Parties, banquets, gatherings, whatever they were called, were all the same to Iona. It didn't matter who she was standing a respectful, but defensive, distance away from, they all had the same tired politics and recycled gossip that she was supposed to pretend she couldn't hear. She and some of the other Housecarls (the more experienced ones: the newer Housecarls still had their swords up their asses about 'honor' and 'respect' and other things Housecarls rarely received, especially if they were from a more militaristic Hold) had made sideways glances to each other an art form.
By code, Housecarls could not discuss the personal or political lives of their Thanes with anyone other than said Thane, but there was no rule that banned theoreticals, or discussion of other Thanes. Iona was glad to finally be at an event, so she could bring her own discussion instead of listening silently while the others mentioned the 'possibility' of some backhanded deal or who was sleeping with who. The Housecarls would never believe that the Thalmor Ambassador herself had admitted that her own Thane had single-handedly killed three dozen Agents. Much more exciting than her old Thane, Throvald Goldenglow, and his occasional bouts of rickets.
Maven called for the guests to move to the banquet hall-she had excellent timing; Thane Therel was getting a bit too comfortable with her own abilities. Sure, the Ambassador would (most likely) never kill her in the middle of a crowded party, but there were more hours in the day to take revenge for her Thane's challenging declaration.
Divines, it would look horrible if she lost another Thane in a year.
She really had it made: except when her Thane was in Riften, Iona owned Honeyside in all ways except on the deed, Thane Therel had given her access to the stores of Septims left in the house and permission to spend it any way she desired, with only a few exceptions, in addition to her normal earnings. Every other Housecarl in the Rift was lucky to take the same meals as their Thane.
She followed Thane Therel into the banquet hall, watching her try and hide a scowl as she turned away from the Ambassador. Thane Therel walked down the long feasting table, looking for her name on a placard and finally found it near the far end of the table, away from the other Thanes seated near the head. This was as much of a slight as any, sitting her down here with the merchants of Riften.
Thane Therel slid out her own chair and sat down. Iona glanced around at the seating order Jarl Blackbriar had devised. Of course, Ulfric Stormcloak was seated on her left just before the other Thanes and nobles of her court, next the foreign merchants and nobles, then the local merchants and her Thane. By virtue of her Thanehood alone she should be placed much further up, and her status as a Legate in the Imperial Army should've granted her the same privilege. There was no way General (was he still a general?) Stormcloak would be able to ignore Jarl Blackbriar's latest insult.
Unless she was his mistress. That had to be it; General Stormcloak was too brilliant, too honorable to be blind to Jarl Blackbriar's misdeeds. They had probably been going at it for years. No wonder she had found herself in such prominence so quickly. And that, of course, meant that Stormcloak was also lining his pocket with Thieves' Guild coin, and probably even fighting against the Empire not for any noble reason, but to get away from their crackdown on crime guilds after the Great War. To think she had supported his cause!
Well, it may have been a small stretch, but the more she thought about it, the more sense it made. Besides, what else would entertain her for the next few hours of quiet feast conversation other than her own thoughts?
Ulfric never thought he would miss pseudo-politics and the parties more for leisure than any business. They had always felt like a waste of time and resources; it would make much more sense to discuss issues outright than to mention them at some party and plan on a later serious meeting. Although, taking an evening to talk about things that were, for the most part, inconsequential was a nice change of pace to the last few years of chaos.
Maven was a shrewd businesswoman, of course, and it seemed as though she also had an excellent political mind. Count Alorus was nothing more than a pawn, though Maven seemed to have used him beyond his potential to establish a foothold in Cyrodiil. She could easily expand her mead and influence from the wealthy trade center of Cheydinhal. Divines, she would have the Empire beneath her boot soon enough. Ulfric smiled, if he had known she was this useful, he would've made her Jarl of Riften years ago.
Ulfric followed Maven and sat down in the seat to her left at her urging. He insisted that he didn't deserve such an honor to be beside the head of the table, though she insisted, saying she would trust no other. The left seat was traditionally reserved for the most trusted Shieldbrother in the court, and the right for the most honorable guest, though in recent years both seats had evolved to seat the highest ranked persons on the host's court or guests as the occasion demands.
All this honor was beginning to grate on his nerves. He had done nothing to deserve it except lose a war and any chance Skyrim had of returning to the freedom it had enjoyed before the Great War. Yes, he had made himself a figurehead for the people of Skyrim, but at what cost? He was just as enslaved to the Empire as the rest of the country. Ulfric didn't even know what title he deserved anymore: not General, his army was defeated; not Jarl, a short-sighted fool sat on his throne.
The other guests filed in and found their seats. Ulfric watched as the Dragonborn walked down the legnth of the table before sitting down near the end. She looked livid. A Thane sat beside him, Thane Rogbor Stoneloom, who turned away after introducing himself and informing Ulfric that his only daughter had died fighting for his 'futile cause'.
"You sat the Dragonborn far from the other Thanes," Ulfric said to Maven, only half expecting a reason.
Maven hummed. "I'm sure you've noticed how hot-headed Therel is. We do not agree on much, and she isn't often in Riften. The Thanes do not converse with her, and, to be frank, there is quite a bit of talk about how her title should be stripped."
Ulfric nodded. Thanes were valuable to a Jarl's court, and provided day-to-day insight necessary to govern. Their influence with common citizens was not to be underestimated to the point where it wasn't rare for Jarls to introduce or abolish decrees just to appease a powerful Thane. A Thane that did not participate in the Hold's politics was of no use to a Jarl, though the title itself was generally lifelong (with rare exceptions) and had more to do with ceremony than practicality.
He began to agree with her until the seat across from him was occupied, and Ulfric's blood ran cold. He stood up suddenly, reaching for a sword that wasn't at his side in his formal attire. His chair knocked back, though it was heavy enough not to fall, making a loud noise that turned heads in his direction.
"General, please, you do not have to stand for me," First Emissary Elenwen said. Her face curled in a disgusting facsimile of a smile as she tucked her robes beneath her to sit down. "Your very presence is an honor enough. I am glad we could meet again."
Ulfric sat down slowly, ignoring the chatter at in the hall resuming. He glanced at Maven. She seemed surprised at his outburst; concern was barely visible in the slight downturn of her eyebrows. "Jarl, I apologize, but I will not be seated near the Ambassador. I mean no slight against you, and it pains me to have to move from your side," Ulfric said, glaring at Elenwen.
"Oh, but the table is full, and a man of your status shouldn't be moved from my side," Maven replied. "Everyone is seated; it would make a scene, as well." Stewards moved in and filled glasses with wine and left the first course. Maven leaned in and whispered, "You know I'm doing all I can." She stood to make a toast. "Friends, family, honored guests, thank you for coming to my home, Mistveil Keep, as we feast to celebrate this new era! We are no longer a divided people, but one Empire, stronger than before. War and strife blemish our past, and that shall be no more. I call for friendship and peace in our future, a future that we forge ourselves, a future that would not be possible without a few notable people present here this evening.
"Count Alorus of Cheydinhal and Councilor Madryn of House Redoran and I have been working together to create trade routes between the Rift, Cheydinhal, and Morrowind for the past few months, and now that the Civil War has ended, I am glad to announce that Blackbriar Mead will be available throughout West Cyrodiil and East Morrowind. Thank you, Councilor and Count, for helping me to strengthen the bonds between our regions and peoples. As we grow and flourish, we cannot forget our allies outside of the Empire; the Aldmeri Dominion. First Emissary Elenwen has graced us with her presence tonight, and is helping to acclimate a new Justiciar to his duties here in Riften."
Elenwen stood. "Thank you, Jarl Blackbriar," she said. "Citizens of the Rift and visiting guests, thank you for the honor of introducing you to Justiciar Vaniril, Twelfth Ambassador to Skyrim." She gestured towards the side of the room where a high elf in golden elven armor stepped forward. He had a staff strapped across his back but no other weapon was visible. A Battlemage.
Ulfric kept his hands clasped firmly in his lap and his jaw squared. So many had died to keep the Thalmor out of Skyrim, and now they were increasing their grip. Not even Maven could keep them out, and she could craft a deal in her favor better than anyone.
"I would also like to thank the woman who ended the Civil War and allowed this peacetime to occur," Elenwen continued, "Thane of Skyrim, Legate Nariilu Therel, the Dragonborn. She and I have had a history together since her arrival from Cyrodiil. She has spread her loyalties far and wide across Skyrim, becoming Thane in all nine holds, something that no one, not even a citizen of Skyrim, has managed, especially in such a short time."
"It seems the Dragonborn's few months in Skyrim has been beneficial for the people of Skyrim and the Empire, as Jarl Blackbriar has already mentioned, and for herself. What an inspiring tale, that one could raise herself from destitution not once, but twice, to the influence and power she now enjoys. Loyalty must be earned, and Skyrim has earned the rarely given loyalty of your Thane. Here is to the defeat of the dragons, the end of the Civil War, and the strength of the Empire and Dominion!"
Elenwen finished in a toast, echoed around the table. Ulfric did not participate. He looked down at the Dragonborn, and she met his eyes with a scowl that sent a chill down his neck. She mouthed something at him that he didn't quite catch, but Ulfric easily imagined it was less than polite.
"Wonderful toast, Ambassador," Maven said.
"Thank you," Elenwen replied. "I would've prepared something more substantial had I known the Dragonborn would be in attendance. Respected General, do you believe I did her justice?"
"Yes, ma'am," Ulfric said without thinking. He felt bile rise in his throat; she still held power over him so many years later. Elenwen's face contorted in what would be a sweet smile on anyone with a heart.
"She spoke rather highly of you earlier," Elenwen continued. "I understand her praise is hard to come by. You should be honored."
Honored. Honored to have his life be indebted to her. His position brought no honor, Dragonborn's praise be damned. Elenwen, or any of the Thalmor, would never be able to understand what honor was with their sadistic campaigns and practices, their complete disregard for anyone that was not themselves. They fought for selfish reasons, for power and control, for the destruction of those without gold skin and pointed ears. They had undermined the Talos across his own Empire, keeping Nords from worshiping their own god, keeping children from knowing their own history, murdered and tortured thousands in their sadistic campaign for domination.
The brand marking him a Thalmor prisoner burned on his shoulder as if Elenwen has given it to him minutes instead of decades ago. His stay in a interrogation chamber for months on end threatened to come rushing back and completely break his composure; Ulfric knew he'd have a sleepless night, or week. The evil woman in front of him walked free, now sitting comfortably with Skyrim under her boot, while he still carried scars and trained obedience to her. If he had his way-Ulfric doubted he ever would again-Elenwen, and the rest of the interrogators, would become more intimate with their techniques than their own prisoners.
"Will you be in Riften long?" Maven asked, pulling Ulfric out of his spiraling thoughts. Ulfric blinked, taking a second to understand the question and come back to the present.
"I believe not. The Dragonborn has business elsewhere," Ulfric replied.
Stewards surrounded the table again, refilling wine glasses and setting down plates of what looked like roast venison and stewed vegetables.
"I'll be traveling with her, of course."
"And she has business in Riften as well?"
"She wanted to use the forge," Ulfric said. He was even more aware of Elenwen's presence. If she wasn't there, he'd admit the true reason for their visit to Maven, so she could finally destroy the Thieves' Guild and rid her city of any lowlifes. "She is a blacksmith and insisted on forging me a new set of armor."
Elenwen hummed in agreement and sat back, content with his answer.
"I'd like to discuss something with her before she leaves this evening; I haven't had the opportunity to talk with her yet. She has a fair bit of influence in Solitude, you know, and Jarl Elisif hasn't responded to my letters in almost a year now," Maven said. "A shame; we were on the verge of negotiating a trade deal to transport Blackbriar mead into High Rock and Hammerfell."
"There is a forge in Windhelm," Elenwen stated. "Why not use that one, or in Whiterun, if she has business there?"
"I'm sure Thane Therel has her reasons," Maven answered instantly. She sent a pointed look at Ulfric, she was dodging the question for him. Elenwen was trying to get information. "This meal is lovely, yes? My own son, Ingun, shot this deer hunting just yesterday."
Nariilu briefly considered ending it all right then and there, dying while throttling Elenwen. It was worth it, except the guards would easily overpower her while her hands choked every bit of life out of the Thalmor head bitch, so she wouldn't be able to do the same to Maven. She glared down at the head of the table and exchanged glances with Stormcloak. Divines, he looked as uncomfortable as she was furious. "You should've killed that one," she mouthed.
The conversation around her resumed. She easily blocked it out; it's not like the merchants were including her in their discussions about the latest price of fabrics or silver or whatever they sold. At least she could be alone with her fantasies of killing Elenwen in peace, instead of discussing local politics with the Thanes. At least Elenwen hadn't made her stand as she berated her, though Nariilu figured most, if not everyone present, knew who she was already.
"You haven't touched your wine," the man next to her mentioned. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him place his empty glass on the table. "It's an excellent drink, very rich. I wonder what kind of barrels it was aged in. I may try and steal her recipe. Forge it, even." Nariilu turned. The man's face nearly escaped her, but she placed it. The Thieves' Guildmaster, but cleanshaven and well dressed.
A merchant across the table laughed. "Don't let Jarl Blackbriar hear you, Frey!"
"Come now, Veltan, even if I managed that, she'd buy me out before I could get the first vine seed in the ground." The Guildmaster turned to Nariilu. "I don't believe we've been formally introduced. Mercer Frey, financial advisor to the Jarl." He held his hand out to her.
Financial advisor. Maven was a bold one, though Frey's position at the table could be a sign of discretion. "Thane Nariilu Therel." She shook his hand, aware of the eyes on them. "Why is a Jarl's advisor sitting so far from her?"
"Why is a Thane so far down?" Frey replied without missing a beat. "Your companion has taken my usual place by her side. I'm sure Jarl Blackbriar has her reasons, and who am I but a lowly advisor to question her decisions?"
Stormcloak had been talking to Maven since they arrived, and after Elenwen's toast it would be a miracle if the trio didn't talk about her. It would be disastrous if Maven found out she had contracted the Thieves' Guild, and worse if Elenwen found out why. Hopefully, the newest Justiciar and Elenwen's very presence would be distracting enough for Stormcloak.
"In Morrowind, we feast at circular tables," the well-dressed Dunmer said, sitting diagonally from her. "It keeps any petty squabbling about status away; everyone should know where they stand regardless of where they are placed to eat."
"Councilor, you should know that petty squabbling is the Nordic way," Frey replied.
"Hopefully it is not a side effect of your wines," the Councilor said.
"Forgive my ignorance, but are you Councilor Madryn?" Nariilu asked. Perhaps her placement had its advantages; it wouldn't hurt to begin building her influence in Morrowind.
"Of the Great House Redoran, yes."
"Ah, you're beginning to import Blackbriar meads into Morrowind," the merchant beside him said. "I'd love to discuss trading my fish as well. You see, we've recently developed a way of keeping fish alive for long periods using a special mix of frost salts and-"
Councilor Madryn held up a hand. "Morrowind is in no need of fish. We need support from the Empire, and are glad to finally resume trade with Skyrim now that the war is over."
"What kind of Imperial support?" Nariilu asked.
"Economic aid never hurts, of course," Councilor Madryn replied. "Troops, mostly. The dragons are wreaking havoc on Vvardenfell, though they're mostly ignoring settlements on the mainland. We'd also like the Empire to support us so we can at last regain our territory lost to Argonian invaders during the Accession War."
"Well, with no war to fight here in Skyrim, I may be able to negotiate exactly the kind of aid you're looking for," Nariilu said. She hoped, at least. She hadn't heard about the Accession War since childhood, when a few of her neighbors, refugees from Morrowind, blamed it on just about everything that went wrong, and she never knew much more than the basics. "I'll discuss the possibility with my superiors."
Nariilu managed to forget about Maven and Elenwen and how they humiliated her with their 'toasts' throughout the feast. Mercer Frey was a much better conversationalist than he had seemed when doing business, and was always ready with a quip to entertain when Councilor Madryn's long explanations about how this or that was better in Morrowind, or Veltan the Fishmonger wrongly decided he had something useful to add to the conversation. Nariilu managed to win over the end of the table, even the ones that had made sideways glances throughout the toast and the first half of the meal, by regaling with stories of dragons and crypts and that one time a pickpocket thought she wasn't paying attention in the market (a pointed tale directed at the Guildmaster).
As the guests began to get up and mill about the rooms holding their wine and mead and conversing with others they hadn't been sitting next to, Nariilu stood and pulled Frey aside. "Business to discuss? Good, Jarl Blackbriar already has a pact drafted."
"I'd like to introduce you to someone, formally," Nariilu replied. Stormcloak wouldn't be able to deny Maven's connections to the Thieves' Guild with the Guildmaster speaking directly to him as a Jarl's advisor. She couldn't just walk over to where Ulfric was still sitting, his eyes down at the table as Maven and Elenwen carried on a conversation with one of the Thanes. Maven, and especially Elenwen, could not know that she knew who Mercer Frey was, and especially why. She'd have to wait until he stood, or she could go and pull him away herself, but then she might have to talk to the two bitches in charge. "Ulfric Stormcloak."
"I believe we've already met."
"Good. Then, financial advisor, let's look over the Jarl's draft together, along with my companion and the Jarl herself."
Elenwen kept asking Ulfric questions that were innocent enough he almost slipped and revealed important information. Maven intervened as much as she could, changing the subject whenever Elenwen became too bold in her questioning, but otherwise sat back and left Ulfric to answering with whatever half-truth or blatant lie he came up with. It would be more dangerous to refuse to answer, even given his known hatred for her, since the questions were so casual.
She could have easily forced him to answer truthfully. Ulfric had felt a tug of compliance to her since she first tested her control over him that evening, and he was more than worried about how she would use it. Elenwen hadn't pushed her boundaries yet, easily dropping any question Maven jumped in and answered. Ulfric knew she could easily have him revealing everything about the dead Thalmor rotting in the Sea of Ghosts to the hidden locations of Stormcloak camps undiscovered by Imperials. She'd done it before with much more sensitive information.
"Jarl Blackbriar, I understand you're considering a partnership with me," the Dragonborn said, coming up behind him, interrupting a Thane's tale of a drunkard falling off a bridge in the market district. Ulfric felt a small tap on his shoulder and turned. She was standing in front of a Breton man. "Your financial advisor has mentioned you have the beginnings of a contract. I'd love to go over it in detail with you, your advisor, and my companion."
"Thane Therel," Maven acknowledged, gesturing with her wine glass. "Of course, given we are both holding drinks, though the hour is late. I'd rather get your initial thoughts now, and discuss specifics tomorrow."
"I agree," the Dragonborn replied. "Is this to be discussed in public?" She tapped him again, and Ulfric ignored it, turning back to face Maven.
"I am surrounded by nothing but friends and family," Maven said, making a small smile at Ulfric. "General Stormcloak says you'll be traveling to Winterhold and Whiterun soon. Are you, by any chance, returning to Solitude within the coming weeks?"
The Dragonborn paused to think. "Unless something tragic occurs, yes."
"Excellent. Would you be able to establish trade of my product through Solitude?"
"I'm no merchant."
"Obviously, but, as Thane of Haafingar, you do have a considerable amount of influence."
"There's more to it."
"Yes, but details tomorrow." Maven smiled and finished her wine. "And payment you'll no doubt be interested in, more than enough for someone of your prestige." She rose and began walking slowly towards the entrance hall, where the bards had resumed playing dancing music.
"I have more money than I can spend, Jarl," the Dragonborn said, crossing her arms.
"How humble," Maven said over her shoulder. "I wasn't referring to money, Thane." She walked away.
"How do you obtain your earnings, Thane?" Elenwen spoke up. She rested her chin on the back of her hand, both elbows on the cleared table. "I was under the impression that the Imperial Army did not give payment to deserters."
Ulfric turned to the Dragonborn. He could tell she was trying to maintain a neutral, unbothered expression, but the sudden clench of her jaw and wrinkle of her nose confirmed it. Elenwen's accusation was true: the Dragonborn had abandoned her Shieldsiblings at some point or another.