When Sielaire wakes in the Queen's tent, the peaceful lull in the camp outside feels out of place, with quiet shuffling of boots over grass and unhurried murmurs of soldiers. No, wait – the calm is only to be expected, what with the end of a successful campaign that saw the Dominion's victory over Stormhaven. No, she is the one who is out of place, with her heart beating a slow yet heavy rhythm, her head swimming with fading images of a dream which…
She tries to focus and recollect what she'd seen in her sleep, but her heart only sinks further at some understanding she cannot grasp with her waking mind. Each breath grows more difficult, and finally Sielaire pushes herself up from the bedroll – which is empty, she realises. Her eyes are drawn to the only other inhabitant of the tent; Ayrenn is already up, kneeling on the ground a few paces from the bedroll, checking on the bandages wrapped around her torso with a healing kit beside her knees. But it seems the kit isn't needed when the Queen pats the bindings with satisfaction, and closes the leather pack. As she turns to replace the kit in a trunk, Ayrenn's attention is drawn to Sielaire, and that lazy morning smile graces her face.
"Good morning," Ayrenn says, voice light. "Seems all that ale really worked on you, huh? Thought the sunlight would burn a hole into your bottom."
Ayrenn's tease doesn't quite hit Sielaire, but she doesn't notice at first. She turns back to pull on her shirt, then rises to her feet to receive a tray of breakfast – for two – carried to her tent's entrance by an attendant. As she sets the modest tray on a table, she glances back at Sielaire, and pauses.
"Are you alright, Sie?" Ayrenn approaches the bedroll where Sielaire sits, gaze fallen to the ground. "You were fidgeting a lot in your sleep."
Sielaire takes a breath, and a subtle weight on her chest prevents an answer just yet. She drags her eyes up to meet Ayrenn's, and her wife frowns, feeling her forehead with a hand. Ayrenn's warm touch only serves to emphasise how oddly hollow she feels inside.
"Is something wrong?"
"Summerset," Sielaire says slowly, words forming as she speaks. "It's in danger."
A sharp edge enters Ayrenn's gentle gaze, as she peers closer at Sielaire. "What makes you say that?"
"I…don't know," Sielaire admits. "I just–, in my dream…" Her voice trails away, as she realises how weak her statement sounds – and it's not even fully voiced yet. She starts doubting herself, wondering if the ominous feeling is just the remnant vestiges of a bad dream, just as a runner's arrival is announced outside the Queen's tent.
Ayrenn's eyes rest on Sielaire a moment longer, before she rises and heads back to the tent's entrance. Sielaire watches, and recognises the 'runner' – an Eye of the Queen. Though he keeps his voice low, Sielaire manages to hear 'An urgent letter from the commander', before Ayrenn nods and accepts Razum-dar's letter. She opens it as she walks back with slow steps, and a faint frown furrows her brows the longer she reads the letter, until she finishes and fixes Sielaire with a sombre stare.
In a rare occurrence, Sielaire starts to grow discomfited under Ayrenn's attention, but she's distracted when her partner approaches and offers her the letter. Curious, Sielaire takes the parchment and reads Razum-dar's lazy scrawls in Altmeris.
'Your Majesty,
Do forgive Razum-dar as he forgoes the usual witty introduction in his letters. He has something urgent to convey.
Something is afoot on Summerset, and it makes his tail itch. Odd magical disturbances have been detected on the coasts around the island. Reports of missing Altmer grow in number by the day, albeit gradually. There have been multiple sightings of alien creatures across the Isle, spread out too far in too short a span of time – Raz fears it is not a discovery of a new, natural species on the island.
He requires nothing for the moment, but has one request to make. If you can spare her, please send Battlereeve Sielaire back to the Isle. Raz needs someone he trusts, who knows the island like the back of their hand. And no – before you mention her, and as much as Raz would like to make do, the Proxy Queen is not a military strategist.
For your consideration, dearest friend. Raz hopes your answer will arrive in the form of one mer. (Hint, hint.)
Yours faithfully,
Razum-dar'
Razum-dar's teasing finish brings a faint quirk to Sielaire's lips, and a welcome reprieve to her uncertain heart. Her instinct, as unsubstantiated as it may be, has been given weight by the spymaster's request. There is indeed something to Sielaire's suspicions, but…
She reads through the letter again, and feels unsettled as she ponders Raz's preference to have a 'military strategist' on hand. Surely it's the same thing which disturbs Ayrenn as well – Razum-dar has never needed to request back-up from Ayrenn like this. Most of the time, he solves problems on his own, with the help of his Eyes or by persuading local forces to back his efforts. For him to specifically request a general from the war…this brewing trouble must be something else entirely.
Sielaire looks up when Ayrenn sits on the bedroll with her, and keeps still as her partner cups her cheek. She looks back into that intense stare more calmly than before, and is comforted by the gentle caress of Ayrenn's thumb.
"Are you going to send me back?"
Ayrenn's lips thin slightly, as she regards Sielaire in silence. "I think it would be for the best," she replies after a while. "Will you be alright?"
That coaxes a smile from Sielaire. "Yes. A dream will hardly slow me down."
"Of course it won't." Ayrenn's smile is fleeting.
"I will be back as soon as possible. I promise."
"As your Queen, I would ask that you resolve whatever trouble there is in Summerset," Ayrenn sighs. "But as your wife…yes. Do return soon, and safely."
Sielaire laughs gently, turning her head to kiss her wife's palm. "As you command, love."
Sielaire leaves the warfront the next day, after entrusting her dragoons to Earilas, her second-in-command. She shares a subtle glance to reassure the Queen, before taking the portal conjured by two Aldmeri battlemages. Sielaire emerges all the way back in Elden Root, in the private chamber prepared for her arrival. She doesn't waste time in taking a horse to the docks in Southern Grahtwood, where she boards a ship bound for Shimmerene.
During the weeks-long journey, Sielaire's revisited by the same dream she'd had in camp. At least, she thinks it's the same dream. She can never recall what she sees in her sleep, but always wakes with that same, heavy weight in her chest, and a coiled pressure around her heart as if in anticipation of what is to come. Though each day she recalls a vague new detail – like an animal's sharp canines or the scuttling of insect legs – she remains troublingly unaware of the larger, coherent picture.
It is this matter which occupies her mind for the voyage, and she is relieved to finally reach the docks of Shimmerene, where the mystery is temporarily quieted by activity. Sielaire rents a horse from the stables and makes her way briskly towards Alinor, where she is greeted at the palace's steps by Razum-dar himself, who draws her into a comradely embrace. He seems to take pleasure in drawing glances from the Altmer guards and courtiers waiting outside, then gestures gracefully towards the tall doors, leading her in.
He brings her to the Proxy Queen's office, where Alwinarwe greets her with grace and no small amount of relief – no doubt due to the troubles that Razum-dar has brought to her notice, and the Khajiit's necessary presence in the palace for the past week, as he'd mentioned during their walk inside. With a clap of his paws, Razum-dar begins a meeting at Alwinarwe's desk, where a map of Summerset has been laid out. Sielaire's gaze follows Raz's clawed finger as he points at the symbols drawn on the map – marking places where Altmer have gone missing, and identifying the 'magical disturbances'; one of which has resulted in what the mages simply call a geyser, spewing creatures called 'yaghra' into the countryside.
Sielaire frowns when Razum-dar mentions a minor yaghra skirmish outside Shimmerene's gates, but is assured that he has resolved the city's issues, and set his trusted agent on the path to sniffing out the yaghra's source. He proposes that, while his agent is investigating, he and Sielaire will track down another lead his Eye has turned up – a definitive spot of activity on the shores north of Lillandril, between the city and the Crystal Tower. She takes up his offer immediately, and with a nod from the Proxy Queen, they leave her office to embark on the mission ahead.
Truth be told, Sielaire feels quite out of her element – after all, a military strategist doesn't often act as an investigator, following a crumb of trails to solve a mystery. But she has to admit some element of fun in figuring out the sparse clues they manage to dig up, and eventually, they've sunk their fingers into a solid target.
They manage to ambush a secret meeting of individuals suspected to be cultists, north of Lillandril. But their foes react quickly, summoning large numbers of yaghra to distract them while they make their escape. Razum-dar snaps an order with a hint of rare frustration, and the Divine Prosecution squad borrowed from Lillandril by Sielaire, bands together to corral the yaghra while Raz and Sielaire chases after the cultists.
Most of them have scattered, but the Khajiit-Altmer pair manage to follow a trio onto a long, narrow ledge along the cliff-face. Magic glows around their targets' hands, and yaghra start clawing up onto the ledge from the sea below, but the creatures are easily dispatched between Raz's swordplay and Sielaire's magic. They gain on their targets inch by inch; just before Razum-dar leaps onto one robed figure's back, a bright flare of magic from his prey shocks Sielaire into action.
She lunges forward and grabs the back of Raz's spiffy new black coat, yanking him back. On instinct, she propels him further backwards with a benign application of magicka, but she doesn't know if it works. A large, disorienting explosion of magicka to the front blinds Sielaire, and she is blown off the ledge. A large chunk of rock from the broken cliff face hits her squarely in the temple, and she falls unconscious before crashing into the sea.
Sielaire's next awakening is rough, and painful. She barely notices Raz's soothing voice over her as she gasps, then hacks for her life, choking on the water in her throat. Her head is turned towards the sand beneath her, and she retches water onto the ground, eyes stinging with tears as her nose burns from pressure. When she can take full breaths, albeit laboured with coughs, Sielaire is laid on her back as she pants heavily, staring up at the blue afternoon sky, then at the Khajiit's face which blocks her view seconds later.
Razum-dar pulls up the hem of his sleeve with the tips of his claws, and wipes Sielaire's face. Though his clothes are sopping wet as well, it does remove the uncomfortable mix of fluids on her skin.
"Feel better?" Raz asks, and though Sielaire doesn't answer, he smiles when her eyes focus on him. "Good. Because Raz threw himself into the sea just for you. He hopes you are grateful."
Sielaire wants to smile at his words, but can't find the energy to do so, even as he helps her sit up. She stares at the blue waters shimmering under the sun, uncertain of the churning in her stomach, until she recalls the chase – no. A deep frown creases her forehead, as she examines the memory in mind. It is the chase, yes. But not as it had happened. Not in…reality?
Then it dawns on her – weeks of confusion suddenly snaps into nauseating clarity. She'd dreamt of the chase while she was unconscious, but there was…more. Their foes were dressed differently, in black, ragged robes with unfathomable darkness beneath their hoods. There was one with crows on their shoulders, which had filled Sielaire with dread, but not as much as the sight that had shocked her into climbing the cliff–
Her eyes widen. The Crystal Tower. It had…exploded with arcane energy in her dream – the one thing she realised had been a constant in all her dreams before, but hadn't been able to recall until now. Why?
Sielaire turns her head to stare up at the Crystal Tower in the distance – which stands as tall and regal as ever, undamaged by magical catastrophe. A weight sinks into Sielaire's gut. Will it come to pass?
"Sielaire."
Raz's voice snaps her back to the present, and she focuses on his concerned expression with difficulty. He regards her with uncharacteristic severity.
"Raz. I… We are in danger," she rasps, tears springing to her eyes unexpectedly as her throat tightens. "I've been…having these dreams. I know it may sound unlikely, crazy, but I think I've been seeing things that may come to pass. And just now, I had the same dream again. A vision. Much clearer than it has ever been."
He remains quiet for a moment. "Raz believes you. You bear an aura of confusion…and despair," he observes. "Tell this one, what did you see?"
"I saw a familiar place – home, covered in strange shadows." Her lips move, of their own volition. She feels a strange pressure beneath her throat, compelling her to speak in words that don't feel like her own. "Shadows that are in plain view, yet hidden. Waiting to pounce on fear, releasing poisons of deceit and hatred. Shadows that soar and grow in power, as chaos unfolds and consumes the world."
The pressure lightens, and Sielaire comes back to herself, realising she'd been staring intently into Razum-dar's thoughtful gaze.
"And how did this vision of yours end?" Raz prompts gently.
Her eyes flicker away. "I died. Or was lost." She takes a breath, and it comes slow, trembling. Her gaze falls to the amulet of Auri-El in her hand, which she's carried constantly in the war, and now clutches so tight between her fingers that its edges start to hurt against her flesh. "I know how this must sound. But you have to believe me–"
"This one does," Raz says, voice still soft. "Do not worry. He thinks…he understands what you are trying to say. He has seen much since that letter he sent." He smiles, and places a paw over hers, squeezing in comfort. "But let's keep your vision a secret between us for now. No need to spread panic…and Raz doubts you'd like to be known as a prophet, yes?"
Sielaire snorts, a laugh breaking through the pall she's fallen into. "Yes, let's avoid that."
Razum-dar rises to his feet, and Sielaire takes the hand he offers, allowing him to help her up as well.
"Raz – thank you," she says as her companion takes a step towards the woods, and he looks back at her with a warm gaze.
"He's the one who should thank you for coming back to help him," he replies. "He has a feeling that Summerset has troubles he cannot face alone."
True to Raz's word, Summerset's problems soon evolve to a scale much too large for him to handle alone. In fact, none of Summerset's institutions are equipped to tackle them alone. To their credit, they have divided themselves neatly, tending to symptoms and preventing fear from spreading unchecked. While the Divine Prosecution focuses on unrest among civilians and remains alert for activity from this 'Court of Bedlam' cult, the Altmeri army and navy work in tandem to stem the tide of yaghra emerging from geyers, which have appeared all around the coasts of Summerset.
On Sielaire's part, while Razum-dar heads off to tackle the heart of the invasion with his agents, she coordinates troop movements across the island, accepting help from foreign mercenaries to bolster the strained ranks of the Altmeri soldiers. In this crisis, she truly laments the necessity of sending most of their numbers off to war, leaving the soldiers at home to run themselves ragged to safeguard the Isle. But it seems more trouble is to come – two weeks after dealing with yaghra and cultists, reports have come in of Sea Sloads who have roosted on Summerset itself.
The very revelation scares and disgusts Sielaire in equal measure. Sloads had once threatened all of Tamriel long before she was born, nearly bringing the world to their knees before the victory of the All-Flags Navy. To have Sea Sloads on Summerset at this time is the last thing their people need, and she is determined to remove their presence completely before they lead to more trouble.
Borrowing a precious few of Razum-dar's Eyes – and receiving no small amount of complaints from the spymaster – Sielaire sets them on an exhaustive search of Summerset which turns up three confirmed locations. One Sload had taken control of Cloudrest, and thrown the Welkynar knights into disarray. But by the time word is delivered to Sielaire, it seems the Welkynars have already defeated this Sload with the aid of a large band of capable warriors.
Another Sload is reported to be in a northwestern cove called Karnwasten, but Sielaire is inclined to leave it alone for now. The cove is known to be used by smugglers, and she figures the Sload can be their problem for the time being. What's more worrying is the presence of a Sea Sload in Welenkin Cove – right in the shadow of Alinor. This report sends Sielaire flying into action, mustering soldiers for an attack to destroy this Sload before it can create stronger yaghra – if the report on its motives is accurate.
It's a short march down to the cove from the city, and at Sielaire's order, warriors rush into the den in a surprise charge which grows the Sload off guard. The first line of soldiers manage to destroy many Abyssal Pearls in their path and land strikes on the Sload, before they are blown back by a blast of magicka. But the Sload is given no reprieve, as the archers and mages posted around the perimeter start their barrage of arrows and spells – soon countered with yaghra emerging from the very waters they are fighting in.
What was to be a straightforward battle is complicated by the liberal use of psychic attacks from the Sload. Every soldier struck by the mental blow crumples to the floor in the blink of an eye, and it is up to their individual willpower whether they're able to drag themselves back to their feet. As the contingent starts to tire, Sielaire reaches deep into her reserve of magicka and starts a reckless charge at the Sload – who turns its attention on her.
While soldiers around her start to fall, Sielaire is slowed by repeated blows to her mind, which sends her staggering, then crawling to the Sload with single-minded obstinacy. Blood trickles from her nose as her vision swims, and another blast to her mind turns her vision to darkness; that one dream which haunts her threatens to overtake her mind, pouring despair of the coldest chill into her body, before the sudden, burning warmth from a strong healing spell brings her back into painful consciousness.
She is still kneeling, much to her surprise, but she is within sword's reach of the Sload. Paying no heed to caution, Sielaire flings herself at its bulbous body, stunning it first with a lance of destructive magicka, then plunging her sword into its thick body. She stabs it one, twice, then loses count as the Sload deals her repeated psychic blows. Her body moves of its own volition until two pairs of arms wind around her arms and torso, wrenching her backwards.
Sielaire pants raggedly as she sags in the soldiers' arms, feeling them tremble as badly as herself, while they speak reassurances into her ears – 'It's already dead. You can stop now. We've won.'
Through heavy breaths, Sielaire nods blankly, then nods again as she gathers herself, rising onto her own two feet. With two steadying hands on her back, she fights to keep her shoulders straight, the ground bobbing beneath her boots as she looks upon the slumped form of the Sea Sload, riddled with arrows, spell burns, stab wounds. Indeed it is dead, and Sielaire closes her eyes briefly in thanks.
With a gesture, she orders the soldiers to start picking up the bodies of the fallen, though her eyes remain on the Sload's corpse.
One more to go, she thinks grimly, hand squeezing the hilt of her blade.
The Sload hunt in Karnwasten was completed without much incident – their target possessed no psychic abilities, but raised plenty of corpses in addition to yaghra for defence. It had nearly turned into a battle of attrition, when a battlemage expended all his magicka to destroy the Sload's minions in one fell swoop, giving them a chance to go right for the Sload's throat, ending the threat on a bloody yet merciful note.
With Karnwasten cleared, Sielaire sends her soldiers on a quick sweep about the cove, before leaving the place with a light feeling of relief – which disappears the moment they step out of the cave mouth. As the soldiers exclaim their surprise, Sielaire's eyes are drawn to the Crystal Tower in the distance – which is shrouded in the same dark indigo energy from her dreams, with the tower's tip seemingly broken into pieces that hover in place, held together by…whatever force has wrought the structure.
Giving her soldiers an order to catch up, she gathers those with horses and flies ahead of the main contingent, heading straight towards the Crystal Tower. But for all their haste, it seems they've missed the action. Razum-dar stands alone at the tower's entrance, tiredly informing Sielaire that his agent has gone ahead to seek another way into the tower, to which the main doors are stubbornly locked. He suggests standing vigil at the base of the tower in case the situation grows worse, and Sielaire agrees, ordering her soldiers to take up positions around the tower after they've arrived.
But it seems their efforts are for naught – after many hours of waiting and glancing worriedly up at the tower, the indigo energy swirling about it disappears with a flash of light, leaving the Crystal Tower as pristine as ever. At Raz's behest, they wait for someone to emerge from the tower. But when not so much as a shadow appears, he relents and asks Sielaire for an escort back to Alinor.
It is only when the sun starts dipping into the horizon that news reaches the palace of Alinor – the crisis at the Crystal Tower has been averted, along with the yaghra invasion of the Summerset Isle. In private, Alwinarwe leans back in her chair from relief, while Raz plops himself heavily onto a nearby stool, and runs a paw over his face in satisfaction – his agent has pulled through.
A celebration for the hero is held a few days after the victory, but Sielaire and Razum-dar first accompanies Alwinarwe to a meeting before the feast, where the Proxy Queen oversees a successful agreement between the Psijics and Sapiarchs to work together and ensure the safety of Summerset – at least, for the foreseeable future. And as the satisfied parties file out of the room, Alwinarwe stops Sielaire with a raised hand.
"A letter arrived for you this morning," Alwin explains, handing over a scroll sealed with the Queen's insignia. "And if it doesn't contain thanks from my cousin, please accept my gratitude for your help with the crisis."
"You don't have to be so formal, Alwin," Sielaire says with a smile.
Alwinarwe shrugs, then leaves her alone in the room. Sielaire breaks the wax seal on the letter, and unfurls it to read her beloved's elegant writing.
'Dear heart,
I hope you are well. I have received no word since Razum-dar's request for aid, but rest assured I have sent a sizeable force on their way to Summerset. Even if the trouble has already passed, I'm sure you can find some way to put them to use. If not…well.
As much as I do hate to pull you back into more danger, things just aren't the same without you here. Earilas has been performing exceptionally in your stead, though I would much prefer to have you by my side. Do hurry back when you are able – preferably with the soldiers I've dispatched home.
Yours,
Ayrenn'
Sielaire laughs under her breath, finding some amusement in the Queen's late response. She will have to find some tactful way to tell these soldiers that they've hurried back for naught, but…that's a concern for later.
Folding the letter, she tucks it into her belt pouch, and leaves the room to join the celebrations currently in full swing in the hall outside. But Sielaire doesn't make for the tables laden with food and drink just yet – instead, she approaches the throne where she spots one Khajiiti spymaster lounging brazenly, swirling his silver goblet as he ripostes Alwinarwe's orders for him to get out of the royal seat.
When Raz offers her something else for a 'seat', Sielaire rolls her eyes and strides forward, taking Razum-dar by the arm.
"Please excuse us, Your Grace." Sielaire bows her head to Alwin, who nods in dismissal. Taking the cue, she drags Raz down from the dais, to one of the tables where she picks up her own goblet of wine.
"Don't push it, catman," Sielaire utters under her breath as she lift the cup to her lips, Raz smiling crookedly in response.
"Oh, you know she likes me," he laughs, though in a discrete tone which grows more secret as he leans close. "So, what's that letter about?"
Sielaire smiles in return. "My heart is calling me back."
"Of course she is. But it is so callous of her, hm? She flings you all the way across the sea to deal with one crisis, and the moment it is resolved, she calls you right back to the war."
"Such is the way of things when your heart happens to wear the crown," Sielaire sighs.
Raz chuckles when she plays along. "Well, at least take a day or two to relax, yes? Fighting unnatural incursions – and Sloads – is no small feat. Raz says you have earned a well-deserved break."
"Maybe. But I'd much prefer to head back there." Sielaire shrugs. But as she meets Raz's playful gaze, she adds, "Though…I wouldn't mind an escort to Shimmerene."
"That's the spirit!"
Razum-dar raises his goblet to her, which she clinks with her own. Sielaire's smile grows as she sips the wine along with Raz. As much as her heart yearns to be back with Ayrenn…perhaps it wouldn't hurt to spend some time with friends before then.