Resolving One's Own Issues

8˂̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶̶ ̶{o

"So, you want Khajiit's help for…what exactly?" L'laarzen asked.

Xander gave a nervous chuckle. "That is a very good question."

The two were walking together along Riften's docks, after L'laarzen had salvaged his catastrophic entrance to Mistveil keep and excused them from the Jarl's presence.

Now Xander had the unenviable task of explaining what he wanted from her…when he wasn't exactly sure.

Hi, you're good at stealth and violence! Help me murder a person!

"I…have a problem." He began. "I need to get in contact with someone in Markarth. An apothecary, woman named Muiri. Issue is, from what Hjar said and from what I've learned since, that city is in...quite a state. I think she's alive—"

Muiri yet lives. Came the Night Mother's rasp between his ears.

He winced, and corrected "I'm fairly certain she's alive. But I don't know how to get into the city, or how to find her once I'm in."

"I see." L'laarzen nodded, beside him. "And wouldn't it have been more sensible to go to Hjar herself with this problem? She was returning to the city, last we heard."

"You see the thing about that," Xander explained, raising a finger, "is that it's an excellent idea and absolutely what I should have done first, yes. Sorry?"

"It's alright, friend." L'laarzen replied, chuckling. "Always good to see you. I would love to get out of Riften, in truth, and I am always happy to help. Only, Markarth is at the other side of Skyrim. It would take two days or more to get there, and that again back. Khajiit is unsure if she can expend so much time…"

"That's what I thought too." Xander said, with a grin. "But I've arranged…alternative transport."

L'laarzen cocked her head. "Why did you say it like that?"

"I got from Winterhold to here in less than four hours." He explained, flatly. "I doubt it will take us more than six to reach Markarth hold."

"You…" She blinked at him inquisitively. "Anyone else, I would assume they were joking."

"Nope!" He beamed. "I have a damn good horse."

"I see."

"And it's also magic, in case that wasn't clear."

"Yes, Khajiit worked that out." L'laarzen looked out at the lake. "She would need to warn her associates…"

"The ones in the Thieves' gu—" Xander cut himself off at a serious look from L'laarzen, and coughed. "Your, uh, company?"

"Yes, those." L'laarzen glanced away, then nodded. "Very well, L'laarzen will come with you. Just give her a few minutes to prepare her things."

"Won't the 'company' be mad about that?" Xander asked.

"Khajiit does not think so." L'laarzen smiled. "The executives are all scared of her."

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"No, no, no, my good man! Not an edda! An ALBUM!"

"An…album?"

"Of music! In that new genre all the kids are talking about!"

"What, you mean, uh…soul?"

"Soul trap! That one! It's going to be amazing! I'm mostly done already, just need some touch-ups on the audio mastering. I think I'm going to call it 'Zoom'!"

Of the many strange things Elisif the Fair had seen in her life, this…

Her brain just sort of crashed before it could complete the thought.

In a clearing in the magical woods was a table. On that table was a great deal of food, as well as a man in an atrocious purple and red suit, with white hair and empty eyes. The madman (as a madman was clearly what he was) continued to harangue on the subject of sick beats and drinking water, gesticulating wildly with his hands as he did so.

His audience was a single man, sat at the table calmly eating some bread. This man was wearing perfectly normal (if, at a glance, old fashioned) clothing, but was listening to the maniac with rapt attention.

Elisif glanced sideways and met the eyes of Dulurza, who was crouched behind an adjacent tree.

"Still open to leaving while we have the chance…" The Orc mumbled.

"What are you two on about this time?" Potema's drawl appeared behind them, pre-empted somewhat by the clanking of her armour.

The wolf queen managed to look patronising just by existing, thudding over to the pair while continuing "The other path was a dead-end, obviously, so whatever you're both staring at is—"

She stopped. Her eyes locked onto the table behind them, going wide, and her mouth fell open.

"Pelagius?" she whispered.

Elisif worried for a brief moment that Pelagius was the fashion disaster, but then Potema lunged forwards and shoved Dulurza aside, rushing towards the table.

"Pelagius!" She shouted, desperately. "Pelagius, it's me!"

The nobleman sat at the table looked up and furrowed his eyebrows.

"Aunt—" he began, but was cut off by a swirl of purple magic. In a moment, he was gone from the chair.

Potema stared at the spot he had been in for barely a second before rounding on the other man, demanding "Where in Oblivion did you put him, you hideous freak? Give me my nephew back or I swear to the Daedra—Hey!"

Her final exclamation was caused by Dulurza grabbing her around the waist, picking her up, and hauling her backwards.

"Apologies about her~" Elisif power-walked in to fill the space, smiling at the strange man diplomatically. "My name is Elisif, it's a pleasure to meet you. That's Potema, she's…"

"I WILL BUILD A XYLOPHONE FROM YOUR BONES!"

"…Stressed."

"Oh, nothing at all to worry about my dear!" The stranger smiled back, jumping down from the table towards her. "The rage is quite reasonable, but I simply can't have those two talking until they've finished their character development."

"Character development?" Elisif clarified. "As in, that of a fictional character?"

"Exactly! I mean, what happens if they talk now? They get mad and shout at each other? Boring, boring, boring, boring! No, I want to see some real drama!" The man reached out, clasped Elisif's hand, and shook it vigorously. "Sheogorath, Daedric prince of madness, lord of the Shivering Isles, blah-di-blah-di-blah. Pleasure to meet you!"

"And, uh, you too." Elisif had no idea how to deal with this situation. Potema, however, clearly did.

Elisif turned around at a cry of pain from Dulurza, the Orc stumbling back clutching her nose as her ex-captive stormed forwards.

"You!" Potema demanded, glaring at Sheogorath. "Where did you put him, you puny god?"

("She bit my nose!" Dulurza exclaimed, bewildered.)

"Oh, he's around." Sheogorath waved, vaguely. "Quite literally, in fact, and I rarely bother myself with the literal. We are all currently standing in the deliciously twisted mind of an ex-emperor!"

"We're…inside someone's mind." Elisif clarified.

"Yes. We are in the mind, the mind is in Oblivion, Oblivion is in me and I am in the mind again. It makes perfect sense if you don't think about it too much."

"Uh, Lord Sheogorath?" Dulurza spoke up. "Your minion Dervenin wants to ask you to—"

"Oh, I know perfectly well what Dervenin wants." Sheogorath sighed, and then kept sighing, and then continued to exhale for significantly longer than anyone should be able to sigh. Then he continued "He wants me to go back to running the Shivering Isles properly. But it's just so boring in there! Can you imagine what it's like for everything to be exactly as you will it to?"

"Absolutely perfect?" Potema guessed.

"Dull! Exceedingly dull! Why do you think I have my minions gather new souls on the regular? I can't be the lord of chaos without things disobeying me, now can I?"

"And…my nephew." Potema clarified. "Is he one of those souls?"

The empress' tone of voice had spun on a septim from 'incandescent rage' to 'desperate plea'. Elisif thought she understood. The idea of Torryg's spirit being doomed to a plane of Oblivion…it wasn't a fate she wanted to think about. Having Dulurza bring his old horn to a shrine of Talos hadn't just been a sentimental act.

"Eeeeh. Maybe." Sheogorath shrugged. "He's a ghost. Not quite hit his final moment of judgement yet. Don't get me wrong, the poor bugger is completely off his rocker at the moment, but who knows! That could change!"

"Change how?" Elisif asked, curious despite herself.

"Well, you're all here, aren't you?" Sheogorath spread his arms. "In his head! And you've got me, the most reliable guide in Nirn! Okay, that was patently untrue. I'm not from Nirn. But I'm also very adept at travelling the minds of the insane!"

Elisif frowned. "You want us to fix the mind of the most—" (she glanced across at Potema) "—the second most insane emperor in Skyrim's history?"

"We'll do it." Potema either didn't notice the dig, or didn't care. "Where is he? How do we help?"

"What, you think there's a procedure for this?" Sheogorath snorted, before gesturing around them to the banks of fog surrounding the clearing. "You're in a madman's mind. Wander off! Get lost, ideally separately. I'll let you know if you find something interesting."

That was…a terrible idea. Elisif said so. Dulurza agreed.

Potema had already marched off into a fog bank.

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Hjar leaned back in her chair and groaned. "Funny thing," she said, putting her hands over her face, "turns out that taking over a nation is, like. Difficult. What?"

Lying on the ground in the corner of the tent, Kaie laughed.

Margret (sat next to Hjar sifting through letters) gave her a pitying look. "What is it this time?"

"Everything." Hjar summarised. "I'm going to clear my head, want to come? Kaie, you have to come, I need a sounding board."

"Sure!" Margret smiled, at the same time Kaie said "Choke."

"You can use the opportunity to insult me more?" Hjar offered.

"Hmph. Fine."

The trio got up and left the lead tent of Druadach redoubt. As always, they had to negotiate around almost a dozen different people on their way out the top entrance. People with complaints, praise, questions, yadda yadda. Hjar fended them off as best she could, just desperate to get up to the overlook above the camp.

She just needed some air. Her wolf still did not like enclosed spaces, even if it wasn't about to force a transformation out of her anymore.

The problem, she recited to her two followers on the way, was just the inevitable effect of trying to reach so many people. There were over two dozen known Forsworn camps across the Reach, and the connection between them was tenuous at best. The missives she'd sent out declaring her name and claim had been met with a variety of responses, primary among them scepticism. People either didn't believe she was what she said she was, didn't believe she was real at all, or doubted she'd be able to deliver on what she promised. After all, that promise was rather vague.

"Your problem is that you're trying to resolve this peacefully." Kaie reminded her. "Even if you've not admitted it outright. Everyone's talking about what your speeches actually mean, and they recognise you're not exactly planning an attack on Markarth's walls. Remember how these people are criminals, terrorists, witches, and murderers?"

"You told me yourself that most of the people who join are ordinary peasants." Hjar countered. "Just extremely disenfranchised ones."

"Well, yes. But we do try to radicalise them as soon as possible. And the people who were born in these camps were brought up chomping at the bit."

Hjar huffed. Oh, I would know. Maybe if I started teaching advanced decision-making classes, I could make everyone have the same realisation as me…

"Any politician elected in Cyrodiil usually does so on a promise." Margret spoke up. "You've already got yours, 'no more persecution', but the politicians usually try to do something about it the moment they're in power. Pass new legislation, abolish old ones, start a new project. Something flashy to show that they're serious."

"Whereas all you've done is show up and spout words." Kaie criticised. "Go too long without a victory, and people will start to think you're all mouth and no trousers."

"We're Forsworn! Nobody wears trousers!" Hjar threw her arms up in the air and sighed. "I am doing something. Just might have to accelerate the plans a little. Those scouts back from Markarth yet?"

"Not yet." Margret replied, sounding a little disgruntled. She had wanted to be the one doing the scouting, but Hjar had insisted she stay close. "Should be here soon. But I'm not sure if we should be leaving the camp unattended until we've built up a more secure following."

"It's not going to get more secure from us just sitting here." Hjar pointed out. "Besides, I'm sure Kaie would never try and do anything to undermine us while we were away."

"What, me? No." Kaie said, convincingly. "That would. Not. Be a thing I would do."

"Love of the Old Gods, woman, look at my resume!" Hjar protested. "I'm the granddaughter of the last king and I have two Daedra backing me, does that not mean anything?"

"It's a foot in the door." Kaie shrugged. "But Madanach's main influence was within the city, and he built that up over a long period. Even with a lot of his old followers coming back to the wilds (like me), you still, well. Killed him and then called him an idiot."

"Not a great way to cash in on his clout." Margret agreed.

Kaie gave her a look. "'Cash in on his clout'? What in Oblivion does that mean?"

"Oh, sorry. Imperial phrase."

"Oh yeah, and also you're marrying an Imperial." Kaie turned back to Hjar. "Not a great look. Marriages can be useful, and you've completely wasted yours."

While Margret spluttered and protested that they were absolutely not married, Hjar sat herself down on a rock, and stared out across the hills.

"You really hate me for what I did to Madanach, don't you?" She said, not looking back.

Kaie snorted. "Are you serious? I followed my king for a decade, and then you splattered his brain across the floor with a mace. Of course I'm mad."

"Decade, huh?" Hjar repeated, squinting into the distance. "And what did that service get you? A life in Cidnah mine?"

"It gave me my pride." Kaie answered. "It gave me hope. It gave me something to fight for. It gave me a—"

"Horse?"

"A horse, and it gave me—" Kaie paused, while Margret snickered. "No, not a horse, what do you mean a horse?"

"I mean…" Hjar stood up, putting a hand over her eyes to shield against the afternoon sun. "Is that a horse? Because that's moving awfully quick for a horse."

A black dot had appeared around a distant hill, down by the banks of the river, and was rapidly moving along towards them. The shape resolved itself into some kind of mount and rider (Hjar wasn't sure what else it could be), but it was blurring along the riverside far too fast for any normal horse.

"Witchcraft." Kaie said, moving up to stand next to Hjar and follow her gaze. "Leave it alone and it might leave us alone."

"Stay out of other people's business?" Hjar furrowed her eyebrows. "You clearly don't know who you're dealing with here."

She put two fingers to her mouth, and let out a loud, high pitched whistle.

At this point the thing was close enough to be confirmed as a horse with two riders, almost directly beneath their camp. It slowed considerably at the whistle, then after a few moments, turned and began thundering its way up the hillside towards them.

Kaie swore, backing up and drawing her weapons, but Hjar just waited and tried to work out the features of the riders.

Smiled, when she recognised them both.

"You know, I did not expect to see you both so soon!" She called, as the beast jumped up to the rock outcropping she was sitting on. The horse didn't even look to be exhausted from the movement. As a matter of fact, it didn't look to be breathing at all.

"Hi!" Alexander, who had the reigns, waved back. "Fancy finding you! That's lucky."

"Possibly Khajiit's doing." L'laarzen added from the back of the horse. "Though it would be a lot more fortunate if we had followed her directions…"

"My sense of direction is fine!" Xander protested. "Hjar, we're just east of Markarth, right?"

"Almost half a country north, actually." Margret chimed in.

"Oh. Bummer."

"L'laarzen told you we shouldn't have gone right at that tributary, she just got back from this hold—"

"Yeah alright, alright!"

Kaie leaned in behind Hjar and hissed "You know these people?"

"I do." Hjar gestured, as the pair clambered down from the horse. "That's Xander and L'laarzen. We killed a dragon together not that long ago. Wait, should I have added dragon-slaying to my list of accomplishments?"

Kaie stared.

"Priorities, everyone." Margret called. "Guys, great to see you, how can we help?"

"Good question." Xander looked between them all. "Okay, this is rapidly escalating from me just needing to talk to someone—Uh, I don't suppose you have a way to get into Markarth?"

Sheogorath sat alone in the clearing.

Put a slice of cheese on a cracker.

Ate it.

Then groaned, and said "Ach, son of a horker, I forgot to give them the bloody Wabbajack."

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"Hello? Anyone there?" Dulurza called into the emptiness. "Oh, you've gotta be kidding me—How did I get lost again? Elisif was right there!"

She was answered by a voice she (unfortunately) recognised. "It's god-magic, sweetie! It doesn't have to make sense, how many times do I have to say it?"

"Oh, great. You..." Dulurza muttered, and moved towards the words. The fog cleared, and she found herself in another clearing. Potema was sat on a rock nearby, and waved half-heartedly at Dulurza. The witch looked rather disgruntled, and the reason for that was clear.

Pelagius was stood in the middle of the clearing. And he seemed…mad.

"WHAT KIND OF TREE DO YOU THINK YOU ARE?" Pelagius yelled, at a. Tree. "ELM? IN MY MIND? WHAT KIND OF RULER DO YOU TAKE ME FOR?"

The tree, being a tree, did not respond.

"He's been like this for at least twenty minutes now." Potema relayed, tiredly. "Sheo's disembodied voice said that this represents his anger issues."

"Did you try talking to him?" Dulurza asked, watching Pelagius' attention turn to a nearby bush.

"Oh, I tried." Potema replied.

"How did that go?"

"I told him he was being mad about something unreasonable." The wolf queen recounted. "He denied that and started arguing with me. Things escalated, he refused to listen to reason, I told him as such, he said I was insulting him, started insulting me so then I really started insulting him, he started swearing, I hit him, he swore at me harder…" She glared over at Pelagius. "I couldn't exactly threaten him with no supper or killing his favourite horse, so I gave up."

Dulurza took a second to digest that. "Do your arguments normally go like that?"

"Do with him." Potema huffed. "Happened all the time while we were alive. I love him, but the little scrowt just refuses to respect authority."

"And how old was he when this happened?"

"Eight, and then I died."

"Malacath's left testicle…" Dulurza sighed, then yanked off the outer layer of her courtly dress-thing and threw it at Potema. "Hold this."

"Hey!"

Dulurza rolled out her wrists and approached the man, calling out "Oi! Midget!" as she went.

Pelagius turned to look at her and scowled, baring his teeth. "AND WHAT IN OBLIVION DO YOU WANT? UGLY GREEN FILTH! WHOEVER LET AN ORC INTO MY HOME—"

"Gods, you're obnoxious." Dulurza approached Pelagius, and shoved him in the chest.

He stumbled backwards several steps before recovering, looking up at her in shock. "YOU—What? EXCUSE ME?"

"That was an invitation." Dulurza raised her arms up in front of her and beckoned. "Come on. Hit me."

Pelagius looked thrown completely for a loop. "I…I'm not allowed to hit people. The last time I scratched mother I got the belt."

"What a bitch." Dulurza rolled her eyes. "If she can't control her own kid, that's her fault. This isn't an attack, moron, this is a spar. You're mad. You want a chance to let that out? Hit me."

Pelagius blinked, then narrowed his eyes.

His first punch was sloppy, as were the next three that came afterwards. Wild swings full of rage that she caught in her open hands or batted to the side.

"Focus it." She told him. "Keep your arms up in front of you, that's it. Now out, one at a time. Don't drop your guard when you punch. There you go, now come on, actually try!"

It wasn't much of a spar, at least not for Dulurza. She was an Orsimer warrior in her physical prime, this was a Breton nobleman of indeterminate age with no combat training.

But Pelagius went at her for minutes on end, eventually falling into the rhythm Dulurza set up of calling out jabs, hooks, kicks, and ducks. After a while, she had worked up a sweat, and he was completely exhausted, sagging back to sit on a nearby rock. She squatted down nearby, asking "Feel any better?"

"A bit." Pelagius panted, wiping fingers through sweat-soaked hair. "Thanks."

"No problem." Dulurza smiled. "When I was going through puberty, I was an absolute ass. Got mad at the tiniest things. The trick was finding ways to work it out productively. Training and sparring are good for that. Help clear your head."

"I think it will be clearer once the dizziness stops." Admitted Pelagius, making her laugh. "Ugh. Yes, I wish I'd made use of this while I was alive."

Potema, who had been sat watching intently thus far, stood up surreptitiously and walked over. Not quite surreptitiously enough for Pelagius, who saw her coming and sighed.

"I know, it was petty." He said, raising a hand to forestall her. "I was always mad over something petty, wasn't it? It just felt like…like it would be a defeat to let the small things go. Why did it always have to be me making the concessions? Giving in? Just because I was a child?"

"Learning what battles to lose is an important part of being a ruler." Potema replied. Pelagius gave her a sharp look, but she sighed, looking away. "Which was a lesson I should have taught by example. I never wanted to let the small things go, either. 'Why should I?', I thought. 'I'm the queen'." She looked back at him, and smiled. "Forgive me for my harshness with you. In truth, much of what motivated me was jealousy. I wished for the throne to go to me and my direct children, yet there you were. A child, but such a damnably bright one."

"I suppose everyone has their reasons." Pelagius chuckled. "You're forgiven for being snappish, auntie. If not for, well, waging a civil war against my family."

Dulurza looked between them, then stood. "We good here? I need to find my jarl."

"Yes, 'we good'." Potema rolled her eyes and beckoned. "Come on. Let's get lost in the mist again."

Dulurza waved goodbye to Pelagius, and followed the wolf queen to the nearest bank of fog.

"…I truly mean you no harm, you know." Potema said, after walking for a few steps.

"Save it." Dulurza grunted.

"I mean it. I bring down unholy wrath to my enemies, but I do great things for my friends." The witch flashed a smile. "You are far too valuable an asset to lose. I wasn't kidding about those twice-weekly make-out sessions—"

"You plan to ruin my Jarl's life." Dulurza cut across her, as the fog began to obscure both of their features. "So long as that's the case, I will hate you. It's that simple."

"Well I'll have to take steps not to ruin it, won't I?" Potema huffed. "Like I said, a queen needs to be able to make concessions…"

That was the last Dulurza heard before losing the Septim completely.

̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ Ϫ 8˂ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶̶ ̶{o

Markarth was a surprisingly very well defended city. Backed into the cliffs and walled, it was almost impossible to attack from any direction but the main one, and sieging those walls was almost impossible. Well, without a great Nord hero to Shout the gates down. The Forsworn had probably been right with their plans to take over from the inside.

Now, the gates themselves had crumbled. Sneaking over the walls without being spotted was possible, but unlikely. The Forsworn scouts had been unable to report any ways to successfully sneak in. So Hjar, Margret, Xander and L'laarzen would all have to find some other way.

That would be almost impossible. Without a magic horse.

"How in Oblivion did that just do that." Hjar said, looking back at Shadowmere. Shadowmere, stood on the edge of an almost sheer cliff she had just scaled up and down three times in a row, tossed her head dismissively.

Xander got down from Shadowmere's back, stroking her mane and replying "Either you suspend your disbelief, or you can try and climb in through the river tunnels."

Hjar shuddered, and didn't reply.

L'laarzen moved ahead of both of them, kneeling on the edge of the cliff and looking down into the city. She had equipped her Nightingale gear for the operation, but had a civilian getup in the satchel at her waist. Beneath her, the city of Markarth was unusually dark. On previous visits, the night had still been alive with its own type of activity; guards patrolling, song and laughter echoing out of the inn. But now, not a single firelight could be seen, and nothing besides the roaring of the city's waterfalls could be heard.

"You were right to request Khajiit's help for this, Alexander." L'laarzen warned. "It will be difficult to search in these conditions; you had best hope that your contact is where she used to be. Hjar, do you know where you're going?"

"Aye." Hjar crouched down next to her, pointing. "Group one is down there in the mines, group two is up nearer Understone, there. Who do I visit first, you reckon? Throngvor (I killed his brother) or Faleen and Calcelmo (I killed their jarl)?"

"Oooh, Khajiit knows the latter two!" L'laarzen, to her credit, moved past the murder confessions with remarkable ease. "She helped them establish their relationship!"

"Those two are dating?" Margret remarked. "Ew. He's so old."

Hjar gave L'laarzen a sidelong glance. "Mind if I blatantly abuse that positive sentiment? I think they'll try to kill me."

"Oh, of course."

Xander looked down with them, but his focus was more directly down. "Other important question, everyone. How exactly do we plan to get down there? I have a 'feather fall' enchantment on my cloak, but I didn't make these for the rest of you. We could use Shadowmere, maybe, but that means we'll have to sync our infil-and-exfil-tration."

"No wonder they're going insane down there. They're all stuck like fish in a net." Hjar exhaled, heavily. "Okay. How about Xander and L'laarzen go do their thing while me and Margret visit the Silver-Bloods, then we group together afterwards outside the entrance to the Hall of the Dead. From there, we can go with L'laarzen to Nzchund-Zel. Xander, its probably better if you get up here again after that. You're kind of our only way out."

"You're the strategist." He answered, nodding.

"Great. Give us an hour after going in to come back out. If you don't see us…"

"Start improvising?" L'laarzen offered.

"If you really have to." Hjar grimaced. "Just…try not to cause too much chaos."

"Oh come on, what could I do?" Xander snorted. "Mess the city up more than you already have?"

"Yes." Answered everyone else at once.

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Elisif tripped. It was the ridiculous dress she'd found herself in; the trail caught on her leg as she turned and sent her sprawling on her back.

She groaned, and pulled herself back up to her feet. It was this accursed fog, she could barely even see her feet, never mind point them in any reasonable direction.

"Hello?" She called, trying not to panic. "Anyone there?"

Her back hit something that definitely wasn't a tree.

She screamed, in spite of herself, and jerked forwards, even as what she'd hit called out "Elisif!" and tried to snatch her arm.

What that meant didn't really register until she'd ran a few panicked paces further, and the fog around her began to clear.

"Elisif, wait!" The voice continued, and it finally clicked.

"Dulurza?" She called back. "Oh, thank the Divines…Come to me, its clearer here."

Dulurza's figure emerged out of the mist, still clad in Elisif's dress (which still fit the tall woman terribly). She ran up as if to embrace Elisif, then faltered a few feet away, clenching her fists and looking anywhere else.

It was far from the first display of such frustration Elisif had seen from her. Like with the previous, she tried to hide her own response to it, instead turning around to see where they had ended up.

Ahead of them, grass gave way to grey flagstones. It looked very much like there had once been a great stone building there, only a diagonal slice had been cut through it from top to bottom, and one side taken away entirely. What was left reminded Elisif strangely of Castle Dour, with a low, arched roof and torches burning in brasiers.

It was also full of people, and yet…not people. Many humanoid shapes were mingling among each other, but their features were blurred, indistinct. Their clothing was a hodgepodge of simple colours and outdated styles, and more often than not, they had no faces at all. The only exception was one man stood in the middle of the crowd.

Pelagius looked a few seconds away from a total breakdown. Panicked eyes darted from one shade to the next, his teeth biting at his fingernails as beads of sweat dripped from his hairline. That only got worse as Elisif and Dulurza approached.

"Stay back!" He demanded, stumbling away from them. "Don't come any closer!"

"Pelagius." Elisif slowly said, raising her arms placatingly. "My name is Elisif, and this is Dulurza. We—"

"Lies!" He exclaimed, flinching away from them. "How can I trust you? How can I trust any of you!"

"Are…you feeling okay?" Dulurza asked, somewhat unnecessarily.

"Of course not!" Pelagius snapped. "Are you blind? There are impostors among us! They seek to kill me, I'm sure of it!"

"Then…Hire guards." Said the Thane, nonplussed.

"But how can I trust the guards?" Pelagius groaned, burying his head in his hands. "They're all strangers! Strangers and two faced liars!"

Dulurza whistled, then glanced at Elisif. "Want to leave this one? He's clearly crazy."

Elisif shook her head. "No, no, he's actually got a fairly healthy attitude for a politician."

She walked closer to the shivering Emperor, smiling. "Pelagius, shall I let you in on a secret?"

He hesitated, and then nodded.

"This woman I'm with, Dulurza?" She nodded back at her Thane. "When we first met, she wanted to kill me."

Dulurza cringed, and looked away.

Pelagius gasped. "R—Really?"

"Really." Elisif nodded.

"Then call the guards! Arrest her, kill her!"

"I could." Elisif agreed. "Thing is, I don't think she wants to kill me anymore. And I really like her."

"But—" Pelagius stared at her like she was some monster from Atmora. "But how do you know?"

"I don't." Elisif admitted, shrugging and trying not to look behind herself at Dulurza. "I'm still not sure. I can't ever be sure. I can question her, and test her, and assign extra guards and try and rationalise her actions, but…At the end of the day, I have to decide whether or not I trust her. And I really, really want to trust her."

"With your life?" Pelagius clarified, aghast.

"You and I are rulers." Elisif said, simply. She reached out, and tentatively laid a hand on his shoulder. He flinched, but didn't push her away. "Going outside risks our lives. Eating risks our lives. Existing risks our lives. And there are things we can do to minimise that risk, some of them very sensible, but every step we take towards paranoia makes it harder and harder to do our jobs." She looked to the floor, sadly. "We have a responsibility to the people we serve. I haven't seen my people in weeks. How long has it been since you've seen yours?"

"I…" He gulped. "I was crowned emperor of Tamriel in the, ah. 145th year of the third era. And I died in the 153rd. I never saw the people I ruled. I never left my tower. Except when they took me to the asylum..."

"Fear is natural." Dulurza finally spoke up. "Fear that cripples you is inexcusable."

"And facing those fears is what makes you brave." Elisif said. "Facing your fears for the sake of your people…that's what makes you an emperor."

"…Hm." Pelagius nodded, after a while. He looked up at her, and smiled. "And after all, what do I have to lose? I'm already dead."

Elisif pat him on the shoulder and stood, glancing at Dulurza and wordlessly agreeing that it was time to go.

They left Pelagius (now, addressing one of the many shades around him), and walked back towards the fog bank.

"Did you mean it?" Dulurza asked, quietly.

"Did I mean what?" Elisif replied, not looking across at her.

"When you said you…you really liked me."

Elisif bit her lip. The fog enveloped them again. It was only when she couldn't see her own torso that she felt brave enough to speak.

"Of course I did."

Why do I do this to myself-

Okay I'll be honest, I'm having far too much fun writing the Mind of Madness scenes. I deliberately made the whole process different to in-game, because having characters point a stick at their problems is boring to read. Which can be funny as a throwaway side-scene, not when I'm trying to make some character development happen. And no, Sheo can't break the fourth wall, he's just...weird.

And yes, Shadowmere's powers include doing what horses tend to do in the game. I couldn't help but homage it in some way. Meanwhile Hjar is getting slapped in the face with just how hard it is to try and run any kind of nation. And it's only going to get more obvious going forwards...

Next Time: Someone tries to be honest with their feelings, and someone pins someone else against a wall.