Uhther swore loudly and ripped Dragon's Breath from its scabbard. The purple light of fire, lightning and ice intertwining, shimmered along the blade. His shield was up and ready. Auriel's shield, that he had found in the inner depths of the Forgotten Vale. If this newcomer did attack, she would find more than she bargained for.

The stranger in grey chuckled.

'Twitchy one, aren't you?' said the stranger. She strolled over to them, as though there were no sword pointed at her. 'I am here at the Arch-mage's invitation, Dragonborn, just like you.'

'I can see that,' Uhther growled, quickly looking over to Safiya and Quaranir, neither of whom had so much as moved, before turning his attention back on the stranger, 'what I can't understand is; why?'

Safiya had cocked her head to one side, a curious expression on her face. 'Do you know who this is?'

Uhther lowered his sword slightly. The newcomer did not seem hostile but it never hurt to be careful with her sort. Without taking his eyes from her, he shook his head.

'I do not,' he said, 'but this is not the first time I've met a Nightingale.'

The Nightingale stopped, seeming genuinely taken aback.

'It isn't?' she asked, curiously. Uhther shook his head.

'About a year or so ago,' he said, 'I was clearing some bandits out of some ruins on Lake Geir. Before I could face their leader, someone dressed just like you are appeared from nowhere and slit his throat. I took them for a member of the Dark Brotherhood, at first. But after a little research I discovered the truth about Nocturnal's inner circle, The Nightingales, the best thieves and some of the deadliest killers in Tamriel.'

The Nightingale had not moved. Her eyes were not visible but Uhther got the impression that he was being appraised. Finally, she lifted her hands to lower the cowl and then pull away the mask. This revealed an angular yet feminine, grey skinned face with eyes as red as blood. Her hair was a mane of coppery auburn that, now it was freed, fell to her shoulders. A pointed, almost knife-like, black tattoo ran down the side of her face beneath her left eye.

'Dragonborn,' Safiya stepped forward, 'may I introduce Llirvalie Lonailu, Master of the Skyrim branch of the Thieves Guild.'

Llirvalie inclined her head. 'And of course,' she said, a rather sardonic expression on her face, 'it would be hard not to know who you are, Lord Uhther.'

Uhther sniffed and did not lower Dragon's Breath. The Guildmaster? Here? He had to stifle a laugh at the thought of what Mjoll the Lioness would say had she been there with him.

Quaranir sighed and stepped forward, as if determined to remind them all that he was still there.

'If we might turn to the rather pressing matter at hand,' he said, impatiently, 'petty squabbles can wait until afterwards.' His voice had the casual authority of many High Elves that Uhther had encountered and that put his hackles up. He had too often heard Thalmor agents speak with that tone of voice.

Llirvalie turned her attention from Uhther and focussed instead on Quaranir.

'And what is this matter, Sorcerer?' she asked, and Uhther noticed a note of barely hidden dislike in her voice. He supposed he shouldn't be surprised. From what he knew of the Dunmer, they had no more reason to like the High Elves than the Nords. 'I answered the Arch-mage's call as a courtesy, yet I have heard no reason to explain why you are here, why the Thieves Guild should be involved, nor why I should be concerned.'

Quaranir drew himself to his full height. An impressive sight, Uhther was loathe to admit. He was considered tall for a Nord, yet Quaranir dwarfed him by about a head.

'It is a matter that involves all who call this world home,' said the sorcerer, 'and should concern all those who wish things to continue that way.'

'How very ominous,' Llirvalie scoffed. Uhther, however, was now interested in spite of himself. He heard the sincerity in Quaranir's voice and had seen enough in the past few years to know the danger they could be in. He sheathed his sword and waited. Safiya had all her attention on the sorcerer as well. Clearly, she had been summoned to this meeting as much as he had. Llirvalie tutted impatiently, folded her arms but still watched the sorcerer and waited for him to speak.

Quaranir shot Llirvalie a disdainful look before turning his gaze on Uhther.

'I wonder,' he said, 'if you will understand what I mean when I tell you this matter concerns The Towers of Mundus?'

Uhther did not understand. The words meant absolutely nothing to him. He turned to look at the other two. Safiya seemed to know what Quaranir was talking about. She did not look confused, at least. She only continued to look at Quaranir, an unmoving expression of polite attention on her face. Llirvalie looked as if she was being careful to conceal her emotions, but from the narrowing of her eyes and a slight frown, Uhther was fairly sure that she had no more idea than he did.

Quaranir paused for only a moment before sighing a small sigh.

'I thought as much,' he said, 'though I did dare to hope that the knowledge had not been completely forgotten. I suppose the fault does lie partially with us. Perhaps we have guarded our secrets too jealously. Well that must needs change if we are to weather this storm.' He paused only to raise a hand. Uhther was dimly aware of the surging of magical power and almost brought his shield up before he realised that four chairs had just been conjured in a circle. Quaranir gestured to them to sit down which they all did, though Llirvalie did hesitate somewhat.

'The Towers,' Quaranir began, 'go back a very long time in the history of our world. Some were not always there, some appeared over time and others are as old as Nirn itself. They are the barriers that separate Mundus, the physical plane, from that of Aetherius, the spiritual plane from which magic is drawn. When the Eight Divines joined with Lorkhan...'

'Shor,' Uhther corrected. Quaranir ignored him.

'...to create Mundus, a place of solidity and order amongst the chaos of Aetherius, it took a lot of power. And it takes even more power to stop Mundus from unravelling and dissolving back into Aetherius. And so, places of power came to be, these were The Towers. Constructs, both natural and forged, that hold up Mundus and stop it from falling into chaos. Each had at their heart a source of great power, what we call the Stones. The first of these Towers was Ada-mantia, what you call the Adamantine Tower, in High Rock. This Tower had, at its heart, the Convention, the meeting of the Divines at the beginning of time. From this meeting it was decided that Lorkhan's punishment for the taking of their immortality was that he should be separated into pieces. One of those pieces was his heart which was plunged into the depths of Nirn. But from these depths, Red Mountain grew and became the second tower, with the Heart of Lorkhan at its centre.'

Llirvalie was now leaning forward. It seemed she no longer wished to hide her interest.

'But the heart disappeared,' she said, 'the Nerevarine destroyed the enchantments around it to defeat Dagoth Ur and then the heart vanished. My grandmother told me the story, she was there when it happened.'

'Yes,' Quaranir sighed, 'the Heart disappeared and, years later, Red Mountain erupted. It is a Tower no more.'

Safiya had been leaning back in her chair, her face neutral, making it clear that she knew all this already. Now, though, it was her turn to lean forward. 'But from what you said,' she began, her tone still clinical, ever the seeker of knowledge, 'there are more than just the two Towers.'

Quaranir nodded, though his face remained grave. 'There were,' he said, 'but they have been destroyed, one by one. You see, the stones are the power and hearts of the Towers. If a stone is destroyed, the Tower becomes inactive. The White-Gold Tower was disabled when the Amulet of Kings was destroyed at the end of the Third Era. The Walk Brass Tower, what history calls the Numidium, disappeared from Tamriel during the Warp in the West. The Doomcrag Tower, the Orichalc Tower, even the Crystal Tower of Summerset, all gone.'

A rather shocked silence followed this announcement. Uhther did not like what he was hearing but could see no reason to doubt the elf. And now there was a new, familiar feeling rising within him. Excitement. This felt like the beginning of a new adventure.

'But how?' Llirvalie demanded, 'who would destroy them?'

Quaranir didn't need to answer. Uhther could hazard a guess.

'The Thalmor?'

Quaranir nodded.

'My kind,' he said, 'believe ourselves to be lesser Aedra who followed the Divines in the creation of Mundus and were stripped of our immortality, just as they were. It is my understanding that the Dunmer have a similar philosophy, despite their preference towards the worship of the Daedra.' He turned an expression that Uhther could not read, disapproval perhaps, on Llirvalie, but went on talking before the Dark Elf could speak. 'While most elves see our confinement to this mortal realm as a test that we must prove ourselves equal to, which we shall be rewarded for when we shed our mortal forms and pass into Aetherius, others see it as an obstacle that must be overcome. The Aldmeri Dominion hold fast to this belief. If the Towers are destroyed, or their power becomes too weak, then Mundus shall unravel. This world shall cease to exist which, to the Thalmor, means we elves shall be returned to our once immortal selves and dwell alongside the Divines.'

Uhther had done too much in the last few years, had been on too many adventures and quests, not to recognise the note of foreboding in Quaranir's voice.

'How many Towers are left?' He asked, his voice strangely quiet in his ears. Quaranir met his gaze, levelly.

'We don't know,' he said flatly, 'in truth no one, not even the Thalmor, knows how many Towers there are. My research indicates that at least two Towers must be active for Mundus to exist, for it was only after the rise of Red Mountain that Nirn truly took form.'

'How many,' Safiya asked, her voice still flat though Uhther thought her tone had changed, even if it was ever so slight, 'how many Towers, that you know of, are left?'

Quaranir paused, with all the weight of someone who does not wish to deliver bad news.

'Two,' he said finally, 'perhaps three.'

There was a moment of stunned silence. Then Llirvalie began to laugh. A strange laugh, somewhere between a chuckle and a nervous giggle. Uhther slumped in his seat and he could see Safiya sitting ramrod straight, her eyes wide, her mouth a thin line.

'That few?'

Quaranir nodded.

'The Green Sap Tower is in Valenwood,' he said, 'the Graht-oak trees are held sacred by the Bosmer, so we believed it safe. But then the Aldmeri Dominion took over the province and some of the Graht-oaks have begun rooting themselves. This might mean that the Tower has been deactivated but we never found out what the Tower's stone is, only that it is some sort of fruit. Without that knowledge, we don't know if the stone has been destroyed or not.'

'And what of the other two?' Safiya asked.

'Well the Adamantine Tower is safe,' Quaranir assured them, 'its Stone is a moment outside of time, it cannot be destroyed. The other,' he looked at Uhther again, 'is here in Skyrim. It is named in the Nu-Mantia Intercepts as The Snow Throat Tower.'

Uhther felt as though he should be surprised. But he was not. It made sense, really. It was a holy place, a place of pilgrimage, of great power, the highest mountain in all of Tamriel with a connection back to the Merethic Era.

'The Throat of the World.'

Uhther had not meant it as a question, but Quaranir nodded nonetheless. The other two were now looking at Uhther, Safiya's eyes cold and calculating while Llirvalie's were narrowed in curiosity.