From Talos, with Love
"With great power comes great responsibility. A shame they never mentioned a nocked arrow or a dagger dipped in poison, because I'm not taking responsibility for any of that."
Chapter 4—What lies ahead?
8-8
1st of First Seed, 4E 200.
It snowed last night. It started around two fifteen, just as they brought the fifth patient in for me to patch up. They've been dropping by at the strangest hours of the day, bringing presents ranging from alchemical ingredients to gems to jewelry to spellbooks and theory—either thanks, or a bribe to not turn them away the next time they come calling in the middle of the night. One of them even brought full sets of Elven armors, with a collection of blades and bows and arrows to match. The Thalmor robes were more than hint enough what happened.
We've almost run out of storage for the gifts we've been supplied with. When Scarlet mentioned this to one of the men, the next day there were knapsacks and satchels presented to us by the dozen. A group of them even brought in a set of chests—one even had a key!
Curious. They've stopped attempting to speak directly to me. And they've learned to never stray too close. I suspect Dovyn's had words with them, but I didn't hear a peep of it.
More curious still, is after my patient sleeps by the hearth, the same group that brought him in, helps him back out. I don't know where they bring them. And I doubly don't know why it's only men being brought in.
Maramal and Dinyu Balu have come by every morning for a chat. Little things, mostly. They respect that I only speak to her, but the questions in her eyes only grow brighter with each exchange.
So much going on. It's no wonder I tire so easily these days.
"Serjo?" I sigh, spilling salt onto parchment and shifting it round. "Frey's here." At ten in the morning? That's unlike him.
I shunt the salt back into the dish, closing my book and setting it back in the drawer. Better go find out what is so important that he needs to be here in person.
Once downstairs, I find the most…confusing scene awaiting me. Frey stands by the hearth, in his finest robe with a bear of a man beside him, also in fine robes, though of obvious lesser quality than Frey's.
If I didn't know any better, I'd think he was going to pay the Jarl a visit. That he's here must therefore mean I've been summoned and he's here to explain things and set down rules.
"Jarl Leila Law-Giver summons you." Frey's confirmation doesn't set me at ease. "For a meal and likely an explanation. She isn't the one pulling the strings. Maven Black-Briar is. She wants to know more about you, and none of the Guild has answers. There will be questions of where you're from and what you're doing here."
"Simple enough. I await my husband-to-be, and per the tradition of my House, I may speak of none of it. Not even his name or the name of my House. If there are any Mer present, they should know enough of Dunmeri tradition to sniff this out swiftly."
"There is Anuriel, the steward. Bosmer. Dunno if she's from their homeland. And Wylandriah, the court wizard. Same."
"Alright. Is there anyone you need more information on? Or perhaps an angle you need me to work?"
"Yes. Anuriel. I suspect she's Maven's contact in the Keep. I'll need something on her. Something that connects her to Maven, or anything that casts suspicion on her."
"Understood."
"Wylandriah is already in my pocket. Keep suspicion off her. If this meeting goes well, I'll arrange a present fitting how pleased I am."
"Would you desire more information on this Maven? Or perhaps the Jarl herself?"
"It can't hurt. Dress in your finest. And ensure your three are ready for their roles." Sofie isn't welcome, in other words.
"When are we scheduled to leave?"
"You have two hours."
8-8
We walk through the city, along a high-set wooden walkway that hugs the lakeside. Curious, that half the city is built on the lake, but not something I'm meant to understand.
"The city is split into two," Vilvyni murmurs, offering me her elbow to escort me properly. I loop my right forearm around her elbow, showing any who see that she stands in for my muthsera—something all Dunmeri in the city will notice, if they see me as one of their own. Part of the reason it has to be her. "Dryside is on the banks of Lake Honrich. Plankside is built onto the lake herself, and houses the business district. There's also technically the Ratway, under Plankside. But almost no one considers that important."
I nod.
The crowd notices us, of course. Most of the citizenry part at seeing us. Mostly because Scarlet bears an Elven warhammer. Or is it because a group of Dunmeri is coming our way, and they don't want to get caught up in whatever's about to happen.
And what a group it is. None of them I recognize, of course, but they all wear peasant's robes, most bearing a dagger. These are the downtrodden of Riften, no doubt here to beg my favor.
"Serjo." The first reaches me. A tall, willowy man perhaps in his fifties—quite young for Dunmerii. He takes a knee, bowing his head. "I am Salvas, a blacksmith. I see your chap'thil are without customary armors. I could craft them the bonemold of your House, should you desire it." Setup alone shows us to be Telvanni, so I don't doubt most of them know exactly who we are.
We walk around him, but I make a mental note of his offer. It could prove useful, after all. Scarlet walks up in front of us, wielding her warhammer to part the rest of them.
Offers of all kinds are sent our way, from soldiers in need of work, to handmaids offering their services. I speak to none, obviously, but if I estimate correctly, there are some fifty Dunmeri in the city—none seem affluent.
Curiously, the closer we get to what I assume is the keep, the more a group near that building stands out. Their Maran robes stand out in any crowd, but it's the collection of races. Nords, Redguards, Bosmer, Dunmer, even an Argonian. It's the utter lack of Altmer, Imperials, and Khajit that strikes me most. Is that intentional?
As we approach, Maramal and Dinya Balu step forward, bowing and offering their customary greeting. "Blessing of Mara upon you."
"Three blessings upon you," Scarlet returns the sentiment, stopping at my left side to make it easier, should I need something said. I give her a look, furrowing my brow to show confusion. "Forgive us, Priests of Mara, for being so forthcoming. But may we inquire why you're here?"
"Velothi tradition," Dinya says, bowing from the hip. "When two Khans meet, the shaman would greet the guest." I'm so glad I've been drilling Scarlet in Dunmeri tradition.
"Though we appreciate the sentiment, and the upholding of your sacred traditions," Scarlet bows deeper than Dinya, "Serjo is no Khan, nor is she to wed one."
"Nor are we shaman." Dinya smiles, her eyes lit up with an impish joy. "So I figure this would be a fitting greeting all the same."
Scarlet glances to me, wondering what would be fitting to say. I murmur into her ear, and she speaks aloud for me, "We. Thank you. For your. Kind gesture. Avatars of peace. May. The blessings. Of the Three. Be your cloak."
The collection of priests and acolytes bow low to us.
After we bow in kind, I continue murmuring to Scarlet. "Will you be joining us?"
"Jarl Leila has heard of the friendly ties between us." Dinya seems a little too amused with that. "She's requested that Maramal and I join you, should you desire as much?"
I look to Vilvyni, who immediately turns to Dovyn. The siblings hold quite the wordless debate, before they shrug—likely deciding that priests of Mara aren't the type to want to be present if a poisoning is in the planning. They nod to me.
"We would be honored, Priests of Mara."
8-8
The keep is…not what I expected. While it's quite large, there's a fire pit not three yards from the entrance, surrounded by tables. And what I assume is the Jarl's throne sits beyond that on a dais, with two chairs beside it.
The entire court is seated to the tables, with servants buzzing about, setting food enough for an army.
In the seat of honor is the Jarl herself, I assume. Her dark blond hair is brushed to perfect, which her silver circlet, set with a flawless diamond and two rubies, holds in place. And her dress is too thin to allow for warmth outside—she's unaccustomed of leaving her keep.
To the Jarl's right is a Bosmerii in fine robes—Anuriel, no doubt. To her left is a boulder in human form, wearing steel armor and the largest axe I've ever seen—her housekarl.
"My Jarl. May I present Reyda, noblewoman of the Dunmer people," Maramal does the introduction. We bow low, our eyes closing out of respect and our noses pointing to the ground. "They are guests of Thane Mercer, and stay at Riftweald Manor."
"Reyda? No family name?" Law-Giver seems curious. She is either clueless of Dunmeri tradition, or she knows all too well and tests us.
"Dunmer tradition forbids her to speak it, the name of her House, and any particulars that might lead to her true identity," Dinya explains. Hmm, so she is aware of the quirks of the Great Houses.
"I don't understand." Law-Giver turns to Anuriel.
"Could it be…?" Anuriel furrows her brow, painstakingly dredging up what she knows of Dunmeri tradition. "The promise-anticipation?"
I turn to Scarlet, already at my side. "Lady Reyda is indeed participating in winolalvios. As such, there is much she is not permitted to discuss, lest her words travel and lead husband-to-be right to her. It would cheapen the tradition, and their ancestors would be most displeased with such a thing."
"I see. And what of Lady Reyda's refusal to speak?" Law-Giver really is clueless.
"Tradition as harsh as this isn't without sympathy for the upholder," Scarlet explains. "As such, to avoid potential jealousies, Serjo is forbidden to speak to any man, save her husband-to-be's chap'thiil. Of course, there are exceptions, though only those that cannot be avoided. Such as speaking to her keeper, your Thane Mercer."
"I am no man." Congratulations, Law-Giver. You've been paying attention.
"No, but you are surrounded by men. Your guards, your housekarl. A nobleman participating in winolalvios can become violently jealous. For their protection, it is best they never interact with her."
Law-Giver turns to Anuriel, no doubt having little to go on.
"Is it not tradition," Anuriel pauses, struggling to find something to say, "for the bride-to-be to amass what might be considered a small army, to strengthen her husband-to-be's House, should he find her?"
Scarlet looks to me. I lean towards her, knowing she has no idea what to say about this. "That is it exactly…Lady Reyda was sent here…with no aid…with no coin…with no weapon…her portion of the trial…is to start with nothing…and to earn status…to strengthen her muthsera's House…The more power she wields…upon his finding her…the more desirable she becomes…This is to prevent…her in-laws…from finding fault with her…After all…who would turn away…an army loyal to one's House?"
"I see." Law-Giver furrows her brow, trying to sort that little tidbit away. "And what are the odds of you deciding to stay in Skyrim upon being reunited?"
I lean to Scarlet again. "That is a matter…she and her muthsera…should best discuss privately." In other words, it isn't off the table, should I find a solid footing here. That means a potential alliance with our House, should Law-Giver play her cards right—and that's just what I want her to understand of this.
Nords typically have no love for Mer, but no one makes an enemy when already locked in a civil war. Not unless they wish to fight on two fronts, and Morrowind is but a day's ride away. Given I at least appear to be a Nord, dealing with me is preferable—racial prejudice at its best.
"You are aware that you are to follow Skyrim's, and more importantly The Rift's laws while here?"
"That goes without saying." Scarlet says the words, but it's my nod that gives Law-Giver reason to smile.
Law-Giver looks to Anuriel once again, no doubt hoping to gain more from this exchange before I'm asked to take a seat.
"Should you seek work, please do not hesitate to see Anuriel." Curious, that Law-Giver doesn't give the Bosmer chance to speak. "There are many things someone of your talents could well do for The Rift, and perhaps for me personally."
I lean towards Scarlet again. "If it should please you, Jarl…Serjo would send me to inquire at a later date…There are other matters to attend to in the immediate future, I'm afraid."
"That is acceptable." Law-Giver seems to be having an odd thought, given her eyes flick towards Anuriel, though no hint graces her features. "I have a proposal. Should you promise to seek me out before month's end, I could offer a small sum to aid in your endeavor."
"My Jarl." Anuriel's eyes purposely focus on a random spot, to not dart about. Whatever she's hiding, she doesn't want it coming to light. "Is it not wise to first discover her loyalties?"
"She is of Morrowind. She hates the empire, the Aldmeri Dominion, and especially the Thalmor more than we do. As long as we do not involve her in our civil war, I see no reason to second guess her honour in these matters."
Hmm. Law-Giver doesn't trust this Anuriel, not completely. She wishes someone who is accustomed to politics and the like, but someone not from here, to look into matters with fresh eyes. And she isn't saying it's a deposit—merely a small sum.
I bow low, showing without words that this is agreeable and beneficial to my cause.
"Excellent. Then my only condition to your continued presence here is exactly as you would desire. Do not hamper us, not in this war, and not in the foreseeable future. More I do not ask."
I lean to Scarlet. "Would it be a conflict of interests…if Serjo were to employ the Dunmer of Riften?"
"Only if they become a problem," Law-Giver repeats. I knew she would, but it's getting her to think about the implications that I need. "In fact. If you give me your word all under your command will abide by our laws without fail, it would be a boon to The Rift."
"That goes without saying, My Jarl."
"Nothing goes without saying." Law-Giver's words send the hall into a deafening silence. Anuriel's face is carefully blank, though the tension in her shoulders gives her away. Interesting.
I lean to Scarlet again. "Forgive my brazenness, My Jarl. If you were to make this…worth Serjo's wile…a private meeting could happen…before we leave?"
Law-Giver's finger taps on the table, the rhythm slow and methodic. She knows I've figured something out, and she seems to know enough about Morrowind's political system to know we are masters of the cloak and dagger. It's now only a question of how much haste and weight she wishes to lend to this situation, and how much of that urgency she wishes her court to learn of.
As the silence drags on, the status quo of her court trembles with anticipation.
"A private meeting isn't called for. Not yet." The tension in the room thickens, almost congealing like fresh butter. I'm going to enjoy these mind games. "You will have what you need before you leave."
I bow low.
"Please," Law-Giver motions to the empty seats to my right, at end of the tables. Starting low, but that's to be expected. But that also means she needs me to earn her trust before I'm allowed more… interesting jobs from her.
8-8
Frey's laughter booms through the manor, reverberating off every surface. I'm not sure what's so funny, seeing as the note Law-Giver gave me with a pouch of five thousand septims said I need to look into the skooma epidemic of Riften.
That doesn't strike me as particularly humorous.
Still, his laugh doesn't abate, nor does the redness of his face as he doubles over and holds his gut.
Instead of worrying with him, I consider what I'll need. And how much I can make this money stretch. Let's see. The going weekly salary for a guard is forty septims—at least, that's what the hold guards in Ivarstead said, all the while complaining it's criminal.
If I assume this needs to last me a full year, then we're looking at employing a maximum of ninety guards. But they'd need equipment, which is worth more than their yearly salary.
So let's see. I'll definitely need to hire that blacksmith—and why isn't there a word for blacksmith in Dunmeris? Anyway. If I hire him directly, then he'll just need a salary and the materials he'll need. I've never asked for their salary, though. Best to assume it's at least double what guards are paid.
But a blacksmith on the payroll is overkill at this stage. Hmm. But that would be advantageous in the long term. Best to at least consider it.
What I need right now, is guards. Four, perhaps eight. Not too many, because they need proper training—otherwise they'll be dead before I can blink. But I'd need to house them, and trusting Frey with that is bad for my eventual escape. But keeping too many hidden cards this early in the game could jeopardize what ground I've gained. So keep it small, take four, arm and armour them, and let Frey think I'm playing with open cards, at least where he's concerned.
Hmm. I have two full sets of Elven armour, with shields. It would be a major red flag if I dress them with Thalmor robes, so that's out. That means I can technically hire two now, suit them up, and start their training. I'd need Frey's blessing, and seeing as he's so busy laughing, I doubt he'll hesitate to give the go-ahead, provided he get his cut, or leeway in future dealings.
Or maybe…If I were to train more of them to be nightblades? Armour would be rather pointless, even if it is light armour. The point is to never need armour, and the less they look like warriors, the more efficient they truly are. All I'd need is to dress them up, and to teach them the bound weapon spells I already have in my possession. That cuts down the price of armouring them, and perhaps even arming them.
I'll have to look into purchasing fine clothes, with boots and gloves to match. But I doubt they'd go for more than fifty septims a piece, if even that much. Start-up is lower, that gives me the leeway to hire more and take my time training them.
That means the immediate problem becomes housing, and that places me at Frey's mercy. For now.
Frey's calming down, somewhat at least. So let's start the discussion, slow and steady.
"Sofie. Frey needs a goblet and the Black-Briar mead in the cellar. Scarlet, I need some tea, please see to that." The two Nords nod, one heading upstairs, the other to the cellar.
"What are you planning, Serjo?" Dovyn asks. He and Vilvyni stand before me, wearing the clothes fit for nobility, and seeing perhaps for the first time, just how deep the rabbit hole can go if they remain loyal to me. After all, I technically have the Jarl's blessing to raise an army, provided I never wage war against her or her hold.
How life has changed.
"That depends on how much free rein Frey gives me. And we won't know until he gets this cackle fit out of his system." As if to prove my point, Frey almost goes to the floor, laughing even harder than before.
Careful, Frey. She who laughs last…
Sofie comes, offering Frey the goblet and pouring him a drink. Once he's been tended to, she comes to me, questions in her eyes. Questions I as yet have no answers to, so I cannot address them.
"You said you could pull it off," Frey finally speaks, shaking his head, "but I didn't think you'd be this persuasive. The Jarl hopes to foster an alliance with this house of yours." I nod, agreeing that's her angle, but not commenting on his supposed view I'm acting—it both is and isn't the case.
"More to your goals from that meeting. Law-Giver doesn't trust Anuriel. If I were to gain her favour, I don't doubt I'll need to investigate her at Law-Giver's bidding. But more importantly, Anuriel suspects this as well. That means she has giant skeletons in her closet."
"Yes, I saw that too." Frey's eyes are lit up with amusement. "I'd like to see how this plays out. So here's what we're going to do. I'll keep two men posted here. They'll have orders to stay only downstairs, in the meeting room. You'll have free rein to use the rest of the manor. You may decorate it and furnish it as you see fit, but no permanent changes are to be made. Hire only those you can afford to keep. And report everything to me. The jobs you take, the money you make, and any secrets you uncover."
"As you wish." I bow, mostly to hide the smile tugging at my lips.
"Provided you take Scarlet with you, you may leave the manor at any time. But leaving Riften will be discussed with me beforehand." I nod, agreeing without a fuss. "Anything that requires you to leave, deserves a thorough explanation. I will know where you are going, what you plan to do there, how long you expect this to take, and if you are overdue I'll need a full report as to why."
"As you demand." I nod.
This is going to take some major finessing. And I'll need to properly test my people to ensure he doesn't plant anyone within the ranks. I don't even know if I have the skill needed to pull it off. But you know what? I've got nothing but time to figure this out.
"Then perhaps I should start with my current planning. I will start investigating the skooma dealer. There is almost no chance this will not lead out of Riften, and should I discover something I would need to leave immediately before the trail runs cold. I don't doubt it will lead to a cave nearby, less than a day's travel. I would take these three with me, leaving Sofie here along with any guards I happen to hire. And I refuse to be out in the wilds come nightfall. So I'll be in Riften before sunset. Once I know more, I will ensure Scarlet has a full report, which she'll pass on to you. Is this agreeable?"
He sips his drink, chewing on the details. "Yes. That makes sense. Take all skooma you find, and have that passed onto me as well. The ingredients do me no good, so use those as you see fit, but do not store them in this house." With that, he downs the last of his mead, and leaves.
Let the games begin.
8-8
Skooma. An alchemical potion created with moon sugar, nightshade and one additional plausible ingredient unknown to me. Known effects: boost in speed, stamina, and strength, along with euphoria (the addictive part). Known drawbacks: loss of voice, minor fits, and possibly death. Signs to look out for: jittery, scatterbrained (effect of craving their next hit), plausible shaking hands and extreme aggression if in withdrawal.
The drug is almost exclusively made by Dunmeri, so that's likely why Law-Giver wants us to look into it. Nords arresting a group of Dunmeri for drug trafficking could be twisted, if a local Dunmerii is trying to twist our people's ways against the…
Okay. Reyda. You do remember that you're a Nord, right? Wow. Cylben was right, if I think the way I'm supposed to act, it just falls into place.
"Sofie. You're holding down the fort today. I want you to study that alchemy book while we're out. And be sure you memorize every name and alchemical effect you can. I'll be teaching you your first potion tonight, if you can prove you know what you're doing."
"Alright, Serjo. You can count on me!"
"Good. Did you want me to pick up something for you while I'm out?"
"How about someone to play with?" I laugh, shaking my head. "Then maybe a doll? Or something yummy?"
"We'll see. Be good."
We head downstairs, to the front door—I don't think it's been used in recent memory. Still, Frey's man opens it, reminds us to come back through the back door, and the four of us head out.
The whole city smells of fish, even through the chill of mid-winter's air. The people are all buzzing about, from every race I know of—though the overwhelming majority are Nords. Curiously, everyone notices us, but only the Dunmeri's eyes light up.
"Serjo! How good to see you again. How are you on this fine morning?" Two Dunmeri women try strumming up a friendly conversation, both wearing little more than rags.
Even for the Dunmeri I've seen in Riften, these two seem particularly bad off.
"She is well," Scarlet says, furrowing her brow as she turns to me. She isn't sure how to handle this, but I have an idea—if it's good remains to be seen.
I lean towards Scarlet, murmuring into her ear, "Do you know somewhere we can host a gathering of at least fifty people?"
"The Bee and Barb." Scarlet doesn't even have to think about it. She's from Riften, is she. "It's run by two Argonians. Friendly enough. And they won't care as long as everyone orders something."
"Good. The meeting will be this afternoon. At four. We're looking to hire a few. Let them know, but don't get everyone's hopes up," I explain that as carefully as I can.
"It's good that you two are here." Scarlet explains in painstakingly clear details what I just said, and she makes sure to stress than only a few will be hired. After the pair repeat the exact message they are to deliver, Scarlet sends them off, assuring them they should be there as well.
The pair fly off, already talking to every Dunmerii they encounter, an air of glad tidings about them and each person that receives the news.
We'd better head to this place, to at least give these Argonians a heads up. It's only proper.
8-8
"You want what?" Keerava doesn't seem to believe what she hears. If her skin wasn't naturally so gray, I'd almost think her pale. And what's with the low-cut hem? Is she trying to sell cleavage or food and beverage?
"We're. Expecting. The majority. Of Riften's Dunmer. Here. This afternoon," Scarlet explains, talking slower and annunciating every word clearly so there's no room for misunderstanding. I'd have to agree, the woman doesn't strike me as too bright if she doesn't understand this after the fourth run-through.
"And you want a meal for each?"
"Yes. Serjo cannot hire them all, but desires to offer them at least a warm meal for their time. And a drink or two. How much would that be per person?"
Another Argonian runs over, this one green-skinned and clearly male. "Please forgive her. I'm sure this is more than she could have hoped for, My Lady."
"It's alright," Scarlet assures him, relieved to have someone that can articulate a coherent sentence—that isn't asking for a repeat. I'm no different really.
"Well, the price per person depends on what you wish served. We have apple cabbage stew, beef stew, vegetable soup, breads, cheeses, baked potatoes. Most anything for hungry patrons."
Scarlet turns to me.
It would be far cheaper to go with bread, and maybe some rabbit haunches to fill bellies. But this needs to be a message, one that they won't soon forget. So they'll know without question I'll provide for all who work for me.
Better to trust my trusted chap'thil for this one.
I turn to Vilvyni, leaning towards her. "Order what you and Dovyn would wish to eat. Max twenty septims each."
Vilvyni turns to me, her eyes looking like the twin moons. She steps behind me, to Scarlet, whispering something in her ear.
"Seriously?" Scarlet seems just as surprised, but shrugs it off quickly enough. "Well, if that's what Serjo wants. We'll need an order of beef stew with a quarter loaf of bread, and a bottle of ale. Times that by fifty, and tell us what we're working with."
The green Argonian—what was his name again?—shifts his head from side to side. "That'd be about seven-hundred septims. We'll need at least half that as a deposit."
I pluck out my money bag, and count out the full seven hundred for them.
The pair of them look at the pile of coins stacked up on the bar.
For a long.
LOOOOOOOOOOOOOOONG moment.
They seem to know only how to breathe.
"By the way?" Scarlet tries to jumpstart their brains for them. Keerava shakes herself out of a stupor. "Do you know anything about a skooma dealer?"
"Never touch the stuff. Ask the hussy by the docks."
And that's how you get concrete leads.
8-8
Now, if an Argonian calls someone a hussy, they're probably talking about another Argonian. With that in mind, we head down out the gates to the docks. And just our luck, a jittery yellow-green-skinned Argonian keeps buzzing about, muttering to herself.
Hmm. She's had a hit. No doubt in my mind. Probably about ready to score another, too.
With a nod, I stroll right over to her.
"Hey, you there." Scarlet calls out, startling the already high-strung reptilian.
"Hey, who? Me? What do you want with Wujeeta?"
"I know you're using Skooma. We want a hit. Where can we score some?"
"Skooma. No, no. You must be mistaken. I'm fine. Just fine. Yes, completely fine. I need to—"
Scarlet holds up her hands to calm the skittish one down. "Calm down. We're not here to get you in trouble."
The poor thing's too far gone to rationalize what's going on. I fish a health potion from my satchel, giving it to Scarlet.
"Here. Try some. It'll calm your nerves."
"Nerves. Yes, nervous. I'm just nervous. Quite nervous you see." Wujeeta unstops the blood red potion, downing it in one go. It's astounding just how much Cylben knows about skooma—I'll have to grill every last detail of how he learned about that when I see him…after I bed him a few dozen times.
"Gah!" Wujeeta sounds disgusted—must be her first. I'm immune to the taste…or at least accustomed. "By the eight! That's vile. Just vile."
"There you go. Your brain workin' again?"
"Huh? Oh. Yes. The dealer. Uh. Who are you again?"
"We're an interested party," Scarlet soothes.
"I…see. Well, I'm afraid I shouldn't say. I really should get back to work."
"A shame. I mean, after we just helped you clear your head so you can work? How long do you think it would have taken before you started risking your livelihood?" Ooh. Scarlet knows this game well. I approve. "Or, you know what? Maybe we should as your boss. Thank you, good day." We turn together, already walking off.
"No! Wait! I, uh."
I turn back, seeing the horrid demons in her mind doing the damage we need.
"You seek Sarthis Idren. Works out of the warehouse he does."
"Yeah, sure. Anything to throw us off the trail. No. I think speaking to the manager is—"
"I swear it!" Wujeeta starts digging into her pouch, producing a paper. "Here. Look! See for yourself."
She almost slaps the note into Scarlet's hand, her eyes begging for us to take it and never whisper a word of this.
Scarlet hands me the note.
Got some new product. Top notch. Meet me by the Riften Warehouse.
-Sarthis Idren.
A Dunmerii alright. I knew it was likely, but it still stings.
I nod to Scarlet.
"Yes. This is exactly what Serjo hoped for. Thank you for your time. And rest assured, we heard nothing from you."
8-8
With a name and location to work with, we head straight for Mistveil Keep. The Jarl is just sitting down to breakfast—a late starter, is she.
Her eyes find mine before the door even closes behind us.
"You bring news?" I nod. She motions for me to approach her, so I walk around the tables to her, bowing to get close and murmur into her ear. I make sure to stay to her left, close to her housekarl so he'll be able to react quickly to me if the need arises—I don't plan on being a threat, so what do I care.
"Sarthis Idren is the dealer. Works out of Riften Warehouse. How shall we proceed?"
"Hmm. Anuriel. I need the key to the warehouse."
"At once, My Jarl." The Bosmerii jumps out of her seat, digs into her jacket and produces a single key, giving it to Law-Giver without hesitation. She isn't involved in this, it seems.
"Take this. Along with my blessing to use whatever force is needed. Anything that shuts down this ring entirely." She sets it on the table, showing greater respect than I anticipated.
I nod, taking the key and walking out without another word. Best to handle this before word gets to Idren.
8-8
We stand outside the Warehouse, the four of us. I give them a look, wondering if they are truly ready for this. They've gotten better at conjuring their weapons, but I've yet to see them in actual combat.
"You don't have to fight," I murmur just loud enough for them to hear me. The siblings share a look, their shoulders trembling from mute laughter. "I'm serious. I can handle a few guys on my own."
The siblings hold up their hands, as if to submit, but their eyes still laugh.
"I'm not taking the risk, Serjo." While the Dunmeri laugh, Scarlet is about ready to mimic Red Mountain. She conjures her dagger, flipping it to an ice-pick grip. "You fight, I fight."
I sigh, shoving the key into the stupid door and twisting. I conjure my bow, kicking the door open just as I nock and draw.
The scantily clad Dunmerii stands there, eyes looking more like a deer than a warrior. I loose, burying the ghostly arrow in his shoulder, right under the leather pauldron he thinks will do anything for him.
He gets out a cry, but I don't mind. I wouldn't have knocked the door in if I did. And I certainly would have shot him in the face if I wanted this to be silent. "Sarthis!"
Footsteps thunder our way, up the rickety stairs. Another Dunmerii, this one wearing steel armour, shield included. Good choice.
I nock another arrow, aiming for this one's head.
Loose.
His face snaps back, his body falling like a stone in the river, landing in a heap. Dead.
"Who wears armour, and then forgets the helmet?" I complain, shaking my head in disgust. The door shuts behind me, taking the dim morning light with it. "Search the place."
I hear no movement behind me. Curious, I turn, finding three slack jaws and an impressed Nord…what's his face, who was standing around the corner.
At least this one is smart enough to wear proper armours. Oh well.
"Oh hey, Maul. Didn't…hear you come in." Scarlet seems flustered. Poor thing.
"Can't say I'm surprised. Who taught you to shoot like that, little missy?"
I nock an arrow, aiming it right for his face.
"Whoa now!" He holds up his hands in surrender. "Relax. Name's Maul. I work for the Black-Briars. And we ain't got no stake in this."
I loosen my focus on the arrow and bow, letting them fade. Curiously, the two arrows already shot, remain.
I stab a finger at the door, warning him to get out.
"Alright, alright. I'll leave." He backs away slowly, turning and walking right back out. Great. Now the Black-Briars are going to take a keen interest in me. Oh well.
"Serjo?" I turn to Dovyn, wondering at the awe in his eyes. "Forgive me, for doubting you." He and Vilvyni bow low.
"You do realize I've hunted bears." If their jaws hung low before, they're almost to the floor now. I shake my head. "Focus. Search the place. And I'll need a bag to carry the armours in. Hop to."
Turning back to the sole survivor. I walk over to him. His eyes are wide, wild with fear.
"Please. Please, Serjo. Anything. I'll do anything. I'll serve you for life. I swear by my ancestors."
"What makes you think I need you alive?"
"You don't. I know. Please. Spare my life, and it's yours. By my ancestors, I swear."
"You would offer yourself, your future bride, your descendants, everything you love?"
"Yes. Please. I know which House you hail from. I know you value slaves. Take me. Just please take me alive!"
"You are aware of what would happen should you…prove disloyal?"
"I wouldn't trust him, Serjo," Vilvyni warns, coming up beside me and laying her hand on my arm. "Idren was like a brother to him. Nothing would break him enough to not crave your blood on his blade."
"I see." I frown. Yes, Cylben spoke of such things. That Dunmeri would plot their revenge for centuries, generations even, striking only when the time was just right.
I conjure my bow.
"No. No! NOOO! PLEASE, SERJO! ANYTHI—"
An arrow in the mouth silences him.
A low whistle comes from the stairs. Dovyn comes with a knapsack, already half full, offering it to me. "If it can bring in a coin and wasn't nailed down, it's in there." And like nothing's the matter, he starts stripping the men of their weapons and armour.
"Serjo?" Scarlet comes up the stairs as well, holding only a note and an apothecary's satchel. "I found the evidence we need. Cragslane Cavern. The supplier's there. I also found this." She hands me both items.
"How far away is that?"
"An hour? Maybe two if we go sightseeing." Figures.
8-8
We enter Mistveil Keep, Law-Giver's eyes on us before the door even closes, even though she's discussing something with a woman I don't recognize. Her senses are sharp, I'll give her that.
"One moment, Maven. Lady Reyda. Come. What news do you bring me?"
We make our way around the tables, but I nudge Scarlet to let her know to speak this time, giving her the two keys—the one Law-Giver provided, and the one we nicked off Idren.
"We've taken care of the dealer, and we know the location of the supplier," Scarlet explains, making sure to leave out the details. Smart woman. She presents the two keys, not even bothered when the housekarl comes and takes them from her. "How do you wish us to proceed?"
"Hmm. You must act swiftly. Go, find this supplier. Put an end to the scourge that plagues my city, once and for all."
"At once, My Jarl." The four of us bow, and we head out without a word.
8-8
It's almost nine in the morning when we make it to the gate leaving the city. A guard standing watch must have said something stupid—I didn't pay attention, too busy scanning for signs of bears and other predators. All I know is something had Scarlet shouting, and one of the guards was carted off. Nothing I need to understand.
"You know. I could get used to this." I turn to Scarlet, wondering at how…blissful she is about what just happened. I might almost think she's been dreaming about it for years with how she glows.
"Did I miss something?" I keep my voice down, of course, but I know she hears me.
"Not a thing." The glow says otherwise, carrot top. "We heading out?"
"Yeah. Keep your eyes peeled. I had a bear almost sneak up on me once. I'm not looking for a repeat."
It's a pretty uneventful walk, really. No signs of predators, unless you count a fox or two. Mostly it's a cobbled path, birch trees as far as the eye can see, and an early-bird hawk scouring for a meal.
What bugs me is the lack of noise. Not just because my companions all move soundlessly—weird, but I can't say I'm surprised by it. No, I mean more the lack of birds chirping, the lack of foxes yipping, the lack of much of anything. It's quiet.
I don't like quiet. Quiet means predator they see that I can't.
And quiet is how I got kidnapped in the first damn place.
A chirp.
I snap to towards the sound. Rock warbler.
Okay. Breathe. Just breathe. You'll wear yourself down. Besides, when's the last time you had the chance to gather ingredients yourself?
Agreeing with my own logic, I decide to train all the same. I cast Telekinesis, and start plucking the red mountain flowers nearby.
The magicka of my spell snaps the branches—a bit too much power, need to relax a bit.
I try again, treating the spell as if made of thin, wet paper.
"What are you doing?" Vilvyni asks.
"Well. I need to gather ingredients, but I don't want to slow us down. So I figure this way, I can practice my spell, gather the ingredients, and keep us on schedule. I mean, we have a meeting at four. I need to get something nice for Sofie. And we still have a cave to clear out. Can't exactly stop and smell the dragon's tongue, now can…Ooh, dragon's tongue. And lavender."
I focus the spell, plucking them from some ten paces away. It's jerky at the distance, and I miss a few times, but I still gather them.
"Do you think we should get her a dagger?" I ask, wondering about that. It could prove useful.
"Scary by default. It's no wonder her muthsera fell for her." Dovyn sounds amused. Whatever.
8-8
Up ahead, three cages. There's barking and growling—wolves. There's also one man on guard—ashen-skinned, likely mer, though I dare not guess. Well, actually the logical guess is that this is another Dunmerii.
I look to Vilvyni. She smirks, conjures her bow, and looses and arrow. It strikes him in the stomach—why does no one think to wear proper armour. I mean, seriously.
At any rate, he goes down, screeching and calling for help. Dovyn takes off up the hillside, moving around for a different angle.
Another comes running out of the cave just up the ways. I assume another Dunmer, only this one is shirtless—and brainless, given snow still covers the ground.
An arrow pierces this one's chest from behind. The siblings aren't half bad archers.
We start walking up at a sedate pace, my eyes still scanning around for predators—I really don't want to be troll food.
Once close enough, Scarlet conjures her dagger and slits both men's throats and starts stripping them. Efficient, so I don't complain.
The wolves in the cages are left alone—they're not bothering us, but they'll make for nice warm pelts when we get back.
With our pack a little fuller, we move up and towards the mouth of the cave. The sound of barking and yelping and cheering tells me there's some kind of show going on.
"And they didn't invite us. How rude." My companions chuckle, quite enjoying my dark humour.
"Serjo. Please let us handle this." Dovyn practically begs. He must want to prove himself, and his sister's pleading gaze tells me she feels the same.
"I don't want a scratch on either of you." They smirk. "Alright. You get ten minutes."
The siblings bump fists, dashing into the cave together. Figuring I have the time, I turn to Scarlet.
"Should we work on Bound Bow?" she asks, her eyes smiling.
8-8
It's seven minutes later that Vivyni comes calling. Without a scratch, as demanded, and smiling like we hit the jackpot.
"Okay. What'd I miss?" I ask, fighting not to smile with her.
"Come and see."
Scarlet and I loosen our focus on our bows, and head into the cave. Down a winding corridor, and into a wide open space. There's a fighting pit, where two dead wolves lie, both already skinned. There's a dead Dunmerii at the bar, wearing only an arrow in his face. Two female Dunmeri lay haphazard on the tables, throats slit and naked.
There are a dozen or so patrons—they're all lined up, as if they tried to storm the siblings. Each bears at least one arrow, none wearing a stitch of clothing.
"Alright. I'm impressed. You two are efficient."
"There's more," Vilvyni assures me, motioning to follow her. We walk down the incline, stepping over the corpses as we go. "We've already scalped the skooma and all ingredients. The wines and ales, too. We even rolled up all the furs they were using as beds."
"If it isn't nailed down." Both of them chuckle, agreeing with me.
"There are three things we thought you would want to see for yourself." We enter another little corridor, the light at the other end already growing quite bright.
The corridor opens into a cavern. Three more cages stand to one side, each open, and Dovyn squats over another downed wolf, skinning it.
What Vilvyni points at, though, is the ginormous chest, striped blue and silver. "There's another chest over behind the bar, though that one's smaller. They open with the same keys. And there's two of them."
"Sweet. We're dragging these back with us."
"One more thing. Look." Vilvyni points up onto the incline behind the chest, at the little stack of books, and the Dunmerii wearing Nordic armors and an arrow right where his helmet should have been.
"Why does no one wear a helmet? Don't they realize how easy they make this?" More chuckles. "We saw carts outside, right?"
"We did. As soon as Dovyn finishes skinning, we're ready to move."
8-8
Getting back to Riften is simple enough. We stack all our things on one of the carts, and we take turns pulling. Sure, they try and argue that I shouldn't, and eventually I'm ordered to sit on the back of the cart and collect…Wait, how is this fair again?
Well, anyway. We get back to the gate to let us into the city. The guards are a lot wearier, leerier, but they don't fight us. Entering the dreary city just before noon, we head straight to the manor and drag our new things up into our room.
I tease Sofie about us not actually being back yet—she groans and bemoans being lonely, but she doesn't fight us.
We drag the cart down to the marketplace. Dovyn knows of a Dunmeri merchant that will buy pretty much anything. While Brand-Shei isn't your typical Dunmeri name, he likes it. And he offers three hundred septims for the cart! He's alright in my book.
That brings us right back to Mistveil Keep.
The second the door opens, Law-Giver's eyes are on us. "What news?" she all but demands.
We make our way around the tables, presenting before her side-by-side and bowing low to her.
"It is done, My Jarl," Scarlet informs her. The court starts murmuring about this or that.
"Remarkable. Simply remarkable. In just a day you've done more than most of my court has in decades."
We bow, almost as if scripted. I dunno about them, but I'm just trying to hide my smug little smirk.
"Yes. Most remarkable. But you are still an outsider, unknown to the people of my hold." Law-Giver taps the armrest of her throne, seemingly deep in thought. "There is room in my court for a new thane, but I can only grant the title to those known by my people. And you'd have to own land in the Rift. Speak to my steward, if you wish to purchase…"
That's an odd time to trail off. She isn't looking at someone, and the door certainly didn't open behind us. She's having a thought.
"Actually. I have a proposition. There's been an attack recently. Bandits that hail from Faldar's Tooth." Hmm? "If you were to wipe out the bandits there, The Rift will recognize you as the sole proprietor of the Fort known as Faldar's Tooth, and it would be yours to operate and alter as you see fit. It could serve as a Dunmer stronghold, provided you swear to stay out of our war."
Thereby not only retaliating for the attack, but removing a potential bandit nest permanently. As an added bonus, she knows I'd offer the Dunmer of Riften a home there, hire them, and remove whatever crime elements would have cropped up from poverty and desperation among our numbers.
As well. There's the possibility of us offering protection to any and all Dunmeri in the hold. That does technically mean we'd need to defend our own should the war come here. Slick, Law-Giver.
I bow, accepting her machinations with grace.
8-8
Four PM on the dot. The Bee and Barb teems with Dunmeri—so full is the establishment, that the doors remain open and a portion of the crowd stands outside. Every pair of red eyes I see, are focused on me.
I raise my hands, signalling we're about to begin, and motion for Scarlet to come to me.
"Thank you for coming!" Scarlet's voice fills the room, but they all seem far more interested in the fact that I whisper my message into her ear. "Riftkhan offered Serjo a deal. One that may well benefit us all. The Fort called Faldar's Tooth. If we purge the bandits, we legally claim it as our own."
The murmurs start up.
I raise my hands again, and the crowd stills. I lean towards Scarlet.
"What Serjo offers you is unfettered truth. There will be no support from her House, financial or otherwise. So joining us in this endeavour is not, and will not be, your path to riches. There is even a chance her muthsera does not find her, refusing her would-be status."
The crowd grows restless, looking around with a nervous tension. Mutterings of winolalvios, and of a Dunmeri settlement.
"However. What Serjo gains here, is hers and hers alone. What she earns, no one may take from her. Serve her, and she will provide for her people as long as she breathes. She swears this on her ancestors."
"What does she plan?" Someone from the back shouts, but there's a wave of agreement—they all want to know.
How open should I be with potential leaks? Not very. "No outsider may know…All that will be said…is that there will always be food on your table…a roof over your head…and a willing…what's a sho-ray-shag?"
I laugh.
"Teacher," one of the crowd says, eyes wide and jaw low. "You would train us?"
I murmur into Scarlet's ear. "Serjo doesn't require your answer today. But know that training…would require a more official vow…She does not need only spellswords…masons…blacksmiths…healers…handmaidens…traders…All walks of life will be needed…Please. Sit and eat. Find us when you have your answers."
8-8
End Chapter 4
8-8
A/N: Hmm. How far this little Reyda has come. But how much farther will she go?