Chapter XVIII – Guidance and Salvation

Aeyrin quickly stashed the letter for Karliah into a mailbox by the Riften stables before she hurried off into another direction altogether.

It was probably a good idea to stay away from the city for now. She had no clue what had been going on in the Guild lately and she didn't even know for certain where she stood with Maven. As much as she wanted to lie down in a real bed again, it was not worth the risk.

She still wanted to send out more letters – one to Master Therien, if only to reassure him that she was alive. She wasn't sure if she was ready to talk to him about everything that was constantly plaguing her mind these days, but she resorted herself to wait and see what came out when she actually held the quill in her hand and started to write. Unfortunately, she didn't feel ready for it the previous night. Besides, the journey and the battle in the mine took a lot out of her. She also needed to reassure Jora of her well-being too and… she needed to apologize to Bishop.

She would do all that once the sun set and she made camp.

Aeyrin took a wide circle around Riften and headed further south. She had no particular destination in mind, but being in the Rift soothed her for some reason. She was constantly remembering the first time when Bishop took her there, when he said that he would show her 'all that was worth seeing in Skyrim'. She remembered the trepidation she had felt around him back then, the uncertain first steps of their relationship.

How she wished she could go back to those times.

But now she would just have to make do with the memories coursing through her mind as she walked through the colorful foliage of the aspen trees.

…

Bishop was making good time since he skipped sleeping in Dawnstar the previous night and rather decided to walk off his drunken state in the fresh freezing air.

He was dead tired, but it was for the best. He could get to Dragon Bridge by nightfall and he would just sleep it all off there before he got around to his mission. In the meantime, all he had to do was hope that he didn't get caught in some rough battle.

He traipsed along the edge of the moors of Hjaalmarch with Karnwyr constantly at his heel. By now he could see the rocky hills of the Haafingar border in the distance. Good. He was already sick of wading through the drab marshes.

Karnwyr ran forward excitedly, eager to get his fur out of the swampy waters as well. It was no wonder. Bishop would have walked faster too if he had the energy to do anything but slog through that dismal place. But at least the exhaustion left his mind quite pleasantly blank today.

He walked for almost another hour before he was trailing around the mouth of Karth River, down towards Dragon Bridge. At least the journey was easier now, he would make it over there even sooner than he had originally expected, especially since he didn't need to actually wade through that fucking swamp anymore.

Just as he was scaling the shore opposite the Solitude Sawmill, however, a familiar sound startled him from the uneventful walk.

Fuck, please tell me I did not just hear…

The rumble got louder, followed by a ferocious deep roar. It came from the plateau atop a rocky hill right above the shore he was walking.

There was no place to hide anywhere now. And he heard the dragon approach steadily. He was sure that it would be in sight in no time.

He hated these fucking things. For something so big, they could sure as fuck sneak up on people effectively. If the beast was sleeping just out of sight enough, no one would notice it. But the moment it woke up, there was usually nowhere to hide and no time to run far enough. It was too fast and always had the best vantage point.

Karnwyr looked at Bishop from a distance and lowered his head with a low whine. There was likely no avoiding the battle, there were no caves around to hide properly, not even sufficiently thick shrubbery. Besides, the beasts could often pinpoint people from a great distance. Maybe it could even smell them. There was no point in trying to get around it. He had to fight and make use of any advantage that he could.

Bishop nodded at Karnwyr to leave and grabbed a hold of his bow. At least now he could still get the jump on it.

Fuck, he was so tired.

And now he needed to kill a dragon. Alone.

Fucking perfect.

He rushed up the paths along the rocky hillside as he took out an arrow from his quiver. Maybe if he was lucky, he could catch it off guard and hit it in the eye right away. That might make things easier. Then he'd just have to keep moving so that he wouldn't get hit.

It was still a daunting prospect. For one, he was alone. The only time he had ever even come close to fighting a dragon alone was back during their first visit to High Hrothgar when Aeyrin got incapacitated in battle. And even then he never killed it, only chased it away. He would be lucky to manage that this time around too. There was also the matter of his current desolate and exhausted state. The adrenaline helped, but he wasn't exactly confident in his battle prowess just then.

Bishop finally made it high enough onto the plateau as the dragon came into view. It was on the ground, huffing out air and currently turning around as if it was looking for something in the vicinity. Maybe it was even looking for him. But it didn't seem to notice him when he finally emerged from below the rocks.

That gave him an opportunity.

He drew his bow quickly and aimed at its head. It was turned away, but he could hit the back of its neck like this. It would surely cause some damage. Maybe he could actually get out of this not only alive, but unscathed.

The arrow swished through the air and hit its target perfectly. The dragon roared in response and jerked its head back towards Bishop, eyeing him with a piercing glare. Only then Bishop noticed the blood dripping from its maw and neck. One of its eyes was closed and it probably couldn't open.

It was already wounded.

Bishop continued to notch another arrow instantly and aim at its hale eye. This all looked more and more promising by the second. He could do this. But just as he adjusted his aim to perfection, the dragon opened its maw in the and a green light started to form at the back of its throat.

Oh fuck, it was this Shout. He couldn't let it hit him – that strange acid would eat through his armor. And he didn't exactly have a way of freezing himself to neutralize it like Aeyrin did. For a second, a thought entered his mind about how unpleasant the absorption would be for her again, but he realized all too soon that she wasn't there.

There was no slaying this dragon.

Bishop's arrow hit just before the Shout formed fully. He missed the eye, his arm was kind of tired and he still felt a bit wobbly, so when the dragon moved a bit he wasn't fast enough to readjust himself, but the arrow lodged itself into the beast's maw at least and staggered it enough to stop the Shout.

But before he could notch another arrow, with sudden and intense speed, the creature's tail made a wide swing. And Bishop wasn't quick enough to avoid it.

The tail hit his midsection and the impact sent him flying onto the ground, right towards the edge of the plateau. He felt a sharp pain at the back of his head, followed by a warm feeling spreading over it. He must have hit his head at one of the rocks there. His vision was getting a little swirly, but he managed to keep his grip on his bow at least. With some effort, he reached out for another arrow just as he felt the ground tremble while the beast stomped over towards him.

He aimed at the beast, although it was quite a challenge in his current position. It was right in front of him, approaching even closer. One arrow hit its neck and elicited another roar of pain. But it did not bring the dragon down. It did not even slow it down.

Bishop didn't even get the chance to reach for another arrow or for his sword when its head craned above him and the large maw opened. All he could concentrate on now was the fiery light at the back of it.

This was it. This was the end.

Killed by a fucking dragon.

Somehow he always knew he would die all alone.

It was probably fitting.

With the build of anticipation coursing through him and the exhaustion getting the better of his reflexes again, all he could do in that very second was to close his eyes.

But instead of the heat consuming him, there was another loud roar. It was so grating to hear it from so close. It almost seemed to deafen him.

A second later something fell on him, hard. He grunted in pain as an incredible weight crushed into his ribs and lower body and it seemed even worse when it was so unexpected. He was pretty sure that if it weren't for the plates in his armor, every bone in his torso would be broken instantly. When he opened his eyes, he could see nothing from his position but the scaly head of the dead beast.

It was dead?!

At least only the head fell on him. Any more dead weight and he would have been crushed.

But who killed it?

Bishop gathered all the strength left in him and started to push the obstruction from his body. It took a lot more effort than he would have liked and his head was still spinning from the previous impact, but after a while, he managed to finally free himself.

His head was still spinning and the pain was overwhelming, but he still managed to slowly and carefully push himself off the ground. It took a lot of effort and many pained grunts before he stood up shakily and looked around. Until his eyes finally fell on the form by the dragon's tail.

The sun's glare from the west and his blurry vision made it harder to see, but he still recognized the outline of the form instantly.

"You."

…

Aeyrin stopped in her aimless journey when she spotted a crumbled tower atop a small hill.

The Rift seemed to be full of old stone towers like this. They must have served as lookouts in the past too. But… that didn't mean it was abandoned now. She knew that Nilheim wasn't when Bishop first brought her there. She should stay ready.

She approached the tower tentatively, but it really did seem abandoned to her.

There was only a large banner above the stone entrance arch which looked like it was barely holding on in the wind. But the symbol on it, though faded, made the corners of her mouth quirk up. A drinking horn. It was surrounded by a golden ring and there was a subtle outline of the legendary Stendarr's hammer behind it. Was it a strange thing that she had been drawn to this unexpected place just now?

Aeyrin stepped inside the structure. There was not much more around there than rubble, cobwebs and dust, but there was a prominent old stone altar with a rusty little shrine upon it. The drinking horn on the shrine looked like it floated in air, only supported by the metal depiction of water cascading down from it into the pedestal.

Someone actually made the effort to build a shrine to Stendarr all the way out here. It was a shame that it was abandoned. And it had been too long since she allowed herself any time to meditate. Maybe because it felt pointless. Maybe because there was too much time to think about everything in the overwhelming quiet in front of an altar.

But that was ridiculous. As if avoiding that helped anything. Why was she depriving herself of something that used to bring so much comfort?

She had been running from everything that used to comfort her. From her faith, from her mentor, from her friends. All because she was afraid that none of it would bring that comfort anymore. Maybe she should really just barrel through the fear. Then everything could go back to the way it was.

She kneeled in front of the altar and touched the metal pedestal gently. A light tingle of magic coursed through her hand, sending that familiar brief sensation throughout her whole body. It was a soothing feeling. It made her again feel like everything was just like it used to be, even if it was only for a second.

She needed that just then.

Maybe she should write the letters that she had meant to write. It felt like a good time for that. And a good place. It was peaceful and comforting and strangely warm despite the cold air outside.

She sighed contentedly and slumped her pack from her shoulders to the ground. She didn't reach out for it yet though. She stayed there with her eyes closed and her hand on the shrine for a while longer. She just wanted to feel the magic for a while longer.

"Well, well. Who do we have here in our little tower?"

A smooth voice interrupted her meditation. She didn't even hear anyone approach!

"Oh… this… this your tower?" she questioned the voice before even turning around. She couldn't help but have her eyes drawn to the crumbling walls and the cobwebs. Someone owned this place? Really?

Then again, she shouldn't have been surprised. Nilheim was in an even worse state and Bishop still claimed that the place was kind of his home.

She turned her head to see the group of people standing in the stone entrance arch. The man addressing her was an Altmer. He was towering above her, but he did not seem angry at her presence there at all. In fact, he wore a wide grin on his face. His teeth were unnaturally shiny and his appearance was impeccable – his shoulder-length golden hair was combed neatly and his face bore no hint of wear or dirt aside from one old and almost healed scar over his eye and cheek. But more than anything, his eyes were particularly attention-grabbing. He had mesmerizingly bright seafoam pupils set on the Altmeri light yellow sclera.

"I admit, it could use some upkeep," he chuckled at her.

All of the people from the group wore black heavy armor with golden accents and engravings. They had a symbol on their chests – Stendarr's hammer in a golden circle, and each of them wore an amulet of Stendarr, perfectly aligned to dangle in the very center of that circle.

Suddenly the symbol made sense. It was not just an indication of a shrine inside.

"You're… you're the Vigilants of Stendarr," Aeyrin rose from her knees to face them and brushed herself off. It didn't help that much to make her feel less small in front of the towering Altmer.

"Such surprise. You did not see our banner outside?" the man grinned at her again while the other paladins looked her over curiously. Some of them wore much more suspicious expressions than the Altmer.

"I just… saw a banner symbolizing Stendarr. I didn't really connect the dots. I'm… not from Skyrim," she smiled at him demurely. Surely he wouldn't mind her using the shrine for meditation though, would he?

"Understandable. So, what brings you here, traveler?" the elf eyed her for some time, as if he was determining why anyone would ever enter that tower. It was a valid thing to wonder about, so out of the way and decrepit.

Aeyrin only gave a pointed look to the neglected shrine and a small sigh escaped her lips: "Self-reflection. You?"

The Altmer studied her chest plate for a spell. He seemed to be looking for something, but then his lips only turned into a sad smile and he nodded in understanding. She wasn't sure what that meant.

"Werewolves," he answered after a while.

'Werewolves'? What?

Aeyrin instinctively looked over the rest of his men in suspicion. She wasn't even sure why, surely the Vigilants weren't werewolves themselves.

"Not among us, of course," the Altmer snickered at her. "We are storming a den of the vile beasts. We are here to resupply."

"'Resupply'?" she asked dubiously. Yet again her eyes were drawn to the nonexistent contents of the empty crumbling tower.

"This place has some secrets yet," he winked at her in response. Aeyrin peered at him curiously, but he didn't move an inch. A second later, one of his compatriots cleared her throat pointedly, drawing Aeyrin's attention. When she looked at the woman, she was gesturing towards the stone arch leading outside, urging her silently to leave.

Well… so much for seeing the intriguing secrets. But it was understandable. With an involuntary pout, Aeyrin left the tower and stood outside along with the remaining three men. They all looked at her occasionally, but now much less pointedly than before.

The silence was a little uncomfortable and it reigned long enough that Aeyrin became too anxious to start up a conversation herself. Instead she merely waited for the Altmer to emerge from the tower again.

Luckily it didn't take long. The man appeared in the small crowd and started to hand out little packages to each of the paladins. When he was done, he approached Aeyrin again with a charming smile. He took a hold of her armored hand and pressed something inside it, forcing her fingers to hide the contents instantly.

"You look like you need some guidance, sister."

His hand left hers and she eagerly opened her palm. There was an amulet of Stendarr nestled in it.

It was… comforting to have one again, for some reason. She smiled warmly and draped the amulet around her neck and, as a contrast to her usual caution tactics of hiding it, she let it dangle down onto her chest plate just like the Vigilants did. The back of her neck tingled slightly from the magic. She didn't even realize that she had missed it since the previous one was taken from her, but this… felt right. Like she recovered a piece of herself somehow.

She looked back at the Altmer while clutching the pendant in her hand. The man was still wearing that charming confident smile as he watched her play with the necklace. There was something warm and safe about his presence that made her want to prolong it. It was strangely just like being back home, even when she was here, by an unknown crumbling tower surrounded by soft snow and cold wind with people she had never met before. Strange.

A werewolf lair? Aeyrin had never actually fought a werewolf before. The only one she ever saw was in that cave near Whiterun once with Bishop and it retreated before they attacked. It was quite a tempting prospect just then. And admittedly, she craved some company. A group of trustworthy strangers was perfect.

She let go of the pendant in the shape of a drinking horn and gave the Altmer a grateful nod followed by a sly wink.

"And you look like you could use an extra hand."

…

Bishop didn't let go of his bow even for a second.

He was hurting all over, both from his exhaustion and from the rough battle. His head was spinning and he was pretty sure that it was still bleeding a bit. But he was not going to let his guard down in front of him.

"Bishop," Casavir said his name coldly and with disdain. He likely didn't even see who he was actually saving. If he knew, Bishop was sure he would have let that dragon kill him first.

The paladin took out a small piece of cloth from the pocket of his belt and briefly ran it over his greatsword, cleaning it from the dragon blood. His eyes never met Bishop's, not even for a second.

Seriously? That's your concern now? A fucking dirty sword?

Bishop couldn't help but roll his eyes while Casavir sheathed his sword and placed the cloth back into his belt pocket. He still held his bow steadily though. He knew that he was in a bad shape right now, but Casavir was the worst person to run into just then. Even if he had technically saved his life. Bishop was pissed off enough already before the dragon and before seeing him. He barely expected anything to make the last two days even shittier than they already were, yet here he was.

After what that fucker did to Aeyrin, he deserved an arrow right between his eyes. In fact… this time, Bishop just might deliver. He certainly wanted to.

Casavir looked at the corpse of the dead beast for a while and then he looked around the area. He was likely trying to discern whether Aeyrin was anywhere near and whether the dragon would die for good. After it became obvious that it was not about to happen, he took a few steps towards Bishop. His cold stare betrayed nothing, but he was unarmed just then and still approaching steadily. Bishop instantly notched an arrow with a loud grunt of pain and aimed it right at the tin-head's face.

"Stay the fuck away from me," he growled at him hatefully.

"What? I was going to see if you were injured! Put the bow away!" Casavir gaped at him incredulously.

"I don't want your fucking help! Get the fuck back!" Bishop yelled with his bow still trained on his target. His arms were getting kind of shaky though. He couldn't keep this up for much longer.

"You are clearly wounded! What is the matter with you?!" Casavir still stared at him like he was insane. What was so fucking hard to understand? Did he already forget what he had done? Why would he think for a second that Bishop would trust him to do anything but try to finish him off?

"What's the matter with me?! What's the fucking matter with you?! Why would I do anything but put you down like a fucking dog after what you did to Aeyrin?!" Bishop fumed. He could no longer hold up his weapon though. He considered, for a second, letting the arrow lose and allow it to find its target, but before he made up his mind, his arms lowered weakly despite his determination.

Casavir seemed to deflate at his words. He let out a deep sigh and shook his head, but he still took the opportunity of Bishop's lowered guard and started to approach again.

Bishop could not hold him at the tip of his arrow anymore. Casavir reached him in a few seconds, but Bishop managed to gather his remaining strength and let the bow and arrow fall to the ground while he swiftly unsheathed his sword and slashed at the paladin.

The sword clanged against Casavir's plate armor and the lightning crackled around it, but it didn't do any damage at all. What the fuck? Was the armor enchanted or something? How did the shock not hit him?

Casavir raised his hands defensively and gave him a deep scowl: "Bishop, stop it this instant. My men are coming, we were scouring the area when I heard the dragon. They will be looking for me and they will kill you."

As if he wouldn't fucking want that to happen!

Casavir looked at him for a while and, for a second, his face twisted from the angry scowl into a somewhat conflicted expression. He let out a deep sigh and with a quiet voice he added: "I didn't do anything to lady Aeyrin."

"Besides fucking poisoning her?! As if that weren't enough! And why the fuck would I believe you that you didn't do anything else to her? As if the shit you spew was anything but a lie after lie!" Bishop yelled at him angrily and slashed his sword again with no effect. He couldn't do any damage like that. He had no strength to raise his blade to the man's face and every other inch of his body was covered in metal – including that ridiculous tin helmet.

"Bishop, stop it! I did not…" Casavir stopped himself, again conflicted. He shook his head briskly after that and gave Bishop a stern look. "You should be grateful that I do not retaliate. You of all people deserve it!"

"Oh that is fucking rich coming from you! You're the one who deserves nothing but a blade in your gut!" Bishop again smashed his blade against his armor with a loud clank. This time Casavir stepped back, but Bishop took a step right after him. "You're the one who constantly pretends to be some fucking saint and then goes around ruining people's lives!" He slashed his blade against the armor again. This time, in his anger, the sword carried enough impact to actually make a dent in the plate.

Casavir's face twisted into one of pure hatred and anger. He unsheathed his greatsword once more and, with great speed, he smashed its flat side into Bishop's flank.

A dull pain spread across Bishop's body and he was instantly sent crushing down to the ground. He collided with the scaly paw of the dragon. His whole world was spinning.

"I am the one who ruins people's lives?! Look at what you did! Look at what you did to your brother! Look at what you did to Elisie!" Casavir yelled angrily and cleaved his sword against Bishop. He just barely managed to roll out of the way to evade the attack.

He DARES mention THEM?!

"You… you're the one… who fucking left… left her alone… and pregnant! Fucking… hypocrite!" Bishop spat at him. His breathing was getting ragged from the pain and effort. But he would not let this bastard kill him. He would have rather died from the dragon's attack.

"What?! Why are you still lying?! There's no one else here and we both know the truth!" Casavir screamed in pure rage.

"I'm… I'm not the one who's lying!" Just as the words left Bishop's mouth, another cleave of the claymore came crashing down and he had to roll away quickly to evade it. This was getting hard to manage, but Bishop would never let this scum be the end of him. "You… you so fucking deep in… in your delusions… you believe them yourself!"

"I did leave her, Bishop! I had to! But I know what you did! Do not try to pretend like it wasn't you! I came back! And I found out everything! I know that when you couldn't have her you came back and forced herself on her!"

"What?!" Bishop gaped at him for a while in disbelief before his face twisted in anger again. He gripped his sword firmly and used the brief opportunity of Casavir's make-believe speech to lodge it into the ground and hoist himself back up on his feet. "You fucking… sick… freak! Why would you… make this shit up?!"

Bishop lunged at the paladin and, in his brief confusion, Casavir was sent toppling to the ground alongside him. Bishop quickly pointed his sword to his exposed neck. Now the crackling lightning finally seemed to have an effect. Casavir twitched and strained to get out of its reach.

But Bishop hesitated.

Why would he make this shit up? Why would he still cling to the lie? He was right. There was no one else there. They both knew the truth. Didn't they?

"Bishop… I never harmed her. I swear," Casavir scowled at him, but there seemed to be genuine confusion on his face now. Swear. That word made Bishop's blood boil. How dare he still say that word? Even if… even if somehow he really didn't know what happened to Elisie, he's proven enough that he cannot be trusted.

"And Aeyrin?" Bishop spat at him. "You… you fucking… confessed… you piece of shit!" Bishop's chest heaved in effort, but the anger and adrenaline didn't allow him to let go of his sword even a little while he still pinned Casavir down to the ground.

"I had no other choice. It wasn't me," Casavir's face seemed almost regretful.

He was lying. He had to be!

There was no other explanation! Was there?

"SIR!" a man's voice echoed from the other side of the plateau. Bishop's head jerked towards the source instantly, only to see two other paladins rushing towards them.

Fuck!

"Drop the sword, scum! Now!" the paladin woman yelled at Bishop and reached to her back to unclasp her crossbow from it. She aimed it at him instantly and gave him a threatening look.

Fuck not this again. He had no way to get out of this. Not in this state.

"Bishop, drop the sword. Please," Casavir looked at him surprisingly pleadingly.

Fuck, he had no other choice now. If he killed that fucking tin-head, they would cut him down instantly. It may have been satisfying to take that asshole with him, but… his life was worth more than this piece of shit.

Bishop let out a strained sigh and lodged the sword into the ground, hoisting himself back up on his feet again before he let the weapon buried there harmlessly. The woman was still aiming at him and the other paladin rushed over instantly with his sword drawn.

Casavir raised himself up on his feet with surprising agility, given that tin prison that he was wearing. He let out another deep sigh and raised his hand to his fellow paladins. "Stop."

"Sir?! This man attacked you!" the woman gaped at him incredulously.

"It doesn't matter. This is over. We need to rally the men and move the corpse away from the shore. The mill is too close," Casavir nodded determinedly.

"Sir, this is that criminal!" the man with his sword unsheathed cried out. "You said that he poisoned lady Dragonborn! We need to bring him to justice!"

There was a brief moment of silent tension then. Bishop instantly contemplated grabbing his sword once more, but he had no illusions about his chances just then. One shot from that woman's crossbow and he would likely die on the spot. And if for some reason, Casavir didn't want to take this chance to kill him, it was his best option to just… rely on that, no matter how little he trusted the man's word.

"This is not justice," Casavir said solemnly. He didn't even spare Bishop a glance, he just stared into the ground with a strange defeated look.

"Sir, this is ridiculous! We cannot let this stand. He is a criminal, you said so yourself. And he just tried to kill you!" the woman shook her head in disbelief.

Casavir suddenly reached out his arm to Bishop and grabbed him firmly by the back of the neck.

What the fuck?! Did he just want to kill him himself?! Bishop knew that this shit was not to be trusted!

But instead of anything sinister, Bishop suddenly felt the familiar warmth of healing magic spread through his whole body. Casavir pressed his other hand below Bishop's chest a second later and he saw the warm-white light envelop him suddenly, but all too briefly. It helped. A lot. He still hurt all over, but he knew that the worst of the damage was gone. The bruised torso from the dragon's impact and the head wound seemed to be all healed now and only his exhaustion and muscle strain remained. The paladins still had their weapons firmly in their hands and stared at the scene in shock as Casavir finally let go of him.

"He is convicted of no crime at this time. Lower your weapons, now!" the tin-head scowled at the woman. The paladins didn't obey though and Casavir seemed to instantly get enraged at that. "I gave you an order!" he barked at them promptly.

The paladins finally sheathed their weapons with contemptful looks on their faces. Surprisingly enough, however, they were not aimed at Bishop. They did not look pleased with their leader's decision at all.

"We are leaving now. We will gather the men and get rid of the dragon. March!" Casavir leaned down to grab his claymore from the ground and fastened it to his back once more.

"Yes, 'sir'," the woman hissed at him.

They all turned on their heels and started leaving, but not before the third paladin gave Bishop one more pondering look with a quiet murmur and a scowl directed at Casavir: "Not convicted or innocent? I wonder just who is guilty then," he scoffed.

Bishop stared at them dumbfounded as they all retreated from the scene.

Fuck… what just happened?

Could Casavir have really been telling the truth? Did he really not poison Aeyrin back in Solitude? He confessed to her! Was it possible that there was more to it than that?

But that man raised a good question. Who was guilty?

No one else had a motive like Casavir! He was the one who wanted Bishop gone, who wanted him out of the picture and who wanted him punished for crimes he had no evidence on. He was the one who framed him. He had him called to the Palace so that they would find the evidence of him breaching the Castle.

But… he didn't even know that Bishop was in the Castle, did he? It could have been just a suspicion that he had. Someone else could have seen him there, like the workers from the kitchens. Maybe Casavir genuinely thought that Bishop was guilty back then. While someone else was.

But that could have probably been anyone. Anyone in that Castle could have had a hand in this. Maybe Bishop wasn't even meant to be 'framed'. Maybe this was all a coincidence because Bishop decided to sneak in to see Aeyrin.

It could have been anyone. Maybe even another person that had close access to her there too.

Fuck.