"So a priest of Arkay is strolling through the graveyard..."
Teldryn sighed loudly as Heifnir launched into yet another humorous tale.
"...he sees a man sobbing at a headstone and, bein' a goodly priest, he goes on over..."
It had been well over an hour walk and so far he had taken advantage of his captive audience with a constant stream of nonsense that apparently passed for jokes somewhere on Nirn. At the very least, all of the man's gesticulating gave Teldryn a chance to find the weak points of his armor, of which there weren't many considering he wore mail under his cuirass.
"...the man was bawlin', just really wailin', 'Oh, why! Why didya have to die!'" Heifnir raised his fists in the air dramatically, then pointed to his cheeks. "Tears streamin', the whole bit, y'know. So by now the priest feels awful and lays a hand on his shoulder, 'You must have loved them very much,' he says."
A tell-tale snicker, heralding the punchline.
"The man looks up at the priest and says, 'Naw, never met him! He was my wife's first husband!'"
Teldryn felt as if his brain was dulling as the nord cackled enough for all three of them. He glanced over to Fethis, who had dropped his facade and retreated back into his cocoon after the joke about the horker.
"Can I just kill him?" Teldryn asked, only partially in jest. Fethis' cowl puffed out with his laugh. Heifner spun on his heel, continuing his steps backward as he wagged a finger, a keen edge in his jovial expression.
"You dark elves are tough to crack. That was my best one!"
"Does that mean it was your last one?" Teldryn drawled.
"'Course not! But I'll pretend that his laughing was for me and have mercy. Besides..." He turned back around. "We're here."
They cleared a sharp corner of the sheer cliff-side and the dock came into view where a sleek passenger ship and her heftier sister were nested cozily in the bay. The Sweet Caldana and Dame Edwina, both large enough to require a highly-skilled crew to navigate the treacherous Sea of Ghosts. The air was still, the frigid winds that dashed around the shoreline stifled by a glacier that stood watch from the water in rivalry with the frozen bluff, creating a peaceful nook that carried through it the sound of the narrow waterfall that spilled forth from some artery within the island. Its charms were lost on Teldryn for the moment. He was encouraged to see fewer miners around compared to the previous day, having completed their transport of ore to the dock for loading onto the Edwina. The fewer panicked obstacles to avoid, the better.
They passed by rows of crates full of ore where workers were driving nails into the covers to seal them up. Heifnir pointed toward one woman who was bending over to pick up a nail and he wiggled his brow. "I know where I'll be after I shove you lot off."
Teldryn made a show of assessing the girl, nodding. "Looks like she could use a laugh."
Heifnir feigned a wince at the jab, the cavalier grin returning as he led them onwards.
Fethis lowered his cowl and hood, smoothing his hair as they approached the stairs to the dock. Their feet resounded on the wooden slats as they ascended and Teldryn examined the areas that weren't covered with cargo for any traces of blood from the Thalmor that Roggir had summarily executed some months earlier. He and Erik had been told to hang back and after a brief exchange with the Justiciars, there had barely been time to draw weapons as the Dragonborn used a Shout that made the four elves scream in agony before they'd been cut down like stalks of saltrice. He suppressed a shudder. He'd never seen anything quite like it. There was nothing left of them now, gone just like the boat that the reiklings had disassembled and re-appropriated before they too suffered Roggir's judgment.
Heifnir stopped in front of the bridge to the Caldana, turning to them with a raised hand, sobering. "Wait here, gonna check if Hert is up for visitors."
Once the man had gone, Fethis leaned against a crate. "Hope we're not waiting too long."
Teldryn turned his eyes toward the Edwina that loomed behind. Two mercenaries leaned on the railing, chatting idly as they looked down on them. There were more on deck, he knew, having seen them through the spyglass. The sailors were going about their business, casting a few curious glances at the newcomers, and though they wore only plain clothes, they definitely looked the sort that would join in a fight if there was trouble.
His gaze traveled up the spire of the icy waterfall, continuing over to the drifting smoke trail. Hope you're ready.
Heifnir reappeared at the top of the bridge. "He'll see you now. Come on up."
Teldryn followed Fethis up the walkway to the deck of the ship, his senses protesting from being fully surrounded by imminent combatants. They stopped in front of a narrow stairwell leading into the hull.
"Right down here, first door you come to."
"My thanks, ser," Fethis replied, hesitating for only the smallest moment before descending the steps. The oppressive interior was not helping the tension in Teldryn's neck, but the seclusion could prove beneficial depending on the circumstances.
A nord with a milky eye held open the door to the room. From behind a desk situated in the far corner, Gaven Hertarius stood to receive them. Teldryn was not listening as Fethis exchanged pleasantries with the dark-haired Imperial, noting no click of a lock as the door was closed behind them. Another mercenary, larger with a steel helmet and serrated shortsword, leaned against the wall near his employer.
"Please, sit," Hert offered in a genial tone while his calculating gray eyes assessed them both. Teldryn threw a glance around the room- no other furniture but for a chest situated next to a bed that was built into the wall behind them- then took the seat to the right of Fethis, keeping his body relaxed. Nonthreatening.
"Now Fethis," the man began as he lowered into his own chair. "I was certainly expecting to meet with you eventually. Aquillius has spoken highly of you."
Fethis clasped his fingers together, resting them in his lap. "I've no doubt he has."
"Although I find myself troubled by the pretext of this meeting." Hert knit his brow, his expression more probing than confused. "We both know he's not sent you any invitations to set up trade with us so I must wonder..." Gray eyes darted to Teldryn briefly. "What are you really looking for?"
"You're correct, he did not communicate with me that the organization would be landing on our shores, but your carrack was hard to miss."
Hert leaned back in his chair, arrogance slithering onto his features. "So if the Redorans are finally aware of us, I don't imagine they'd send you to treat with me."
"They certainly would not. Which is why I have come with much haste and of my own accord in order to right this before it goes terribly wrong." Fethis straightened up, his voice taking on an air of scolding. "I asked Master Aeresius to partner with me so that I could rebuild a presence for the East Empire Company. I would have access to your resources and you would have access to a populace that would be unlikely to otherwise allow it. That does make sense to you, right? I don't believe I need to explain why simply showing up and taking over a valuable mine might not be the most prudent way to accomplish that goal."
"Prudence was the earmark of Vittoria's administration," the imperial spat dismissively.
That gave Fethis pause, his demeanor softening. "I was grieved to hear of her passing."
"A tragic affair, yes," Hert replied with less sincerity. "Killed upon the altar of her own wedding." He scratched his chin as he mused, "What strange times we live in."
"Not so strange that House Redoran will suffer your presence on Solstheim."
Hert's face stiffened. "So you did come here to make threats, after all?"
"Not threats," Fethis demurred, not without a hint of annoyance. "A warning, in the hopes of our mutual benefit later. Master Gaven, if you do not take this operation and leave, they will expel you. Perhaps after some time has passed, we could re-establish contact, but the way Aeresius is going about this is going to sever the Company's access to Morrowind completely."
Fethis' words hung in the air as the man blinked at him idly, waiting in false politeness for any further sentiment. The corner of his mouth curled up as he leaned forward to rest his elbow on the desk. "You don't think we've considered that? Tell me, why has the good captain not already expelled us, then?" His face twisted further in amusement. "It could not be that he's a bit distracted? Short-handed? Oh yes, as isolated as you must feel on this rock, the world outside is aware of the goings-on in your little mining town. Perhaps, now do try to understand this..." He raised a hand in a placating gesture. "Perhaps we're not here for you or the ragged remains of your people." The levity drained from his face as he refolded his arms and Teldryn took measured breaths, keeping himself calm within the congealing air of the cabin. He shot a look at Fethis, whose expression showed he understood the discourse had just passed a threshold.
Teldryn was as surprised as the imperial when Fethis laughed, breaking the silence with a dry and mocking rattle."Forgive me," he said with a slight cough, composing himself. "but you are young and ignorant. Allow me to relay to you a bit of history," he said, mimicking Hert's hand gesture. "Merely in the interest of understanding each other better, of course." The imperial inclined his head with a rather piqued courtesy. Fethis' tone turned bitter, stripped of the veneer. "We had no Septim when Oblivion came to Nirn. Our home became, essentially, The Deadlands not long after, and we had no Dragonborn to drive out the invading forces that followed. I must say, the remains of my people, ragged as we may be, are quite determined to hold our ground in the shadow of the Mountain."
"An illuminating lesson," Hert sneered, a menacing look crawling over his face. "I'll be sure to relay the message."
The hardened look sent a burning tingle up the back of Teldryn's neck, that charge that always preceded the reek of blood. He heard the blade draw just as Hert's eyes flicked behind him and he moved, darting forward from the chair, pulling his dagger while grasping at the arm that was arcing through the space he'd just occupied. He swung himself behind the nord, burying his dagger at the base of the man's ear, a crimson spurt chasing its removal. As the man's knees buckled, Teldryn yanked him back against the door, grabbing the weapon from his hand as he fell with a heavy thud, eyes wide as he tried in vain to stifle the escaping fountain of his life.
In such close quarters, his sword would be more of a hindrance so Teldryn prepared himself with a dagger in each hand to fend off that wicked short-sword, good fortune bringing the wielder toward him and not Fethis, who was backing away from Hert with a ward up. He'd have to hope the old man could handle himself for the moment.
The mercenary's blade chipped into the post of the alcove bed as Teldryn leaped backward onto the mattress, rolling to his feet just as the pillow that had been under him was cleaved into a cloud of feathers. Teldryn wanted to make a stab for the gap in the cuirass under the man's arm but thought better of it, retreating from the backswing that definitely would have taken his head. His opponent was quicker than he'd expected and it would only take one hit.
As Teldryn moved toward the desk behind him he spared a glance at Fethis, cornered behind the ward at the other end of the bed, half on top of the chest and keeping Hert's dagger out of reach by blasting frost at the cursing man's feet. Don't waste all your magicka! He didn't have time to put a voice to the scolding, snatching a chair and hurling it at the looming mercenary. The man swatted it away giving Teldryn a precious moment to fling the spare dagger behind the desk and begin pooling magicka into his palm as he threw himself across the surface to avoid the savage arc that chased him, biting deeply into the wood with a loud crack.
The mercenary growled as he tugged at his sword and Teldryn completed his spell, aiming just behind the imperial. The scamp erupted from the swirling void, screeching, and Teldryn could feel its glee as it leaped onto Hert's back, wrapping long talons around his head.
All that screaming was going to draw some attention but he couldn't think about that right now, as the mercenary had freed his blade and was absolutely heaving as he rounded the desk. Teldryn retrieved the discarded dagger and huffed a couple of quick, steadying breaths. Bring me that rage, N'wah.
He dodged backward, the edge of the blade so close it ghosted the cloth around his face. His back hit the wall and the man cried out, putting all his energy into a swing that would probably cut through anything it hit, armored or not. Teldryn ducked under the sword, rushing forward, stabbing his dagger into that gap under the arm as he slid himself behind his opponent. He lurched backward as the man abandoned his sword that was buried in the planks, trying to crush Teldryn between his own body and the adjacent wall.
Teldryn's chestplate kept his ribs from breaking but he tasted blood as the steel helmet glanced off his chin, knocking his teeth together. He gasped for a breath as the man turned around, pressing a heavy hand to his chest and raising a fist only to falter with a pained grunt because of the blade still buried under his arm. Teldryn lunged forward, stabbing the other dagger up to the hilt under the man's chin.
He let go as the mercenary slid to the floor, sucking on the blood in his mouth as he assessed the room. Fethis was still in the corner and looked no worse for wear except for an extremely disgusted expression as the scamp paced the room restlessly. He yanked his dagger from the merc's side, wiping the blood from it as he stepped around the desk to see what Fethis was looking at.
"Jesus Chr-," he stopped short, startled by more than the sight of what the scamp had done to Hert. Where did that come from? He shook off the momentary distraction, refocusing on the man-shaped carnage that remained on the floor. He suddenly felt very fortunate he'd gotten out of his first summoning with only a lightning bolt to the leg. The scamp cocked its head toward the door and a moment later the handle turned, the body barricading the entrance jostling as a muffled voice came through.
"Hey! What's going on in there! Hronulf, Garm!"
"Fethis, stick close to me," Teldryn sheathed his dagger and picked up the dead man's feet to unblock the door. He looked to the scamp. "Ready to go outside for once?"
The scamp hissed, rearing back to pounce and Teldryn pulled.
