Chapter LXV – The Departed

"So… Calixto."

Ulfric grumbled mostly to himself.

When Aeyrin had regained her voice, she quickly tried to explain to Bishop and the helpful guard what happened, but she was ushered away all too soon by the other men and rushed into the burning house to help the wizard douse the flames with her icy Shouts and his magic.

She didn't want to return to that place at all. She could still see those flames in front of her eyes all the time, but really seeing them again was much worse. Besides, she was still only 'dressed' in the guard's cape wrapped around her body haphazardly. It was very uncomfortable. But Ulfric's men did not care in the slightest. She briefly wondered why Ulfric would actually let her Shout in front of his men, cementing the fact that she was the real Dragonborn, but she realized quickly that the rumors of the opposite were likely already put to rest after her outburst at the Palace. Now Ulfric was right back to using her skills.

Then again… he had a point. She did cause that fire.

When the flames were subdued and the house was mostly preserved, Aeyrin and Bishop were both chained and led back into the Palace while most of the guards began exploring the house in order to investigate the entire incident.

They were led into one of the offices in the barracks section of the Palace and thoroughly interrogated by the guard captain. Aeyrin was quite shocked when Bishop reported something about a hired thug who held him at knifepoint, but she couldn't really get more information out of the interrogation. Bishop was very vague, as usual, and she already knew that there was a lot of information that he had about this that he wasn't sharing with the captain. It could only mean the involvement of the Guild or the Brotherhood. She kind of hoped that it was the former, but she had her doubts.

The important thing was that he was alright though, and he even managed to escape his predicament and save her from the burning house.

Aeyrin, on the other hand, spared no detail in her report. She told the man everything about Calixto. How he tricked her into coming into the streets, how he kidnapped her from there and then had her on that table and how she had to wait for those spells to dissipate before she could act on nothing but quick instinct. She told the man about Susanna too, and about how she must have been tricked into going wherever he wanted her to. All of this only absolved her of the damage she had done to the house after all. And now that the Butcher was dead, the truth needed to come out. Otherwise Ulfric would just sweep it all under a rug and pin the blame on the elves again.

As glad as she was that the women of Windhelm were safe from that freak, she really worried about Ulfric's reaction. What would he do now when his horrid orders had no right to stay upheld? Free-Winter would chew him out for that for certain. He had no reason to claim that the elves were 'suspects' anymore, but… she was sure that he would find another way to torment them soon.

But for now, those concerns were the thing of the future.

After they had given their statements to the guard captain, they were promptly ushered to Ulfric's war room. They were still in chains and Aeyrin was still only draped in the guard's cloak, wrapped around her like a strapless dress. That was the only way she could figure out how to wear it properly with her hands bound. None of the guards seemed to be concerned over her comfort and Bishop wasn't exactly in any position to offer at least his shirt with his arms tied; although that would probably provide less coverage than the large cloak anyway. Instead, the two of them were just made to wait under guard in the war room until Ulfric came in and ushered every one of his men away.

Now it was just the three of them and Ulfric did not spare them the exasperated looks.

"You claim that Calixto was the Butcher," he scowled at Aeyrin. "All in order to 'assemble' his dead lover and a sister from the body parts of the killed women."

Why did he ask? He already knew the answer to that. And there was no way that he couldn't believe that! The evidence must have been there. No matter how burned the body was, it was clearly not elven. And there was a witness to her being immobile at that table, besides Bishop that is. One of Ulfric's own guards no less.

Aeyrin only gave him a level look in turn. There was no point in him asking this question.

"I have to say, I do like it when you don't talk," he smirked at her, but his serious expression came right back only a second later. It was odd after what had transpired in the Palace only a couple of days ago. Now they were both sitting in low chairs with their hands bound while Ulfric walked around in his full plate as if he was chastising a bunch of children.

"And you," he turned his attention towards Bishop. "An invisible woman had you walk through the city at knifepoint?"

"Sounds made up when you say it like that," Bishop grumbled in response. True, he may have been very vague in his recountings, but when in doubt, it was always best to act ignorant. He said that he had no idea who she was. And she was already invisible when she approached him. No need to cause the elves any trouble after all.

"It does sound made up, doesn't it?" Ulfric narrowed his eyes at Bishop hatefully, but he earned only a shrug in response. There was not much else to be said. And Bishop hadn't technically done anything illegal anyway now, did he?

"Do you realize that you two are an absolute nightmare to have around?" Ulfric bellowed at them. Now he seemed much more angry than exasperated. "Not one visit to my city without you causing some kind of problem or a commotion. Have you considered visiting Solitude instead to make Tullius miserable for a change?"

Bishop and Aeyrin shared a brief look. They were going to Solitude very soon, but neither of them wanted to give Ulfric the satisfaction of knowing that. Besides, he was the one who created this shitstorm with his ineptitude to deal with the Butcher. This was on him!

"How is this a 'nightmare' for you?!" Aeyrin gritted her teeth at him. She couldn't take listening to this anymore. She caught a killer! Technically. This was ridiculous. "You have been looking for this killer for months and now you complain about him being dead? Or is this about your stupid orders that you will be forced to take down now when there's no one to blame your treatment of the elves on, now that everyone knows that they're not involved?"

"Your naivety is becoming very tiresome," Ulfric growled at her. Of course. Calling her naïve was his usual tactic. It meant nothing. "As always, the complexities of the political situations go right over your head when you're spewing about your injustice and abuse."

Aeyrin gave him a fierce scowl in return. Was she not supposed to be concerned about injustice and abuse?! His 'politics' didn't interest her in the slightest. They were just an excuse for him to torment the elves and anyone he didn't like in his city.

"Sure. 'Politics'. It's always a great excuse. Then just tell everyone that they only don't understand and do whatever you want to the people under your bootheel, right?" she spat at him disdainfully.

Surprisingly enough, Ulfric's angry expression seemed to… mellow. He in no way looked friendly, but there was again that strange look of resignation on his face. He seemed to study Aeyrin carefully for a while, as if he was trying to discern something, or decide something, but then, he let out a tired long sigh.

"A city… cannot prosper in this state." He wasn't looking at her anymore. He walked slowly towards the table in the room, one that had a large map of Skyrim on it with red and blue flags pinned in different areas, and he gazed straight upon Eastmarch on that map.

"What? Then fucking stop!" Bishop scoffed at him. "You're the one doing this to the city. Your stupid orders are doing this." This man closed the docks, imprisoned half of his elven population and didn't even do anything to make the Nords feel safe in the streets, and now he was complaining about the lack of prosperity?!

"I see that nuances of politics escape the both of you," Ulfric snorted in response with a light shake of his head. He never turned his gaze back as he continued to stare at the map with a faraway look. "Life is rarely that simple. There are expectations that you cannot even begin to imagine."

Ulfric almost looked… human, at that moment. But his words still made Aeyrin even angrier. Should they feel sorry for him? That there are expectations of a jarl? Of somebody who claims to be the High King? He was just making excuses. And what did he mean by that anyway? That he didn't want the city to turn out this way? That he didn't want the Dunmer oppressed and abused? It was all a farce?

"So what?" Aeyrin sputtered at him. "You don't hate elves, but your men want you to, so you comply? What kind of a leader are you?!" The fact that it would all have been just to pacify the masses of racist Nords was probably even worse than if it was something that he actually wanted.

If anyone else was saying these things, she would have probably been sympathetic, but not Ulfric. Not after everything he had done. All this just seemed like another manipulation.

"You misunderstand," his eyes turned towards the two of them again with the usual stony expression on his face. "The elves have no place in my city. This is Skyrim, it belongs to the Nords. Once our land is back in our hands, the more we allow, the more we risk that the Dominion will strike back at us from within. But the Dark Elves in Windhelm, they are not a threat to us now. Not while we fight this war. They are to be… tolerated. For now."

Well… it was no surprise that Ulfric would want to postpone dealing with the unwanted elves in his city, especially when he needed people like Brunwulf for support. It made much more sense than him secretly not minding mer.

"But my men are impatient," he sighed in palpable exasperation. Again, it was hard to tell whether this was an act. "They expect their city to be free of all which they despise. But things are not simple and I need them to focus on the real threats. So do you really think that I did not want this to end? It brought me nothing."

Aeyrin gave him an uncertain look. It did make sense that the orders and the mistreatment of elves wouldn't be exactly profitable or rewarding for Ulfric personally, but Aeyrin had always thought that it was more about his own pleasure from abusing them. Maybe it was more about the loyalty to his men. It didn't make it any less despicable, but seeing the fragility of his rebellion always made her feel a bit better.

"So… what happens now?" Aeyrin finally asked. Was he going to revoke the orders? Would his men stand for it?

"Believe it or not, by killing that Butcher, you've done me a favor," Ulfric chuckled a little disbelievingly. "I will do what is necessary to stabilize my city now and have my men finally focus their attention on where it's needed. It will be… easier, for many reasons."

"'A favor'?" Bishop scoffed at him. "Why'd you have her banished when she tried the first time then?"

"Because disobedience is not rewarded," Ulfric growled. "Which is something you should keep in mind in the future. Killing a murderer does not give you the right to disobey my laws and cause unrest in my city. Again."

Both Bishop and Aeyrin cringed at that. That could mean only one thing. What was Ulfric going to do to them now?

"You have broken the curfew order and set a house in my city on fire," Ulfric scowled at Aeyrin before he turned to Bishop. "And you have disobeyed my guard's orders on several occasions. I cannot overlook these transgressions."

"You can't be serious!" Aeyrin retorted instantly. "I was kidnapped! And I defended myself. And Bishop was being held hostage."

"You were kidnapped because you didn't stay inside like you should have," Ulfric growled back. "And you 'defended' yourself by burning down a property in my city. And according to the reports, he has disobeyed an order even after his… invisible assailant was dealt with."

"But the Butcher would still be…" Aeyrin didn't let up, but Ulfric's angry booming voice interrupted her all too soon.

"Enough!" Ulfric's hands clenched firmly, but he looked like he was trying to calm down his outburst. He obviously wasn't really keen on Aeyrin's newfound confidence around him, but she couldn't help it. This was so unfair. And after she had managed to stand her ground in front of him before, she couldn't let it be ruined. She couldn't let him intimidate her and humiliate her again.

"Do you have any idea how infuriating you are?" he muttered almost to himself before his expression turned as stony as possible again, despite the still palpable anger. His voice was clear and deliberate. "I cannot let this stand. I cannot just let you leave after this. I need to address this as it befits."

Aeyrin opened her mouth again, but a sharp look from Ulfric stopped her. It really felt like she was a child getting chastised.

"You said it yourself though. You two are lucky that you have friends in the city. The rumors of what happened are not easy to stop. I'm sure that by morning, everyone will have heard."

The small room suddenly fell quiet.

Was he really insinuating what it sounded like? That he would punish them for show until their… 'friends', probably meaning Free-Winter, decided to intervene? It did make sense, Ulfric would keep up his stupid appearances and they would get their freedom.

But this sounded so… lenient from Ulfric. He did say that the Butcher's death was a favor for him, but still. It was odd. Well, maybe he just wanted them out of his hair. People have been doing that a lot lately. Even the Silver-Bloods preferred them gone. But it was always strange to take these allowances in stride.

"How are we supposed to trust that you…" Bishop growled at him, but he was also interrupted promptly.

"You are supposed to trust your… 'friends'. And the fact that I do not want to deal with more protests. This is a perfect time for the city to heal. I will not have it compromised because of old grudges."

That was surprisingly mature. It all still felt uncomfortable and suspicious, but he had made some good points. And if this put the issue behind everyone, once and for all…

"No gag," Aeyrin scowled at him one last time. If they weren't let out by tomorrow, she would damn well make sure that they could get out on their own.

Ulfric merely nodded. It really seemed like he didn't want this to escalate.

Spending the rest of the night in prison cells after what they have been through was hardly ideal, but it was better than angering Ulfric more and dealing with whatever he came up with out of spite. And to be fair, this night could have ended much worse.

In comparison, this was practically a luxury.

And Bishop was definitely relieved that they would at least be safe from Gabriella and her ilk.

…

"I'm not taking it off," Bishop growled defiantly.

After Ulfric had instructed his guards to take them into the cells, they reluctantly played along and followed the guards into the dungeons. They were treated no less roughly than Aeyrin had been the first time she was there, and after they had been ushered through the cell block filled mostly with tired, beaten up and sleeping Dunmer, they were quickly shoved into a familiar small room to dress in the provided prison rags.

Aeyrin was quite grateful for that. She was still only dressed in that stupid cloak and at least now she wouldn't have to worry that it would just fall off like she had to when her hands were tied. Getting exposed like that in front of Ulfric would have been just horrifying.

Bishop was less happy though. He kept complaining, and when he saw Aeyrin take off her necklaces and stash them into the basket with their belongings, he got very defensive and protective about his dragon's head ring.

It was sweet, but Aeyrin worried that if the guards saw him keep anything, they would take it away, and possibly not return it. Ulfric may not have wanted to cause any more animosity tonight, but he would hardly chastise his men for stealing a simple ring. Aeyrin already knew from before that everything in that basket would be returned to them.

"They might take it from you. Just put it there, they've returned my things the last time," she gave him a beseeching look.

"Who says that they won't steal it this time?" he growled in response, but Aeyrin only gave him a helpless shrug. Of course she wouldn't know anything for sure. She looked so tired. It's been a long night.

Bishop let out a resigned sigh and twisted the ring off his finger. It felt strange and uncomfortable. He was pretty sure that he hadn't taken it off ever since he got it. There were pretty prominent indent marks on his finger when he removed it.

He quickly raked his fingers through Aeyrin's hair instead when he was done, and pressed his palm against her cheek, as if touching her would make up for the ring's absence. And she really looked tired. And sad. They hadn't had a moment for themselves since this whole thing started. He didn't even get a chance to tell her about Gabriella yet. They've only been in the clutches of the guards the entire time. He didn't even know what that sick freak had done to her. She did tell the guards about his intention to 'harvest her blood', but not much else.

Aeyrin nuzzled her face into his hand and stepped a bit closer to press herself against him. His other hand began stroking over her back in turn, but he stopped right when he felt her bare skin. He didn't notice before that the prison shirt that she was wearing had a hole in the back. It made him instantly remember why and what she went through the last time she was imprisoned here.

He wanted to believe that they would just spend the rest of the night in a cell and then get the fuck away from Windhelm before the Brotherhood pulled another scheme. He really didn't want to worry about all this anymore. Besides, Aeyrin didn't get gagged. If worse came to worse, they could just… force their way out.

And on the bright side, at least she got a shirt. There were none in the basket with the men's clothes, likely for the same reason why hers was missing the back part. He wanted to wear his own, but it was probably best to just comply with the guards and get this shit over with at last.

"Hey!" a voice suddenly echoed from behind the door to the tiny room, accompanied by a loud knock. "The fuck's taking so long? Move it!"

There was not much to do but to play along yet again.

Once they emerged, they were led back to the cellblock and, despite their protests, ushered into two separate cells. Although at least the cells were adjacent.

After a long and exhausting night, they both just retreated towards the simple bedrolls on the ground, although they moved them both towards the wall of bars separating their cells. When they settled in without further ado and laid themselves down under the old fur blankets, Bishop snuck his arm through the bars to stroke over Aeyrin's hair again.

"You alright, sweetness?" he whispered, but his voice carried a bit through the silent halls anyway.

Aeyrin nodded slowly. She wasn't so sure that she even managed to process what had just happened. And why was she even more disturbed by the memory of those flames than of that of a maniacal killer ready to bleed her dry and cut off a piece of her?

Instead of concentrating on the memories, she reached out to him as well through the bars and gently ran her fingers below his eye over the dark spot there. His face was still all bruised up. In all the commotion and rush, she had barely managed to heal her arm before she was dragged off to tend to the flames. After that, she didn't get a chance to even align Bishop's clearly broken nose properly since her hands were always tied or she was being ushered from one place to another quickly. At least now she had the chance to do that, even if she might not manage to mend the broken bone outright. She would still try. She wasn't exactly great at the bones stuff, but she was improving.

"What happened?" she whispered back while her hand lit up with healing magic.

Bishop looked around the cellblock with clear uneasiness and suspicion, but he seemed to decide to divulge at least something. But when he opened his mouth, another voice startled the both of them instead.

"Hey! What the fuck do you think you're doing, elf?!" a booming voice of a jailor echoed through the hall, followed by several annoyed groans from the other prisoners at the sudden wake-up. Aeyrin's hand flinched from Bishop's face instantly.

"You fucking want me to get cuffs? Or do you prefer the whip first? No magic!" the jailor spat at her angrily. "And what the fuck are you two doing there? Move to the wall, knife-ear. NOW!"

Bishop's teeth clenched and he shot the man a seething look. He had to keep reminding himself not to make shit worse. It was just a couple of hours after all.

Aeyrin only let out a defeated sigh as she crawled out of the uncomfortable bedroll and started moving it towards the wall, away from Bishop's cell. As much as it angered her, it was not worth a fight. She was so tired of dealing with Ulfric and his moods and politics. They couldn't really talk candidly here anyway. Although when she crawled under the covers again, she really missed Bishop's proximity and touch. Gods, how she just needed to hide in his embrace tonight.

The whole hall got uncomfortably quiet while the only sound was the occasional jingle of the guard's armor at the other side of the room.

Despite the exhaustion, sleep eluded the both of them, until they were again interrupted by a voice. This time it was a careful quiet whisper.

"Hey, you two."

Somehow it was clear that the voice was addressing them. Bishop and Aeyrin both sat up in their bedrolls and looked towards the source – a Dunmer in a cell opposite to theirs. He was clutching the bars as if he wanted to get as close to them as possible and, in the faint torchlight, his slightly illuminated face showed some severe bruising and swelling. At least it looked like it. It was hard to tell on his grey skin.

"I heard the guards talk. Is it true?" the elf whispered. "Is the Butcher dead?"

"Shut up, elf! No talking!" an angry growl came from the other side of the room. That jailor was getting really infuriating. Bishop and Aeyrin both only nodded at the elf in response, hoping that the darkness wouldn't obscure it too much.

The Dunmer did not try to answer again either, but his face lit up considerably and he let out a somewhat relieved sigh.

"You think that means they'll let us go? Idiot," another voice came from a different cell, too far to see who it was. The voice did not lack the telltale Dunmer raspiness though.

"What the fuck did I just say?!" the jailor yelled again.

"If not that Butcher thing, they'll find something else," another voice echoed through the hall. That was a bleak outlook, but not one that hadn't occurred to them before. Ulfric's words, as prettily convincing as they were, were just that. Ulfric's words. Even if he was telling the truth, who knew when he would cave to another 'political pressure' and just take it out on the elves again. All that talk of prosperity would not erase his ideologies that simply.

"That's fucking it!" the jailor's words boomed. "Anyone else talks, you're spending the night in the other room."

Aeyrin knew what that 'other room' meant – Ulfric's torture chambers. And the elves obviously knew that all too well too. Nobody said a word after that.

But even in the silence, sleep was hard to come by in that place.

…

The next day brought an unexpectedly pleasant surprise.

Despite Ulfric's words, Aeyrin and Bishop both still expected trouble in the morning. Something would go wrong, Ulfric would not keep his word… or at the very least what he had insinuated, Free-Winter would not attempt to argue in order to get them out, or maybe a dragon would attack Windhelm. Anything going smoothly simply seemed out of the realm of possibility.

But after their 'breakfast' was practically thrown at them in their cells – a meager serving of some unidentifiable slop – the jailor came to lead them back to the small room to get ready for their release. He was obviously very reluctant to, but he had his orders.

Fortunately, all of their possessions were returned and what was even more staggering, instead of the guard's cloak there was a cheap provisionary shirt, trousers and boots readied there for Aeyrin. The clothes fit her very badly and she had to tie the trousers up in various spots so that they wouldn't just fall from her waist, but it was better than traversing the city barefoot and wrapped in a cloak. Although Bishop would have probably lent her his boots so that she wouldn't freeze. Or maybe he would just carry her to the inn without listening to any protests on her part. That sounded more like what would happen.

When they were finally ready, they were let out of prison without further ado. They did not run into Ulfric or Brunwulf on their way out though. In fact, the Palace was oddly abandoned.

Only when they made their way outside, the reason for that became apparent.

The streets were bustling with people in a shocking contrast to the dismal Windhelm that they had both been used to by now. There were three bonfires burning in front of the Palace, with Jora and Lortheim standing around while bypassers would stop by to lower their heads near the pyres. The priests were always hovering, offering words of consolation.

It seemed like the city was ready to put the killings behind them.

There were no bodies on the bonfires – the majority of them were probably burned already after the women's corpses had been dumped in the city by Calixto. And it would likely not be very sensitive to burn the remaining… chunks. The people still did not seem to mind their lack. There were always small crowds forming by the fires.

Well… by two of them at least. The third one, nearest to the streets leading into the Grey Quarter, was not very frequented. It didn't look like the bonfires were designated to the specific victims, but the people seemed to have decided nonetheless that the lone fire represented the death of the Dunmer bardess.

It wasn't really surprising to not see the elves there, mourning their friend. Or friends. Despite the shared hatred for the killer, they must have felt at least some resentment towards their Nord neighbors after everything that happened. And it was unlikely that the orders had been canceled already by now. Unlike for the Nords, the Butcher's death did nothing for the elves yet.

Aeyrin took a step towards one of the bonfires and stared at the flames for a while.

She had imagined this moment many times before. The killer dead, Susanna avenged, and the elves free from this excuse for their abuse. But it did not feel as satisfying as she had hoped. None of it did. Killing Calixto didn't feel satisfying, even though it should have. Was it the bad memories? Was it guilt at not doing more sooner? Or was it the uncertainty of what would happen now? Ulfric's talk of stability should have put her at ease, but it didn't. The words of the elves back in the cells still echoed in her mind.

An evil killer was dead, but there was no happy ending like there should have been. She couldn't imagine this all turning out for the better anymore. Windhelm seemed to have that effect on her all too often.

"My lady," a familiar voice interrupted her ruminations and Aeyrin turned her eyes swiftly to the source. Jora had approached her with her head low and a sympathetic smile on her face. The way she addressed Aeyrin meant only one thing – she was too careful to speak plainly.

"I understand that young Susanna was a dear friend of yours," Jora nodded at Aeyrin somberly while she reached out for her hands to clasp them in her own. Aeyrin had seen her do that to a lot of people in the crowd as the priestess comforted them in their grief and she suspected that, as impersonal as this felt, Jora really did want to sympathize with her. Until she felt a soft scratch of something on her hand. It was definitely a small paper. "May her soul find eternal peace in Shor's halls."

Aeyrin quickly wrapped her hands around the paper to hide it before Jora let her palms fall from her grasp with a soft expression on her face. The priestess did not linger anymore. She was obviously being very careful not to spend too much time with Aeyrin.

She was dying to look at the note, but there were too many people around. Someone might have noticed. Jora's wariness made Aeyrin very paranoid. She could have sworn that Lortheim was looking at her constantly.

Instead, she clutched the paper in her fist and turned her attention back to Bishop. She expected him to be curious about the very polite and non-descript conversation with the priestess, but he did not seem to be paying any attention to either of them at all. In fact, his eyes were scanning everywhere around the crowd, as if he was looking for someone. Or maybe he was watching out for someone. He looked very nervous and on edge.

"Bishop?" Aeyrin approached him carefully. When she looked up at him, she realized that she still hadn't managed to find an opportunity to try and heal him properly, but she certainly couldn't do that now with that paper in her hand.

"We should get out of here," Bishop mumbled almost silently. Gabriella could be lurking anywhere. Or maybe her 'brother' could. He had no idea who to actually look out for.

"Hey, where would you be going?" a merry voice answered instead. Aeyrin and Bishop both startled at the interruption, especially since they were both on edge now with their own respective worries plaguing their minds, but when they turned towards the source, it was none other than Revyn Sadri addressing them. He seemed to have made his way through the crowd discreetly and straight towards them.

"Come on, no leaving yet. You two should join us," he smiled at the two of them invitingly.

"Revyn, I can't drink that shit anymore," Bishop smirked at the man. It was kind of a lie, he would love a strong drink just then, but he couldn't dull his senses. Not when he knew that Gabriella was still around. The sooner they left the city, the better. And they still hadn't had a chance to talk alone at all.

"We're not drinking, f'lah. Everyone's still hungover from last night," Revyn chuckled. "It's not that. Come on. You need to be there too. It doesn't take long."

Bishop and Aeyrin shared an uncertain look, but Revyn was already weaving through the people back towards the Grey Quarter. And their curiosity inevitably got the better of them.

Revyn rushed through the narrow streets, only occasionally looking over his shoulder to see if the two of them were following. Bishop was constantly looking behind his back too, but for a different reason. Every stupid shadow was making him nervous.

The elf did not stop for a second though and he continued leading them through the streets until they reached rickety wooden steps leading to the roofs of the houses in the quarter and towards the smaller abodes that were situated on them. They continued up onto the roofs after Revyn and they followed him through the nearest door into a small abode.

The place was filled with all the elves that they came to know by now and surprisingly enough, Brunwulf Free-Winter. Nobody said a word since they appeared, but everyone present gave them both acknowledging nods and welcoming smiles.

The house seemed to only consist of one room, a rather small one at that. There was not much there but a large circular pit filled with what looked like ash and a few pillars with odd drawings on them. Candles were lit all over the ground and there was a small plain altar in the front of the room with a bowl on it, filled with various things – coins, ingredients, cheap jewelry. None of it seemed to be of much value, but it became apparent what this place was. It was a temple.

"Thank you, for joining us," Suvaris, one of the elves that the two of them had rarely interacted with, stepped in front of the small crowd, right next to the altar by the ashpit. She had always been quiet at the cornerclub, more reserved, even when she was drunk. But she was eager to watch the merriment there every time. Aeyrin couldn't help but wonder if she was their priestess. Who did the Dunmer here even worship?

"We are here to honor the departed, our kin, our friends. We are here to bless their souls and reunite them with the ancestors," Suvaris continued to talk to the small crowd.

Nobody else was speaking and Bishop and Aeyrin stayed a small distance behind the crowd, near the entrance. This felt a little strange. They did not know the dead bardess, but it was nice to see that her abandoned bonfire did not mean that people did not care about her death.

"Our sister, Luaffyn," Suvaris lowered her head somberly above the pit and the rest of the elves did the same. All except one who rushed to bring the priestess a small clay urn.

Instead of lowering her head as well, Aeyrin stared at the scene in fascination. Were those ashes?! How did they manage to get Luaffyn's ashes?

"We are thankful for our allies, who defend and avenge our brethren, and for those who return them to us as well," Suvaris continued and the vast majority of the elves suddenly turned towards both Bishop and Aeyrin, as well as Free-Winter. They gave them each a respectful silent nod before they all turned back towards the ashpit.

Aeyrin looked at Brunwulf curiously and, when he felt her gaze, he returned it with a wry smile. He must have gotten the ashes for the elves. He had been helping them so much, even now. She really hoped that it only meant that it was right to trust him. He didn't leave them rotting in the prison today either, it seemed.

"That is why we can reunite our sister with our ancestors today. May your body return to the ash from whence it came," Suvaris continued the funeral rites as she slowly began to pour the contents of the urn into the ashpit.

Suvaris continued to speak while the other Dunmer began joining her, saying their goodbyes to the bardess and reciting something that sounded like hymns. Aeyrin still watched the spectacle with fascination while the Dunmer paid their respects to the departed. She had never thought that the Dunmer actually had their own temple and performed their own funeral rites outside of the Halls of the Dead. It did make sense – most of them came here from Morrowind after all. It was still not something that she had ever expected to see.

"And we honor our friend Susanna," Suvaris's next words tore Aeyrin from her fascination with the rites. They were including Susanna in this? That was so unexpected. And heartwarming. When she was alive, she wanted nothing more than to be part of their community. She would have loved this.

Suvaris began to pour the ashes down from a different small urn, accompanied by similar words. It was obvious that the Dunmer did not receive the bodies of the women in full – there weren't nearly enough ashes for that. But perhaps the priest of Arkay allowed some parts to be cremated for the rites. Perhaps the parts from that…

Ooof, she should not be thinking about that. This was supposed to be a nice moment.

Aeyrin quickly tried to concentrate on Suvaris's words instead, but her attention got diverted again when she felt Bishop's hand wrap around her clenched one gently. He didn't look at her. He was watching the rites with a measure of somberness, but he did try to grab a hold of her hand. Only now she realized that she was still clutching that paper from Jora.

When Bishop brushed against the paper in her hand, he startled and pulled back. His eyes instantly turned down towards her palm. Aeyrin's eyes fixated on the paper for a while too before she scanned the room briefly. Everyone was concentrating on the rites, reciting hymns and saying their goodbyes. Even Brunwulf approached the pit now.

Aeyrin quickly unfolded the small paper to look at the message. She tried to remain inconspicuous, it seemed rude to be doing this at such a time, but her curiosity got the better of her. And besides, she could feel Bishop's gaze probing her for answers. She couldn't take that for long. She needed to know.

They both peered covertly at the unfolded paper in Aeyrin's hand.

.

Agent Lorcalin, Solitude

.

Aeyrin quickly crumpled the paper in her hand and clenched her fist around it again. Nobody could see that she had it. It was confusing. She did not really understand why that name was on that paper, she had never heard of that man before, but it still filled her with dread. And she didn't seem to be the only one. Bishop had obviously connected the dots quickly.

"Jora gave that to you?" he murmured very quietly. His words got almost completely drowned out by the reciting Dunmer.

"Yes," Aeyrin tried to stay quiet too. Neither of them were looking at each other, just staring ahead at the elves, but it was obvious that both of their minds were elsewhere.

"What does it mean?" Bishop whispered.

"I don't know." She really didn't. But that didn't stop the bad feeling from gathering in her gut.

There was a long moment of silence between them, before Bishop spoke again, this time even more quietly than before.

"That's an Altmer name."

"I know," Aeyrin answered instantly. The title 'agent' did not leave much to the imagination either. She worried what this could mean. Did Jora think that this would be a useful ally in their endeavor? That was... an extreme risk. Or did she give her the note because this man was a danger to them? Neither of those options sounded good.

She really didn't want to think about what would happen if the Thalmor got the wind of this… dissidence.

She really wished that she hadn't just opened the note during the rites. Now she couldn't stop thinking about it.

It would probably be for the best to ask Master Therien about this. He knew more about the endeavor than she did. Perhaps it was exactly what Jora wanted her to do, since she herself was wary of writing to Master Therien now.

It only made sense. She should let her old mentor figure it out instead.

It was a comforting thing to fall back on.

Bishop watched Aeyrin for a reaction for a while, but soon enough, he turned his eyes ahead again towards the Dunmer. They shouldn't look too conspicuous. He was now getting paranoid even here, among friends.

But how could he not?! This spelled trouble. Aeyrin was receiving notes with Thalmor agent names like some fucking assassin.

'Assassin'… great, as if he didn't have his fill thinking about that…

One thing was for certain. Their departure from Windhelm could not come soon enough.