Chapter XIV – A Desolate City

Windhelm. There was no place more fitting to mirror Bishop's mood.

His day was already soured even more at the gates when those dimwit guards insisted that he leave his 'hound' outside. How stupid were they not to recognize a wolf? But, then again, it was not like Karnwyr would enjoy their time in Windhelm anyway. He'd have much more fun hunting outside the city walls.

With a heavy sigh, he approached the Candlehearth Hall. While the Dunmer spirits may have been more fitting to numb him enough, he didn't feel like answering all their potential questions. At least nobody would bother him at the Candlehearth.

As eager as he was to get a strong drink already, he couldn't help but stop by the prominent bulletin board to see what was new in town. They haven't been there in a long while, not since Aeyrin was banished. She did get some strange updates from those soldiers that bothered her at the Nightgate Inn that one evening, but that was hardly indicative of the current situation. The Stormcloaks were all brainwashed by Ulfric's bullshit.

He scanned the notices for a while. There were several new leaflets, all referring to the Butcher.

.

BEWARE THE BUTCHER!

.

HE WILL STRIKE AGAIN!

.

It was all in the same vein. Hardly anything new. But it did suggest that the killings had really stopped, just like the soldiers said.

When he found nothing much of interest among the scattered notes, he looked over at the official notices. It looked like all the previous orders were still in effect. Typical. Unless someone just hadn't bothered to remove them from the board.

But Bishop did notice what looked like a new one eventually.

.

By the order of the True High King Ulfric Stormcloak,

due to the unsolved string of heinous murders, the True High King endeavors to find the killer before more innocent lives are lost. Every citizen of Windhelm has to comply with mandatory household and business searches if the guards have a reason to suspect their culpability. Disobedience will be met with a corresponding response.

We thank the people of Windhelm for understanding the precautions and urge every citizen to stay safe and patient.

Jorlief, Steward to the True High King Ulfric Stormcloak

.

Well that sounded even shittier than before. Bishop had no doubt that Ulfric's men concentrated on searching the houses in the Grey Quarter just to bully the elves more.

With a scowl decorating his face, he looked over the other notices one more time, but there didn't seem to be anything new otherwise. But just as he was about to turn away and head to the inn at last, he was interrupted by a soft voice.

"Excuse me, sir?"

Bishop turned to see the woman addressing him. He was pretty sure that he had never seen her before, but at a second glance, he recognized the long brown robes that she wore. They identified her as a priestess of Talos. He wasn't sure how many of them there were in the city, but he suspected that this must have been Jora – the priestess who had started that secret Talos worship thing with Aeyrin.

"Oh good, it is you, isn't it? You're Aeyrin's companion," she looked at him eagerly.

Not anymore.

"What is it?" he asked instead of answering the question. He couldn't fathom what someone like her would ever want from him. She knew about Aeyrin's banishment without a doubt so it was unlikely that she would ask him why Aeyrin wasn't there. Besides, weren't they in contact through letters or something?

"I just… did Aeyrin tell you about… uhm… what her and I…" the priestess gave him a nervous look. It was understandable. Divulging their plans to the wrong person could be really dangerous for her. They were not in danger just from the Thalmor. The Stormcloaks would not take kindly to them trying to sidestep their precious war with more subtle means. They just wanted to force their way on people, regardless of the alternatives available to them.

"Yeah. I know about it. Something wrong?" Bishop prodded again. Her nervous fidgeting was getting him a bit worried as well.

"Well… you tell me," the woman raised her brow at him.

Huh?

"Is… is Aeyrin alright? I haven't gotten a response from her for months," Jora gave him a concerned look. That was a bit odd, but still, anything could have happened to either letter. It definitely wasn't something to look this concerned about, right?

"She's fine. Maybe the letter got lost? Ever thought of writing again?" Bishop smirked at her.

"I would, but… I'm starting to think that Master Lortheim suspects that something is afoot. I think he noticed how often I've written those letters all of the sudden. To Aeyrin and to Master Therien and everyone that he pointed me to. It's been a lot of back and forth with everyone and Master Lortheim has noticed how busy I got. I'm… I'm not usually the one who gets reached out to by people around here," Jora sighed while her eyes darted around the streets to ensure that no one was within earshot. "He's been watching me a lot lately and he barely ever leaves the temple anymore unless he is called in by Ulfric. I haven't been able to write much. I worry that he will steal my letters and find out what we're up to."

"Right," Bishop nodded. It was a good thing that she was being careful. This shit could turn bad fast if they weren't cautious. It had the potential to piss off a lot of people. If Ulfric found out, he would either take it as an open defiance to his cause or he would embrace the effort and probably shout into the world about what the priests were doing. That man definitely valued pride over subtlety. "So… you want me to get her a message or something?" he shrugged at Jora. No one would be monitoring what he sent out. Or he could send the letter from somewhere outside the city, just in case.

"Maybe," Jora pondered. "I don't have anything written down now, of course. I was just worried about her. I figured that the letter got lost or something too but… then I received a letter from Master Therien. Apparently, he hasn't heard from her for months now too, despite sending several letters himself. She never responded. He was very worried that something happened to her. And so was I. I mean… I tried to tell myself that if she… if she died, people would be talking about it, but… you never know in Windhelm. A lot of things get hushed," she sighed before she gave him a searching look, even though he had already confirmed that Aeyrin was fine.

This was somewhat worrying though. All those letters definitely didn't get lost. Not that he didn't know already that Aeyrin was avoiding discussing a lot of things lately. But as infuriating as it was to have to tiptoe around any serious topic that could actually help them out of this awful uncertain relationship, it was understandable. He had felt like that a lot of times before too. Fuck, now that he thought about it, he was pretty sure that he had never really talked about any of the shit that happened to him since Jules died. Until he met Aeyrin. But he never really had other people that he could feel comfortable talking to before they met. Aeyrin did. And Therien's letters always seemed to put her more at ease about anything that was going on. Why would she be avoiding that?

And why would she let the old man worry about her like that? The letters must have mentioned his concerns over her well-being.

Fuck… that was just great. Bishop came here to keep his mind off things for at least a while and now he was back to it, constantly agonizing over her and worrying about her. There was apparently no escaping it.

"I don't know what to tell you. She's fine. She's alive. I don't know why she wouldn't write back to either of you," Bishop shrugged while he rubbed the back of his neck with his hand. His own concern must have been palpable on his face.

"It's good to hear," Jora nodded. "I mean, I heard some snippets of rumors, about her killing some dragons in the Reach and such, but… well… it's just… too common for some people to control the citizen's dispositions through rumors. I can never tell what is true anymore," Jora sighed. Bishop wondered why Ulfric would try to stomp down rumors about Aeyrin's death, if it were true. Wouldn't that just play in his cards? Unless the people actually started panicking when they let their common sense back in and realized that they were basically doomed without her.

Ugh… stop thinking about this.

It was pointless to think about anyway.

"Are you staying for long? I would like to give you a letter for Aeyrin, if the offer still stands," Jora smiled at him.

"Not sure yet. Just get it to me today. I'll be there," he pointed to the tavern. Jora likely expected him to deliver that letter in person, but that was not happening. He could still stuff it in a mailbox somewhere outside of Windhelm. The priestess was obviously worried about Lortheim checking the box for letters from her. If he were to send it out of Windhelm, that would probably not help her in any way.

"Oh… you will? I thought you're just here to resupply. Isn't Aeyrin waiting for you?" Jora smiled at him a little mischievously. She likely thought that he was just misbehaving by dropping in for a drink before hurrying back to Aeyrin. Fuck, if only.

This was uncomfortable. He was none too eager to discuss their fucked up situation with anyone, but pretending like they were still together sounded like a bad idea. What if it got back to Aeyrin? How pathetic would that sound to her?

"She's busy," he muttered under his breath. Hopefully that made it clear that Jora shouldn't pursue the topic further.

"I will bring you the letter today then. Subtly, I hope," she chuckled nervously. "I have to admit, conspiracies are a new territory for me."

"A tip then. Don't call it a 'conspiracy'. Especially not out in the open," Bishop winked at her with a hint of amusement in his voice. Nobody was close enough to hear them there, but still, better safe than sorry.

"Good tip," Jora chuckled bashfully. "I will go work on that letter then," she smiled at Bishop, but he stopped her before she could turn away. There was still one thing he needed to know.

"Hey, wait." He wasn't sure how it happened so quickly that he got tangled up in the concerns over both Aeyrin and Windhelm again, but he might as well sate his curiosity now. Then he would be able to drink himself to Oblivion. And with Susanna dead, there weren't many trustworthy people around that he could ask about this stuff, since he was planning to avoid the elves. "Do you know what's been happening? With… well… all that," he pointed his upturned thumb towards the notice board behind him.

"Oh… yes… well… a bit," Jora peered at the board for a while before she turned back to Bishop. "After that last girl, the barmaid, there were no more murders. But… that didn't really ease anyone's mind. Whatever the killer was doing… the gruesome manners suggested something… something else than a simple murder out of hatred or revenge. Everyone felt that they would either strike again or… or they have achieved whatever they were planning. Nobody felt safe," she shook her head somberly. It was no wonder. Without any kind of closure on the killings, Windhelm would hardly be a comfortable place to live. Maybe the Butcher was just waiting for things to calm down and the patrols to ease until they struck again.

"Ulfric assured everyone that he would not let the issue rest. That he would find the killer, whatever it took. He kept all the orders in effect so life goes on in fear and within restrictions. You won't see a soul on the streets at night besides the guards. On top of that, there were other things that Ulfric felt needed… tightening up. First, he closed the docks. Apparently he didn't have enough men to spare with the war raging, and he decided to leave the docks to whatever fate awaited them. Only ships with special permissions from Ulfric can come and go. And the Argonians… well… they are locked in there. They have no jobs anymore and they cannot trade with anyone who comes by," Jora's face twisted in palpable discomfort. "The temple was asked to bring them food once a week. I volunteered for that position. I… it's very little. And the guards search the bags every time I go there to prevent smuggling. I can't even buy food myself to add to the bags. They check everything," she shook her head in disbelief.

"Can't the Argonians leave the city?" Bishop raised his brow at her. They had access to the outside. And it was not like an Argonian couldn't swim to the shore.

"Yes. Sometimes the Dunmer farmers on the shore give them some food, but… they don't have much themselves. Other than that, there are only the Khajiit caravans, but… their goods are expensive. And without their jobs, the Argonians can only rely on charity."

That sounded fucked up. They were already practically beggars even with their jobs. The Nords hardly paid them anything before. They would be much better off leaving altogether. But with no money to actually travel, that was likely out of the question too.

"What about the elves?" Bishop scowled. He suspected that the news wouldn't get any better there. The elves were a popular target of Ulfric's. It was always just how Windhelm was. Bishop never liked it, but now it actively pissed him off. He liked those buggers. Drinking with them was fun and they were all so nice to him and Aeyrin, although he had no illusions about that only being the case because he had an elf by his side. He'd been to the cornerclub alone before and things were a lot different. The elves weren't hostile outright, but anyone barely spoke a word to him and they all threw him suspicious looks. He didn't really care. It was how he had preferred it anyway. But now he was glad that he'd gotten to know the patrons there more. He really enjoyed the evenings there.

Hopefully, one day he would be able to go back. If not with Aeyrin, then at least without the annoying fear of having to explain their crappy situation to everyone.

"Things are… the same, mostly. Except for the house searches. You saw the notice?" Jora asked, earning a brief nod from Bishop in response. "The elves are still suspects and still under the order of the curfew, although no one leaves at night anymore anyway. The guards have already searched many of the houses in the Grey Quarter. I… I only heard rumors. The elves were complaining about their treatment of their abodes a lot, but mostly, I hear they arrested several elves. Not for the murders, but for… other things. Illegal items, stolen items. You get the picture."

Of course. Typical. As if the Stormcloaks didn't have more important things to worry about than a few petty thefts and shit like that.

"The elves even tried to protest after one of them got arrested. Some innkeeper I believe. But the protest was curbed soon enough. It's… just rumors, but… I think that it got bloody," Jora continued.

"Ambarys got arrested?!" Bishop's brows shot up. Why did that piss him off so much?

"I… I don't know who he was. My services are usually not required in the Grey Quarter. They have their own priest and their own… temple… if you can call it that. I don't know any of them personally," Jora shrugged.

Hmm… Bishop could probably find out what happened from the other elves. He still didn't want to go there though. But there may have been one other person who could tell him what was all this about.

Fuck, why was he bothering? It was not like he could do anything about it. He could hardly free Ambarys from the Palace. He was skilled, but not that skilled. And without a proper plan, it would be suicide. But he did not like imagining how they must have been treating the elf in the prison. Fucking Stormcloaks.

Maybe Ambarys wasn't even alive anymore.

"Jora!" a deep voice interrupted them suddenly and Bishop noticed an old Nord in the familiar brown robes approach them. He remembered him. A Master in the local temple. It must have been the one that Jora was afraid of.

"Master Lortheim," Jora inclined her head towards the old Nord.

"My child, the candles are not prepared for the evening sermon. What are you doing?" Lortheim gave her a curious look. Despite Jora's previous insinuation about the man, his eyes scanned her more worriedly and kindly than Bishop had expected. "And I would not have you roam the streets after nightfall."

The old man's eyes finally rested on Bishop just as Jora answered: "I was only talking to a traveler, Master Lortheim. He asked about the news of the Butcher."

Lortheim scanned Bishop with a measured look for quite a while. The brief silence got increasingly uncomfortable as the man narrowed his eyes in suspicion. "A traveler? I remember you, son. You travel with the Dragonborn."

Ugh… this again. Bishop should have figured that even his presence in Windhelm alone would cause a stir.

"So?" he snorted. It was not like he had been banished. Well… not from Windhelm.

"What brings you here?" Lortheim's eyes were still uncomfortably wary.

"Drinks and supplies for the road. Didn't feel like getting 'butchered' along the way so I asked," Bishop shrugged. Jora seemed rather calm, but he still worried that their contact would cause trouble for her. But hopefully Lortheim's suspicion about Jora had no connection to Aeyrin. Unless he actually did read her letters, he had no reason to connect neither Bishop nor Aeyrin to Jora's endeavors.

He probably didn't even know what those endeavors were.

"Yes… I suppose caution is prudent. I hope you will exercise it in other things too," Lortheim still looked like he was trying to search Bishop's face for some answers. What was he looking for? "Son, just… let me say one thing. I do not find joy in seeing people suffer. Our King needs to protect the citizens, which includes preventing any meddlers from provoking erratic killers. I hope you remember what happened as a cautionary tale. I would not wish for anyone to go through the same," he sighed somewhat regretfully. Strange, he almost seemed sincere.

It was moot nonetheless. Bishop was not there to concern himself with the Butcher. And reminding him about what Ulfric had done to Aeyrin the last time was just souring his mood further.

"Not meddling in anything, old man. Drinking and resupplying," Bishop raised his hands in mock surrender, but he still threw the Nord a deadpan look.

"I am glad to hear that, son," Lortheim nodded. The suspicious expression finally disappeared from his face, despite Bishop's sharp looks. At least that meant that he didn't seem to suspect Jora of anything strange from this interaction. "Jora, my child. Will you join me or shall I expect you later?"

"I will join you, Master," Jora smiled at him kindly. "I am glad I could help, sir. Talos's blessings," she nodded at Bishop in farewell, but her eyes lingered on him a bit longer, undoubtedly to signal their mutual understanding.

They left Bishop alone in front of the tavern at last.

He turned towards the doors with a wistful look. He really planned on forgetting everything, on letting all the problems and the worries wash away and drown in alcohol. It was such a tempting plan.

Fuck! Shit… fine!

With an annoyed groan he turned on his heel and headed towards a large house nearby.

Why could he not have kept his mouth shut? He should never have asked about that fucking Butcher and the orders. Now he was too pissed off to drink. And kind of worried.

He stopped by the door to the house and knocked loudly.

…

"Yes? Ah. It's you, young man," Brunwulf Free-Winter nodded at Bishop in greeting.

The man had helped him out before and Bishop knew that he supported the elves and had a problem with how Ulfric treated them. He would probably have more information about Ambarys's arrest, if not an outright suggestion for a solution.

"What are you doing here?" Brunwulf gave him a baffled look. A deep worry slashed across his face in a second and he leaned out from his doorframe and looked around the house sharply. "You are here alone, correct?"

Pfft. What? Did he expect Bishop to smuggle Aeyrin into the city and now demand from him to hide her away or something?

"She's not here, obviously," Bishop rolled his eyes. "I need to talk to you about something."

"It is… rather late, young man," Brunwulf scowled at him lightly. He likely worried that he would be asked to take some action, even though he wasn't sure what for yet. He worried right.

"Won't take long. Can I come in?" Instead of waiting for an answer, Bishop walked onto the steps leading to the door. Brunwulf moved out of the way almost automatically, as if it was just a natural reaction, and Bishop didn't wait for an outright invitation before he walked into the large house.

It was practically a mansion. Granted, a smaller one. Definitely not as big as the houses in Valunstrad. It was still rather austere though. Bishop would have expected something much grander from an influential nobleman like Free-Winter.

It seemed like they were the only ones in there.

Good. They didn't need an audience.

Bishop walked over to a large table and sat himself down without prompting. Brunwulf approached him with a raised brow.

"Mead?"

"Sure," Bishop nodded.

Brunwulf walked off for a bit and returned promptly with two ornate goblets and a large jug. He set them on the table before he sat on the other chair beside Bishop. "House-brewed. One of my friends who has a farm on the outskirts makes it," he smiled fondly while he poured them both a cup.

"So… what brings you here?" Brunwulf looked at him with palpable impatient curiosity.

"I... heard about the house searches," Bishop started out hesitantly. He was pretty sure that just blurting out at Brunwulf that he should help Ambarys wouldn't be very effective. Besides, he needed more information.

"Ah yes. The house searches. The genius 'solution' of our king," Brunwulf scoffed derisively. Good start. "I myself have been a gracious receiver of one," he scoffed again with palpable contempt in his voice. It wasn't surprising. Free-Winter was clearly a thorn in Ulfric's side. No wonder the 'king' tried to catch him with his hands dirty to get rid of him.

"The guards were certainly meticulous. I could see how much they wanted to find something. I was not worried, but it got me thinking. Most people would not be so lucky. I have my means to provide for myself but those who don't, usually have to resort to stealing or smuggling. The poor would yet again suffer from Ulfric's measures. So I took matters into my own hands as much as I could."

"What do you mean?" Bishop looked at him in surprise.

"Despite the latest developments, Ulfric still has the same problem. He needs us. He needs me. He needs the nobles' money and I have their ears and their respect. He is trying to change that but it will take him some time. Right now, he cannot simply do what he wants to do. So I… volunteered. To oversee the arrests. I make sure that everything is in order," Brunwulf gave him a smile, but it came out a bit weak and uncertain. It was obviously not as easy as he put it.

"People still get arrested. The elves," Bishop narrowed his eyes at him with doubt in his voice.

"Yes. I… cannot prevent the arrests. They are based on real crimes. As petty as they might be in the face of what we're dealing with, they are still crimes. What I can do is oversee that the arrests aren't… overzealous. I can ensure that someone who stole food does not get a sentence of years. I can ensure that bail is allowed to be paid. Simply put, I can ensure that everything remains… legal. At the very least, it returns people back home after an unpleasant experience. Sadly… I cannot influence how the prisoners are treated," Brunwulf sighed somberly.

Yeah that was familiar. It was pretty much what he did for Aeyrin during her arrest. He was not able to prevent Ulfric having her whipped though. Not like it solved everything but… he was doing something. At least someone in Windhelm was.

Bishop wasn't sure why it made him feel a bit less bitter. He never realized how much it pissed him off how the people here were treated. He never cared. He always figured that they just weren't determined enough to help themselves out of the shitty situation. But… he's seen a lot since then. People helped them, they fought for them. Yet it was all pointless. They had no way out.

He kind of sympathized with that.

He knew the feeling all too well – being held hostage by a maniac with a giant ego, his suffering only providing entertainment for him. How was this different? The elves had no options either. He always thought that they just didn't try hard enough. But he tried. He did everything to escape Thorn. And it took him so long. It cost him his brother. Who was he to think that the elves didn't try? It was just… taking a long time too.

It would have been so satisfying if a group of Thalmor just waltzed into the city and burned that fucking Palace down, along with Ulfric. And hopefully, along with themselves. No one was better here. It was like the warring bandit clans all over again. Just moving from one asshole to another, hoping you get to keep your life in the process.

But hearing people still defy this shit was kind of… heartwarming. Maybe that was why he liked Aeyrin so much at first. Her stubbornness and what he called 'naivety'. Everyone else just went along with all the shit happening to them. Not her. She helped and she fought for everyone. And she always laughed at him for being rebellious? They really weren't much different in that regard.

"So… you know all about the people getting arrested? Like Ambarys?" Bishop asked. Come to think of it, maybe Ambarys was already back home, safe and sound. Jora never said when that 'protest' happened. She hardly seemed to be very informed about anything happening in the Grey Quarter.

"Ah, you're here because of Ambarys. I know the man. And I know why he was arrested. Sadly, that one is a special case," Brunwulf sighed in defeat.

"Special? How come?" Bishop scowled. He wasn't even sure what Ambarys could have been caught for. Illegal home-brewery? Smuggled spirits from Morrowind?

"Ambarys was arrested for skooma possession."

'Possession'? Not even selling? Just… possession? Why was that 'special'? Did it even warrant more than a few days of prison?

"You can't get him out for that?" Bishop scoffed in disbelief.

"There's a… problem. It was only a small crate of no more than five bottles. Ordinarily, that would give him four days in prison at most and the option of bail. But… this wasn't regular skooma. Balmora Blue they called it. It was some new import from Morrowind. They claim that it is more potent and dangerous and… therefore it deserves a more severe punishment. They… claim that we cannot disprove that Ambarys intended to uh… study it to figure out a way of production," Brunwulf explained somberly. "The elves were used to getting results after I… volunteered. They were used to getting their people back. It was… not pretty when that didn't happen with Ambarys."

That was bullshit! How was that even justifiable? Not that Bishop had any illusions of finding shit like 'justice' anywhere, but still… this was ridiculous. Balmora Blue? He knew what Brunwulf was talking about. He had no doubt that it was the stuff that one of the Argonians had once asked him to steal from Ambarys when he was looking for the cure for Aeyrin's sickness. He also suspected that it was the same shit that those bandits had offered Aeyrin's father to get her captured. Everyone seemed to think that this was somehow so special. It was just the same pointless poison to him, not worth spending one's life in prison.

"Can't you bribe someone or something?" Bishop scoffed. If the Stormcloaks found a loophole, why couldn't Brunwulf find one too?

"Bribe? Young man, I have been personally paying the bail of anyone I could while my holdings are losing money every day. Half of my work force is cut off from me because the docks are closed. The special permissions are not easy to obtain. And they are expensive too. My coffers aren't endless and my holdings are being decimated. If I have nothing left because I spend it all on bailing Ambarys out, I have no leverage against Ulfric," Brunwulf threw his arms up exasperatedly. "When he has no need of me anymore, then I can consider throwing my coin wherever it is needed. But not before. I need to play my cards while I still have them."

Well… it sounded like he had a point. Bribing Stormcloaks to let an elf out would probably not be a question of just a couple of hundred drakes.

"Wait… why would Ulfric have no need of you anymore? He still needs money for his war, right?" Bishop frowned at him. Brunwulf had told him last time that the only reason that Ulfric didn't fly completely off the handle yet was his need to placate the nobles. Everyone had to do that, it seemed.

"He needs money. Just not necessarily money from me or my friends. Ulfric has… been oddly better at recruiting nobles to his cause. I am uncertain what tactics he uses, but more and more flock to his banner. He is trying to get rid of us to get a free reign over Windhelm. None of the other supporters will care what happens to this city when they don't live here," Brunwulf shook his head regretfully.

It was… a shitty thing to think about, but not much could have been done about it. If Ulfric managed to brainwash more people with his propaganda, that could hardly be changed. But all this was still pissing Bishop off. He understood Brunwulf's reasoning. It seemed like the man wanted to do the same before, that he wanted to free Ambarys. He clearly thought a lot about this. He likely even already knew just how much money the bribe would require.

Brunwulf watched Bishop for a while with creased brows. He seemed to be pondering something over before he let out a deep sigh. There was a hint of exhaustion mixed with defeat on his face. "Young man, I need a reprieve. The others are willing to stop supporting Ulfric when he hurts trade and relations with other cities, but they are not willing to help the elves for no reason. This is my own battle and I don't have a lot of options. But… there might be something you could do."

Bishop raised his brow at him with curiosity. How could he do anything at this point?

"As I've said, my holdings are being decimated. I lose crops, goods and cattle all too often because of dragons in the area…"

"Out of the question," Bishop stopped Brunwulf instantly. He was not going to use Aeyrin as a personal dragon killer like all the others. He was not going to knowingly risk her life for this. He knew that she would offer her help without question, but there was no way in Oblivion that she would even hear about this.

"I… I'm sorry… why?" Brunwulf gave him a baffled look. It was understandable. Not many people actually knew what it did to her. And not many people in Windhelm apparently knew that Bishop didn't have that much contact with Aeyrin anymore either.

"Just… leave her out of this, alright?" Bishop sighed. He really didn't want to explain this one.

"Well then, unless you can personally help out with the bribe, then… like I said, I'm out of options," Brunwulf scowled deeply. He clearly wanted Aeyrin's help instead. And he clearly didn't count on Bishop having any money at all.

"How much?"

…

Great. That just cost him a shit ton of drakes.

Brunwulf said that, with a sentence this uncertain, Ambarys could have been held there for months or even a year. The price was fucking steep for that.

Bishop barely had anything left from Thorn's bounty now and he didn't even really understand what had compelled him to make such a sacrifice simply to get Ambarys out of jail.

Was it because of what they had done to Aeyrin in there? Was he just pissed off that they were getting away with tormenting people like this? Like Thorn did. He had no way to end it then. He had no way to help anyone. Now he did.

It felt… weird. Like he shouldn't have done that. Like he shouldn't have cared so much. People got themselves in shittier situations all the time. Why was this so important?

But… it also felt… weirdly good. He felt oddly powerful, ripping someone like that from Ulfric's grasp. It was so satisfying. He wished he could see that fucker's face when he was told that his jailor went against him like that. It would have been priceless.

And it felt kind of good to know that Ambarys would return to keep the elves' spirits up. Heh… literally.

This city has been becoming more and more of a desolate shithole. If there was at least one place there where Bishop could actually enjoy himself and have some fun, it was worth it.

But now he had important things to do.

He had to go get drunk off his ass.

He stepped in front of Candlehearth Hall as the sun was already steadily setting.

The visit to Windhelm certainly turned out a lot different than he had expected. He was perfectly content indulging himself in some mindless drinking, but instead he got roped into worrying about the whole fucking city!

It was Aeyrin's fault. She made him like this. She made him care about shit.

He always knew that she was a bad influence.

And now with the Ambarys issue taken care of, he could not stop worrying about her and about what Jora had told him about her. He knew that Aeyrin was in a bad place. He was too. Who wouldn't be? But… he never expected her to just ignore the things that used to bring her comfort, the people who used to bring her comfort. Was she always leaving Bishop for the same reason? This adamant denial to talk, to even think about what happened, and what would follow.

He looked over the tavern door and groaned loudly.

He didn't feel like drinking anymore.

He still needed to go in, if only to get the letter from Jora, but… maybe there was something else he could do than drink himself into a stupor.

He could write to Aeyrin. Ask her to meet him. Maybe if he confronted her with this, asked her about Therien, she might crack and actually… talk about things. Wasn't that what she needed? He needed it. He always did, even when he thought that he didn't. Talking to her about anything that bothered him always helped. Even if it was fucking hard at times.

She always listened to him. He owed her the same.

If only she'd let him.