All right, so here's a new chapter, less than a week before Christmas. I'm probably not going to have any time to write thanks to that, so expect a bit more time before the next one comes in. Thanks belong to xTRESTWHOx and NaanContributor for all they do.
Also, I'm rather sad that no one ever went to add to the TVtropes page. :'(
Chapter 83: Smother in Lament
1st of Morning Star, 202, 4th Era
Hail fell from the sky, crashing upon the stones, dirt, and waters of the Reach, shattering and collecting across the ground. The group of five hid within the cavern, along with a large portion of the survivors from their battle. Most of the defeated Forsworn accepted the outcome and did nothing to trouble the adventurers and their sick and aged guide. The few who felt the need to say or do something against them did so quickly and nonviolently, leaving them be as soon as they were done saying their piece. None of them were foolish enough to believe they could stand against the ones who had defeated their now-dead leader, whose power they were all more than aware of.
While the four women set up a watch and offered some healing to the injured Reachfolk, Artur sat alone and solemnly stared at the blade of Red Eagle's Fury. He had been quiet since the moment of Duncan's death, and everyone left him to deal with his own grief until he was ready to speak. Ruby had looked like she wanted to approach him first, but a look and shake of the head from Weiss was enough to let her know he should be left to process.
About midmorning, two new forms entered the cave, a dispelling ward from above them letting everyone know how they'd reached the place without being beaten into a pulp by the rain of solid ice. The one in the lead was a Hagraven, though not one as ugly or wrinkled as those the Remnantian girls had seen before. She was still lanky and had most of the tell-tale signs of being one of the magical beings, but her face appeared younger and smoother than others, along with less balding, her hair still having decent volume. Ruby and Weiss weren't sure if it was because the woman was newer to being a Hagraven or simply took better care of herself, but the less fearsome visage certainly made them feel less apprehensive about her presence.
The second one was a young woman with a notably pointed nose and feathers on her arms similar to a Hagraven, but she didn't have the eyes, claws, or missing fingers. She also seemed to be walking on her toes for some reason, though they couldn't see her feet for her shoes.
"We've a lot of work, Ritta," the Hagraven said while walking over to the woman who had her head bashed against a wall by Lydia, a wound that Ruby and Weiss could only mitigate, their skills in Restoration inadequate for something so delicate. A golden glow filled the witch's hands before she placed both over the woman's head. "Start healing the worst-off. I will speak to our guests in a moment."
"Yes muma," the woman responded, going to a man with a wrapped torso who had refused further treatment from his enemies and began to use her own healing magic upon him. The Hagraven finished with the concussed woman soon enough, then made her way up the cave to where Ruby, Weiss, Lydia, Serana, and Artur had made their camp near the upper exit. Each of them were ready by the time she made it, but while the four women were prepared to fight if it became necessary, Artur instead respectfully gave a slight bow.
"Matron," he greeted her.
"Call me Sisca, dear man." Yellow wisps of energy flowed from her hand to him, and she nodded gravely. "Ah, I see. Perrin has gripped your lungs tightly."
She then looked over to the girls and sniffed a few times, then shook her head. "Hm, two Nords, though one is of older stock. Two vampires, including the ancient one, so that must be why. Yet I don't know the smell of the other's mortal life. As for you," she turned towards Ruby, "you're quite the mutt!"
"Uh…"
"Excuse you!" Weiss spoke up with indignation.
"Ah, it was a compliment!" Sisca defended. "Ask any dog breeder, mutts are always better than whatever 'pure-breed' nonsense the westerners concoct."
"Well, I guess she's not really wrong," Ruby pointed out. "I'm kinda part dragon, my dad was half Vacuoan and Mistralian, and my mom was part Atlesian, Valean, and half-Faunus."
Weiss blinked at that. "Wait, you're…a quarter Faunus? You never mentioned that."
"It never came up."
"I'm sorry, but…does that mean your mother had cat ears?" Lydia asked in curiosity.
"Wait, what?" Serana spoke up.
"My, such chatty children!" Sisca said with a chuckle. "Anyways, you all are the ones who managed to bring down poor Duncan. I suppose he was wrong about the Augurs' portents." She shrugged. "It was not him. It seems someone else will be the one to bring back Faolan."
"Mother Sisca," Artur spoke up, his voice questioning, "with all due respect, I don't think that's likely."
"What is and isn't likely is for none of us to say," she said while looking him over. "You are likely to fall over dead at any moment, and it is not likely that you will last more than a month, but I'm here to tell you that you will last that long. As our Augur proclaimed it."
Artur shook his head while crossing his arms and raising an eyebrow. "Did your Augur also say that Duncan would revive Red Eagle?"
"No, only that it was likely. Likely is not certainty." She looked back over to the women and hummed. Their stances had lost their former tension, as it seemed the magically-transformed witch meant none of them any harm. "They did say, though, that he would need to make peace with a red dragon or face its wrath. I suppose the vision was not as clear as it could have been."
Ruby raised an eyebrow at that while Weiss started rubbing her chin in thought.
"Augur? Do you happen to know about an Augur of Dunlain by any chance?" the younger vampire asked.
"Dunlain?" the Hagraven mumbled before shrugging. "Dunlain sounds like a place out west. Maybe their Augur?"
"West of here is Markarth and High Rock," Serana said. "So, the Western Reach, maybe."
"Wait, I'm confused," Ruby admitted, looking around the cavern. "What exactly is an Augur?"
"Augurs are those who are skilled or gifted in Divination," Sisca explained while heading back down. "Not one of my talents, I'm afraid. I am much better at healing, birthing, and cooking. Let me know if any of you are hungry or pregnant."
None of them answered, and the witch didn't bother looking back towards them. With the Hagraven leaving them behind, the four looked among each other.
"…I'm kinda hungry," Ruby admitted.
"No, don't…" Weiss started, sighing as she failed to bring her protestations to the forefront of her mind. "We have plenty of food, and Lydia can cook. We don't have to risk it."
"Yeah, okay," Ruby muttered before bringing out her Scroll and sending another text to Yang. She hadn't gotten any responses since they woke up a couple of hours ago. While she was afraid of the thousands of possibilities Skyrim could have in store, she also accepted the likelihood that it was just Yang sleeping in.
'Likely is not certainty,' her mind told her, making her internally give herself a raspberry for the negativity. 'I just have to… Oh, Blake!' she realized, switching over to the other teammate's messaging profile and sending her a short text. She then pocketed the Scroll while looking back over to her friends.
"Still no word," she said succinctly. "Any idea how long this hailstorm will last?"
Everyone else shrugged.
"A hailstorm never lasts too long," Lydia told them, "but we also have to worry about the follow-up weather. The winds have been picking up steadily, and can probably already blow a man down at this point." This brought to their attention the whistling of the winds against the openings of the caves that had been going on for quite a while now.
"Between that and the rain, I doubt we'll be able to go anywhere anytime soon."
Ruby huffed and took a seat back near their campfire, picking up a stick to poke at the embers. As she stirred around the red-hot coals, she felt her Scroll vibrate and quickly took it out to see that Blake had responded. Her eyes eagerly read the message, and her smile quickly faded.
"WHAT?!" she angrily screamed, causing a small rumble in the earthen shelter.
"All right, prisoner, eyes front," the rough-voiced Orc woman commanded.
"Well, they certainly aren't in the back," Yang quipped with a grin.
She had been held overnight in a more normal jail closer to the surface, but as soon as morning came, they processed her for transfer deeper into the prison mine. All of her belongings were confiscated, including her weapons, armor, potions, and even her nicer clothes, and she was given sackcloth to wear in their stead with wraps around her feet taking the place of shoes. They didn't offer much, if any, comfort or protection, but it was better than walking along the rocky floor of a mineshaft naked and in bare feet.
The captain of the mercenaries running the place glowered at her joke. "Very funny. Well, the fun's over. You're in Cidhna Mine now."
"Cidhna Mine?" Yang scoffed. "I thought this was the inn. All these Silver-Blood properties look the same."
Grinding her teeth and tusks, the captain grabbed a pickaxe from a cart and shoved it to Yang, who took hold of it with an 'oof'.
"Keep it up, and you'll see what happens," the Orc threatened. "Now listen, you're going to be expected to earn your keep. There's no resting your hide in a cell in this prison. Here, you work. You'll mine ore until you start throwing up silver bars."
"That doesn't sound healthy."
With a growl, the woman began pushing Yang forward until they were in a crossway tunnel that happened to have a few desks and chairs filled with people writing and reading things. Going by the maps, it was where they kept track of operations. The Orc pushed Yang further along and then cuffed her shackles against a wooden column before doubling back to the center of the operation.
"Prisoner ready, ma'am?"
"Yeah," the Orc growled out. "She's a little shit, too."
"Sorry you had to deal with that, Captain Urzoga," a man said while going over a file. "Let's see…Three-C and Four-A have some room…"
"I've got a better idea," Urzoga interrupted him while glaring at the blonde who had taken to whistling and twanging her taut chain like a lute string as she waited after failing to pull it free. "Send her to block One-A."
Three of the men froze and the one she was speaking to turned towards her in shock.
"One-A, ma'am? That's… Well, that's an all-male cell, and they're all in for life."
"I know," she replied with a sadistic grin. "We'll leave her in there for a week. Might teach her a lesson. If anyone notices, we'll just chalk it up to clerical error." She then leveled her glare at the man. "That's not a problem for you, is it?"
"N-no, ma'am. Just making sure I heard you right," he frightfully responded while writing some things down.
Yang, for her part, was more focused on the cuffs attached to her arms. Their main effects seemed to be a combination of weakening the ability to channel magicka to almost nothing and draining a person's strength down to manageable levels. It didn't necessarily make her as weak as a child like that previous guard had boasted, as doing so would make people pretty useless for mining. She did, however, feel the weakest she ever had since she'd first awoken her Aura when she was, well, kind of a child now that she thought of it. She certainly wasn't strong enough to just rip them off her arms, smash through the various bars and locked doors, or woman-handle every guard who got in her way in a mad dash for freedom anymore, that was for sure. After being left practically chained to the wall, a group of mercenaries came and took her to her new cell. Once she was shoved through, they left her with nothing but the clothes on her back, a pickaxe, a mat meant to act as her 'bed', and a few wrapped up food items, slamming the cell door shut behind her.
"Hey, don't I get one phone call? No, wait, letter? No? Sheesh!" Yang griped, hoping to irritate them one more time if nothing else.
She turned back towards the mining cell and walked down the ramp towards the firepit where one man was squatting. He looked up at her with mild interest, but going by the way he was limply sitting, he was quite tired.
"What are you in for, new blood?" the man asked her as he tried to sit up straighter, some effort definitely going into the action.
"To be perfectly honest, I'm innocent," Yang declared. While she was sure that, upon further review, she could be charged with whatever the equivalent of 'assault on a police officer' was for Skyrim, she was completely innocent of the crimes they had accused her of.
"Innocent?" the man repeated, then chuckled and shook his head. "So was I, for the first one. The other murders were all me, though."
"Sounds like a story."
"Quite, but why don't we get you settled in," the man said as he struggled to his feet. Apparently, he was used to walking around while dead tired. "Ah, thought my eyes might be playing tricks on me. Yep, you're a woman all right."
"What? Is that going to be a problem?" Yang asked, her voice lowered in warning while her body tensed.
"Not for me," he said with a shake of his head. "However, I should warn you, there hasn't been a woman on this side of the bars in decades." The buxom blonde tried to suppress any sign of the anxiety that statement elicited in her.
"Well, heck, where do they put all of the female prisoners then?" Yang asked as the man started walking toward a connected mineshaft, following along. She'd already planned on not showing any hint of worry or weakness to her fellow prisoners going in, but now that air of being untouchable had just become absolutely vital.
"In other cell blocks, usually," he revealed, then shrugged nonchalantly. "Quite odd that they threw you in here."
Yang blinked a few times while thinking back, and then scoffed. She wasn't sure who did this, but she knew it was likely to send her 'a message'.
'Gonna rip Thonar's balls off for this one when I get out.'
"Name's Uraccen, by the way," the man told her as they went.
"Yang."
"Well met." He then pointed over to a pile of wood. "Over here's where we stack the lumber for the fire. Might be able to pick out a good seat once in a while, just don't leave it next to the fire and expect it to be there later.
"Here we keep the spare cloth and the worn-out ones go over there. If you can patch 'em together, you might be able to make something worthwhile out of them.
"Down here is the main mineshaft," he told her while pausing and pointing down another tunnel where the distant sound of metal on rock could be heard. "You'll be spending a lot of time down there."
"Yeah, I figured as much," Yang groaned, to which the man laughed.
"You get used to it, sooner or later. Here, over here is where we get water."
Uraccen then showed her to a rather wide area through which a Dwemer pipe a little wider than her arm ran. A chunk had been broken off the top in one spot, letting her see the water rushing through it with only a little bit spilling out. Most of the floor was covered in cobblestones, likely broken off from the mining, which seemed to help keep mud from forming.
"You can get a drink here, or, if you're willing to risk it, it's where we sometimes clean up." He then pointed out a carved-out log atop some stands pulled together from wood and cloth. Picking up another, longer and thinner carved out piece, he placed one end on the opening in the pipe and another on the contraption, causing water to flow down and into it, where it then began spilling out of the holes at the bottom.
"Huh, so you guys put together your own shower?" Yang murmured. "Well, beats never getting one again for the rest of your life. Still, if everyone else is a guy…"
"I can't speak for everyone else," Uraccen spoke up while taking the connecting piece back down, "but I do plan to conduct myself with some civility. Besides, I can tell looking at you, even without knowing what you had to have done to get here while earning those particular accessories, that you'd likely rip off one of my arms for trying anything."
"Yeah, I totally would."
"Well, since we're done here, I'll show you the general sleeping area." He left the water room behind and went down another tunnel opposite of the current working area. "It's where we used to mostly mine, but after several offshoots were dug, we found it could work as the living area, if there was ever anything to do besides sipping and smoking skooma."
"Jeez, that bad?" Yang winced, and Urracen nodded grimly.
"Oh, I'm sure we've all got our ways of entertaining ourselves. I just imagine none of them are very long term," he added. "Also, don't be alarmed if someone digs over here, but don't let them walk over you, either. You're more than welcome to beat anyone who tries to mess up your things into a pulp."
"Good to know." Yang looked around. "So, do I just pick one?"
"Any of them that are empty." Uraccen waved his arm to indicate the handful of connecting tunnels. "Go ahead and unload. I imagine you'll want to meet with your new cellmates soon."
"The sooner the better, I guess." Yang followed her nose to one of the tunnels that wasn't visited a lot. It was dry, and none of the torches were sending any light down it. Yang tried to summon a flame, but found it difficult to bring even a little one up. Straining just to summon the lighter-sized fire for some brief light, Yang was satisfied that nothing disgusting was waiting in her chosen room and set down her things.
They headed back over to where the others were working, catching their attention almost as soon as they stepped within the vicinity. The reason became pretty obvious as the younger portion of the prisoners gawked at her in wonder, a few going straight for the lecherous leers. Yang could only sigh in resigned frustration.
"Everyone, we've got some new blood," Uraccen announced. "This is Yang. She just joined our squalid little prison a few moments ago."
"Well well," a young redhead muttered as he approached. Yang already knew that it was about to go badly. "Are we getting rewarded for good behavior, or is this a- GAH!"
The man had tried reaching around her, looking like he had started going for her waist, but then reaching further down. Yang decided that was more than enough and grabbed him by the pinky before bending it back.
"Yeah, first rule of Yang, hands stay off!" Yang declared over his yelp of pain as she pulled the finger back even more, causing the other spectators to wince and involuntarily shuffle back.
Feeling she got her point across, Yang spun around, grabbing him by the back of his shirt and throwing him away. While normally the effort she put in would have tossed him through the air, this time it barely sent him stumbling, narrowly stopping short of slamming his face into a support beam. He turned around with a fiercely angry expression, but the rest of the prisoners chose only to laugh at him.
"Leave it to Mirk to get tossed by the first woman he's seen in years," some Reachman with extensive facial tattoos said. "Sorry about the welcome, lass. Can't offer you much of a warm one, though. So, you down here for good?"
"Nah, I'm gonna break out soon if my friends don't come get me first." That earned a few more chuckles, but more in a 'with her' way. "Really though, I don't plan on staying. Once I get these stupid cuffs off, and make sure to focus on fighting Illusion magics, there's nothing that'll stop me from tearing my way out of here."
The man grimaced at that. "Well, I don't know about that, but those things don't come off easy. I've seen 'em last for months down here without a recharge."
"In other words, best get used to digging," another man interjected while holding a worn pickaxe out for her to see. "Unless you're planning on earning some 'favors', you're going to have to mine like the rest of us," he told her while striking a vein for emphasis.
"Yeah, okay, I get it," Yang said, waving it off. "How hard can it be? I just…gotta…swing…"
A coughing fit suddenly overtook the woman while her nose and throat began burning, a bit of the dust from his strike having wafted over to her. A few of the other prisoners stopped to look at her, some in worry but most simply shrugging and carrying on without a second thought. She stumbled away, feeling like her lungs had a small fire set in them for a moment before she finally stopped, looking back at the mineshaft with watery eyes while a horrifying revelation belatedly set in.
'Oh my god, it's a silvermine!'
As the Legion camp came into view, Blake finally felt her apprehension regarding the vulnerable married couple let up. However, as she set Rhiada onto her feet to let her walk herself into the encampment, that worry became replaced by another. As Eltrys gave a short explanation to a pair of guards, Blake's fist smashed into a nearby tree, cracking the trunk and causing it to groan and list, her teeth grinding as she tried to find an outlet for the impotent rage she felt towards herself and the gut-wrenching fear she had for Yang. Her fingers uncurled and dug into the busted wood as she groaned and seethed. Finally, the welling of emotion inside her chest seemed to give out, and she sighed. The Faunus turned and saw the guards and Reachfolk couple watching her, and her cheeks reddened.
"Ahem, uh, sorry. It's been a rough night," she offered, hoping that would be enough to pull them away from the subject. After a few moments of silence, Blake felt satisfied that her explanation was adequate, and she straightened herself before declaring, "I need to speak to Legate Emmanuel Admand."
"Can't just let anyone who comes around speak to the legate, citizen," one of the guards explained.
"Yeah, I know." Blake sighed and rubbed her eyes. "Just tell him that Blake Belladonna is here."
"Wait, are you the one who wiped out those cultists the other night?" the other asked, gaining a look of incredulity from his fellow. At Blake's nod, he snapped his fingers. "I thought you looked familiar. Heh, I didn't even realize those were cat ears from a distance. Thought they were a strange hairpiece."
He turned to his fellow with a nod. "Right, I'll take her to the legate. Why don't you see to helping these two civilians?"
"It's your hide," the other agreed , then turned towards Eltrys and Rhiada. "All right, let's get you two something warm to eat and wear. Neither of you are dressed for the cold from last night."
As Eltrys and Rhiada followed one soldier to the west side of the camp, Blake went with the other towards the center. He popped into the main tent for a moment, speaking quickly to the legate as soon as his presence was questioned. Seconds later, Emmanuel Admand pulled back the flap himself and smiled upon seeing Blake.
"Shadowkiller, Blake, good to see you. What brings you back here?" he asked while ushering her in.
"Nothing good, I'm afraid," she began. "There was an attempted murder the moment Yang and I returned to Markarth."
"Damn," he quietly cursed. "For all the safety it holds against the outside world, Markarth's streets are as dangerous as the wilderness at times. Still, going by the 'attempted' in there, I can assume the victim was all right in the end?"
"Yes, she is. The attempted victim was actually an Imperial agent working for General Tulius, investigating the Silver-Bloods on his behalf." At that, Emmanuel's eyebrows went up. "We investigated and found way more than what we bargained for. Just when we put everything together, though, the city guard came to arrest us."
"Wait, what?" he asked, his eyes widening incredulously. "What in Oblivion is going on there?"
"In short, Thonar Silver-Blood is behind almost all the Forsworn activity from the past two decades. He has Madanach imprisoned and has been forcing him to do his bidding."
"Wait, Madanach? The Reachman who was declared king during their uprising?" Emmanuel Admand was predictably shocked by the revelation, rubbing his face for a moment and going so far as to walk over to a water basin and rinse around his eyes before focusing back on Blake. "Are you certain about this? This is a huge allegation to be making about one of the most… No, the Silver-Bloods are the single most powerful clan in Skyrim. Neither the Battle-Borns, Gray-Manes, nor even the Black-Briars hold as much influence as they do."
"I'm sure. My partner got Thonar to confess before the city guard came down on us. I don't know how many of them are in his pocket, but a not-insignificant portion of the Markarth City guard are under their control." Blake frowned deeply and tightened her fists before continuing. "She distracted them, letting me and two others escape during the commotion. I tried to double-back to sneak her out, but they were already dragging her away when I got there."
"Damn! Damn the lot of them!" Legate Emmanuel cursed while smacking his fist into his palm. "Still, so long as I have your word, that's more than enough probable cause to let me take a cohort and straighten this mess out." He huffed out a humorless laugh. "And it seems we'll get to take the Silver-Bloods down a peg or two along the way. That family has fought tooth and nail in every legal way to make the Empire's footing in Skyrim as unsteady as it can. I know there won't be any complaints if we find proof of sedition, such as housing a rebel leader."
Blake nodded. "If nothing else, the two I brought with me could also work as witnesses, if they're willing."
"I'm sure they will be. The Silver-Bloods have done nothing to endear themselves to the populace, native or otherwise." The legate walked over to the map laid out on the center table. "It'll take at least a day to prepare the force we need. We got a little side-tracked by some Stormcloak operations in the area, but most of that's taken care of. Another day to get to Markarth, and then it's just a matter of marching into Cidhna Mine, with or without the owners' permission."
'And I'll get Yang out of there,' Blake told herself, a thought that managed to calm her quivering chest, even if just a little.
A short time later, Blake found herself among the soldier tents, sitting on a long log next to a campfire. The Reachfolk couple were given warmer clothing and some soup to warm their bellies, and Blake soon found herself being given a bowl as well. Finding it to be fish and potato, she scarfed it down perhaps a bit faster than most would have found proper, but she didn't much care at the moment.
"Good news?" Eltrys asked hopefully as Blake shoveled in the last bite. She nodded, then quickly chewed and swallowed.
"The legate's getting some men together. He's going to demand access to the mine, and, if we find Madanach there, Thonar won't be able to weasel his way out no matter how much money he throws at the problem."
"By the gods, this is all really happening, isn't it?" Rhiada quietly asked. "I'm…going to have to find a new job."
For a second, they were all silent, then Eltrys wrapped an arm around her while chuckling.
"I'm sure we'll find something. Probably some good opportunities in Karthwasten or Granite Hall." She nodded and nestled herself up against her husband as he looked back Blake, who felt a strange pinching sensation in her chest while watching the couple holding each other. "And what will you be doing?"
"First, I'm going to try to take a nap. After that, I'm heading back to Markarth." She set her bowl aside and began stretching her arms and back. "I don't know what I might find, but I'm going to try and dig up what I can. Cracks in the prison, info on the Silver-Bloods' movements, whatever."
"You might want to keep an eye on Thongvor," Rhiada suggested. "Thonar may throw a lot of weight around, but he's the real head of the clan."
"Yeah, I think I ran by him once," Blake said, recalling the man when she went to check on the Hall of the Dead. "Those two are definitely brothers. What can you tell me about him?"
"Not much. Just that he's usually in the keep, arguing with the Jarl about one thing or another."
"I can imagine they have a lot to argue about right now," Eltrys contemplated.
Blake nodded with a hum. She didn't know where the Jarl stood in all of this, but she couldn't imagine he was too happy about the ruckus. She also couldn't see him being anything near happy once Thonar's secret was revealed to him in full.
"Got a place to start, at least," she figured.
A short while later, Blake was lying on a borrowed cot, trying to get at least a little sleep, but it was not forthcoming. With all other distractions gone, her mind drifted back to Yang. She tried to convince herself that her partner would be fine, but guilt continued to well up inside of her.
'I ran away,' her mind whispered, tears in her eyes as the thought haunted her. 'I ran away again.'
Intrusive thoughts of all sorts wormed their way into her head, but when she dared to look at her weaponized scabbard and the single blade sitting outside of it with momentary longing, she brought up a hand and bit down on a finger, hard. When she was pretty sure she was nearing the point of drawing blood in her attempted self-distraction, she heard a ring at her Scroll, informing her that she'd received a message. Halfway mindlessly, she took it out and saw the message from Ruby. Knowing she wouldn't be able to keep it from them for long, she quickly typed in an explanation for what had just happened. She could only imagine what Ruby would do once she'd read it.
Sitting up, Blake knew that trying to get any rest right now was pointless. She quickly suited back up and headed out of the camp, leaving word for Legate Emmanuel Admand that she would be going ahead to search for probable avenues of action.
When she was clear of the Imperial camp, she ran her hand over her sternum, and the Nightingale Armor covered her, protecting her from the elements and sight. Cold rain began to fall, and in the distance, thunder that sounded almost like screams howled behind her.
"Lok Vah Koor!" With her Shout, the clouds began parting, being pushed back to the west and dissipating above them. Looking at it, Weiss figured they would be in the clear for at least a day, but the clouds were slowly rolling back. Then again, Ruby would likely Shout them away again if they returned.
She was a little worried abut the impact this might have on the local climate, but then again, just a few times shouldn't hurt.
"Did that one just yell at the storm to sod off?" one of the Reachmen asked.
"I'm more worried about the fact that it actually listened," one of his fellows pointed out with no small amount of trepidation. "How many shamans does it normally take to turn a storm?"
"A few," Ritta answered them as she walked up, looking at Artur and the sword he held. "Dragonborn hold much power within them, enough to stir the seas and churn the land." She chuckled. "Compared to their most powerful voice-spells, driving back the storms of Kaan is but an adept's most carefree cantrip."
"Aye, I saw her voice go against Duncan wielding Red Eagle's Fury," Artur told them. "She could have taken him on alone, I think."
"Maybe," Weiss admitted as she led Toggle out into the open air. "But we don't fight alone when we can help it."
The giant swine didn't mind the muddy ground, but the horses began bucking their heads in irritation as their hooves threatened to slide around and they hurried over to more solid ground. Lydia had to keep a tight grip on Summer Breeze's reins lest the mare take off without her, but keep hold she did.
"How's your shield?" Ruby asked as they got their horses to a spot where they settled down.
"It's in one piece," Lydia said while taking it from her back and looking at where the Dragonborn had patched it up. "Unfortunately, the dagger-targe doesn't want to extend." She gave a few test pulls to the lever in emphasis, but the blade only came out halfway.
"Yang will know what to do, and they've probably got better facilities in Markarth," Ruby told her while she mounted her steed. She looked back to where Artur stood and nodded respectfully to him. "Stay safe, okay?"
"I will," he promised. "Go and rescue your sister. I'd come and help you, but I think I'd only slow you down."
"Don't sell yourself short," she told him. "You're stronger than you know." Her eyes then went to the sword he held. "Besides, you have a promise to keep, and we shouldn't hold you up. I hope we get to see you again."
"I hope for the same," he said as they all began to urge their mounts onward. "Take care now."
"Good-bye!" Ruby called out, followed by several other parting words from the rest of her crew. As the distance between them slowly increased, Artur made to turn back and begin his own preparations to return the ancient sword to its master, but stopped when he saw Ritta's face. Her eyes had stilled and seemed to become as cloudy as the sky before Ruby had chased the storm away. Her feathered arms rose up, palms to the sky.
"In the city of Markarth, when the dragon's fire licks the silver gilding away, there a new king of the Reach shall arise." As mysteriously as it had happened, it ceased, and Ritta's face returned to normal as she lowered her arms. "Ah, I see."
"You're an Augur?" Artur asked, shocked that one of the Diviners of her tribe would come out to this outpost of all places.
"I am," she admitted. "My visions are small, and often only of things in the near future, but they are accurate. I knew we would be needed here, and I was right. And just now…I saw a new king of the Reach, rising out of Markarth." She looked at Artur with wide eyes holding a mad mix of excitement and fear. "Artur, your dragonborn friend will meet with this king."
The dying man looked back to where his short-term companions had gone and gulped. He didn't know what the Augur's vision was warning of, if it was a warning at all, but if a new king were to rise in Markarth at the same time Ruby was headed there, halfway to being on a warpath as she was, everything could go bad very quickly.
"Was I there?" he asked, slight desperation sneaking its way into his voice.
"Only if you want to be," she told him, looking back into the cave before heading in. "We have some things to prepare. Do what you will, Artur of the Crow-Wives."
Artur looked back at the four warriors who had helped him with little to no gain of their own to show for it, now about to confront an entire city for the fate of their sister, and then at the sword in his hand, the ancient runes still glowing red.
The man took in a deep breath with his hand pressed against his chest and slowly released it in a sigh.
'Just a little while longer, Duncan. Just a little while.'
Weiss and Serana looked back first, quickly followed by the two mortals to see Artur riding his gray horse, Famine, to catch up to them.
"Everything okay?" Ruby asked as he pulled up beside them.
"Aye, everything's fine," he responded with a smile. "Just figured it'd be better to go with you all, do what little I can, and then maybe…we'll take the sword to Rebel Cairn together," he suggested. "Be safer that way and all."
"Well, that's true," Ruby figured. "All right, but I don't want us taking too long getting there. We lost too much time to those dumb storms already, and there's no telling how Yang is dealing with this."
"Considering everything, I wouldn't be surprised if she's crushed everyone else in the prison," Weiss contemplated. "She's never been one to hold back a punch if she felt it was deserved. By now, I bet she's already taken it over from the inside, probably lording over the place as its prisoner Queenpin or some such ridiculousness."
"It probably isn't so simple," Lydia told her. "Markarth's prison is a silver mine."
"Yes, we-" Weiss' eyes went wide with realization. "Oh… Oh no!"
"Yeah, why'd you think I was in a hurry?" Ruby asked her, fighting the urge to spur Chocolate to go any faster.
"I don't get it," Artur admitted as he rode alongside them. "What's Cidhna Mine being a silver mine got to do...with...anything... Your sister's a werewolf, ain't she?"
"What makes you think that?" Serana jokingly asked.
"You mean besides the fact that two of you are vampires?"
"Is that going to be a problem?" Lydia harshly asked.
"Only for her if we don't get her out in time," Artur admitted. "I've seen what happens to werewolves kept in prolonged contact with silver, and the results ain't pretty. With how much silver's in there, she'll be lucky to last a week."
The group fell silent at Artur's proclamation, only to be broken as Ruby urged Chocolate Hooves to go faster, prompting the others to do the same.
Yang swung her pick, trying to aim for the rock around the silver rather than pry the ore out itself. For extra safety, every bit of skin she could afford to was wrapped in linen. Only her eyes and hair were exposed, and her mouth and nose were covered in three layers of worn rags soaked in water to keep herself from breathing in any particles. A cup full of water covered by a flat stone was set nearby in case anything got into her eyes, doubling as a quick drink for when she was ready to take a break. She had to promise a couple of the prisoners a portion of her haul to get the rags, which might cut into how much food she'd get from what she understood, but she didn't have a choice. Yang could handle a bit of hunger, but she didn't want to think about how bad things could get for her if she got exposed to too much silver.
Finally, she managed to get out a chunk of earth that, hopefully, held a passable amount of silver. She was hoping that the guards would accept it as is, but if not, then she'd have to find a way to pull out the ore without coming into direct contact with it.
'Wish I had Ruby's sewing skills,' she thought to herself. 'Or just a needle and thread. Gloves shouldn't be too hard to make, and it's not like I needthem to be good quality.'
She dragged the chunk of earth towards a rickety wagon, cursing her decreased strength as she did. Once it was in, Yang decided to call that it for now and take a break. Taking off her mask, she made a quick visit to the water pipe to wash it and her face, then headed to the common area. A few others were there, having extracted what they felt was a "safe" amount of silver. In other words, enough that they were sure that once it was turned in, they'd be given their weekly ration of food.
That was still something that boggled Yang's mind. Even the most cartoonish depictions of the SDC's worst worker's rights violations didn't have them starving their workers. Crappy food, maybe, but as she learned from a Faunus friend here and there, they wanted their workers to at least be functional. That expectation had its own problems, but the Silver-Bloods, by comparison, weren't trying to run an even halfway efficient industry from this place. It reminded her of a phrase she heard from TV once that she wished she could source.
'The cruelty is the point.'
That's really all it came down to when she took it all in. They were given only the barest minimum needed to survive with the expectation of back-breaking work weighing them down. She didn't know if other cells were as harsh or if it was because, from what she could tell, these people were in for life, but she knew just from looking at these men that it was hell.
She hadn't even been here a whole day and she already hated it.
As she took a seat at the fire, she noticed a big Orc with something white painted onto his face in the shape of a skull standing next to a gate to a narrow tunnel.
"What's up with him?" she asked as she poked at the fire with a stick.
"That's Borkul," an old, balding Reachman by the name of Braig answered her. "Borkul the Beast. He guards the entrance to Madanach's quarters."
Yang immediately straightened, looking at the old man and then the others in complete shock.
"Madanach…is here?" She pointed over at the gate. "He's literally right there?!"
"You don't have to shout, dumb bear," a man coming down from a skooma trip muttered.
"Yes, I forgot to mention that earlier," Uraccen said while rubbing his chin. "He comes out sometimes. Does a share of the workload, even though the guards don't require anything from him. Don't ever mention that bit to them. Last person who tried went to bed one night and then woke up with several shivs and picks sheathed into his back the next morning."
"Yeah, okay," Yang muttered, a little disturbed at the mental picture. "Well, this impacts my escape plans significantly… Hm, I'ma go talk to him."
"Good luck with that," the skooma addict scoffed, clearly not believing she'd actually succeed. Yang got the impression that plenty of people had attempted to talk to Madenach over the years without much success, but she wasn't about to let that stop her.
"Bears eat pigs, right?" she rhetorically asked. The man didn't give her a response, nor did she wait for one as she stood up and walked towards the gate.
Yang approached the massive Orc, wondering if he was feeling like she did when that tiny, quiet chick faced her on the train. Shaking the thought from her mind, she looked up at him with a confident smirk.
"Ah, the new meat," the Orc gibed at her as she waited. "So soft. Tender." When Yang refused to back down, he grinned. "What was it like killing your first one, huh?"
"I'm not a killer, dude."
He harrumphed at that. "Liar."
Yang sneered. "I said I'm not a killer, not that I haven't killed anyone." She huffed and pushed some of her bangs back. "Look, I need to see Madanach."
"You want to talk to the King in Rags?" he asked, looking her over. "Fine, but first you got to pay the toll. How about you get me a shiv? Not that I need one, but it's nice to have in case I need to do some 'shaving.' Ha ha."
Yang scoffed. She hadn't thought it would be that easy, but for the guy to be asking for something as cliché as a shiv in a prison just miffed her.
"I said," she growled out, enunciating her next words clearly as she glared up at him, "Let. Me. In."
For a second, Borkul looked angered, then his expression melted to one of contemplation as he took in the stare leveled his way by the blonde brawler.
"Those eyes," he muttered to himself, seemingly entranced for a split second before he nodded. "All right, killer, go on through. But don't try anything. Madanach knows more than you think."
Yang's glower morphed into a grin as he unlocked the gate and stepped aside, letting her through. She started down the tunnel, sniffing along the way to try and get an idea about what she was heading into. There was the stinging scent of silver, even in here, but there was also the scent of food. Bits of cheese, meat, and even some fruit.
'Makes sense. The biggest dog on the block would be the one to distribute the food, and I can't think of a bigger dog than a king.'
She paused at seeing another gated off tunnel close to the well-lit room at the end, but then continued on. Inside was an old man, probably older than even Braig, who could have easily been her grandfather. He was sitting in an old chair writing something on some parchment, his fingertips stained with ink and clashing with the blue tint of his skin. At his wrists were scars, circled all the way around, with a matching pair of scar bands further up his forearms, forming a rough outline similar to her own power-limiting manacles. Behind him was a bed, which, while an actual recognizable piece of furniture, was old and falling apart, barely a step above the bedrolls the others enjoyed. Barrels were set in the corner, likely holding the food for the week, and a couple of bottles were set out. The old man sat up and turned towards her, having abandoned his writing for a moment before clicking his tongue and letting out a short laugh.
"Well, well, look at you. Your kinsmen have turned you into a wild animal, Nord."
"I'm not a Nord," Yang ground out, crossing her arms.
"All the same, in the end. You're a wild beast caged up and left to go mad." He laughed a little more at that and turned fully in his seat. "So, my fellow beast, what do you want? Answers about the Forsworn? Revenge for trying to have you killed?"
"Answers, yeah," Yang muttered, letting her arms fall to her side. "You've got a lot to answer for."
"Do I? And what about you?" he shot back at her, barely holding back the vitriol she sensed within him. "What right did you have to meddle in my affairs? Kill my people? Was it worth it? Your truth?" He gestured around them. "You're one of us now, you see? A slave. The boot of the Nord stepping on your throat. Maybe if you understood that, I could help you."
Yang took a deep breath and slowly released it. For several reasons, she had expected herself to be far angrier when she ran into Madanach, maybe even fight him in some epic clash upon finally meeting him. Now, she couldn't see it. The man still had some muscle under his skin, but he was clearly underfed, on top of being nearly ancient. He probably wasn't that old, but it was obvious that being forced into this 'prison' for twenty odd years did nothing to help him. Worst of all, he had a few points.
"I went through and learned a lot before I got tossed into here," she told him. "What do you think I need to understand?"
The old king stood up and stretched his limbs before continuing. "There's a man named Braig inside these mines. Besides me, he's been here the longest. Tell him I sent you. Ask him why he's here. I want you to know how widespread the injustice of Markarth is."
Yang looked back and then nodded to him. "All right, I will. I'll be back, though. Don't think I won't still have questions for you when I'm done."
"I'll be expecting it."
Yang turned and headed back, emerging to see nearly all the prisoners had come into the common room. A small group had made a circle among themselves and were rolling makeshift dice back and forth with seemingly little purpose. Most others were staying near the fire, some of them with wet hair from their shower, though looking not that much cleaner than the rest for the attempt. Braig was one of the closest to the fire, seemingly given his spot out of respect.
"Ah, so you spoke to him?" a Reachman named Duach asked. "He say anything interesting?"
"Like when supper's coming?" Odvan spoke up from his spot.
Yang gave them a shrug and looked over to the elder man. "Braig," she started, catching his attention, "Madanach said I should speak to you. He said…to ask for…your story."
"My story, huh?" the Reachman contemplated, unfolding his legs and adjust his sitting position. "Everyone in Cidhna Mine has a tale. Let's hear yours first. When was the first time you felt chains around your wrists?"
"Uh, well," Yang muttered as she thought back. "Well, it doesn't seem like anything major compared to…now. Just some disorderly conduct when I was younger."
"Then you know the hard looks as judgment gets set upon you. The sneers of people who never had to face sentence." His face reddened for a moment before he took a breath and shook his head. "Do you have any family? Anyone waiting for you on the outside?"
"My sister and all of our friends," she explained as she took a seat near the older man. A few others were paying attention to their conversation now, but she paid them no mind. "I guess the Companions, too. Can't imagine they'll take this sitting down."
Braig nodded. "I had a daughter, once. She'd be in her twenties now. Married to some hot-headed silver worker or maybe on her own learning the herb trade."
Yang blinked and looked over to him, recalling that Madanach had been here for over twenty years, likely meaning that Braig had too.
"The Nords didn't care who was and who wasn't involved in the Forsworn Uprising. I had spoken to Madanach once, that was enough. But my little Aethra didn't want to see her papa leave her." A single tear leaked from his eyes, sliding down his dusty cheek. "She pleaded to the Jarl to take her instead. And after they made me watch as her head rolled off the block, they threw me in here anyway. To dig up their silver," he seethed.
Yang slumped as the bottom fell out of her stomach, just staring into the fire while her thoughts ran through her head. A hand rubbed across her throat unconsciously as she tried to imagine what sort of person would have done such a thing to a little girl. Part of her wanted to doubt the tale, but the man said it with such conviction and emotion that she couldn't even try to disbelieve him.
"Why- Why does this- Why did any of this damn fighting have to happen?" Yang asked, more to the world itself than those around her.
"'Cause Nords are shit," someone called out to an array of affirmations.
"Damn high rollers are the worst," someone else slurred out. "Namira should…rot their balls! Nah, Peryite!"
"It's just…" Yang tried finding the words to describe what she was feeling, but nothing was forthcoming. Every little detail that she learned only added to the overall disturbing picture of what was going on with the Reach. It wasn't just Thonar, as much as she'd love to heap it all onto him, but the very culture of the people where it concerned the natives that sickened her. She wasn't sure how pervasive the corruption of it all was, but if it was rooted so deep as to see a child executed and not cry out against that injustice, then how could there possibly be any hope of fixing such a broken society?
"It's just so much! Why is there so much bloodshed over something that…?" She couldn't even finish her thought, once again at a loss for words. All she could do was remember that old phrase once again; cruelty is the point.
Braig shook his head and leaned back. "I'm not Madanach. I was never a leader of the Forsworn. The only anger I can justify is my own. But every family in the Reach has a story like mine. There are no innocent onlookers in this struggle. Just the guilty, and the dead."