Stronger
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The courtyard was snowy, the wind was blowing, and Xander was absolutely bricking it.
This is fine. This is fine. We're just...duelling brother. Duelling Julius. Duelling the most talented mage...in his generation...on the face of Tamriel...
The scariest part was that he couldn't tell if that was his panicked mind exaggerating or not.
"Mirabelle, would you mind briefly swapping with me?" He said aloud, holding out the staff of Magnus to his Master Wizard.
Mirabelle looked confused for a moment, but then nodded in understanding, taking the proffered artefact and handing him her staff in return.
Lightning, from the feel of it, adept level. Workable...
"I cannot in good conscience bring a weapon of that magnitude to bear in this duel." Xander called out, to his brother but also the crowd. "As skilled as I know you are, it wouldn't be fair and it wouldn't be safe."
As much as he would love to bring the magicka sapping super-staff into the fight, he didn't think it would look very good if he won with it (not to mention the crowd's reaction if he lost). But that little stunt had just secured him the right to use at least a staff in the fight. People would be less likely to insist upon a 'spells only' stipulation now it seemed like he was already handicapping himself.
"I understand." Julius called back. He walked to one side of the Embassy's back courtyard, as Xander walked to the other. "Any preference for rules?"
"No holds barred, first to surrender?" Xander offered, rolling his shoulders in an attempt to get some blood flowing despite the cold. "I trust you to fight like a gentleman."
"Hah! Sounds good to me. Elenwen, count us in?"
The crowd of people built up around the pair, then quickly backed up again as both of them shed their heavy outer cloaks, letting them flutter down onto the snow.
(The whole family had agreed that this was the most epic way to begin a dramatic fight.)
Xander rolled his wrists and exhaled, running through what he'd learned from Hjar and Dulurza and taking stock of his situation. Nothing interesting in the environment. Walls and fences behind us both. No real cover in the arena. Snow might make footing difficult. For the love of Mara, don't hit the crowd.
He had Mirabelle's staff, his ebony sword at his hip, robes bedecked in enchantments, and...
Disguised by his wrist exercises, he tested the mechanisms on his scroll-bracer. His new and improved, second edition scroll-bracer, which he'd upgraded with the supplies he'd found around Aren's quarters. Three total scrolls were now stored within it, and he could fire them in any order.
Alright, brother. Rematch. If he could really call it that. The last time they had clashed hadn't really been a proper duel...
"Are both mages really?" Elenwen called, standing between them.
Both nodded.
"Very well. May your spells strike true, and my the purest blood and quickest wit prevail." She flexed her fingers, conjuring up a sphere of magelight in her palm. "Begin once my spell touches the floor."
She tilted her hand, allowing the ball of magic to tumble from her fingers and float slowly downwards...
Xander narrowed his eyes, tensing.
Julius stood with his hands at his sides, perfectly relaxed.
Elenwen got her ass out of the way.
Then the magelight hit the floor, and Xander stretched out his hand, summoning and blasting a fireball across the courtyard. First scroll down.
Julius' weight dropped. His front foot slid outwards, drawing a furrow in the snow as he brought his two arms sweeping around his body.
At once, a swathe of the snow to his left mimicked his movement, sweeping up into an arced shield in front of him. Xander watched the fireball hit it, and though the shield melted entirely in the explosion, none of the force carried forwards to its target, leaving the droplets hovering in the air.
Xander grit his teeth. As expected then.
Make no mistake, Julius was a prodigy. All of the schools of magic had come easily to him. But while most of Xander's siblings had picked two specialise in, Julius had focused his attention on only one. And a strange one, at that.
Five year Synod duelling champion, Julius fought exclusively with Alteration magic.
And he did not lose.
Not yet. Xander took off sprinting towards his opponent.
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The smell hit Hjar first.
A screaming man in fur armour with an axe tried to hit her next, and she killed him.
It was only after both of those things that she saw the bodies.
Over two dozen littered the clearing that she could see, and from the trails of red leading deeper into the mountain glade, there were more inside.
The stench just got worse with every step she took; a mixture of blood, steel, sweat, and wolf.
One of the forms was still alive, but this one didn't seem to want to fight. Both because he had a less aggressive demeanour than the others, and also because he had a gaping hole in his chest. Hjar crouched down next to the coughing Bosmer, who rasped out "He's...a traitor...agh, but the bastard's smart...Lord Hircine...will not be deni...ugh..."
The Mer sagged backwards.
Hjar stood back up and put her hands on her hips, blowing a breath past her lips.
"Well. Bugger." She said.
"Indeed." Said a voice from right behind her.
She spun, drawing her mace and pointing it at...a tall, ethereal white stag. Ah.
"Hello again." Hjar said.
"Well met, daughter of the Reach." Said Hircine. "It has been a while."
"Yeeeeah..." Hjar thought back. "Sorry I wore your elk. And then. Ruined it."
"I wouldn't deny a Hunter their spoils." The elk turned its head away from her, looking deeper into the mountain passage. "And for this prey, your spoils will be mighty indeed."
"Aye. A free pass out of assassinsville..." Hjar grimaced.
"Nothing so pedestrian. Did it not occur to you to wonder why so many have joined your hunt?" The beast pawed at the ground, angrily. "This Sindig is not merely a werewolf. He is the werewolf who stole my Ring."
Either it was Hjar's imagination, or the ring on her finger spiked in heat at the words. "You mentioned him before. Wait, he stole this?"
"Indeed."
"Is...is this all a coincidence?"
If stags could smile, then Hircine was smiling. "I am a god. One of many. There are no coincidences."
"Noted." Hjar gulped, trying not to think too hard about whether or not any of her choices had actually meant anything.
"You have impressed me, Hjarnagredda." Said Hircine. "You have shouldered the burden of the curse, and set aside any escape I might have offered to hunt as you chose. Still conflicted, there is work to be done there, but you are leaps and bounds a better disciple than the girl who first called to me. And so, once again, I extend an offer of..." The stag paused.
Hjar waited a beat, looked around to see what had interrupted him, then prompted "...Yes?"
"Oh, forgive me. Last time I got this far you ran away."
Hjar flushed. "Sorry about that. Not going to do it again." Did my god just make a joke?
"You are quite forgiven." The stag...neighed? Do stags neigh? It made a weird amused-sounding animal noise. "Anyway, yes, an offer of freedom, and of power. Hunt down and slay the treacherous dog Sindig, and I will lift the curse on your ring, and grant it to you in its full power. But you had best be swift; an even greater group of my servants are rallying for another attack." It turned away, and began to walk out of the clearing. "Fail, and...well, you will die, and perhaps have better luck when you join me in the Hunting Grounds." It trotted away, and vanished from sight.
Hjar waited a few more seconds, then sighed. "He is also really dedicated to his schtick." She said, to nobody. "I'm starting to notice a theme here."
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Julius clenched his fist, and the watery remnants of his barrier refroze into icy spears that then hurled themselves towards Xander.
For his part, already charging forwards, Xander took the unorthodox move of jumping into the air and kicking.
Now he wasn't any kind of martial artist, and it probably looked ridiculous. But he did have a resist frost enchantment on his boots. A precaution he'd originally taken after his close brush with exposure (after taking a dunk in the sea of ghosts), the magic came in handy now, as the icicles that hit him shattered upon contact, allowing him to land, stumble, recover, and then draw his sword from his hip, firing a blast of electricity from Mirabelle's staff.
Julius swerved past it, then stretched his arm out behind him.
There was a clang, and Xander saw as one of the iron bars of the fence was yanked out of position, flying over to land in Julius' grasp.
The elder sibling backed up past the younger's first swing and tapped his makeshift weapon once with his thumb, causing all the rust to drop away along with some of the mass. It reshaped itself in his hand in a matter of moments, and when he brought it forwards, it was a gleaming, hard-iron sword that blocked Alexander's ebony weapon.
He glowered, and dragged his sword down.
Sparks emerged at the point of contact, and not just from the scratching metal. Alexander's enchanted blade left lines of fire in its wake as he swung it, and the crowd "ooh!"d at the genuine flame sword (I've always wanted one of these!)
And then Julius started fighting back. And winning. Nothing too special about it, he was just better, weaving his blade around with ease and preventing Xander from leveraging his significantly more dangerous weapon.
(Xander had joined a fencing club as a child, to try and develop a skill that all his genius siblings didn't have. Julius had seen how nervous Xander had been about it, joined along with him to help, and immediately gotten much more skilled at swordfighting).
And of course Julius also cheated just for the sake of it; another flash of colour from his sword-hand and his blade stretched before both their eyes, extending out past Xander's guard and forcing him to dart sideways to stop it cutting his cheek.
Julius whipped his arm down, and the snake-sword-thing whipped along with it and wrapped itself around the staff in Xander's other hand. It yanked.
Xander knew better than to try and win that tug of war, letting the staff be pulled free of his hand and tossed away from the conflict. He pointed the now empty hand at the ground behind Julius' back, flexing his fingers.
Second scroll down.
A flame atronach burst to life atop the snow, taking stock of the situation and then taking aim at Julius' back.
The genius didn't hesitate. He pushed out at Xander with one palm, and a wave of force took the Archmage off his feet and hurled him across the battlefield (I still have no idea how he does that-).
Xander landed, even as Julius turned, batting one firebolt out of the air with his weapon before releasing the sword and letting it hang in the air. He pulled both his arms together in a great sweeping movement, and at once, the snow carpeting the entire courtyard was pulled in, all immediately converging upon the burning summon. The atronach was buried entirely in the snow, leaving the courtyard looking cleaner than it ever had except for one large pile of hardening ice.
There was a muffled boom from inside it. Then nothing, except for the rapid clapping of footsteps on the flagstones.
Julius spun on his heels, as Xander sprinted towards him with sword held high. The elder sibling took a step backwards, the younger swung, and Xander saw him wait for almost half a second-
Then there was another flash of green. Xander felt his muscles freeze, as a film of energy clamped around his entire body with his weapon mere inches from Julius' throat. He began to topple, but at another snap of Julius' fingers he was bouyed by another invisible force. He strained, but to no avail. Nobody could break out of Julius' paralysis spells without a full minute of effort, at least.
No, come on, this is too sudden, I didn't even get to use my third scroll or my Shout-
My Shout!
Julius stepped away, plucking his sword from the air (where it had been floating for the last few seconds, at his behest) and pointing it at the side of Xander's own throat.
"Yield?" He asked. The restrictive field around Xander's mouth and throat disappeared.
Xander worked his jaw. If he called out Feim, he would be free of the paralysis. From there, he could go and retrieve his staff before he became corporeal again, and...
Another few seconds passed, and the adrenaline began to die down. No. Don't be stupid.
He'd already lost. The crowd's reaction to him pulling out a new ability after being put on the spot like this would be...mixed, at best. And then there was Elenwen, who might be a little less than pleased if he demonstrated ancient Nordic magicks that Elves weren't capable of (apparently, sources were sketchy on it).
And besides. Not like there's any point anyway.
"I yield." He called, feeling the field around him relax entirely as the crowd erupted into applause.
He set his face and body about the standard motions for graciously accepting a defeat; smiling, bowing, congratulating his brother.
And inside, he seethed.
8˂
In the early hours of the morning, three figures made their way through the rocky grasslands behind Riften. One was limping noticeably, the other two positioning themselves tightly around the first and offering a steadying arm at a moment's notice.
Beneath a thick hooded cloak, L'laarzen scowled at drizzle that persistently tried to get at her fur.
L'laarzen enjoys much about Skyrim. This fine rain that wets one through is not one of them.
Not for the first time, she automatically began the motion to tighten the cloak around herself-
Then stopped, at a flash of pain from the arms that twitched at the command.
Wylandriah had been right on the money with her time estimates. After about half a week, L'laarzen could stand and walk unaided. But just about anything else was unavailable to her. The kind mage had had to help dress her.
"How much further?" She asked, trying her hardest to keep the irritation out of her voice. Annoyance is bad. It's not in-character.
"Not far." Karliah reassured. "We only built it a couple miles out from the city. Well, I say 'we'. This hideout is almost as old as Riften."
"But what's in it will help us fight Mercer?" Brynjolf clarified.
"Well. I hope so." Karliah snorted. "It depends on her mood."
"Her?"
There was no way they could have spotted the hideout without Karliah guiding them to it. Tucked in behind an outcropping of rock that was no different to any other part of the mountain range, there was a small tunnel that the Dunmer beckoned them both into, vanishing into the dark. She and Brynjolf shared a concerned glance, but followed.
The area inside was initially hard to see (which was concerning for L'laarzen, who's Khajiit eyes usually did a good job in the dark. Magic, perhaps?). But Karliah began lighting torches ahead of them, and the details of their surroundings resolved themselves.
"Well I'll be damned..." Brynjolf muttered. "Wish our secret bases looked like this..."
Racks of weapons against the walls. Ornate carvings in the stone of the floor. Bunk beds, chests of preservables, maps, the hideout had everything.
"Place hasn't changed much since I left." Karliah said, looking around, before turning back to them. "We're lucky Mercer didn't dare to come back here..."
"As much as I appreciate access to a new base, I get the feeling you didn't bring us here just for this?" Brynjolf asked.
"No." Karliah pulled down her hood, meeting their eyes. "We've established now that we can't just fight Mercer."
"Speak for yourselves..." L'laarzen groused.
"Lass, look what he did to you!" Brynjolf protested.
"Khajiit got unlucky!"
"And even if you did have a chance at full strength, you aren't right now." Karliah pointed out. "Even the best restoration mages in Skyrim would need to keep you in intensive care for weeks to get you in fighting shape. That's plenty of time for Mercer to leave country entirely and go somewhere we'll never find him, and possibly kill us all one by one on the way out."
Agh, and we still do not know where he is going. L'laarzen must go have a closer look at this hidden room in his house... "Well, what would you have Khajiit do? Pray for a miracle?" She asked, pointedly.
Karliah coughed. "Well. Not exactly."
L'laarzen and Brynjolf shared a Very Concerned Look.
"This isn't just a hideout. It's a shrine." Karliah continued. "You know that the Nightingales are disciples of Nocturnal, Daedra of the shadows. Here, we could contact her. Make a deal."
"Whoah, whoah." Brynjolf put his up in front of him. "You want us to deal with a Daedra? Are you out of your-"
"Do you want to be able to turn completely invisible on a whim? Cloaked in a veil that doesn't even break if you interact with the world?" Karliah cut across him. "Do you want the power to throw an illusion upon a man's mind that cannot be broken by any spell, to make him turn on his allies? The ability to drain the life essence of your enemy and use it to replenish your own?" Her eyes flicked across to L'laarzen's. "Do you want your body to be restored to you? These are only some of the things Nocturnal can grant you in exchange for your loyalty."
Both were silent, and the Nightingale continued. "This isn't some scam, either. We aren't a cult." That part seemed especially directed at L'laarzen. "It's a business deal, and what you get will provide solid results. As well as less solid ones..."
"Which means?" Brynjolf prompted.
"Oblivion, I sound insane..." Karliah blew out a breath. "So...recall the run of bad luck?"
"Oh, for Jode's sake..." L'laarzen groaned.
"I thought that was you?" Brynjolf accused.
"Partially me, yes, partially Mercer robbing you all, but not just that. Nocturnal is the goddess of luck. And right now, with the Key stolen, she's in a royally bad mood." Karliah looked behind her with some trepidation, to the passage leading deeper into the hillside. "I have nothing left to give to her. But you two do. And we'll need her help if we're going to do this."
Brynjolf looked across at her. Then looked down and sighed. "Damnit...well at least you're up-front about it. I can't say we have much else to lose, and if this is what we need to do to take down Mercer-"
"No."
The word brought him up short. He and Karliah both turned to the third person there.
"I'm sorry?" Karliah said.
"No. Absolutely not." L'laarzen tried not to scoff, and failed. "Do you think L'laarzen is out of her mind?"
"I know it sounds bad, but-"
"My. Immortal. Soul." L'laarzen stressed, using the proper first person just to get the point across. "It exists. We all have one. When I die, it will leave this body and flee to my place of final resting, and it is up to me to ensure where that is. Do you know of Khajiiti customs, Karliah? True cats make their way to the Sand Behind the Stars, where the sands are warm yet never burn one's paws, where we may play and prey until the Next Pounce." L'laarzen looked to the floor, claws sheathing and unsheathing reflexively.
"L'laarzen knows she has not always been a good kitty, and perhaps instead she will be dragged to the Dark Behind the World to be punished until she has learned her lesson. But she will not risk all of that in some witch-pact to a Dark God!"
"L'laarzen, I understand that this is a hard choice." Karliah held out her arms placatingly. "But if we don't do this, Mercer will-"
"Brynjolf, what is infinity minus fifty?" L'laarzen asked, casually.
"What? I don't-Oh come on, lass, you think I went to school?"
"Infinity again!" L'Laarzen moved to throw out her arms dramatically, then immediately hissed as the motion drew out a fresh flash of pain. "It is-Gah, moons above that hurts-it is easy for us to get bogged down in the happenings of this mortal life of ours. But whether Mercer slits Khajiit's throat tomorrow or she lives another fifty years, it is but a grain of sand in the desert compared to what comes after." She narrowed her eyes at Karliah. "L'laarzen has only just begun her journey to redeem her soul, and she is already finding herself falling back into the pit she so desperately tried to crawl out of. But she will not squander that and consign herself to Oblivion."
There was a long silence, broken only by L'laarzen's breath coming out in pants.
Then Brynjolf said "Karliah...L'laarzen does have a point."
"Oh, you too?" Snapped a shocked and irritated Nightingale.
"I'm just saying, this is a pretty big step with some pretty big consequences!" He sighed. "Look, I get that you're trying to do whatever's necessary to win here. But we've still got a dozen other things to sort before we even think about facing Mercer again. How about we give it a few days and try and come up with some alternatives first, alright?"
Karliah looked away. Then pulled her hood back up. "Fine."
It was (if possible) and even more subdued group that made its way back to Riften.
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Clang.
Clang.
Clang.
Sweat beaded on Dulurza's brow as she brought the hammer down again and again, less shaping the blade beneath her hammer and more beating it into submission.
Beirand, the Empire-sponsored head blacksmith in the city, was always looking for more hands, and Dulurza had two to spare. She obviously knew how to work iron and steel (just preferred Orichalcum for her own gear), and had spent the last four hours straight working to produce the same basic blade again and again. It was an interesting inside look at what war really was to these Nords, and on a scale she'd never seen before. On the one hand, her efficiency and endurance had drawn bewildered stares from everyone nearby. On the other, her performance was hardly putting a dent in the required supply. She'd mentioned, proudly, that she'd be willing to foot the whole order herself...only for Beirand to laugh, and tell her that he needed to produce over a thousand blades by the end of the week. A thousand. And that was just the one weapon!
Dulurza wasn't used to feeling small. But it was happening an awful lot recently. And while forging usually calmed her down, right now it Really (Clang) Wasn't (Clang) Helping.
"Heyyyyy, uh. Dulurza? You...got a second to talk?"
The hammer came down too hard, and split the blade right in two. Hmph. Whole thing's ruined now...
She got a dirty look from Beirand, shot him a dirty one back, then sighed, pushing her tools away from her and taking a step back.
She turned, and locked eyes with Cassia Meteuse.
"Hail, squishy." She said, for lack of a proper greeting.
"Squishy? Really?" Cassia raised an eyebrow, some of the awkwardness leaving her posture. "You're aware that I can heal myself, right? You could slit my throat and I wouldn't di-" Her eyes widened. "N-Not that I think you'd ever do that. I mean, I know you're-you know-"
Dulurza's retort, something along the lines of 'dealing with wounds doesn't mean you can deal with pain' died on her lips, and she looked away. "Right."
"I didn't mean to-"
"It's fine." The two of them still hadn't had a chance to talk about Dulurza's revealed secret. "What did you want?"
"I...Julianos-Sis, help!"
"You need to get better at talking around people you're nervous of, Cass..." came the voice of a woman who Dulurza was sure hadn't been there two seconds ago, and oh, wow, she's almost as attractive as Elisif. I mean, DAMNIT-
"What is this?" Dulurza asked, suddenly finding the exhaustion of the day hitting her.
"Apologies. Here." The woman waved a hand, and a flash of green light suffused Dulurza, wiping away the traces of her tiredness like they had never been there. "My name is Octavia. I've heard a lot about you."
"Did you just...heal me?" Dulurza asked.
"Oh, no, that's my sister's schtick. I just used illusion to make you forget you're in pain."
Cassia (who had been slowly edging behind her older sister) scowled. "And you say I need to get better at talking to people...Anyway, Dulurza. You missed something big in the palace."
"Is Elisif okay?" The Orc asked, immediately.
Octavia smiled at the response. "Yes, for now. But we received a message from a friend of yours. Xander is planning to head to the city soon."
That was...certainly news. Good or bad, Dulurza couldn't process at the moment. "Xander, your brother. Both of you."
Two nods.
"Will the three of you be able to help the Jarl?"
"I hope so. From what I've heard, he might have a shot." Cassia looked to the side. "Better than just shooting a spectral arrow at her the moment you meet her-"
"You hadn't told me your Jarl was half-possessed!" Octavia shot back, flushing just slightly. "I thought she was a puppet!"
"You tried to kill Elisif?" Dulurza's jaw dropped.
Cassia pushed back in front, putting her hands up placatingly, "I blocked her, it's fine!"
"That's both of you that have tried that now!"
"Or rather all three of us, as I understand it." Octavia said, quietly.
Dulurza shut up.
"Alright you don't seem the type for formalities, so we'll skip them." The older sibling continued. "Dulurza, my sister likes you, and so (I'm quite certain) does your Jarl. Which is why I'm not resolving this situation the safe way by killing you."
"Octavia!" Cassia shouted, but
"No, let her talk." Dulurza interrupted. "At this point, the honesty is refreshing."
"Thank you." Octavia crossed her arms. "You want back in Elisif the Fair's good graces. I think I have a way."
"Talk."
"Heh. The issue (she claims, at least) is that your loyalties are still in question. You need to do something that makes your position clear, beyond any reasonable doubt."
"Beyond saving her life?" Dulurza asked, trying not to sound petulant.
"Then how about stopping the group you're suspected of working for?" Cassia offered.
"You...what?"
"Elisif wants you to track down Mor Khazgor." Octavia said. "Find them, figure out what their plans are. If they're still a threat to Solitude...stop them."
"She's worried I'm working with my family and she wants me to go back to them?" Dulurza wrinkled her nose up.
"You can't be sure the bird really wants to stay unless you open the door to its cage." Octavia said, shrugging. "If you go and join them, at least there's no more doubt. And if you stop them, its two birds with one stone. The Empire simply can't dedicate the resources to effectively quell them right now. But you are an asset that's uniquely suited to this, impossible to deploy elsewhere, and which has already proven itself strong enough to do the job. It's a cleverer plan than I would have given Elisif credit for."
"If it even is her plan..." Dulurza groused.
"If you think I'm the one who-"
"No, that's not what I meant. Forget it." Dulurza looked between them. "You kept saying 'stop' Mor Khazgor. What does 'stop' mean?"
"Stop means 'render no longer a threat to Solitude and greater Skyrim'." Octavia replied, impassively. At Dulurza's glare, she elaborated "And yes, one possible outcome there is butchering every single one of them. If that's the only way and you don't have the gall, just tell me where they are, and they'll be dead in a day."
Dulurza recognised the ice-cold look in the Imperial woman's eyes. Malacath, this woman's not bluffing.
But then Octavia's face softened. "But that doesn't have to be how it goes. I don't like massacres either. Talk them down, take control of them, split them up, whatever works. But if you're the one doing it, you get the power to control how the situation evolves. And if you succeed, then maybe your Jarl will trust you again."
...Daughter of a Bastard, that was a cheap shot. "Fine. You mentioned you were willing to help?"
"I am. Pack your things, we're heading over to Dragon's Bridge."
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Sindig was not a particularly hard man to find. Perhaps for an ordinary person he would have been, having fled into a veritable warren of trees, caves and trenches. But Hjar knew what werewolves smelled like now. It didn't take her long to find a small alcove in the side of a cliff, and the Nord man sat in the corner of it.
Sindig didn't look like a man who robbed Daedric Princes and murdered children. He looked bedraggled; buck naked and not bothering to hide it, covered in dirt and scars with matted blond hair. He didn't look up as she approached.
"Left an awful mess out there." She said as a greeting, cautiously approaching him.
"Hardly even my work." He replied, voice hoarse. "Hircine set his hunters on me, but I've also caught the attention of the Silver Hand. Werewolf hunters." His lips quirked upwards. "Didn't get along, as you can imagine. Only a couple have even made it through to me so far, and...well."
"Damn. Looks like you're pretty good at ticking people off, huh?" Hjar replied, taking in his posture. I say that, but he doesn't look like he's preparing for a fight...
"True." Sindig finally raised his head, meeting her eyes. "I see the ring's made its way back to me. I was almost expecting it, but not from a stranger; what happened to the man I handed it to?"
"Me and Xander came to an agreement." Hjar simplified. "He's fine."
"Hm. Glad to hear it." Sindig stood up, stretching his arms above his head. "Are you here to kill me, miss?"
"Aye." Said Hjar.
"Could I try to convince you not to?"
"You could try. And, uh, I don't mean that dismissively. I'm always welcoming of new information."
"Heh. Alright." He crossed his arms. "So, Hircine is a bastard."
"Compelling."
"I never asked for Lycanthropy. Caught it, in my youth, and barely survived the experience. It's plagued me for over two decades now, making me move across the country, forcing its way into every aspect of my life..."
"What was the timer?" Hjar asked, finding herself curious.
"Daily."
Her mouth fell open, and he chuckled. "I would have to transform every night to avoid it breaking out during the day. Eventually, I just...couldn't stand it. Started chasing stories of Hircine's ring, tracked it down to a shrine in the wilds, and snatched it. I was so elated, but..." His face creased in anguish. "How was I to know it would draw Hircine's ire? No warning, no way to remove it. I never wanted any of this!" The last came out as half shout, half growl, setting Hjar's wolf to snarling in her gut.
"And then you killed a little girl." She grit out.
"I couldn't help it! She was so small, so weak. The beast inside me looked at her and it saw prey. I never would have done it, but...the damn Ring!" Sindig looked at her, desperately. "You wear it now. You feel it, don't you? You must understand!"
Hjar looked down at the innocuous silver circlet on her finger, and sighed. "I do."
The curse had cut days off her usual 'grace period', and even the time she had was less of a safe-zone and more of a constant struggle. She'd almost killed loved ones more than once, and her initial timer had been about a week. She couldn't imagine what it would be like to lose control every night.
"I understand, but..." Hjar looked back at him. "Now the thing is on my hand. If I don't kill you, Hircine's ire falls on me. Sindig, there's a ruddy Dark Brotherhood contract on your head!"
"Wait, really?" The man asked.
"Aye! Over the girl in Falkreath! And-" a thought occurred, "-did you kill an old matron in Riften?"
"What, Grelod? No! I heard about that, but I haven't been to Riften in five years."
"Hm. There goes that hypothesis." Hjar tutted. "Point is you're royally buggered, friend. Whatever happens here."
"Of course I am..." he growled again, turning around and slamming a fist into the wall of the cave.
Hjar dropped her weight, warily, but slowly relaxed again as Sindig regained control of his breathing.
"I understand." He said, after a while. "I can't keep forcing others to pay the price for my mistakes. But...I can't just give my life away. It won't let me."
"I understand." Hjar echoed, the words tasting sour. Also echoing was the howls of dogs and the bellow of hunting horns, from the entrance of the grotto.
"And it looks like you're running out of time. They've rallied." Sindig walked up to her, holding out his arm. "Mind if I have your name?"
"Hjarnagredda. Hjar." She answered, taking the hand and shaking it.
"It's a pleasure to meet you Hjar." Sindig smiled, and then turned away. "Alright then. Do what you think is right."
Hjar stared at the back of his head for a long time. Then she reached for her mace.
̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶̶ ̶{o
A few minutes after the duel, Xander stood at the edge of the courtyard, looking out through the bars of the fence into the tundra outside. Everyone had quickly decided that now the entertainment was over, it was far too cold to stay outside, and so made their way back into the party proper. With his robes enchanted to resist the cold, however, he had made his excuses and separated from the group.
Soon after, steps approached from behind, and then Julius came up to stand next to him.
"GG." Said the elder.
"GG." Replied the younger.
"The nobles were impressed." Julius continued. "I think you've pulled off your plan to make yourself look good and build reputation."
"Mm." Xander replied, noncommitally. "Thanks for making it look close."
"It was close."
"It was close because you stood there and let it get close. If it had actually been close, I wouldn't have tried to slit your throat."
Julius chuckled, unconcerned. "You always pay me the strangest complements. Still, your bladework has really improved since-"
"How quickly could you have beaten me if you were taking it seriously?" Xander interrupted, sharply.
"Hm?"
"How. Quickly."
Julius didn't say anything for a few moments, then sighed. "Almost immediately. I would have thrown the snow up in your face to block your sight and then mass-cast paralysis spells at you, as a first resort."
"Yeah, figured..." Xander looked away.
"...Alex, are you mad?"
"No."
"..."
"...Yes." Xander sighed and turned back to his brother. "I know it's dumb, I know! And its great to see you and it's great to get a chance to talk and I know you're over six years older than me and I know it was unreasonable to really think I could win, I just..." He sighed again. "It felt like I'd made so much progress since coming to Skyrim. And then I meet you and its just-"
He mimed one hand crashing into another and then bouncing off ineffectually.
"I understand." Julius said, putting a hand on his shoulder. "But Alex, you really have made a lot of progress. Your actual fight-sense has shot up leagues; you've been in real life-or-death situations and survived, haven't you?"
"Too many." Xander groused. "I'm getting used to it, that's the strangest thing. So much madness has happened in this ridiculous country..." He shook his head, clearing his thoughts. "Anyway, what about you? What are you even doing up in Summerset?"
"Saving the world." Julius said, with a cheeky grin.
"Vague."
"I have to be, everything I do is classified. Then again, the way you're going, you might wind up in a position to know more about it."
Xander raised an eyebrow. "Vague, again, only now I'm worried."
"I'm just saying, you're moving up in the world. I trust you, and, going forwards, I just might need your brain."
"Eh?" Xander blinked. "Why would you need me?"
"Okay, we really need to work on that self-esteem. What happened to the kid who told me he was going to achieve godhood?"
"I'm...working on it."
"Right. Well, either way, I'll talk to Elenwen. You don't need to worry about any more spies being put in your school." Julius clapped him on the shoulder, before taking a step away. "But...expect letters from 'the Aldmeri Dominion' to get more frequent. Big things are in the works, and I think it would benefit everyone if you were a part of them."
Xander had no idea what to say to that. "I...really? Thanks, I think."
"No problem. You coming in?"
"I'm...gonna stay out here a few minutes, I think. Cool off."
"Alright. When you're done, come find me. We can catch up properly."
"Yeah, see you in a few."
Julius trudged off through the falling snow. Xander turned back to the bars, breathing out a large cloud of frost and looking out into the distance.
Thanks for the wake-up call, brother. And here I thought I was already done.
A few more minutes passed, and then he turned, making his way back across the courtyard...
Only to glimpse a figure darting across the outskirts of the area to the other side.
He frowned, walking over. "Hail, friend! The courtyard's off limits to regular guests without escort. Trust me, if you go into Elenwen's solar without her permission her guards will-"
He froze, as the figure looked up at him.
He barely recalled the face of the man, one of the party-goers he'd pegged as really not fitting into their fancy clothes. A Nord, and a classic one at that, with the long blond hair, beard, and blue eyes.
The difference was that now, the man held a sword in one hand, and had a shield clasped to his other wrist. Both visibly had dark smears of blood on them.
"...You're not supposed to be here, are you." Xander croaked.
The Nord bared his teeth, and charged.
THREE GUESSES WHO THAT IS.
Did I do a good enough job at making Julius seem strong? Because he is. Trust me to see an RPG and immediately try and powerscale all the characters relative to each other...
L'laarzen gets briefly possessed by the author to call out the stupidity that can occur in a world where souls and the afterlife are basically confirmed to exist, at least to people in-the-know. If I'm getting details wrong, feel free to bring it up, but note that she doesn't understand the situation perfectly and Karliah isn't very good at explaining herself. Either way, she's offered the ticket back into action and she refuses to take it.
Hjar, meanwhile, finds herself stumbling upon one of the most messed up situations she's seen in...like, a week. She's a busy gal. But either way, she has a dog to put down.
Next Time: Someone tries to put a dog down, someone does some research, and someone does a 180 on their objectives real quick.