The Dragonborn felt her blood run cold as she looked down at Ancano's body. She wasn't upset that he was dead, if anything she was disappointed she didn't get to see him die, or contribute to his death herself. However, Nariilu had seen enough Thalmor bureaucracy in action to know that this would not be without consequences at the very least for the College. More agents would descend as soon as word reached the Embassy, if not more extreme measures.
"Do you have any idea what you've done?" She asked, kneeling beside the corpse to search for any signs of life-if she had only given a damn about Conjuration, perhaps she could've revived him? "The only reason the College is able to stay out of the Thalmor's interest is because Ancano only cared to search for secrets where there aren't any; what do you think will happen if they send a competent Agent? Or worse!"
Ulfric stood up, wincing in pain. "He tried to kill me," he said plainly. He reached for the sword to try and pull it out again.
"Don't," the Dragonborn said, grabbing his wrist. "It'll make it even harder to clean if you open the wound." She pulled his wrist between them; Ulfric was too tired and apathetic to resist. "How long ago were we in a battle to the death? A day? We're both alive, and neither one of us caused a major diplomatic incident!" She paused. "Alright, that may have been a bad example. But I can't believe I leave you alone for not even an hour, and you go and kill a high ranking Thalmor!"
"Do you support the Thalmor?" Ulfric snarled, pulling his wrist free. "I shouldn't be surprised; the Empire might as well be part of the Dominion-"
"Unlike you, I prefer to think before I act, and I suggest that you don't imply I hate the Thalmor any less than you," the Dragonborn snapped. "Now, I strongly recommend that you start to listen to me, lest your impulses get us both killed. If you had stayed hidden, I wouldn't have to clean up your mess. Somehow." She looked at the body and clenched her fists. Where could she possibly dispose of a where the closest earth was frozen under a foot of snow?
The Dragonborn knelt down and rummaged through Ancano's pockets. She pulled out a few sheets of folded parchment and laid them on a bookshelf, along with a small pouch and a well worn spell book. "What are you going to do? Throw him in the sea?" Ulfric asked, glaring at her. "Should I get a book of elvish funeral rites to read?"
"The sea, that's brilliant!" Nariilu mumbled, moving to his feet. "Stormcloak, grab his shoulders and help me carry this bastard out of here. If we're quick we can get rid of the blood and put everything back before lecture is over, and I can figure out how to avoid political retaliation later." Stormcloak didn't move. "You killed him, and I'll be damned if I have to throw your corpse into the sea, too," Nariilu said. "So, grab his shoulders."
Ulfric moved beside Ancano and slid his hands under his back around the shoulders, feeling his muscles crackle with lightning at the strain of lifting the elf. "What about the sword?" he asked, taking a small step after the Dragonborn lifted up the feet.
"I'll grab it right before we push him over the wall," the Dragonborn responded. "No use making another mess." Blood dripped along their path to the door, and pooled where she had to put his feet down to open the door. Droplets continued to mark the pair's path to the edge of the courtyard, right before the pathway back down to Winterhold began.
They placed his corpse down where it was halfway off the broken walkway. "Would you like to say a few words?" The Dragonborn muttered, pulling the sword out of Ancano's abdomen. Ulfric stepped forwards and kicked the body off the edge, watching as it fell into the churning sea and rocks below. "I couldn't've said it better myself," the Dragonborn said, leaning over as far as she dared to see the body crash against a rock.
She pulled back when the body disappeared under the churning waves, looking at the trail of blood stained the snow a spotty red. The Dragonborn walked back to the Hall of Attainment, shuffling her feet along the path to cover the blood. "Come on, then," she called back to Ulfric. "We don't have long." Ulfric followed her back, kicking snow over spots she had missed. She disappeared inside, Ulfric following a few paces behind.
Nariilu grabbed a set of robes off her bed and placed it over the puddle of blood, wiping up what she could. "Here," she said, standing up and grabbing a clean robe, "I'm going to bring in some snow to help clean up your mess. Keep scrubbing." She dropped the robe on the floor and stepped outside.
"So," Nariilu startled at the voice, casting an Ice Spike at the man who seemingly appeared from nowhere as she exited the Hall, "You threw the body into the Sea of Ghosts?" Archmage Aren didn't flinch; the enchantment on his robes flickered as it absorbed the Dragonborn's spell.
Nariilu relaxed her stance. She cursed herself for believing the Archmage to be foolish enough for her to slip the murder of his 'advisor' past him. She cursed herself again for being so heedless as to even attempt to hide it from him. "I'm sorry," she replied. "I didn't expect-"
"I didn't expect Ulfric Stormcloak to be at the College," Archmage Aren cut her off, "and I certainly didn't expect there to be a death within these walls." His nearly blank expression made him seem almost bored; the only life on his face was a certain spark in his eyes that Nariilu couldn't quite place.
"Sir, I can explain-"
Archmage Aren held up a hand, silencing her. "I don't particularly care for an explanation. Truthfully, I feel you've done the College a favor, at least until the Thalmor find out about this. I hope you at least took Ancano's notes from his robes before you…disposed of him." Nariilu nodded. "Good. We'll need those if we're to keep this from the Dominion."
Nariilu faltered. The Archmage didn't appear to be angry, unless he held the kind of calm fury that grew and grew before it burst. She thought she'd at least get enough time to figure out just who the Augur of Dunlain was before the Archmage expelled her. He hadn't mentioned any punishment, he'd even expressed gratitude, of all things, but a purposeful death, a murder, on College grounds was bound to leave her walking down the bridge in disgrace, even if she wasn't the one who killed. The Archmage moved past her and through the door.
Ulfric ran the robes over the floor in vain; the blood had begun seeping into the porous stone. Cleaning had never been his strong suit; maids in the Palace were paid to clean for him, and military camps and prisons tended not to place an emphasis on the skill. He was sure the robes would form holes before the blood ever lifted. Ulfric doubted the snow the Dragonborn had gone to collect would make any difference, he thought upon hearing the door reopen.
Archmage Aren took a second to take in the sight of Stormcloak on his hands and knees cleaning Thalmor blood with College robes. He could only imagine the series of events that had led to this moment. He murmured a spell, fading the blood from the stones and righting objects thrown by Stormcloak's Shout.
Ulfric looked up when he heard a decidedly male voice, ready to attack again despite his aching body. The Dragonborn stood gently closing the door with her back behind a shorter Dark Elf dressed in robes that could only be described as iridescent. He had seen many enchantments before, rarely on more than one weapon or armor piece on a person, but never had any glowed so brightly and with such color that it seemed to shift the very candlelight in the Hall to twisting blues, reds, purples, greens. It was a garment that demanded attention, though the man's posture and expression did little to support it. Nonetheless, Ulfric rose to his feet to greet the Archmage of the College of Winterhold.
"I believe this meeting is much delayed, Jarl," Archmage Aren said, holding out his hand in greeting. The title nearly made Ulfric wince. "I have little patience for politics, but I will make an exception when the politics end in…well, this. I'm Archmage Savos Aren; a pleasure."
Ulfric took his outstretched hand, noticing that the blood had been removed from his hands and cloak as well. "Likewise." He noticed that the Dragonborn was hanging by the door, standing with an uncertain posture Ulfric had never seen her with, though granted he had spent less than a full day with her. "I apologize for the mess; I'm afraid your College had a pest problem."
"Ah, yes, thank you for taking care of that. Of course, you understand that with all infestations, measures must be taken to prevent the pests' return," Archmage Aren said. "How do you plan to do this?"
"Archmage, with all due respect, what, exactly, are you requesting?" The Dragonborn asked. "You can certainly say what ever you're saying without the symbolism." She respected the Archmage of course, but his methods were…abstract. She much preferred the rigid structure of the Imperial Army to the lax hand waving of Archmage Aren.
"I'm asking the Jarl to finish cleaning up his mess. Ancano was the best Thalmor spy we could possibly have at the College! Stubborn, self-absorbed, stupid, all the greatest traits of the Thalmor so purely represented in one man. I don't imagine Elenwen will take kindly to this, if she ever does find out." The Archmage strolled over to Ancano's desk, inspecting the small stack of notes. "Oh, dear," he unfolded one of the parchment pages, "it appears Elenwen won't receive this report on the ice wraiths in the Midden. How tragic!" He tossed the paper on the desk. "If the Dominion comes calling on Ancano's unexpected leave of absence, well, we shouldn't dwell on the dreary for long."
Ulfric clenched his fist at his side. To stop the Thalmor from coming back to the College, they'd have to be kicked out of Skyrim altogether, and to do that…would be more work than he could do deposed, disgraced, and in servitude to the Dragonborn. "I currently lack the resources to end the Dominion presence in Skyrim." That had been right under sending the Empire packing on his list of goals; Galmar had considered the two acts one in the same, especially after his spies reported an ancient fort had been occupied by the Thalmor a few hours walk from Solitude.
"Sir, the Empire is too weak right now to start another war with the Thalmor," the Dragonborn spoke up. "The Civil War led to more losses than expected, on all sides." More souls for Alduin to devour, she reminded herself, that much harder for her to destroy. "If you alligned the College with the Empire, perhaps-"
She could've sword the Archmage rolled his eyes, but it could've just as easily been the enchantment glow playing with his bright red eyes, half hidden under the shadow of his cowl. "You both think like soldiers, scrambling for the next body to fall before you." The Archmage clasped his hands behind him and paced around the Hall. "I suppose it reflects accurately, except this is not an institution of war. It is a place of learning. I will not have these ancient stones marred by such messy matters as politics and the supposed glory of war.
"Perhaps," he continued, inspecting a soul gem left on the well in the center of the Hall, "if you considered every option, instead of the ones that bring you closer to whatever end you believe to be necessary, you'd find a better alternative." Archmage Aren made eye contact with both of them in the long silence that followed. "In other words, since neither of you wants to think of it for yourself, I'm asking you to hire a forger."
"A what?" The Dragonborn exclaimed. "That's illegal!" She had considered that the Archmage may be losing whatever touch he had once had before, but now she was sure of it. A forger? Not even considering where she could find one skilled enough to mimic the elegant Aldmeri script Ancano wrote in, knowingly hiring a forger could land one in jail for a year at least.
"I seem to recall you mentioning something about being brought to Skyrim in a prison cart," Archmage Aren replied. The Dragonborn shut her mouth and looked down.
Ulfric realized he never actually asked why she was being executed. Sure, Ralof had his theory that she was crossing the border, but Ulfric couldn't recall the transport stopping to grab anyone, except for that horse thief. She had been in the cart before they were put on, not that Ralof could've known; the boy was struck unconscious by an Imperial soldier during the ambush and missed the first hour or so of their trek.
"We can hire a forger, Archmage," Ulfric spoke up. The illegality of the action didn't really bother him; he'd used forgers before to gain an advantage in multiple battles. He wished something more direct could be done, however. "The issue is finding one willing and able." Ulfric had lost almost every single person in his intelligence ring during the closing weeks of the Civil War, including his best forgers.
The Dragonborn scowled. "I can't do it. We can't, Stormcloak and I. There is urgent business in Whiterun that absolutely requires our presence." She was so closeto ending this, once and for all. To getting back to her life. She shouldn't have to put the fate of the world on hold just because Stormcloak wanted to deal with his all his problems with a shout and a sword. Idiot. Even as she said it, she knew she-they-would be stuck hiring the forger, since it was Stormcloak who wanted to go around killing Thalmor and getting them into this mess.
Ulfric raised his eyebrows. What could possibly be waiting for him in Whiterun, other than a smug Balgruuf and enough deer to feed all of Tamriel. Besides, hiring a forger and keeping the Thalmor's death secret may be best in the long run. The forger could feed false information to the Dominion, and receive intelligence for them to use.
But the Dragonborn seemed dead-set on refusing. She had planted her feet to the ground and crossed her arms, staring at the Archmage, who was looking rather lazily back at her as if she didn't have a glare that betrayed the Dragon's soul burning within her. "It would be wise," he said, aware of how her gaze shifted to stare him down. "I've created a valuable opportunity to collect information and deceive the Thalmor. I do not know why you want to go to Whiterun, but we can't ignore this. It could be the first step to ending the Aldmeri Dominion."
"And Whiterun will be the last step to ending Alduin," the Dragonborn retorted. "There is a prophecy to fulfill, and this may have slipped past your thick head, but I am responsible for saving Tamriel!" How blind could Stormcloak be? He was the one that left Skyrim kingless and finished the prophecy, he was the one that starting that dammed civil war, stalling her for months and giving Alduin a steady stream of dead to eat. "How long until Alduin devours the world?"
"Suppose you save Tamriel, suppose Alduin lies dead," Ulfric countered, "and suppose you plunge the entire continent into yet another Great War because you think a prophecy that has waited thousands of years can't wait another week!" How short-sighted could the Dragonborn be? Nearly every single second she seemed to radiate self-righteousness, and now she couldn't even be bothered to think of the people she claimed to protect? Another war would be disastrous for Skyrim, and this was just the type of incident the Dominion could use to start one. "You certainly just had all Winter to fight in a war, why are you pressed for time all of a sudden?"
The Dragonborn opened her mouth to respond, and instead took a deep breath. She didn't have to justify herself to him; he was bound to her by the old laws, by his honor, if he had any of that left. But, as much as she hated to admit it to herself, Stormcloak had a point. Alduin had waited this long to devour the world; he would likely wait another week while she sent a forger to the College. "We…will get you a forger, Archmage.
Archmage Aren smiled gently. "If I find Thalmor Agents swarming my College, Nariilu, you can consider yourself expelled." He put down the soul gem and smoothly strode towards the door. "As quickly as you can, if you don't mind. The Thalmor are not a patient bunch."
He left with little to-do. The Dragonborn noticed her fists had frosted, either due to her anger of the time delay or admitting that Stormcloak was right, she wasn't sure.