on his bed when we leave. But even if he finds out, his best bet is probably just to act friendly then rat us out when we're gone. Nothing he could do to stop us killing him, after all."

"Let's...not, do that." L'laarzen winced.

Karliah opened another door and revealed a living space of sorts, possibly Mallus' own room. Inside, Enthir looked up with wide eyes and stood. "Well, thank goodness. I had hoped you'd head here on your way back, but we couldn't be sure, and there wasn't a way to contact you."

"Because L'laarzen did not expect you to move." She tilted her head at him, even as she moved to pull a chair from the corner and sit on it. "Did something force you out of Winterhold?"

"Hah! Oh, yes. Literally." Enthir sighed, and grabbed a half-finished mug of mead from the room's central table. It probably wasn't his first. "Not to call your priorities into question, ladies, but there's an actual apocalypse going on up in that city. Now might not be the right time to worry about revenge."

"Foolish mages experiments going awry doesn't mean an apocalypse." Karliah snorted, taking her own seat.

"No, but you're not a mage, are you?" Enthir gave her a pointed look. "They've got an artefact of the gods up there, and they're tampering with it. You're lucky we bailed when we did, Karliah. Otherwise we might be stuck there, or pushed out by a ward, or buried in whatever those magical things were-"

"We do not need to worry about Winterhold." L'laarzen interrupted without looking at him, busily pouring herself a mug of mead and filling a plate with all the food the other two hadn't eaten yet. "Alexander is there, and I have faith in him to handle it."

Karliah and Enthir shared a significant glance (Enthir mouthing 'who?') as L'laarzen turned back, pulling open her hip-pouch with her one free hand and withdrawing a roll of paper. "What we need to worry about is this." She dropped it onto the table.

Enthir picked it up and unrolled it, frowning as it split into several large sheets. "What even is this? If this is what Calcelmo's writings look like then I...oh."

"It's your translation." L'laarzen told him, glancing around the room and grabbing a fluffy-looking pelt by one end. "Notes were unavailable, Markarth is...hectic. But that should be enough to read the diary, no?"

"I...well, yes." Enthir looked down at them and back up at her. "If this is complete I should be able to-hey, where are you going?"

"To bed." She replied, simply. "Khajiit is tired and grumpy. Goodnight!"

"Hey, that's my bedroll-"

The door clicked shut behind her.

̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶̶ ̶{o

The Eye of Magnus was not looking good. It's rate of spin had accelerated, completing a full rotation more than once per second, and it was shuddering in mid-air, lightning arcing from its surface and striking the walls of the dome around them.

Stood on the floor, an Elf in Thalmor robes was shooting lightning at it.

"What in Oblivion are you doing to that thing!" Xander shouted before he could help himself, striding forwards with righteous indignation overcoming his fear. "Are you insane? Do you want to blow up the whole continent?"

"Back away, fool!" Snarled the Thalmor. "I wield power you cannot even conceive of!"

"I literally just demonstrated that I could conceive of it when I told you what it would do if you don't stop messing with it." Xander snapped back. "Look, I've had a long, looong day. Stop spouting cliches and take your greasy paws off the orb or so help me-"

"INSOLENCE!" Shouted the Elf, rather childishly. His attention was all on Xander now. "Do you have any idea who I am?"

Xander looked at him. Tilted his head. "...Not in the slightest, no."

The look on the Mer's face was priceless. "Wait, what? Really?"

"Yep. No, wait." Xander squinted, trying to remember. "Savos said your name the first time, it was...Andrew?"

"ANCANO!"

Xander snapped his fingers. "I knew there was an A in it somewhere! Great! Uh, do I know you?"

"I've been here the whole time!" Ancano screeched. "I've tried to talk to you on multiple occasions! I was in the courtyard when you first arrived!"

"You were? That can't be right." Xander frowned. "My memory is usually very good. If you were anyone important I'm sure I would have noticed you."

"I-YOU-" Ancano spluttered, then paused. "...This is just taunting, isn't it?" He said, with an air of dawning realisation. "You...you're just mocking me!"

Xander glanced away, then back. "Sure, why not." He said, nodding. "Mocking you. That. I can't believe it took you so long to realise, actually."

"Oh, you must think you're so clever." Ancano snarled.

"That's another cliche."

"But you cannot-"

"Conceive of the power you wield? Is it 'the power to unmake the world'? Is it 'at your fingertips'?"

"SHUT IT!" Ancano turned away from the Eye, the trail of lightning still connecting to his back. "You talk the talk, boy, but your precious Archmage could do nothing against my arcane prowess! What can you do?"

Xander hummed. Tossed the staff into his left hand. "I dunno. Maybe something like this?"

He pointed it at the Eye and fired it. And then gasped, as his mind exploded.

̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶̶ ̶ ̶͜͡|

The birds were singing, the flowers were blooming, the sun was shining, and Dulurza was about to murder a helpless woman.

Malacath's name, when I got offered this contract I thought it would be a lot more...glamorous. Though she was just wearing her armour, her axe on her back and Dawnbreaker on her waist, she had never before felt like such a weight was on her.

The worst part was how Gods-damned happy Elisif seemed. Dulurza led the way, 'checking for threats', and her Jarl was happy to follow behind, remarking occasionally about the scenery, or the sounds, or most often:

"This is so bad!" Elisif insisted, sounding almost childlike. "Look at me, sneaking out of the castle just for a chance to wander through the woods!"

"Are you enjoying it?" Dulurza called back.

"Oh, absolutely. I've missed this. And my passenger apparently sees fit to stay quiet for the moment, which is nice of her. Still...this is so irresponsible."

"Mmhmm."

"And immature."

"Mmhmm."

"We cannot ever do this again."

We won't get the chance to... "We can, eventually." was what Dulurza said. "Once the war's over."

"Yes...when the war's over..."

Dulurza focused her eyes forwards and around, trying to spot her brethren. The clearing she was set to lead Elisif to wasn't fifty yards up ahead, so they had to be around somewhere. C'mon, Borgakh. Don't leave me in suspense like this...

"Dulurza? Can you...stop? For a second?"

Dulurza did stop, turning to give Elisif a questioning look. "My Jarl?"

Elisif was looking down, her hands clasped together and fidgeting with each other. "I...had some things I wanted to say." She began. "Did Cassia tell you that I plan to take her on as-"

"Court Wizard? Aye." Dulurza nodded. "She's..." oh, screw it, "She's a bright one. Kind, caring, strong. It's a good choice."

"I'm glad you think so." Elisif nodded. "She's done me and my city a great service. Hopefully she can be well enough established that my successor keeps her on."

"Successor?"

"Dulurza-" Elisif looked at her. "I-I owe you my gratitude. More than gratitude; you've done so much for me. Helping me put Torygg to rest, saving my life, supporting me over the last few weeks, I...If there's anything you want. From Solitude, from me, personally...just ask, and it's yours."

This was not how Dulurza had expected the conversation to go. She glanced behind herself, scanning the trees but finding nothing. I'm not at the exact spot, but Borgakh's not stupid. They must just be waiting for me to make the kill.

"Well, you're paying me. I think." She said aloud. "Thanes get paid, right? But I told you I'm not doing this for money. I'm just...trying to find an honourable way to live."

Honourable...is that what this is?

"So you've said." Elisif admitted. "But, there's truly nothing you want from me?"

Thoughts ran through Dulurza's head, and were viciously stamped down. "Nothing I could ever ask for." She answered.

"Gods, I don't deserve you..." Elisif shook her head, chuckling. "Still, I should provide you with a bonus, or something. I highly doubt that anyone else will wish to employ you in my stead."

Dulurza bristled. "What's all this about you having a replacement?" She demanded. "Nobody's going to-"

"Dulurza." Elisif cut across her. She looked pointedly at the sword at her hip. "You heard the Daedra. Potema can't be separated from me. There's only two ways for this to end."

"Elisif, listen to me-"

"No, you listen." Elisif walked closer, eyes blazing with intensity. "This curse is insidious. Every day, she creeps closer and closer, and I don't know how long I have left. But I am going to use every day the Divines give me to prepare my city for when I'm gone. I don't know how I'm going to find a truly honourable noble in Solitude, but by the Divines I am going to try. Because I cannot have a Thalmor puppet sat on my throne, and I absolutely cannot have a madwoman sitting there wearing my face." She moved even closer, grabbing Dulurza's arms. "Do you understand? She is going to look like me. She is going to talk like me. She is going to do her best to act like me. And even if the city realises that she's taken over and has her dragged from the Blue Palace, she will make them doubt themselves for every step they walk. I cannot, will not, let that happen to Solitude."

"We still have time." Dulurza insisted, grabbing her arms in turn. "Cassia knows more now, she still has letters to send and studies to do, we can't-"

She stopped, because Elisif had thrown herself forwards and buried her head in Dulurza's chest.

"I don't want to live a prisoner in my own body." She whispered. "I don't want to die a puppet, losing her mind to a dead queen. If I have to die, I want to die as me. At the hands of someone who understands." She took in a deep, shuddering breath. "I want it to be you."

Dulurza's breath hitched, and she instinctively pulled Elisif back to arms reach. "Wait, what-"

"I'm sorry." Elisif had tears in her eyes. "I'm sorry to ask this of you, and I'll give you anything in return, but I can't let loose the Wolf Queen reborn on Skyrim." She wiped her face, sniffing, "I'll explain it to the people we can trust when we get back. Delay it if you have to, there will always be things to do, but if you wait too long she will beg you to stop, you'll have to push through my face begging you not to, Dulurza-"

"Hold on-"

"Do it now, if you have to! If you don't think you can hold, just cut me down and run, but please, don't let-"

"Enough." Dulurza grabbed Elisif about the shoulders, shaking her roughly. "Snap out of it, Jarl, and listen to me very carefully."

This was perfect. She was being handed the opportunity on a silver platter. Dulurza could unsheathe Dawnbreaker now, slay Elisif, be done with all the guilt and complete her mission in one fell swoop.

But she couldn't stop talking.

She was furious.

"Since when were you the kind of person to roll over and die just because living was too difficult?" She demanded, looking Elisif dead in the eye. "You, the woman who's husband was murdered before her eyes, yet you still resolved to reclaim your homeland and rule in his place? You're so determined to serve your people, well you can't serve them by being a coward!"

Elisif looked startled, and Dulurza backed up a step, crossing her arms. "Skyrim owes you the right to live. And you owe it to Skyrim to continue to do so. Owe it to me. And you expect me to do away with all that?" She pointed a finger at Elisif's breast. "You are strong. And wise, and fair, and kind, and I-"

She froze. The last remnants of her doubts, the last voice in her head that wanted her to just shut up and go with the flow, tried to stop her saying those last words. But...

"...And I am not going to kill you."

And it was true. In her heart, she'd known it was true for a long time.

...Oops.

"Run." She insisted.

"What?" Elisif replied, still not done processing Dulurza's words-

"Run!" Dulurza insisted, grabbing her shoulders and spinning her around. "Back to the city! Go, GO!"

Good readers. It is cliffhanger time.

Dulurza makes her choice! Hjar falls into a trap! Xander faces down his adversary! L'laarzen...goes to bed!

Guys I can't always make the dramatic tension peak simultaneously for four people what do you want from me.

But yes! Dulurza finally reaches the culmination of over thirty thousand words of doubts. I doubt anyone actually expected her to side with Mor Khazgor here (It'd be one hell of a dark turn if she did) but I hope I was able to make the payoff satisfying.

And who saw Urzoga's true loyalties coming, eh? I was giggling heavily while setting that one up. The funniest part is, the game establishes to the player that basically anyone in the city could be a Forsworn. What a twist it would be if the person guarding the mine was too? Only...not, in this case. Logrolf, you scheming bastard.

Next Time: Someone fights, someone thinks, and someone has a chat.