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 7—I will stand, with or without you
8-8
I press my fork into the goat meat, cutting it slow and steady to make the least fuss of it. Another long day is almost behind me, and I find myself aching to hug my pillow and sleep. Perhaps Scarlet is right, I should rest more during the day. So much to do, so little time.
Once the last of the meal is eaten, the tea is drunk, and the dishes are cleared away, I turn my full attention to my guests.
The three young men jump to their feet, moving behind their mother and stand at attention. They wear simple miners' outfits and carry pickaxes, but they are no more miners than I. They were soldiers, or at the very least well trained spellswords.
Gelvesu's wife and two children follow suit, standing behind the blacksmith. Curious, that. Especially since the younger is Sofie's age.
I look to Ulen, he nods and excuses himself. He's back but a moment later with a knapsack, unpacking three Nordic carved cuirasses and laying them on the table. He excuses himself again, coming back with three Elven swords, three Elven bows, and three quivers with Elven arrows.
"Please forgive Serjo, she has as yet acquired little variety. Should Mister Gelvesu agree to serve Serjo, we would, of course, provide far more suitable materials that you may be armed and armored as is deemed necessary," Ulen says, his tone calm and even.
"Boys. Wait outside." The woman is all business, her eyes hard and calculating. "You, too, little brother. I need to speak to her."
"You are permitted to take the armor and weapons. They are a gift." Ulen turns to me. "Will there be anything else, Ser?"
I smile for him, shaking my head no. He bows low, seeing himself out of the meeting room. The men head out into the courtyard, and even Frey's boys are kind enough to wait outside. Curious, that—almost as curious as the supposed miners leaving the armor and weapons on the table.
When both doors swing closed, I cast Detect Life, scanning the room to ensure no one else is here. There are only Dovyn, Vilvyni, Scarlet, and Ane—not sure what to make of the woman, but she seems to enjoy being near Vy.
"Forgive my rudeness, sera. I am Reyda, betrothed and currently under winolalvios. I trust you understand the constraints this places me under."
"I know enough." She crosses her arms under her bust, her eyes studying me, dissecting me. "I am Mehra Alvos. I was a soldier in Morrowind's militia during the Oblivion Crisis, now spellsword for hire. And I have questions."
"Speak freely."
"You're a Nord." I clutch my hand to my chest, acting hurt. Her eyes narrow and her lips purse—she doesn't enjoy my humour just now. "Why are you pretending to be Dunmer nobility?"
I raise my hand, stopping my chap'thil from conjuring their weapons to carve the woman a new breathing hole.
Curiously, the blacksmith's wife looks about ready to pass out and her daughter isn't doing any better.
"Blunt. To the point. Something tells me you are a spellsword for hire because you chafe under the patronage of nobility." I smile, finding humour where there should be none. Mehra snorts, but doesn't deny it. "You aren't Velothii and the common folk would know nothing of winolalvios. I will not press for answers I myself cannot give, but know that I can tell of your House and your lowborn status."
Mehra sighs, uncrossing her arms and laying her hands on the table.
"I bear no love for that house, which you are well aware of. But I also have no intention of holding their sins against you or your family."
Mehra shifts in her seat, leaning forward and laying her elbows on the table, her fingers interlocking. Her sister-in-law is too busy trying to reel in her jaw, so I don't doubt my 'act' is starting to come over as so much more.
"Now. Should you agree to serve me, you would be captain of the guard. Your duties would include training the men, assigning duties, organizing the patrols, and reporting all suspicious behaviour to me. Their training would be comparable to spellswords in that they would learn Destruction spells and one-handed blades. It would differ in that I demand they learn Conjuration and Mysticism as well."
"What of Restoration?" Mehra asks, leaning slight more forward.
"Covered. I have Sofie learning that and she's been aiding me in making potions."
"Serjo?" I look to Ane, wondering at the hope in her eyes and pleading in her tone. "Would. You consider having me trained…in Restoration and Alchemy?"
"Your training begins tonight. You'll be given alchemy theory to start you off. Impress me, and we'll discuss your training in Restoration spells." I pretend not to notice Ane's joyous squeal and her happy dance. "More importantly, Mehra. You need to understand that I start from scratch. I have no aid from my house, and we are therefore starting from nothing. So many of my men come from walks of life you would ordinarily shoot on sight."
"You didn't kill the bandits in Faldar's Tooth." Mehra isn't guessing, and the slight upwards curl in her lips hint she doesn't disapprove. "Mostly Nords, I assume."
"Twenty six Nords, three Redguards. I also have Engrien, a Bosmerii, and La'Vaar, a Khajiitii. Their loyalties are questionable at best, but after this afternoon, I should think Engrien is less apt to strike out on his own."
Mehra snorts. "So that's how you acquired Altmeri weapons. And the armour, they are from bandits you've…had dealings with?"
My feral grin is all the answer she needs.
"I see." Mehra's eyes dart back and forth, no doubt trying to assimilate all she's learned. "I would serve you, Serjo. Under three conditions."
"Namely?"
"Permission to take my boys to Blacklight or Raven Rock, to find them each a wife."
Redoran territory? Well. It's not as if I'd agree to Hlaalu wives. I nod.
"I'll not have anyone under my command wearing Altmeri armours."
"Ew." I give her a disgusted look to accentuate my stance.
"One can never be too sure." I nod, conceding her point. "And lastly. Permission to acquire Dunmeri…recruits, while seeking daughters-in-law."
"Aw, come on!" Scarlet complains. "We don't have enough Dunmeris speakers around here?"
I laugh, quite enjoying her annoyance. "Just for curiosity's sake. You were part of the Camonna Tong?"
"My husband was. Until they found out he was born in Raven's Rock."
Yeah. Xenophobia at its worst.
"Serjo?" I turn to Vilvyni. "Solstheim is considered Morrowind."
"It is," I agree. "After Skyrim's high king offered it, which was after the Red Year. Given Mehra was a soldier during the Oblivion Crisis, do you think her husband was born before or after Solstheim was Morrowind territory?"
Vilvyni winces, conceding my point.
With that out of the way, what are we looking at here? Mehra's had dealings with the Camonna, that means slavery isn't against her moral code. That she's aiming to get Dunmeri slaves under her command reinforces this. She understands I hail from House Telvanni, and that I would have my people trained accordingly. And more importantly, she wishes to lay roots under my command—she wouldn't ask for her sons to be married off if she wasn't planning on sticking around.
All in all, quite agreeable. I just need her to see that I am in charge, which one trip into a Reaver camp should provide quite nicely.
"Your terms are agreeable, but I feel it wise to warn you. I will not appreciate any dealings with any organization, unless you have my express permission for it." My tone is colder than winter's bitter chill. Mehra nods, almost as if a mini bow, but she meets my gaze without hesitation. Hmm, she's cautious, but isn't quite cowed yet. "Understand, Mehra. This is a deal out of convenience, not desperation."
She nods, clearly missing the signs.
"Let me be crystal clear, spellsword. I have enough to worry about. A fort to renovate, business ventures to start up, bandits to cajole into my service. The last thing I need is keeping you under surveillance."
"And the last thing I need is some young upstart thinking my loyalty is to anything but the coin I need for my family. In fact, I have a sweet deal on the table up in Windhelm. Four thousand drakes to kill a troll."
I snort, shaking my head. "That all?" That brings Mehra up short. "If you're so near-sighted that you think four grand will do anything for you, then I shouldn't waste my time on you."
Her eyes narrow, her jaw squares.
"You get the coin, then what? You buy materials, buy armour, buy this or that. Coin runs out eventually. That's why you're in this situation, isn't it?"
She looks towards the door, obviously hating how close I hit to home.
"I won't lie. What I offer has less short term gain. But unless your contacts will ensure you have a safety net for your boys to start their families?"
"What. Are you getting at?"
"That I understand you and what you hope to achieve. Serve me and your family will never go without. But I do not tolerate disloyalty. If you do not swear by your ancestors that you would be loyal wholly and solely to me, then you should better walk away. Now."
"So, what? I swear that me and mine work for you. Then what? You send us to our deaths when it suits you?" She clasps her hands, balled tight as a stone knot.
"I am Dunmerii by betrothal, but I am Nord by upbringing," I remind her. From the twitch in her lip, I can tell she needs more than that to work with.
"Perhaps you do not understand the situation you find yourself in." Mehra slaps her sheathed blade onto the table, no doubt fully intending to set my chap'thil on edge. "You're quite right. I have little of material value. But what I have is a particular set of skills, forged and tempered in the heat of countless battles that ravaged the homeland. Skills that make me the monster that goes bump in the night."
I shake my head. Why do people like doing things the hard way? "Yips from a fox surrounded by bears." I cast Telekinesis, opening the door from where I sit. "You are more than welcome to walk away. But I will not provide for any whose loyalty I question, let alone train them."
Mehra sits there, her eyes dart back and forth as she weighs her options. Morrowind has no future for her. Skyrim has been torn by civil war for the last two decades. And all she can hope for out there are odd jobs. She knows she's screwed if she walks away, especially given I offer her the position of head of the guard and the concessions she already got out of me.
But she'll bark one last time. She has to, her pride and her survival instincts won't allow anything else.
"Very well, Reydaserjo. I swear by my ancestors that my family and I will serve you and only you, provided we are not treated as battle fodder or as slaves. We will never serve a disloyal master, understand this well."
Good. Now let's see if this news travels back to Frey, and then we'll know if his boys are really all that loyal to him.
"Then we are in perfect agreement. Meet us by the gate tomorrow. We'll show you around the fort. Plans will be discussed after."
8-8
Frey comes at the stroke of midnight. I suspected he would. I listen carefully to the updates his boys give him—they speak only of a blacksmith and his family that came calling. Either they don't know, which I doubt, or their loyalty to Frey wanes.
He comes traipsing up the stairs and enters our bedroom without knocking, leaving the doors wide open as he stands in the doorway. He casts his attention about the room, finding Sofie and Ane studying on my bed, Dovyn and Vilvyni taking turns Telekinetically pickpocketing each other, and Scarlet standing by my side.
"Maven grows curious of you." The dancing tongues of flame in the hearth are far more entertaining than his misplaced pride. My hands rest on the arms of chair, no tension at all in me. "It's time to give her something to gawk at. Forget the cave. You are to focus all your attention into Faldar's Tooth. You will install an alchemy lab, an arcane enchanter, and a smelter. You will scout the area to secure ore, clay, and stone. And you will station four guards here. Two in front, two in back."
Hmm. Is that the in I need to get things done?
"That would require a trip to Raven Rock. I'll need bonemold armours to mask them entirely, so no one will know their identity or their race."
He doesn't answer, not immediately. I don't look to him, but I can almost feel him mentally chewing on that.
"You get nine days total, including travel time. You leave in two days. Sofie stays here."
"As you wish." Will that be enough? Nine days… I don't know how long it takes to get there, or how much it'll cost. I'll have to make do.
8-8
I stand on the first terrace as the bandits are paraded out into sunlight for the first time since I took over. They still wear those dreadful fur armours that screams I'm-a-bandit, and they smell like they haven't bathed in weeks. In fact, three of the women have menstrual blood dried on their legs. This is… sad. Even for bandits, this is unacceptable.
I lean to Scarlet, wanting to handle this quickly. "Listen up! Serjo has a onetime offer! Either you serve her wholly and solely! Or you go back into your cell and rot away until you forget what sunlight feels like on your skin! You have one minute to decide!"
"Say I serve you!" The Redguard woman speaks up, her arms bound as the rest of them—one of those with blood on her legs. "What's in it for me?"
"For fodder like you? Not dying is all you can hope for," Scarlet sneers. "But for those who would master the spells Mehra Alvos would teach you?! You would be spellswords worthy of Serjo's crest! And that means you'll be part of an army unlike anything Skyrim has ever seen!"
The Redguard woman steps forward, coming straight to me. Her hands glow with a fire spell, burning her cloth binds right off her. She doesn't meet my gaze and stops just more than a pace from me, taking the knee.
"My name is Jayrana. I specialize in Destruction spells. Fire element. All I ask in return is to see my wife and kids again."
I blink. I murmur to Scarlet. "Where are they?"
"In Whiterun. My wife works as farmhand just outside the capital." Not too far, and definitely not a promise I can't keep.
I murmur to Scarlet again. "Serjo will offer you better. Complete your training, and they would be welcomed here as citizens." Jayrana looks up, her eyes wide. "Provided you accept your bandit days are behind you. Can't have people thinking Serjo employs riffraff, now can we."
I take the first of the steel swords, holding the tip between thumb and forefinger, and resting the spine against the back of my other hand to keep the blade horizontal. I offer it to Jayrana.
Jayrana looks at the sword, eyes wide, before she winces and looks like she bit into something sour—likely remembering how easily I bested their whole gang.
"My Lady, I…" She shakes her head, her brown eyes looking up at me at last. "Be true to your word, and I will be the most loyal soldier you'll ever find. With Ruptga as my witness, I swear it."
"Then we shouldn't have a problem, soldier." Scarlet offers her a bag filled with a clean change of clothes, a towel, and washrag. She points off to the lowest tower. "Proceed to first tower. You may wash and change there. Return here for bunk assignment and duties."
Four of the men come before Jayrana even has the chance to stand, pleading for the same. They admit none of them know any spells, but for the chance to live with their families again…?
Mehra's gaze is on me the whole time. She can't figure me out. And she isn't meant to, not yet.
When the last of the willing offers herself to me, we wait almost five minutes. No one else steps forward. By my count we have eleven recruits, better than I hoped for. The other twenty are marched right back into the fort, back to their cells.
They won't be given a second chance.
Mehra's sons start working the boys in, showing them some basic stances, but Mehra herself comes to me. "So we have the beginnings of your guard."
"Mm. I leave for Raven Rock tomorrow. You're to come with me." Her eyes go wide, but she reigns in her surprise quickly. "I'll need a list of materials Gelvesu will need. I want our soldiers wearing bonemold armour. And speak to your sister-in-law, see what she needs to start producing clothing. I already have tundra cotton and plans for leather. Anything else, she'll need to let me know."
8-8
People coming: Dovyn, Vilvyni, Scarlet, Ane, Mehra, and myself. We have twelve knapsacks, most filled with empty sacks for ash and whatever other ingredients we might happen across while there. We have twelve bedrolls, just in case. We have four shovels, to gather the ash we'll need. We have jerked meats, salted fish, and enough water to last a week—we can always restock in either Windhelm or Raven Rock.
We have changes of clothes. We have washrags and towels. We have extra gloves and boots. I have a few books to read…Hmm.
"Scarlet. Take a thousand septims. Go to Wylandriah and buy as many spellsbooks as we can use. But nothing necromantic—makes me skin crawl."
"Sure."
"Take Dovyn with you. I think Vy and Ane are…they need a minute."
"They're just talking."
I look over at the pair of them. Vy has her feet pointing towards Ane and is gesturing wildly as she recounts some tale or other. Ane keeps laughing and swatting Vy and touching her upper arm, and continuously hooks stray hairs behind her ear. That isn't just talking.
"They're flirting. You're not interrupting them. Now shoo. And take Gelsevu's list to Brand-Shei. Ask him to talk to his suppliers, see if he can order anything on it, but be sure to specify we're only inquiring for now."
8-8
This is quite the deal. Twenty septims to take us all from Riften to Windhelm. Sure, the average worker in the Rift makes that in a month, but still! All we need to do is sit in the wagon and the horse does all the work! Not even Scarlet found something to complain about with this setup!
So everyone's just sitting around, reading the spellbooks Scarlet bought. Well, other than Ane, she's reading another alchemy theory book from my stash.
As for me? I'm casting Telekinesis and plucking every ingredient I can find. Nirnroots, canis roots, mountain flowers, tundra cotton, creeper clusters, even some fungi now and again. It's too early for butterflies, and those silly birds haven't done their mass migration north yet. Ooh! Snowberries!
All in all, not an interesting leg of the journey.
8-8
The howling winds and scathing chill in the air makes me think we just jumped into a frozen lake. It's snowing like there's no tomorrow, and frankly it's pissing me off!
Still, Scarlet and Mehra thank the wagon driver, and we head off to the ginormous stone bridge that he says leads to Windhelm.
Just the approximation to Wilhelm makes my skin crawl every time I think about it.
There's a river at the bottom of the canyon below, and what looks like a harbour on the city side. That's where we need to be. There isn't anyone else on the bridge, save some guards that keep giving my people baleful glares, and they keep showing us their blue shields with a stylized bear growling on it. What's that about?
"You're not tired are you, Ser?"
I groan, but don't comment. We managed nearly a day and a half in a wagon without that damned question. Ten minutes walking over a bridge and she starts right back up.
We make it to the oversized gates of Windhelm, and the guards give us a funny look. Scarlet asks if there's a problem, but he waves it off and opens the gate for us—mentioning something about 'the grey quarter', for some reason.
Inside the city isn't much better than the bridge—it's all snow in my eyes, so screw it. We make our way passed some way, through this way, and down those stairs… Mehra seems to know the way, good on her.
But something catches my eye. A bump where there should only be smooth stone. Sure, there were some uneven spots, and even chips that show the age of the stonework. But nothing so large as to make me wonder if a person is under there.
A small person, but still a person.
I cast Detect Life, and sure enough, the area glows blue. I walk right up to it, seeing the grey of wolf fur speckled with the white of snow. With a quick jerk, the fur flies off to reveal two children huddled together to keep each other warm.
"Why are you out in the snow?" The words fly off my tongue before I even check if any men are around that might hear me. "You should be inside by the hearth."
There's a long silence, filled by two aching hearts being covered by the falling snow. "Could we have our furs back?"
"Are you going to head home or not?" I demand, trying to sound more concerned than upset—anger is steadily winning out, though.
"You need a home for that."
"Get up." They don't move. "Come on, up. I'll not have you freezing to death." I hand the furs to Vilvyni, grabbing the girls' hands and tugging them up onto their feet. They both fight it, arguing that they only want to lay down and sleep—has hypothermia set in? No, they aren't shivering at all.
I tug them both to me, letting them wrap their arms around me. Vy and Scarlet each dig out a jacket and wrap the girls in them, and we head down the stairs again, two companions richer.
Mehra leads us towards a large vessel, easily sixty feet long, and we walk right onto it. She starts up a shouting match with one of the sailors, each trying to make themselves heard by the other, inquiring how much to set sail for Solstheim.
"Two-fifty and we set sail immediately!" comes the verdict. Scarlet fishes out some coin and pays the man. "Welcome aboard the Nothern Maiden! Name's Gjalund Salt-Sage! And me and my crew are at your service!"
"Is there somewhere we can warm up!"
"Birkin! Show our passengers to their cabin! And tell Yngmer I hate it when he's right!"
8-8
I sigh in relief when the door behind us shuts. The cabin isn't spacious, doubly so considering we have eight people in here, but it's well-lit, and we aren't being blinded by snow—I'd say that's a win.
Ane and I rush as best we can to peel the two girls off me. The girl I'm tending to, the second her gloves come off, I check her fingers for any sign of hypothermia, but all I see is ashen skin, if a bit darker than usual.
I tug her along, over to the lower bunk, and plop her onto it. Vy is kind enough to come over and hang the wolf furs we took from them from them on the frame, giving us some privacy. I strip the now shivering child down, and bury us both under the furs. Ane comes but a second later with the other girl, and we huddle them between us as we strip down ourselves.
Though they feel as ice against me, I can't bring myself to care. They need warmth, and I have it to offer.
It takes no effort to coax her to lie atop me, and even less for her to lay her head on my chest. After one last, long shuddering, she sighs and buries her nose between my breasts. Ane has hers laying her ear against her chest, no doubt listening to the steady heartbeat on offer.
"Why were you outside in that?" I demand, finding my fingers running through silver hair. "You could have…" I can't even bring myself to say it, so I hug the steadily warming little body closer and plant a kiss on her crown.
The world lurches, we've set sail.
The steady rocking becomes steadily more pronounced, but it isn't too bad, I suppose. Maybe I'm just more focused on the warm moisture spilling down my chest.
"Shhhh shhh shh shhhhh." I hug her tight, kissing her brow and crown over and over to let her know she's perfectly safe right where she is. "It's alright. You're alright. We won't let anything happen to you, I swear on my ancestors."
A sniffled sigh is all I get for my troubles, at first. Her legs drape over my sides and her hands snake up almost into my armpits. Not sure what that's about, but at least she carries the warmth of life now, instead of the human icicle I half dragged in here.
My fingers steadily work through the knots in her hair until there is nothing but lush silver caressing my digits on each pass through.
"What's your name, muhrjul?" I don't know what it is, but even to me my voice has never sounded this tender, this soft and nurturing.
She shifts and turns until little red eyes peer up at me. I smile warmer than summer's midday sun, teasing a little unsure tug at her lips.
"Muhri kol flur, muhrjul. Be at peace, child. You are safe," I soothe, cupping her cheek and kissing between her delicate silver eyebrows. "Tell me your name?"
"Galsa," is all she says, laying right back down and pressing her ear against my chest.
"Well, Galsa. I'm Reyda. Are you feeling a bit better?" She nods, sighing and curling up against me.
"And what about you? What's your name?" Ane asks her girl.
"Ta…Talare."
8-8
The silhouette of Solstheim looms in the distance up ahead. I know, without looking, that Skyrim lies behind me. Somehow this moment summarizes my life all too well, smack dab between Morrowind and Skyrim—between Nord and Dunmer.
I rest my hands on the rail of the ship's bow, heaving a sigh that drains me. Not two months ago I'd never left Ivarstead, and here I find myself leaving Skyrim for the first time, leading Dunmeri as if I was born among them.
The gods have a sense of humour I utterly fail to grasp. Or perhaps it's just Sheogorath—he'd be laughing his princely ass off at this. Dovyn and Vilvyni have taken to shadowing my every step. Scarlet would, too, but she's too busy discussing things with Mehra and what's-his-face, the captain.
And now, I find myself with two new charges. Two Dunmeri children left to freeze in a snowstorm. Galsa and Talare. I don't know their tale. Not where they're from, not where their families are. Nothing. They look too dissimilar to be related by blood. Galsa with her silver hair and puffy cheeks, and Talare with blood red hair and angular features. All they have in common is that they don't speak much.
Galsa wiggles herself under my arm to get in front of me and lays her hands on the railing beside mine. She stares out into the distance for a long moment, but I can't tell what she's looking at or what she's thinking. Her neck length hair flutters in the salty air, somehow painting her as melancholy. It's as if she's been cast adrift, with no port to call home.
Neither she nor Talare asked where we're going. Neither seems to care. They don't talk much, if at all, only answering our questions with one or two words—or a nod, if they can help it.
Galsa turns to me, gazing up with blank, red eyes. Her arms worm around my middle and she heaves a sigh.
I look over my shoulder, spying Ane and Talare taking turns losing their breakfast into the open seas. Vy's doing all she can to hold back their hair and sooth them. Dovyn is a few paces back from them, his shoulders quaking with silent laughter. Vy keeps shooting him scathing glances, but that only seems to add to his amusement.
Figuring they can handle their battle all on their own, I turn my attention back to the sight before me, once again idly combing my fingers through silvery hair.
Where are you, Cylben?
8-8
After two full days of sailing, the Northern Maiden docks in Raven Rock, Solstheim. We disembark while Mehra and Scarlet discuss the exact date and time the captain intends to sail back—two days, with the morning tide.
We're offered bed and board on the ship, but Ane begs that we find a tavern, almost sending Dovyn into a cackle fit—Vy's murderous glare quiets him.
"Come," Mehra says, no doubt trying to steer us away from the siblings getting into another squabble. "We make for Morvayn Manor, to inform the First Councilor of our arrival."
We barely take two steps before an important-looking Dunmerii comes strolling our way.
"Ah, Mehra Alvos. It's been some years, sera. What brings you to Raven…" His gaze swipes over our group, how Dovyn and Vilvyni put themselves between me and the stranger getting too close for comfort. How Scarlet takes up the rear. How Ane and the girls stay close to me. For some reason, this one's eyes linger on me. "This isn't a social call."
"We were just heading to the manor to introduce ourselves." Mehra turns to me, eyeing how my people position themselves around me. "Serjo. Please meet Adril Arano, Second Councilor of Raven Rock, and the First Councilor's right hand man."
I bow, my eyes flicking to Galsa and Talare and Ane. Galsa doesn't bow, so I put my hand on her head and nudge her—she bows without a fuss, but her eyes turn questioning as to why that was needed.
"Second Councilor, please meet Reydaserjo. Forgive her silence, she…"
"I suspected as much," Arano admits, nodding gravely. "Do bear in mind you are in Redoran territory, Serjo. Your muthsera's house holds no sway here."
I nod, taking Galsa's hand and walking ahead. Arano is accommodating enough to step to one side, to not risk touching me by mistake—oh the conveniences of being amongst the Dunmeri, they understand the old ways with barely a glance. If Cylben comes through here, he'll no doubt hear I've been here, that means he'll have a trail to follow.
We make our way up the dock and onto the ashen soil of Raven Rock. The streets are littered with stone buildings, some built in a more dynastic style, but most have only a single room above ground, only their distance hinting at the subterranean expanses.
There are scathecraw and ash yams and trama root growing wild on almost every corner, not a flower to be seen among the greys of stone and ash. The guards patrol the port town, wearing their traditional House Redoran bonemold armours, the bright amber reminding me of the sun glaring through the haze.
I was almost ill prepared for this, seeing so many Dunmeri in one place. Let alone seeing almost only Dunmeri here. Riften has a thriving population, of course, but the vast majority is still Nords. Here, it seems, Scarlet and I are the only Nords to be found.
The housewives tend to their sparse gardens to either side of their shack's front door. The children are scolded for doing this or not doing that. The men make their way to an unmarked building in the distance with one guard stationed beside the sole entrance—I'd bet my last septim that's the tavern. All of them are Dunmeri. It's no wonder Cylben spoke so fondly of his time here, even with this being House Redoran's.
The sun is low on the horizon. Night will come swiftly, I should think.
Mehra leads us to a building on the left, before we reach the marketplace just shutting up for the day. The red banner boldly displaying Redoran's scarab tells me this is the First Councilor's home, without fail. Though the guard standing watch beside the door doesn't hurt.
Without knocking, Mehra pushes the door and enters, she holds it open as Scarlet enters next. I follow, with the others close on my heels.
The room isn't spacious, not by any means, but there's a throne room of sorts to the left, with three Redoran banners on display, the middle of which is right behind a chair. First Councilor, no doubt.
I walk up to him, keeping five paces between us, and I bow. As I right myself, I find Galsa finishing the same motion. I smile when she looks nervously at me, and she visibly relaxes.
"First Councilor Llerin Morvayn, may I present Reydaserjo, Baroness of Faldar's Tooth and currently under winolalvios." Mehra's voice booms in the tiny space, but it's the sense of pride swelling in her that speaks loudest. She resists me at every junction, but she cannot deny her elation at being part of something great again.
"Hmm." Morvayn gives me a once over, before his eyes spy my people taking their stance behind me. "It is an honour to meet you, Ser. On behalf of House Redoran and as Councilor of Raven Rock, I bid you welcome to our fair port town, and welcome to my home."
Scarlet comes up beside me, leaning in to make it easy for me. "We are most grateful, My Lord. Allow me to assure you. That we come with no intention. To hinder your people or to stir trouble of any sort. We are in fact here. To purchase and gather supplies. And perhaps with hopes of future trade. Should this please to you."
"Yes, I suspected as much. If I might inquire. This…Faldar's Tooth. I've not heard of it." He's testing us.
"Surely, sera does not presume to inquire into matters of which we may not speak?" Scarlet says the words, but there's a curiosity in her tone that shows she isn't quite informed of the more obscure details I'm subject to.
Morvayn strokes his armrest, his eyes studying me intently. "Very well, ser. Might it not be too invasive to inquire your starting point, then?" He wants to know how screwed I was to begin with. After all, one as learned in Dunmeri politics as him would identify which house we hail from without fail. So he'd know just how…welcoming they would be to a Nord bride-to-be.
I hold up my right hand, all five fingers extended to show 'nothing in hand', meaning zero.
"Would you believe me if I said I was surprised?"
I laugh, shaking my head, no.
"How long will you be staying?"
I murmur to Scarlet. "The Nothern Maiden sets sail in two days, First Councilor. We hope to have our business settled by then."
"So swiftly? Pray tell, what do you hope to achieve by then?"
"If you don't mind, First Councilor?" Mehra steps forward, but waits for Morvayn to motion to her. "We are here to hire a handful of miners and craftsmen for an as yet undetermined timespan. Reydaserjo desires to renovate her humble abode into a style befitting her muthsera's heritage."
"Always the impatient one, Mehra Alvos. How little I've missed your presence." Morvayn's words cut into her, effortlessly forcing her to step back and stand down. "Please, ser. I know you would not come all this way for something as simplistic as this. You would have sent her out on her own. What are you really here to achieve?"
My cheeks glow as I force myself not to look away.
"I see. You toe the line, ser. Do you believe you've already fulfilled your quest?"
I murmur to Scarlet. "Far from it."
"Hmm?" He leans back into his seat, gripping his jawline as he ponders the pieces he's given, and the puzzle they hint at.
If I am Baroness, Lady of holdings and servants, and claim I am far from my endgame? That means I'm here for so much more than sending a message to House Telvanni—or even hinting to my muthsera where I am, though it's plainly obvious I wouldn't object to him finding me sooner rather than later. I'm here to shout from the mountaintops that they shouldn't dare lose sight of me—a message he himself would be fool to ignore.
And that is exactly what I want him to understand. Because even if House Telvanni never accepts Cylben and I, I will never go away. Ten birds, one stone.
"As it so happens, many jobs were lost when the mine dried up." He's already figured out what he thinks he's to understand. Whether we're on the same page remains to be seen, but that's his problem. "I would…or perhaps I should say, I could not object to you hiring them. Though, I am curious, Ser. What do you hope to offer up for trade?"
I murmur to Scarlet. "At present, we have little to offer. Within a year, Serjo will have a very different answer to that same question."
"Ambitious." He sounds almost impressed. "Very well. While you are here, ser, there is a matter in which I believe you might be of help. One which might greatly benefit us both."
I briefly cock an eyebrow, a knowing smile gracing my lips.
"Reavers beset this frontier, as you no doubt suspect." His eyes twinkle when my smile turns smirk. "We of Raven Rock would not dare complain if they were to…subject themselves to your service?"
I bow, knowing full-well he and his wouldn't mind if I bring each and every reaver into their town in chains, especially if it means they'll become my slaves.
"Then we are in full agreement as to the agenda you wish to adhere to. For every reaver camp you empty, I assure you there will be a fitting reward awaiting you here. Tell me, ser. Would you prefer coin, or armour sets?"
"Definitely armour sets." Scarlet doesn't even wait for me to murmur, knowing full-well what we're here to achieve. "Bonemold preferably, though a few light chitin sets would also be appreciated."
"Of course. We could provide you with a map and the exact location of five camps, if you desire?" I grin. Ten birds, one stone.
8-8
This isn't the kind of place you leave your non-combatants in town and head out. This is the kind of place where the wilds and the city are both equally dangerous, and letting your guard down in either would prove fatal. With this in mind, we head south with all our people tagging along—even Galsa and Talare.
Well, Mehra said she prefers to stay in Raven Rock to start propositioning miners to work for me—and there's still the daughter-in-law hunting she's doing. Still, time is limited so best to strike while the iron's hot.
All I smell out here is ash. Mile after mile and hill after hill of ash, mixing in the most excruciating ways with the salt in the air. Luckily, the first camp is but an hour south, but still. It's no wonder Dunmeri like armours that keep every inch covered. The stench is enough to make me retch when two days at sea barely fazed me.
Waves lap against the ashy shores, lashing us with salty breaths on almost frozen air. But it's the scratching, the low and high pitched chattering further inland that sets me on edge.
We aren't alone.
A problem now compounded by a sole Redoran guard walking towards us.
"Greetings, citizen. Why are you out here at this time of night?" He looks to Dovyn for answers, no matter that my group all look to me. He isn't just socially unaware, he's utterly uninformed. If he's a Redoran guard, then I'm next in line for High Queen.
Adding the steel greatsword and the lack of arrows? Come on, he isn't even trying.
I cast Detect Life, finding his and a dozen others' red life-forces glowing in the pale moonlight.
They are moving in, using the uneven terrain to hide from sight and surround us. The tactic isn't bad, exactly. It isn't even poorly executed. It's just that they don't realize I'm aware—lack of spell knowledge, being my guess.
Another interesting note, is the collection of blue energy behind the speaker and just off the coast. It would seem we've already found the first camp, stowed in shipwreck.
I step forward, my smile friendly and utterly disarming. "You're Velothi. Reavers from the look of it. Your accent tells me you've only recently learned the common tongue. You are here with ten others, give or take. You move silent and efficient, but the clank of bonemold armour should be more noticeable. To add insult to injury, Redoran guards wouldn't be caught dead with steel weapons, let alone without their shield."
The helmet droops slightly. He coils, readying himself to pounce.
"Now listen well, as I will say this only once. You've heard me speak. That means you have two choices. Either you embrace your chains with dignity, or you die and leave your wives and children defenceless." Their combined growls sound like little more than puppies about to wet themselves. I cast Telekinesis, ready for their first move. "And be warned, I will take them in chains regardless. The only question, is whether you will be with them under my thumb."
"Molag B—"
I grab that one by the throat, his curse choked and clinging to his tongue.
The sound of screeching fills the night. An unholy wailing that barely hints at the madness contained within the fractured mind crying out.
"Aradra…" The guard-impersonator turns his back to me, facing the faint glow of fire magicka heading towards the beached shipwreck I barely make out just up the coast.
Aradra…Ash death.
It would seem these hills hide more than reavers and wildlife.
"Fridayir iklami en muhrjuli!" And just like that, each of the reavers reveal themselves in a mad dash towards the rolling thunder and walking flame made flesh. The huff of spellflame tells me the assault on their base has begun.
Must protect women and children? They left no one on guard! Idiots!
"Scarlet! Ane and the girls are your responsibility! Keep them safe! Vy! Dovyn! With me! Haul ass!"
I conjure my bow, nock and arrow and let it fly into the night. The dim glow arcs towards the fiery effigy, striking it in the foot—slight incline, got it.
I nock another, ignore the angered cries, correct for elevation, and loose. This time the arc ends right in its skull. Another is nocked and loosed, quickly followed by three more.
The first falls, its anguished and demonic cry tearing through the night and right through me. If I never hear that sound again, it'll be too soon.
A shame there are four more of those…things. Aradra indeed.
Vy and Dov are at my sides. They conjure their bows and together we rain death down upon the Aradra—whatever they are. Even at a hundred paces, we keep their attention on us, and away from the high-pitched screams and cries for help from the wreck.
When the last of them falls, I breathe easier. This is why I love my archery. If it can't get near you, there's nothing you need to worry a—
"ALMA!"
That came from behind us.
Galsa!
"Serjo!"
I dash back their way, the clicking sound from earlier coming from every direction around us. I conjure a dagger and ready Detect Life.
There's a faint glimmer in the dark, rushing Scarlet. It's almost too dark to see.
I cast Detect Life, my vision filled with almost nothing but red—the blue of my people almost being drowned out.
I jump onto some slippery thing, burying my dagger into some part of it, and dash on ahead. Did I run this far from them? I don't remember.
Vy makes it to them ahead of me, firing off spellflame and lighting the night for us all. I nod, liking this much more.
I conjure my bow and loose arrow after arrow into anything that isn't mine to protect, flying into the night towards the burning ash surrounding my baby.
Her cries spur me on, pushing me no matter the odds I face.
"Alma!"
"Alma!"
By the time I arrive at Galsa's side, I've emptied my quiver. I drop the bow, my will and mind so sharp I could cut through Oblivion itself. I take the fiery need to guard her and pour all of it into my Conjure Flame Atronach spell, tongues of flame licking off my gloves.
The fire whips off each hand, taking physical form as the atronachs are ripped from the planes of Oblivion. My will pierces our connection, flooding them with one thought: protect Galsa.
"Alma fredann ohuhn," I murmur, taking Galsa into my arms. Mother will protect you. "Hold fast, don't let me go."
"I won't. I won't let alma go." Her arms wrap around my shoulders, her legs around my waist, and she holds on with all her might, trembling like a leaf in a storm.
I conjure my bow, grabbing Ane with my free hand and jerking her behind me where I can protect them—she holds Talare as tight as Talare holds her, so they'll be fine.
With a fresh and full quiver, I start shooting at anything that moves once again. Only this time, there are three flame and two frost atronachs joining the fray.
The night burns with our wrath, and the ash under our feet glows in our wake.
With Vy dual-wielding her spellflame, and Dovyn throwing dagger after dagger, and Scarlet grabbing everything in reach and ripping its head clean off, and me raining arrows like falling stars.
It isn't long before nothing around us moves, though it feels like forever's come and gone.
I drop my bow, casting Detect Life, but all I see is the blue of my people, and the faint blue of the band of reavers we ended up saving twice over.
"You came for me." Galsa sounds shocked to her core, but the tears streaming down my neck hint this is much deeper. "Alma came for me. You came for me."
"Muhri kol flur, muhrjul. Be at peace, child. You are safe," I soothe, hugging her. All I get out of her is unintelligible, half-formed words and she bawls her heart out.
"Yeah. Can we not do that again?" Vy sounds exasperated beyond words, holding Ane and Talare close to her.
Well. To be fair, we weren't planning to fight on three fronts. One of which we still need to sort out. The s'wits.
"Well, Hlakili." Did Dovyn just call her 'little red'? "These ash hoppers aren't nailed down. Let's get to it."
8-8
End Chapter 7
8-8
A/N: I have quite a bit already written out, but I'm unsure if this is hitting all the right notes. Lemme know what you guys think.