Again they walked south, passing into the Rift, where the road sloped upwards and the air grew warm enough for Vash to slip his hood back and take his gloves off. That was the downside of travelling around Skyrim; there was simply no way to dress for all the climates that it contained. After spending most of his time in Winterhold, he almost dreaded that they'd have to, between the second and third strongholds, pass through the sometimes cloying heat of Falkreath.

'What did you say to the aunts?' asked Vash, as they passed between the watchtowers that lined the road up to Riften.

'Reminded them of the reality of things,' said Muzgu. 'They've been living in their little world a long time.'

'You also made several threats of violence,' said Yanakh.

'Yeah, that too,' added Muzgu, working something out from between her teeth.

'I believe you said Bolar would have the opportunity to read her own entrails.'

'Something like that.'

The thought entered Vash's head that maybe his companions were similarly out of place on this strange quest as he was, just plucked from radically different backgrounds. The reasoning of Malacath could not be analysed, of course, but it did make Vash wonder.

They passed through Riften in the evening. Although Vash knew many of the Thieves Guild from their appearance at the Battle of Helgen, and counted at least one as a close friend, he still felt uneasy in their city. Instead he suggested they spend the night further west, making the extra distance before the light faded, passing a few coins to a farmer to sleep in his barn.

In the morning they didn't have far to go, just across a stone bridge that spanned a dry riverbed, and then off the road to the south. The stronghold of Largashbur came into view between the trees.

The gate was shut, and there was nobody on the watchtower. Vash hesitated, his fist raised to hammer on the gate. He was saved from indecision by Yanakh.

'Hail, Largashbur!' she called out, her sudden increase in volume startling Vash. 'The agent of Malacath seeks entry!'

'Fancy,' said Muzgu. Yanakh flushed, looked away, and fell silent.

It was a few moments before someone appeared on the watchtower, an elderly female orc in black robes. She looked down at the newcomers, her tired face showing no surprise.

'It really is you,' she said, her voice a dry croak. 'Give me a moment to open the gate.'

She trod slowly down from the watchtower and they heard her fumbling with a bar on the gate—more security than Narzulbur had used. Vash looked at his companions, who, by their expressions, had noticed the same thing.

'My apologies,' said the orc once she'd opened the gate. 'We've had trouble with bandits, and the Thieves Guild too.'

'A bar on the gate won't stop the Guild,' said Muzgu, as the trio trailed into the stronghold.

'Evidently,' said the orc. She introduced herself as Atub, the stronghold's sorceress. The stronghold itself was built at the base of a great rocky cliff. Before them as they entered was a firepit, with the longhouse along the left side of the open space. Although the weather was more pleasant than Narzulbur, and autumn leaves covered much of the ground, there was silence in Largashbur then, silence that sent Vash's nerves working, his fingers itching to cast some spell.

'Where is everybody?' asked Vash.

Atub crossed to a chair by the longhouse door and sat down, a sigh escaping her lips.

'There are very few of us left, these days,' she said. 'Our blacksmith and her son were killed by bandits in the summer. That thief from the Guild took the last fine pieces of hers we had to sell.' She gestured further back, where a hut containing a forge stood empty and cold, its door hung open carelessly, the leaves blowing across the floor.

'How many are left?' asked Yanakh. Muzgu had wandered over to where a rough shrine to Malacath sat behind the firepit, a stone slab that reminded Vash rather too much of a coffin. At the head of the slab was a thick stake with an antlered deer skull perched on top. The slab itself was bare of offerings but for scatterings of lavender.

'Four, now,' said Atub. 'Two had gone to Narzulbur to work the mine. We had hoped for their return, but it never came.' She looked back and forth between the guests, seemingly unsure of them which to address. 'Did you come from there?'

'Do you want to tell her, or shall I?' asked Yanakh quietly.

Vash felt himself grow warmer. He looked at his boots and silently cursed himself. He had acted hastily, not thought to check how many orcs remained in Largashbur before saying that Gadba and Mul ought to be inducted fully into the Narzulbur tribe.

'I have made a mistake,' he said, forcing himself to meet Atub's eyes.

'They are not returning,' said Atub. She shook her head. 'You should not blame yourself. Others have tried to save us. We have tried ourselves, and paid with blood for our attempts. I think we have lost.'

'No!' blurted Vash. 'I can still make things right.' He looked at both Yanakh and Muzgu. 'We can. I know people in the Guild, I can get your things back. And the bandits, we can take care of them.'

Atub sighed. 'If you wish, we will be grateful,' she said. 'But I think it would be just delaying the end.'

Vash shook his head rapidly. 'We can fix this,' he said.

'Let us take care of the bandits,' said Yanakh. 'You go see the Guild.'

'Are you sure?' asked Vash. Yanakh wore her sword like she knew how to use it, and he was completely sure that Muzgu had more than a few deaths in her past, but still, he had never seen them in action.

Yanakh nodded. 'We ran into some bandits on the way to Winterhold,' she said. 'They were—'

'Pathetic,' finished Muzgu, from where she was rearranging the lavender on the shrine. 'Shouldn't be a problem.'

That seemed to settle it. Atub said she would tell the chief, who had the name of Gularzob. She went inside the longhouse, not inviting them to join her. After a few minutes, the chief appeared. He was unusually young for a chief, dressed in simple furs, and he leaned on a great spiked warhammer, clutching it like he'd fall over without its support. Even Vash knew enough to recognise its provenance, though Muzgu spoke first.

'That's fucking Volendrung,' she said.

'Yes, it is,' said Gularzob. He sat in the chair vacated by Atub, holding the hammer of Malacath like a staff beside him. He looked as tired as she had been. 'Our previous chief, he was a coward. He and an outsider were sent to purify Malacath's shrine, in the east. Only the outsider returned, with the giant's club. When placed upon the antlers there'—he gestured to the skull atop the stake—'it was transformed into this. Malacath said the outsider should take it, but she refused. Said that I was chief and should wield it.' He looked around the stronghold. 'See what good it has done me.'

'An outsider?' asked Yanakh.

Gularzob shrugged. 'A human female,' he said. 'She looked like a Breton, but she did not speak like one. She did not give us her name.'

Vash started. He'd only met one person who fitted that description, one woman who had travelled across Skyrim helping everyone who needed it, one woman who would refuse such a legendary reward for the deeds she had done. He kept his mouth shut. Gularzob's woes would not be eased by learning he owed his position as chief to the Dragonborn.

There was little else to say. Gularzob told them that the bandits seemed to be camped outside a dwarven ruin to the west. Yanakh and Muzgu went that way, and Vash retrod the route back to Riften.

His friend in the Guild, a khajiit named Dar'epha, had told him to knock at the outside door of Honeyside, if he ever needed to speak with her. Relieved at not having to enter the city again, he followed her instructions, watching a fisherman over at the docks struggling with his oars as he headed out to start the day's work. Shortly, a redheaded Nord woman opened the door. She was missing one hand at the wrist, and some recognition showed in her face.

'Iona, isn't it?' asked Vash. 'You were at Helgen.' As it came out of his mouth, he remembered that that was where she had lost the hand, somewhere in that furious battle against the Thalmor and the demons that spewed from the Oblivion gate they had opened. But before he could form an apology for reminding her of her loss, Iona had nodded, said she'd fetch Dar'epha, though it might be few minutes. Vash was saying it was no trouble at all when the door closed in his face. He sighed and leant on the railing, back to watching the fisherman.

The sun had noticeably moved across the sky before Dar'epha appeared. He didn't hear the door open behind him; she was just suddenly there beside him at the railing. Her leather armour, mostly made of pockets, was of a darker hue than the last time he'd seen her.

'Gods, Vash, I'm sorry,' she said. 'Fuckin everything happening at once, you know?'

Vash nodded. 'What does the darker armour mean?' he asked. 'A promotion?'

Dar'epha groaned. 'It's all responsibility and no reward, I tell ya. The Flagon's so crowded these days I can barely breathe down there. I keep Honeyside just for me and Iona and Sapphire. Somewhere where it's quiet.'

'Gylhain wouldn't mind.'

'Nah. Don't think she ever stayed more than a couple nights in the place really.' She suddenly straightened and slapped Vash on the back. 'Oh! I read your book. I didn't even steal a copy. My favourite bits were the bits with me in them.'

Vash cleared his throat. 'Actually, that's sort of why I'm here. I need to ask a favour.'

'Writing a sequel and starved for material? I suppose we could open another gate, see what happens.'

'I'm working for Malacath.'

'Huh.' Dar'epha fell silent.

'I'm trying to help the strongholds,' added Vash. He gestured westwards. 'One of yours took some armour from Largashbur.'

'You want me to add 'em to the no-steal list? Still keepin them out of Winterhold, have you noticed?'

'I have. Thank you.'

'I didn't even know we'd hit Largashbur,' said Dar'epha. 'Not our kinda place, no offence. Ugh, too many new kids running around down there who don't know the drill. I'll stop it happening again. Can't promise the armour's still around, but if it is, I'll see it gets back to them.'

'Thank you,' said Vash again. There was another pause, then Dar'epha exhaled loudly and laughed.

'I work for Nocturnal, is the thing,' she said. Vash raised his eyebrows. 'That's what happened to me, when I went through the gate in Helgen. I left that bit out, when I told you about it for your book.'

'I didn't tell you about Malacath,' said Vash, 'so I think that makes us even.'

'It might make us both fuckin fools,' said Dar'epha.

'I don't know. I think we knew what we were doing.'

'Did we? I dunno, I got a tendency to just jump right in there without thinking.'

'Did you get what you wanted from the bargain?' asked Vash.

Dar'epha thought for a moment. 'Yeah,' she said. 'Yeah, I think I did. Got a bunch of unrelated problems though.'

'That's how it goes,' said Vash. 'As if running the College wasn't enough.'

'Huh, yeah. Did you, though? Get what you wanted from Malacath?'

'I'm not sure yet.'

They leaned beside each other in easy silence for a time. A flock of birds flew over, their high-pitched cries echoing over the lake. Vash knew he ought to be getting back to Largashbur. He was worried about Yanakh and Muzgu dealing with the bandits on their own, worried about the future of the stronghold, worried about his decisions rippling out beyond his control.

'Did you ever hear from Kara?' asked Dar'epha.

Vash shook his head. 'I wanted her piece of the story, for the book, but nobody knew where she was.'

'She disappeared after Helgen. I made a few enquiries, but nothing.'

There had been five of them that had gone through the gate that had opened in Helgen, ending up in five different places. Gylhain, the Dragonborn, had not spoken of where she'd been, but whatever she'd done there had closed the gate. Antario, an ex-Thalmor agent, had journeyed to Boethiah's realm. His full account was present in Vash's book—although Vash had edited down some of the more flowery descriptions. These days Antario was an advisor to High Queen Elisif, and had overseen the full expulsion of the Thalmor from Skyrim that had followed the spreading news of the battle and who had been responsible for it.

The last had been Kara, a nord woman Gylhain had met somewhere on her journeys. Kara also hadn't spoken of where she had been, apparently not even to Antario, who had been her closest friend. And in the chaos that had been the aftermath of the battle, helping the wounded down to Whiterun, she had disappeared.

'Whoever she met, it might've made us look lucky,' said Dar'epha. 'Who'd ya reckon? Mephala? Vaermina?'

'There are places in Oblivion we know nothing about,' said Vash. 'Uncharted realms. We might not have words for what she saw.'

'Fuck, Vash.'

'I think you're right. We were lucky. If this is the cost, I can be okay with that. I can make myself be okay with that.'

'That's a nice little realisation,' said Dar'epha. 'But all your problems are still out there.'

He could almost see them, waiting for him. They said their farewells, and Dar'epha promised, as ever, to come by Winterhold next time she was up that way. Back on the road again, Vash moved with speed towards Largashbur, sure that disaster had struck in his absence. Instead he found Muzgu and Yanakh waiting outside the longhouse for him. Yanakh was cleaning blood off her sword, but the pair appeared otherwise unruffled.

'Gave us the easy job, I reckon,' said Muzgu. 'Bandits round here, they're just not up to scratch.'

'How did it go?' asked Vash, feeling out of breath. Perhaps hearing their voices, Chief Gularzob came out from the longhouse to join them. He leaned against the door, the great hammer still at his side.

'We killed a few,' said Yanakh. 'The rest ran.'

'Barely any sport in it,' added Muzgu. 'How was the Guild?'

Vash related what Dar'epha had told him. Gularzob thanked them briefly, then returned inside.

'Think that's as good a goodbye as we're gonna get,' said Muzgu.

'Indeed,' said Yanakh. She rose, sheathed her sword, and guided Vash out of the stronghold with her hand on his elbow. Vash was surprised, but allowed himself to be moved along. He could hear Muzgu following behind. 'That was a good thing you did,' Yanakh added. 'But there's a bigger problem.'

'Place is fucked,' came Muzgu's voice.

Yanakh winced. 'She's right, unfortunately. Four orcs isn't enough to sustain a stronghold. It's only a matter of time before—'

'Before what?' said Vash. He remembered falling and choking in the Ashpit. He would have died, had he not fought for survival with everything that he had. 'Before someone else tries to kick down their gates? There will always be something like that. They're orcs. They'll survive. It's what we do.'

Muzgu laughed. 'Boy's got a spine after all!' She swung in front of them, clapping a hand on Vash's shoulder as she overtook. Already most of the way back to the main road, she spun and looked back at Vash and Yanakh. Muzgu raised her arms towards the sky. 'We're the saviours of orc-kind!' She grinned at them. 'All you need is a little faith.'