Allies

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"So, as you can no doubt guess, we have a problem." Xander summarised.

He was sat with his back to a wall in the hall of Attainment in the fanciest chair the College had. The cat was sat in his lap, and he was stroking it without much thought while looking out at his trio of assassins.

He looked a lot like the kind of magical supervillain he'd read about in books, and he was having far too much fun with that fact.

"The Morag Tong are trying to steal our kill." Babette hissed. She was sat cross-legged on the floor, and glaring at it so angrily he was worried it might set on fire. "We go through all this pain, and now they want to rob us of the one good thing that's happened to the Brotherhood this century?"

"You can't reasonably blame them." Said Nazir, shrugging. "As far as they're concerned, the Dark Brotherhood is finished. Someone had to step in."

Xander raised an eyebrow.

"Of course, I absolutely do blame them." Nazir continued. "We need to bring the bastards down. Do they know we're after them?"

"Not yet. But depending on what my agent finds in Dragon Bridge they may do soon." Xander replied.

He stood, and the cat jumped out of his lap to pad quietly out of the room. "We aren't going to allow this, obviously. While we await my agent's return, we need to prepare our counter-strike. Nazir?" He nodded to the only other (debatably) sane person in the room. "I want you in charge of setting up the next stage of the assassination."

"You mean…the final stage of the assassination?" Nazir clarified.

Xander paused, and thought through the plan. Kill whatsername (check), implicate Maro's son (either in-progress or being halted by L'laarzen) so all we need to do is find the 'gourmet' and—Oh bugger.

"I suppose so." He said, trying not to swallow. "I need you to facilitate our way inside Castle Dour the next time the Emperor goes in for tea." Divines, this is all happening a lot faster than I thought it would. "Cicero, Babette, we have our own objective."

"We do?" The little vampire tilted her head.

Xander looked to Cicero, who launched into an explanation. "We are lacking a permanent home and resources, yes? Cicero knows a solution. The Falkreath sanctuary may be destroyed, but there is another."

"Huh?" Was the confused noise made by Nazir. After a few seconds of thought, however, Babette's eyes lit up.

"Dawnstar?" She tried. "But the Dawnstar sanctuary has been empty for over a century. It was abandoned when our presence in Skyrim started to dwindle, and nobody knows the password anymore."

"Maybe, maybe…" Cicero grinned. "But now, we have the Listener."

"I can get us in." Xander said. He wasn't sure, but come on, he was the voice of the organisation's god. "When we're done making sure its habitable, we make our way back here and move out. Well, you move out. I'm still running the school."

Of course, that wasn't the real plan. Cicero had judged that while Nazir was the best duellist, Babette was overall the most threatening. The Dawnstar sanctuary was not only a convenient place to kill her alone and with no witnesses; Cicero had said that it was guarded by the shades of past assassins. Those were deferential to the Sanctuary Leader, the Night Mother's Keeper…and the Listener. With Babette dead, L'laarzen back, and Cicero on their side, Nazir should be easy to kill as well.

Look at me now, Mum, Dad. I bet none of my other siblings have dismantled an assassin organisation, huh?

"I'll get to work on it." Nazir promised. "Most of our contacts are M.I.A after our 'destruction', but we still have some friends in the Thieves' Guild. I'll send a bird, see what they know."

"More cold." Babette rolled her eyes. "Wonderful. Can we make sure to equip the new sanctuary with a big fire?"

"I thought vampires hated fire?" Xander asked, genuinely curious.

"We hate fire when its flung at us." She corrected, snorting. "Much like, say, everyone else?"

"Point." Xander looked between them to make sure there was agreement. "Pack what little you have, people. I think we're starting to stress out my students, so let's get out of here as quick as reasonably possible. We have an assassination to foil."

"And then complete ourselves." Nazir corrected.

"Oh, yeah. Obviously."

Cicero giggled.

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"Hjar!"

Hjar let out a relieved breath, and spread her arms just in time for her girlfriend to rush forwards and hug her tightly.

"Hey gorgeous." She whispered, chuckling. "Miss me?"

"Next time you go somewhere dangerous, you take me rather than the hunk, you understand?" Margret whispered back. "After what happened on my end, I was worried."

Hjar's eyes narrowed. "Anything dangerous?"

"Oh, yes. But I dealt with it."

They separated, and Hjar moved away from the opening to allow Thongvor to follow her through into the room.

Now, the reason for their whispering had been the rather large collection of people stood in this particular cave. Hjar had hoped they'd find Margret and Verulus in the first antechamber off the secret entrance, but instead they'd had to wander around before finding them in one of the main social rooms.

Verulus had also approached to give Thongvor one of those weird manly arm-clasp-half-hug things, but the rest of the people were staring. With some very…mixed reactions.

Hjar knew what they saw. Thongvor's armour plates had been left mostly intact after his unexpected transformation, so they'd been able to put his look back together after he'd returned the ring. But she had gone with the standard 'skin an animal, make some clothes' method, and so looked very much like a Forsworn.

The people looked very on-edge to see her, despite her obviously not intending a fight. Fortunately, Thongvor stepped in.

"This is Hjarnagredda." He spoke, addressing the crowd. "Verulus tells me you were recently attacked by a cannibal and murderer. Hjar was assisting me hunting down the base of their cult, and destroying it. We were successful, and you no longer need to fear the violation of the bodies of your forefathers!"

That drew scattered applause and cheers, but the predominant emotion seemed to be relief rather than any real joy.

Thongvor briefly met Hjar's gaze, before turning back to the crowd. "Your eyes do not deceive you. Hjarnagredda is a member of the Forsworn. However—" A swell of anger blossomed from the crowd, and he raised his voice to speak over it.

"HOWEVER! She has saved my life today, and is here under the flag of truce. You Will Do Her No Harm, or else answer to me. Am I understood?"

There was a lot of grousing at that; some quiet, some definitely not so. But Thongvor didn't move, staring each of the unruly elements down until they were silent. Only once it was clear they all had the message did he turn to leave.

Huh. Not bad. Wait, am I supposed to speak? Can I be bothered?

After a few seconds thought, she went with a simple leaving remark.

"I'll save the fancy speeches for later." She called out to the crowd. "The short of it is: I'm here to help stop the Forsworn from killing you, to help you kill some Thalmor, and to help get you out of this miserable cave."

Plenty of mutterings arose at that.

Hjar was the first person to follow Thongvor into his personal room. The Silver-Blood was stood in the corner, staring into his own reflection in a silver mirror atop one cupboard.

"Look at me." He muttered. "Flaunting the deaths of the evil and heretical cannibals. Am I a hypocrite now as well as a monster?"

"Both of those terms are relative." Hjar answered. "You desecrated the body, but it was the body of a heretic. Under the duress of two Daedric princes, no less, and barely in control of your own mind."

"That's no excuse." Thongvor huffed. "If I resort to such things just because my enemy is evil, it makes me no better than them. You just end up with twice as much evil in the world."

"A shame that Igmund and Madanach didn't feel the same about their war." Hjar remarked, meriting a snort.

"What's up?" Margret said, walking in behind Hjar. "Did I just overhear what I thought I did?"

"He took our favourite piece of jewellery for a spin." Hjar replied, quietly, as Verulus also walked in.

Margret's eyes widened. "Ah. Wait, that's not just for me?"

"It can be if you'd like." Hjar smirked. "Why, you getting ideas?"

"One or two."

"Ladies, if you would." Verulus clapped his hands, drawing everyone's attention. "I take it from the banter (and the fact that we're all intact) that the quest went well on your end?"

"Well as can be expected." Thongvor grunted. "I…will need to talk to you about it in private, Verulus. It was a disturbing experience."

"Of course, friend. I'll do whatever I can to help. I can only imagine the dangers of stepping so close to Daedric influence."

Hjar coughed, and tried to subtly shift her mace away from view. "Anyway, now that that's out of the way. What are we doing next?"

There were a few moments of silence at that. Verulus looked at Margret looked at Thongvor looked at Hjar.

"…Next, we plan how to get your forces into the city." Thongvor said. "And how we bring down the Thalmor."

Hjar's eyes widened. She glanced across at Margret, got a similar look of surprise back, then clarified: "So you're in? You want to work together?"

"It's been an eye-opening few weeks." Thongvor said, looking to his feet. "I thought I knew what I wanted. I wanted the Forsworn dead, the Empire and their Thalmor overlords dead, and Ulfric Stormcloak as the High King of Skyrim." He chuckled. "And then my brother died. And my city fell into chaos. And I spent days on end leading a resistance movement while hiding in the very mine my family used to run."

He looked up. "What I want is for my people to have freedom. Freedom to worship the gods they believe in. Freedom to say what they think, love who they wish, fight for what they believe in. Freedom from the oppression of outside forces who wish to destroy them, and freedom from the bandits, thieves, and murderers who try to ruin or end their lives."

He sighed. "I'm not sure whether or not you're insane, Hjarnagredda. But I'm sure you aren't just doing this to cause more chaos. You want to heal the Reach. If what's needed to do that is to give those savages everything they wanted from the start…then I'll do it. Someone has to make the first concession."

"We're not giving them everything." Hjar reminded him. "They want to kill all of you and rule the Reach. Guess everyone's going to have to accept a compromise."

"Hm." He nodded. "And if any of yours do decide that they're not satisfied with the peace, I will end them."

"We both will." Hjar agreed. "This won't be easy. Some people will act out, start fights. We'll have to punish them, and that will cause dissent we'll have to deal with. Some full Forsworn camps might keep trying to resist unification, same with some of the nobles and rich families in the city. There'll be dozens of those annoying moral dilemmas where both sides debatably have a point and siding with either will make the other feel mistreated. We'll have to keep a tight grip on the reins our entire lives, most likely."

"But the alternative is what we have now." Thongvor finished. "War. I'll take civil discourse over this, any day. At the very least, it will be better than Madanach's goons killing people in the streets."

They looked at each other.

Hjar held her hand out.

Thongvor held out his.

They shook.

"Wooooooo…" Cheered Margret, belatedly, waving her arms about in the air.

"Really?" Hjar raised an eyebrow at her.

"Go teeeeam…"

Hjar tuned her out. "I'll return to my camp and tell the Forsworn the plan."

"Will they obey?" Thongvor checked.

"I've done too many bloody sidequests for them not to."

"Then I'll alert my people that it's about to go ahead. Can you be there?"

"Sure, if we make it fast." Hjar glanced briefly at Verulus…and noticed he was looking at her expectantly.

What does—Oh. Right.

"And…the other thing?" The priest pressed.

Hjar grit her teeth, and once more looked across at Thongvor.

Weird, I should have stormed out of the room by now. Going on quests with people really does help you get along with them.

"Thongvor." She asked. "Would a marriage actually make the people more accepting of a peace between us?"

He grimaced. "It sets a precedent. Firstly, that the leaders of the two factions are really committed to a union rather than simply doing it out of convenience. It means more than just words on paper. There'd still be trouble, obviously, your people and mine have killed each other. If there were other candidates for leadership, it would further push the radicals towards them rather than us. But there are aren't any. The Thalmor have done a real job of polarising things. It…it would help."

Meeting her eye, he continued. "To be clear, I feel nothing for you. And you have your…"

"Girlfriend?" Margret filled in.

"Aye. Not to mention, I have my eye on someone else." He huffed. "But I'd be willing to stomach a partnership. It's what we'd be doing anyway, and, well. At the end of the day, it's just a ceremony."

And one really awkward night, and then nine months of trouble, because hey, that's what you'd be signing up for…

Hjar turned to Margret, who was watching the conversation with visible trepidation.

"It's up to you." She told her, trying to smile. "I'm not doing anything that you aren't okay with, and this isn't something you should reasonably have to accept."

Margret gulped. "Can we…talk about it later?"

"Of course."

"Yeah, absolutely."

"Quite."

All three others echoed their agreement, before trying as one to overcome the incredibly awkward topic and get back to the serious matters of planning a city-wide takeover.

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"What is the point of healing magic if you can't wake her up?" Dulurza growled.

"Because if she woke up her heartbeat would rise, her wound would reopen, and she'd have to put up with the pain." Replied the grumpy old physician. "For now, it's best to leave her under."

Laid out on the bed was Octavia Meteuse, her breathing regular but ragged. Her chest and right arm were both heavily bandaged. The debris that had trapped her had pinned her arm to her chest and crushed her ribcage inwards, dealing considerable damage to her heart and lungs. Combine that with the explosion itself, the smoke, and the heavy magicka usage? If Dulurza had been much later in freeing her and getting her help, she probably wouldn't have made it.

Two other Penitus Oculatus agents were nursing similar wounds. Four more, including Commander Maro himself, were much less fortunate.

"And you can't just heal the wound?" Dulurza asked, exasperated.

The physician huffed. "Not that I expect you to understand the intricacies, but if I just poured on a generic healing spell I'd end up fusing her ribs to her lungs. This will take weeks of work, and I'd rather have a whole team with me to do it. I'm a restoration mage, not a miracle worker."

"Got it. We need to get her to Cassia." Dulurza mentally dismissed the healer, turning to the other person in the room.

Gaius Maro was stood in the corner, his back to a wall, staring listlessly into space.

"Gaius." She prompted. "You hearing me?"

"Hm? Uh, right." Gaius blinked and shook his head, focusing on her. "Yes, we need to…extract everyone back to Solitude, regroup with the rest of the forces. A bird's already been sent ahead. Dad's probably…"

He paused, and sucked in a breath. "Right. No, because Dad's dead. So this is up to me."

Oh, great.

"Get her ready to travel." Dulurza told the physician, before taking Gaius by the shoulder and leading him outside. "Hey. You alright?"

"What kind of question is that?" Gaius scoffed, voice breaking slightly.

"Obviously you feel awful. You've lost a loved one, and I'm sorry." She moved so he was looking at her. "I'm asking if you can keep it together until you've done everything you need to do. Who's in charge now?"

"…Commander Maro named Octavia as his successor in case he was killed or put out of commission." Gaius replied.

Dulurza understood the sudden formality. After all, it was a lot easier for her to think of 'chief Larak' than 'Father'. "But with Octavia unconscious?"

"Then it goes to Lieutenant Salvarus, the Emperor's personal guard, then to the other captains of the force." Gaius recited, dutifully. "As none of those are here…I suppose I'm in charge of the rest of our men until we regroup."

"Then get to it." Dulurza slapped him on the back to jolt some action into him. "Organise your men, get us back to the capital. I'll be coming with."

He nodded, took another breath to fortify himself, then took off at a jog, flagging down another Imperial soldier nearby.

Dulurza watched him go with a heavy heart, before turning and walking away.

She made her way to the edge of Dragon's Bridge, leaning against the back wall of one of the unoccupied houses.

After less than a minute, L'laarzen emerged round the corner of the building to meet her.

"Explain." Dulurza said, flatly.

So L'laarzen did explain. Who the Morag Tong were, how she knew them, what they were planning, as well as what had led to her and Xander finding out about it in the first place.

Dulurza listened to most of it in baffled silence. It had been hard enough matching the 'mostly harmless sneak-thief' he'd first met with 'highly skilled dragon-slayer'. Now, on top of that…

"So, you work for the Dark Brotherhood?" She clarified, at the end.

"No, Khajiit is helping to destroy the Dark Brotherhood." L'laarzen corrected. "Alexander is technically their leader, but he wishes for their end as much as she."

"L'laarzen. Me and Hjar were the ones that burned their stronghold!" Dulurza hissed.

L'laarzen blinked. "Oh. Well, finishing that job might help Khajiit to apologise later for setting them on Hjar in the first place…"

"You did what?"

"Long story."

"Great." Dulurza sighed. "Well we're all in the dung now. The Emperor? You're sure?"

"Certain."

"Malacath's name…so what do we do?"

"L'laarzen will return to Winterhold, finish the Brotherhood off for good." The Khajiit replied. "After that, me and Alexander will return to help slay these assassins. I would advise that you tell your superiors what you have learned."

L'laarzen put her hands together, rubbing her fingers between each other. "The plan they had previously been following was for them to kill and implicate Gaius; yet instead they went straight for his father. They're off-script, and so I can no longer say if they plan to poison the Emperor the way they are expected to. Nevertheless, you should warn Octavia."

"I would, but she's unconscious." Dulurza ran a hand through her hair. "Guess you'll have to let Xander know about that, too. Bloody assassins…we're heading back to Solitude, so I'll tell them what you've said. How do I say I found this out?"

"Tell the truth." L'laarzen shrugged.

"Empire might not look at you too kindly, if so." Dulurza pointed out. "We first met in jail; I don't want to send you back there."

"L'laarzen functionally runs the Thieves' Guild." L'laarzen replied, simply. "She is sure she will manage."

"...You know, we're going to have to have a long talk when this is over." Dulurza sighed. "Alright. You stay safe out there."

"You as well. And please, please, be careful." L'laarzen warned. "I taught Vendil Ulen everything he knows. He is just as skilled as me."

"Could you kill me?" Dulurza asked, trying not to sound sceptical.

"Perhaps not." Was L'laarzen's cold reply. "If you were careful."

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"Oh, by the way. Who is it?" Hjar asked.

Thongvor turned and gave her an inquisitive look. Verulus and Margret had left, leaving them (briefly) alone in the cave. "Pardon?"

"You said you had your eyes on someone." Hjar prodded, trying not to smirk. "Who?"

He scowled. "None of your business."

"It is if we're going to marry and cover for each other's trysts." She raised an eyebrow. "Who is it?"

"Not telling."

"Is it someone I know?"

He grit his teeth. "Yes."

"Is it one of your soldiers?"

"No."

"Oh, so it's Verulus." Hjar had said it as a joke. But when Thongvor's face went as red as a tomato and he silently flinched away, her eyes lit up.

"No. It's Verulus?"

"Shut. Up."

"That's adorable!"

He stormed towards her and put a finger in her face. "Speak a word of it to anyone—"

"Relax, relax!" She raised her arms placatingly, grinning. "Far be it for me to judge. Oh, I just remembered, you snagged an evening heart-to-heart with him! And all it took was subjecting yourself to lycanthropy and—"

Hjar saw the look on Thongvor's face, and stopped.

"I won't say anything." She reassured instead. "Honestly, it's always good to see people trying to form bonds, rather than tear them down."

"Aye. Well." He sighed, backing off and looking at his room. "I'm low on confidantes, these days."

"Right." And wasn't that a sobering thought. Hjar made her way to the exit tunnel, pausing in the doorway.

"I'm sorry about your family." She called, over her shoulder.

Thongvor took a few seconds before responding.

"Thank you." He said. "I'm sorry about yours."

Hjar nodded, and left.

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"…At which point the Rieklings all banded together, declared their own independent communist nation, and started setting fire to the Synod." Xander finished. "The moral of this story is, if you don't like your professors basically kidnapping primitive species for use in demonstrations, then whatever you do, don't respond by teaching the captives to read and giving them—"

"Archmage!"

He turned away from the enraptured students listening to his story, to see Faralda rushing over to him, out of breath. "Faralda?"

"It's Korir! He's at the gate, and he looks mad!"

All the students listening to the lecture went 'Ooooh!'

Xander sighed.

It didn't take long to reach the bridge, and Xander's mood only plummeted further as they did so. The gate was tightly closed, and it was easy to see why; behind it stood not only Jarl Korir, but what looked like almost half the guards in Winterhold.

Oh, Shalidor's left testicle, isn't this going to be a fun one…

"Archmage!" Mirabelle, arguing from his side of the gate, turned and said his title with relief. "Thank the Divines. These brutes are demanding that we let a small army—"

Xander flicked his wrist and muttered a word. The gate clicked, and then swung inwards, making Mirabelle take a step to the side to avoid it and causing many of the guards outside to recoil in surprise.

(While he hadn't yet learned to operate the College's wards like Mirabelle could, Xander had immediately gravitated to some of the small features installed by previous Archmages. Specifically, the ones that allowed him to show off. This mainly came down to switching the lights on and off, and opening and closing doors, with nothing but a small movement and the preset codewords.)

"Mirabelle, these are our allies, not our enemies." He reminded her, going into full 'powerful wizard' mode. "Let us not bandy words from behind cold iron bars. Korir, it's good to see you. I take it from the force behind you that this isn't an idle visit?"

Jarl Korir did look angry, but no angrier than he'd looked last time they'd met (he looked very angry, all the time). "Archmage." He rumbled. "I'm here about some incredibly worrying accusations that have been levied against your college."

Oh, that's not good.

"Accusations?" Xander tilted his head. "Of what kind?"

"Of harbouring assassins within its grounds." Korir declared.

Xander froze.

…Oh, son of a—

Korir watched the young man's eyes widen in shock at the news. It looked like a genuine enough reaction, but that was the trouble with these mage types. They all had silver tongues and shifting faces.

"Assassins?" Archmage Meteuse repeated. "That is absurd. None have died within this college since the debacle with the Eye, and we scholars are hardly the type to pay for the murder of others."

"And yet, the warning was clear." Korir stepped closer to Meteuse, muttering, "Not just any assassins. Dark Brotherhood assassins."

The Archmage visibly stiffened. "The Brotherhood? That's impossible. They were destroyed weeks ago…" and then his eyes widened once more.

"Shor's bones." He muttered. "The troupe."

"What?" Korir demanded, but Meteuse had already turned on his heel and started walking.

"Follow me!" The man snapped. "Mirabelle, by my side. Faralda, go to the hall of Countenance, gather the other masters, keep the students out of this courtyard!"

"Yes, Archmage!" The Elf hurried to do his bidding.

Korir matched Meteuse's stride, his guards following behind him in confusion. "What do you mean, 'troupe'? You do have killers in here?"

"Not by choice." The mage growled. "Not long ago, preceding the news of the Brotherhood's downfall by a mere day, a troupe of three strangers approached the college. They offered coin, and books on the beings of outer plains. Aedra, Daedra. Sithis was prevalent among them. Damn, how did I not see this sooner…"

Korir felt ice in his heart. "They brought knowledge of the Dread Father? And you let them in?"

"Would you rather they were out in your streets?" Meteuse replied, wryly. "One of the primary goals of this college is to prevent such knowledge from wreaking havoc."

They came to a stop at a door leading to one of the college's side towers, as a few more mages in fancy robes ran over from the other buildings.

"This is the Hall of Attainment, where they're staying." Meteuse warned. "Korir, if you want to be useful, send some men to the bridge to keep a look out. Drevis, go with them, you're the most proficient with detection magic. They may try to escape through the windows. I'm going in alone."

"Alone?" Korir protested. "Why?"

"Because if they're innocent, I will not bring soldiers barging into their rooms." Was the Archmage's curt reply. "And if they aren't…you'll only get in the way."

With that, he strode forwards and opened the door.

Korir grit his teeth, and sent four of his men following the Dunmer to the bridge as instructed. After a few seconds, the door swung closed behind the mage. A few seconds after that, it burst open again…to reveal two young students, a boy and a girl. Both were half-dressed, blushing, and bedraggled.

Mirabelle Ervine grabbed both and hissed something unimpressed into both of their ears, before sending them away to the main hall with a shove.

Korir sighed, and refocused his attention on the door.

The tip-off that had started this whole thing had suggested Meteuse had knowingly been conspiring with these assassins. And it had been convincing. He wasn't normally one to mobilise his hold's men on the word of an anonymous message. But the scrap of cloth bearing the black hand that had accompanied the letter (ostensibly torn from within the college itself) had been a convincing visual aid, not to mention the rumours around town of a demonic horse bearing the same symbol being seen near the mages' college.

But Alexander's performance during their last meeting had convinced Korir not to immediately insist upon his arrest, and his actions now certainly implied his innocence.

Still, Korir was acutely aware that if Meteuse was working with the Dark Brotherhood, then he had just allowed them unsupervised in a room together…

Such worries were soon dashed. After a minute of him and his men tensely waiting outside the door, they all flinched at the sound of a loud boom from inside. It was followed by crashes, bangs, some hard-to-discern scuffling—

And then the door was blasted off it's hinges.

Korir jumped backwards and one of his guards was sent sprawling as the hefty wooden door went flying through the air to crash in the snowy courtyard metres away. Accompanying it was a…child? A young girl was propelled with and then over the door by a beam of blue light from the doorway. It eventually relented, leaving her to land cat-like in the centre of the courtyard. She hissed, revealing a pair of sharp, oversized fangs.

Vampire.

Korir was about to attack her when there was a crack, and Meteuse himself stumbled backwards out of the doorway, glowing sword in hand, being pressed by a Redguard with a scimitar. The Yokudan forced the Archmage back a few steps, then was pushed aside by a man in a jester costume who lunged for Meteuse, jumping at him and rolling over his shoulder.

"STAY BACK!" Shouted the struggling mage, turning to swipe at the jester and then blast again with his staff at the vampire, who was forced to dive away to avoid the blue beam.

It was a wise instruction, as one of the guards who hadn't got the message charged in to swing at the Redguard. She was disarmed with a flourish so fast Korir barely caught it, then kicked away.

The Redguard, now with two swords in hand, charged for Meteuse, even as the jester charged at his exposed back—

"YOL!"

Korir gasped aloud, as did many of his men, as the Archmage spoke fire, launching a wave of flame that melted the snow on the ground and forced the jester to throw himself backwards, crying out in pain as he was singed by the Shout.

That young man is a Tongue? Korir thought, flabbergasted.

The Archmage was still fending off the Redguard with blade alone, and surviving, even as he was pushed backwards. In the middle of the courtyard, he shouted with determination and launched a reckless swing, his weapon briefly lighting up the world with the light of the dawn. The killer's stolen second blade shattered into pieces, but he was able to twist around the Archmage's back as he did so. Meteuse, off-balance, threw his staff up in the air, then flicked his wrist and gestured at the nearby vampire's feet. A rune flared to life beneath the creature (itself trying to reenter the fight), and it was forced to jump backwards before the ground itself exploded in a hail of ice.

The jester moved to re-engage, but swerved backwards to avoid a bolt of lightning launched by Ervine. Emerging from the other hall came another man, summoning some glowing fiery spirit, adding to the chaos as Meteuse parried the Redguard, caught his falling staff, and jabbed it into his foe's chest, sending him flying backwards with a blast of blue energy.

"Down!" Shouted the vampire child, before taking off at a run to one corner of the courtyard, and the jester and the Redguard followed her, and Korir's men realised that they should be drawing and knocking their bows, and more fireballs and other spells began flying from the other masters, and Meteuse pointed his staff at the fountain in the centre of the courtyard and did something, and whatever it was it let him shoot another blast of energy at the retreating assassins but then caused a flash of light that forced Korir to grimace and cover his eyes—

When he reopened them, the courtyard was noticeably emptier. In one corner, he just barely caught sight of a hatch in the floor slamming closed atop the jester.

Meteuse skidded to a stop just in front of the trapdoor, staring it in confusion for a moment…before his eyes widened.

"The Midden!" He shouted. "They're retreating through the ice caves under the College!"

Korir caught up with him, breathless, taking in the Archmage with a new eye. Gods above, I didn't know he could do that. And I threatened this man when he came to my hall?

"Is there a way out down there?" He asked.

"Impossible to know. The Midden is dangerous and poorly mapped." Meteuse grit his teeth. "Tolfdir! You know where the other entrances are! Take Phinis, Faralda and as many guards as you need, don't let these bastards sneak back up!"

"Do as he says!" Korir called to his own men, among cries of 'Yes, Archmage!' from the wizards.

"Sergius, take Urag and Colette and check the Hall of Attainment. Do not touch any of their artefacts until I get back, but make sure its empty of their agents and contains nothing immediately dangerous. Korir, Mirabelle, I need you both to hold here." Meteuse instructed. He was panting for breath, but his eyes were focused. "I'm going after them."

"By yourself?" Mirabelle asked, grabbing his arm. "Xander, no. Let us—"

He took her by the shoulder, leaned in, and whispered something into her ear. Korir couldn't hear a thing over the bustle and the winds, but whatever it was, it made her eyes go wide.

"The Midden is a labyrinth." Meteuse then said, louder. "If we send a party down there they will aim to split us up, then kill us one by one. I will not put you all in danger like that. But I know those tunnels better than most."

"You think you can kill them all?" Korir asked.

The Archmage's mouth set in a thin line. "I don't know. But I can get them out of my College."

Korir stared at him, with no small amount of admiration. He's planning to go alone into the cold and dark with three assassins to make sure they're not endangering any of his students. Brave bastard. I knew this one was different.

"Don't die down there, Alexander." Was all he said, reaching out and clapping the Archmage on the shoulder.

"Don't worry." The wizard smiled, wryly. "They won't kill me."

Prepping this chapter a whole-ass week in advance, because I'm out in a caravan and wifi is intermittent. Sidenote, which twat decided to stop desktop mode being available on mobile devices? I know you want us to use your mobile app, ff, but it's unintuitive difficult-to-use garbage.

Anyway, what's happening? Oh yeah. Progress for Hjar, recovery for Dulurza, and everything going wrong for Xander. Someone, it seems, has ratted the DB out. What's Xander's counterplay? Find out...

Next Time: Someone walks around in the cold, someone has a nice snuggle, and someone gets ready to cook.