Sun's Dawn, Tirdas, 24th:

Gulls disturbed Sitirus' sleep later that morning, making him stir in the hammock provided to him. Their cries from outside the Red Dugal were loud enough to awaken anybody trying to get some decent rest, though the heavy footsteps from outside his door further amplified the noise that prevented sleep. Tossing his legs out of the hammock and throwing off the covers as he sat up, the young man rubbed his eyes to clear the drowsiness before standing. He stretched, still wearing the clothes he wore under his imperial chain armor, then walked over to the porthole which overlooked Anvil Keep. Harborside sounded quite active right about now even though the castle was the only structure facing the porthole. The sailor who escorted Sitirus aboard brought him to a private cabin so he would not be too troubled by the district's activity. Although, he could not put the prior noble anywhere else that was not in view of Anvil Keep for lack of space. That man had not appeared to be aware of a common ghost story that circulated in town of how people often awoke to find ghosts staring back at them up close and personal, face to face. Or he did not believe in or cared for urban legends of the sort. Neither did Sitirus because he never experienced it himself despite what others claimed to the contrary. That was just superstition as far as he knew, and he awoke facing not one.

A woman's ghostly silhouette looking out one of its windows in the distance greeted Sitirus though, so he guessed that might have had something to do with it. He did not fear her because the sightings of apparitions in the keep's windows and upon its ramparts were common, viewing them as late neighbors if nothing else. Even though the townsfolk shunned Anvil Keep, they too became so desensitized to the ghostly presences in sight that they continued to go about their business but remained on high alert in case the hauntings spread into Anvil. So long as the ghosts stayed in their resting place without cause to attack, the town could tolerate keeping them at arm's length. Sitirus wondered who the woman was but could not make out distinctive features because she was too far away to guess her identity, and if she was making eye contact from the window and would see him staring back. He probably should not have because of other ghost stories about anybody who dared look a ghost in the eyes or by accident. Those kinds of brave souls were said to be followed by the apparitions wherever they went and tormented until something was done to make the ghost leave. Sometimes the ghost wanted something from them such as a material object, avenging their death, or helping them with unfinished business. More hostile spirits lured victims to their death or made attempts to possess them, as attributed to by superstition and fear in some cases but true in others. Sitirus did not think the ghosts of Anvil Keep were so callous as to harm the town, surmising they only wanted to let Anvil know they were still there and trapped by its hold over their restless souls. That they simply wanted the townsfolk to be aware of their suffering and understand the pain Lady Arannelya and her army brought to them. Them appearing to the people was their way of trying to show they only wanted to tell the story of how she had them massacred. It made Sitirus pity them; he felt sorry each time he spotted one because their confinement was wrong and not their fault. He hoped the woman and all the other ghosts in Anvil Keep could move on and ascend into Aetherius. Kind of like how he was moving from Anvil to wherever he might end up once in Taneth, whether he remained in that capital or left it. When the ghostly woman vanished into thin air, Sitirus moved away from the porthole too with a feeling they both saw one another and connected their feelings.

Sitirus turned to the ornate mahogany chest under the hammock and knelt to open it. Inside was his armor which he did not need to put on, the weapons he neither required just then, his repair hammer, whetstone, and leather straps, none of which were of any use at the moment either, along with the coin purses tucked away for safekeeping. It also contained the last object Sitirus kept safe, his mother's amulet of Dibella, wrapped in a cloth so it would not get damaged. Finding the cloth, he took it out and removed the amulet, setting it around his neck as per her wish for him to receive the Queen of Heaven's protection. Closing the chest and evaluating his attire as he stood up, Sitirus next walked over to his sacks of clothes against the cabin's opposite wall and took one, setting his choice on the hammock and undoing the rope to open it. Though not of noble standing any longer, he wanted to look presentable when meeting with Horlka and changed into a more formal blue and green outfit with quilted shoes for a proper impression. The clothes were not worn by upper classes in Cyrodiil and High Rock as frequently, so he would look more like a regular middle class citizen than the son of a nobleman. Since there was no mirror inside the cabin for him to evaluate himself, Sitirus had to make do with his faint reflection in the porthole. He was given the option of using a larger cabin guests like himself could get comfortable in but Sitirus did not need it. He would only be aboard the Red Dugal for a week, eight days at most, so the smaller cabin he had at present was sufficient for his base needs and offered just enough comfort, space, and rest to keep him satisfied.

He went to the door and opened it, exiting into the passageway and closing the door behind him. His guest cabin was on one of the lower decks, directly up against the bulkhead and near one of the hatches to the upper decks. Sitirus walked through the passageway, carefully walking around the sailors working down there. Captain Horlka's crew was diverse, including Colovian Imperials, Redguards, Nords, Orcs, Bretons, Dunmer, and Argonians. He bid each of them good morning but few of them reciprocated since they were too busy lugging cargo around. Because it was a fruitless effort, Sitirus stayed out of their way without bothering them further. He located the ladder up just through two more passageways but waited for an Argonian sailor carrying a small barrel to descend first before climbing up. From there, Sitirus weaved by more sailors and through four passageways towards another hatch to the top deck's interior where he waited patiently before making his ascent.

Emerging in the entryway just outside of the captain's cabin, Sitirus found a space to wait in so he would not cause problems bumping into anyone. He approached the captain's cabin to see if Horlka Rock-Hull was inside but saw nobody there. "Captain's overseeing the loading outside," he heard one of the sailors mention to him from behind and turned to find it was that same Breton who brought him aboard earlier. The Breton was wearing a pair of coarse linens and buckled shoes, going shirtless since he was helping carry cargo inside. His light brown hair was thinning out along the sides and the back of his head, though was messily combed with a few strands which ran down his neck. His hair color matched his brown eyes. The Breton seemed to be nearing his mid-to-late forties as his face was slightly wrinkled. Sitirus never got the man's name but introduced himself before to be polite even though he was but a provisional passenger the man was indifferent toward.

The Red Dugal was still docked in Harborside though, since the ship was loading cargo to deliver and unloading cargo meant for Anvil. But the Breton assured Sitirus they would be setting sail once that was taken care of. How much longer had yet to be ascertained, though he could wait.

He called out to the Breton, "Ah, thank you," as the sailor was heading down the ladder to store a chest he had been carrying but received no response. Since he figured Captain Horlka would be busy for a bit longer, he thought about waiting in her cabin before realizing it would have been rude to. Although he vaguely knew she was an acquaintance of his mother, and could perhaps even be called a mutual friend of sorts, he never met the Nord in person nor had yet to even lay eyes on her. From the appearance of her crew and her occupation as the Red Dugal's captain, he expected Horlka was an older woman like many of them and with a similar personality to boot. His mother told him she was extremely strict and controlled the ship with an iron fist but could be sympathetic, thoughtful, and understanding despite her blunt nature. She also said Horlka let him aboard to pay back a previous favor, though did not elaborate upon what it was since it must have been a private affair. He never asked out of respect, though a part of him felt he was likely better off not knowing. Not that he suspected it was illicit business, though word on the streets of Anvil suggested Horlka had some ties with the pirates who had only recently taken up residence over on the island of Stirk.

It was not uncommon to hear of corsairs establishing strongholds on that island considering its position. It was between Anvil's lands in the Gold Coast, Hammerfell's southern peninsula and the Kingdom of Rihad across the bay, and Valenwood's Kingdom of Falinesti. Stirk was formerly territory of the Gold Coast according to the Pocket Guide to the Empire's first edition Tiber Septim commissioned in 2E 864, placed under County Anvil's jurisdiction. But governance had since been contested by the county and the two rival kingdoms due to the Imperial Simulacrum. On occasion, lesser lords and merchant lords from the peninsula sent private mercenaries to conquer the island. More often, pirate crews assumed control when County Anvil and the local monarchies were too preoccupied with other affairs or at times when the island was uncontested. Like right now during the Second Great War when all of their attention was on Valenwood and warships were sailing to the province from County Anvil and Hammerfell. The strength of each claimant's right to govern Stirk and the stakes they waged varied throughout history as they tried to negotiate and war for it. The fighting resulted in Stirk becoming an up-for-grabs no-man's land where no party would know permanence until there was either a single claimant with power remaining or nobody left to settle.

Sitirus did not know who the current pirate occupants were but reports appeared to indicate the crew was led by a Dremora pirate from Oblivion named Velehk Sain. He recognized the name from a brief but old poetic ode entitled: "Pirate King of the Abecean," describing how he acquired the title. As he recalled, the poem was sung in coastal areas across the Abecean Sea to warn sailors of encountering the Dremora and his crew by watching out for blood on the water. Although Sitirus thought the poem was just a general description of any pirate captain in general, he could not deny the possibility that a Dremora of all Daedra would take the name for itself or actually had the name. Just as he could not reject the notion that a Dremora could command mortals in that manner while conducting raids on the Abecean Sea. But from an old story he recalled hearing often from sailors in Harborside, Velehk Sain supposedly sailed north for the Sea of Ghosts where he was thought to be responsible for sinking an imperial galleon in an area of Winterhold called the Pilgrim's Trench. Whether the Dremora himself raided it or not was debatable; again, anyone could take the mantle. Not necessarily a Dremora. It begged the question of why the Pirate King of the Abecean went so far north, answered by patrolling warships or because the galleon had something the king coveted. Whatever it was, he and his crew were the only people known to have it after the galleon had sunk.

Sitirus crossed his arms and leaned against the wall in thought. If Velehk Sain was actually in charge of the pirates on Stirk and was actually a Dremora, his occupancy spelled trouble for the Alliance of Man. The Pirate King of the Abecean could have been hired by the Thalmor to assault Anvil and the Kingdom of Rihad and move into the peninsula to pull the Alliance from Valenwood. And if Horlka allegedly knew the Dremora, Sitirus had to wonder what sort of relationship the two shared. Worse, he pondered if his mother knew or was somehow involved in a plot alongside them.

The door opened as another Breton stepped into the entryway. Since the Red Dugal's crew was coming and going, Sitirus had been paying no mind until this other Breton said, "Sitirus?" He looked up at the approaching man, noting he possessed a full head of messy black hair and a single green eye. A scar ran down the Breton's left eye from the top of his forehead, likely from an attack or accident that blinded it. The man was attired in a stitched green shirt, breeches, and rough leather shoes. "It's Sitirus, right?" As Sitirus nodded, the man introduced himself as "Faridrum Charbatha, the Red Dugal's bosun. Waiting to see the cap'n?" Sitirus opened his mouth to speak but Faridrum hurriedly cut him off. "You should get yourself back below deck. She'll get to meeting you later."

Sitirus blinked. "Why?" he asked. From the man's tone, he guessed something happened.

"She'll explain later," the bosun answered quickly, taking Sitirus' arm to pull him towards the ladder. Before Sitirus could ask what was going on, he added, "Cap'n gonna send for you. Just get yourself below deck, stay there until she calls. And whatever you do, don't dare step outside."

They were nearly at the ladder when Sitirus heard a loud commotion from outside. Though he could not make out the voices of whoever was speaking, he stopped and freed his arm from the Breton's grasp to take cover by the door. Another sailor, a Colovian Imperial, opened it and walked through to reach the lower decks. The shouting from outside got louder as the people got closer to the cabin, enabling the Nibenese Imperial to overhear what was going on. A part of him wished he could not and had followed Faridrum's instruction when he recognized one of the voices shouting, "Where is he?!" It did not shock him though; had his father already reneged on sending him away?

"He just showed up demanding you," Faridrum explained, trying to usher him to the ladder. "Won't stop demanding Cap'n produce you. Reckon he'll try to turn the Dugal upside if she don't."

"I thought he might," Sitirus held a hand up to stop the bosun so he could listen. The Breton thought it unwise to but heeded the unspoken request and stood by just in case. As Horlka and his father's argument grew louder, Sitirus could better make out what they said through the wall. The door opened and swung closed each time a sailor entered and left, so that helped him comprehend it whenever their voices were muffled by the wall's thickness and noise from all the work outside. Against his better judgment, Sitirus peeked out of the closest porthole to see what the two of them were doing on the deck and where they were in relation to him at the risk of his father spotting him eavesdropping. Faridrum went to the door and watched it but stood back so his own presence could go undetected. He even held an arm out in front of a few exiting sailors to keep them from leaving, signaling for them to wait on standby to block Luthiele Kratian from barging through in search of the son whose self-exile he was originally unopposed to. Sitirus watched as his father barked orders at his entourage of fourteen house guards, a small but sizable force powerful enough to defend him if their master felt the situation was not in his favor. Organized as they were, however, those house guards were being interrupted and cut off from one another by sailors unloading and loading cargo, a lot of whom dropped what they were doing when Horlka instructed them to keep the guards back. Unaware they were subdued, Luthiele kept demanding she produce his son and stay out of his way.

"I know that bastard's here, and I will not permit him to leave Anvil!" he yelled which only made Sitirus sigh over his father stopping just short of issuing a death threat he already gave him.

"Your son isn't here, Luthiele!" Horlka resisted, repeating her claim. "Think I'd let him on my ship?! My crew checks it thoroughly for stowaways and wouldn't hesitate to throw him to the slaughterfish without needing to check with me first! Would save you and the guards the trouble!"

"Then get your crew's eyes checked and look again!" Luthiele bellowed. "And do not even think about trying to curry favor with the guards or have them apprehend that bastard! They answer to the mayor and me, which gives me the authority to arrest him myself! Obstruct justice and I will have you all charged as accomplices and jailed for ferrying fugitive from Anvil into Hammerfell!"

Sitirus winced at his father's poor attempt to intimidate Horlka. If Luthiele had been subtle, he most likely would have gotten the Nord quaking in her boots. That came naturally to Nibenese Imperials like him, though attempting to openly flex his legal muscles only made him look foolish. It did not help that he was trying to threaten them with arrests he could not make without any prior approval and claiming the town guards served him. Anyone could easily see through his nonsense.

Horlka shouted, "Me and my ship answer to your Empire, Luthiele!" as she jutted her finger at him, not fazed by the threat. "Their authority overrules yours, and last I checked, County Anvil's not even a thing anymore! Your town doesn't have the power to make demands on the Red Dugal!"

Luthiele laughed derisively. "You stupid woman, you admit mine is not your Empire!" as if that changed anything. Although he did not label her a Stormcloak in public, his remark implied it nonetheless. Realizing his mistake got the Nords' attention, including from the two amongst his own support, he coughed to clear his throat and save face. Sitirus had to admit he appreciated how quick to anger the Nords were over Ulfric Stormcloak's illegitimate victory and how he overthrew Skyrim's rightful kings to name himself High King. Good thing they were for the Empire and not like those ignorant Nordic serfs of Eastern Skyrim who stupidly threw themselves at their barbaric usurper's feet for true causes Ulfric hid his real agenda behind. "Regardless of your service to the Empire, Horlka, you have no authority over Anvil. Just because it is no longer called a county does not mean its power over the Gold Coast is lost. It is still stronger than Sutch and Kvatch combined."

Horlka glared daggers at him as she proclaimed, "I'd sooner bend my knee to Bal or Dagon than serve that milk drinker!" and spit after that derogatory insult towards Ulfric Stormcloak since it had become a Nordic custom everywhere but Eastern Skyrim and County Bruma. "Why lick the usurper's boots when I can put him into the ground myself? Every Nord across the rest of Tamriel knows he didn't even take up a weapon to fight the Empire during his own damn rebellion himself. Including those stew brains who call themselves Stormcloaks, who're too stupid to refuse him his way because they want him to be their second coming of Talos or better just because he lets them kill, violate, and pillage to their heart's content without restraint and rewards them every time they do it all in his name and take their own pleasure from it." Horlka paused to take some deep breaths after that venomous rant. It seemed Ulfric Stormcloak and his Stormcloaks were taboo even aboard the Red Dugal from what Sitirus could gather as he watched her recollect her bearings to throw an inquiry at his father. "And what kind of authority does this damn town even have anymore? A man who thinks himself mayor, who you call as such? He's no milk drinker, granted, though he's hardly worthy of being even a clerk in some hamlet's court. Still, even he outranks you and your worthless title of "County Battlemage," Luthiele, and you damn well know it too just as we do." Her tongue-lashing struck a nerve as Luthiele's face instantly turned sheering red in fury. His hands twitched, closing into fists as the slander stung much more than his own against hers ever could. But before he could object, Horlka cut him off by adding, "Means nothing if Anvil's no longer a county. Nor have you ever once proven yourself worthy of holding it because all you do is spout drivel, whine when things don't go your way, and make threats you can't even follow up on." She stormed much closer to him, catching the battlemage off guard with her agility. "Because you don't actually have the gall to see things through nor the loyalty you think you command." She gestured towards each of his house guards who shrank under her imposing build. Next, she got right in his face and hissed, "But I do, and you'd better hope this Stormcloak's not gonna try leading another insurrection here in Anvil. Because if I do, there won't be anything left to salvage. Not even a single brick or scrap."

Luthiele failed to resist paling before her as he tried to calculate how much damage a Nord like her could do to what remained of Anvil. The town might have been reconstructed after it was besieged by Arannelya, but would it have survived an assault from a—what he saw as a motley—crew of trained privateers in its current state? Horlka sounded as if she was asking if he would care to find out if it was possible to rebuild again and to find anybody who would want to. He believed she was daring him and that, from how he interpreted her attitude, if there was even anybody who would think the town could become a grand city-state again, a newly restored capital of an equally newly restored county. When she mentioned his house guards, he realized she frightened them into reconsidering whether they should stand their ground under his orders or fall back. All of a sudden, trying to out-strongarm her with his own brand of Nibenese Imperial intimidation failed miserably. He was even beginning to doubt it would work on her anymore and had to come up with something else that could. Even if that meant admitting defeat by leaving and taking the blow to his reputation. No retort could have ever been more threatening than hers, unnerving him enough to reveal cracks in his self-centered ego. "You would dare take away what Anvil's already regained, Horlka? Have you gone mad?" he tried to say aloud but could only murmur. As if touched by the Daedric Prince of Madness, ironically, Luthiele suddenly smirked and chuckled at her boldness. "You really think this town is that weak?" he laughed contumeliously while regaining his own bravado. "You are an audacious woman, Horlka, I will give you that. But you forget that Anvil can still easily put down a pathetic Stormcloak revolt in Harborside!" In an instant, lightning was crackling at his fingertips which made Horlka step back to avoid the close range. She did not show signs of weakness though, but Luthiele grinned wickedly nonetheless. "Remember this, Horlka: I am the County Battlemage, so you will live to fear my power and regret crossing me! Call your dogs off and come quietly, all of you! Otherwise, I shall arrest each of you by force!" he declared, glaring ominously at her crew.

Sitirus could only shake his head and sigh at his father embarrassing himself. If he thought he could get her whole crew to stand down and submit to arrest by using a little flair in the School of Destruction, he was mistaken. Luthiele might have been a powerful battlemage, though even he should have known than to surround himself in enemy lines while his house guards were being cut off from defending him. He left himself vulnerable to attacks from all sides. Worse, Luthiele failed to realize he miscalculated by standing too close to Horlka while having only a single spell active. Sitirus watched as the Nordic captain, aware of those fallacies, swiftly drew the ebony longsword clipped to her belt and lunged for his father. In a split second, she darted forward and had its edge pressed tightly against his neck while her free hand seized the hand used to cast that spell. "Wanna bet?" she demanded, whispering into his ear as if she was death in that moment. Luthiele flinched right as she spoke, only now realizing he could feel the ebony longsword's metal blade on his neck as if it were Mephala's Ebony Blade itself. He paled again, and so did his house guards; several of them actually broke rank and fled for the gangplank, dropping their weapons as they escaped. Not one of them looked brave enough to stop her now that they witnessed how fast Horlka was. Along with the discovery that her longsword was made from ebony, it became clear they were outmatched and had slim chance to none of overcoming her without heavy casualties. The Nibenese Imperial's mouth opened to summon them back and demand she step away and relinquish her superior blade. Unfortunately for him, Horlka did not let him have another word in. "Don't kid yourself, Luthiele," she warned, pressing the blade further until it was close enough to dig into his skin and draw blood. "Someone who believes Anvil's still a county is only deluding themselves. And don't you dare try to even think about pulling that spellcasting on my ship. Because I will kill you." When he tried to hurriedly cast Flame Touch in his other hand to grab her sword arm, she shoved her full weight on him as she started backing him towards the railing. "Do you want to feed the bay's slaughterfish?"

Her threat and the promise to see it through got him to dispel his magic and lower his arms. She returned the favor by lowering her ebony longsword but seized his collar and dragged Luthiele back towards the center to throw him down. He grunted and moved to grab her when he recovered, though was halted when she quickly touched the tip of her sword to the bridge of his nose. Luthiele growled as he started casting a self-healing spell to close the cut on his neck. "Fine, I have no time for this anyway," he retorted his resignation, then tried to compromise by offering, "Just turn over that bastard and you can go free, Horlka." She was about to reject his suggestion but he interrupted her this time by adding, "All I want is to have him arrested, Horlka. Give him to me and I will go."

"I told you he's not here, you idiot," Horlka insisted. "Even if he was, why'd I want to turn him over to you anyway? I know you despise him with all your heart, Luthiele. If he's so worthless to you, you'd have no problem with me throwing him overboard while on the Abecean Sea. Maybe we'll sell him into slavery for good coin. Or perhaps I'll let those pirates on Stirk have him; they'd surely put him to work or cut his throat once they find out you're not willing to pay them a ransom to save his ass. I could even give him up to the Thalmor in Alinor because they're so eager to pay."

Sitirus swallowed heavily the moment she started listing those outcomes and could feel his heart palpitate with each one. He wanted to believe Horlka would keep her promise to his mother, hoped even, though considering what people said about her he could not be too sure. She could lie to her about his safety and his mother would have been none the wiser if she did not feel something was off. Each scenario showed just how worthless Sitirus became due to his father's mistreatment and by his own volition. Save for monetarily since there were all sorts of people with ill intent who would pay handsomely for a nobleman's son they could sell at a higher price, put to work, or gather intelligence from. Sitirus only had himself to blame for becoming vulnerable by taking those risks. His father was just as responsible or at greater fault for putting him in this situation, though he was not the one who willingly chose self-exile. But Luthiele would have been all too glad to surrender him to whichever of those options even if he was not the one choosing from them. He truly thought Sitirus was that great a threat of overshadowing his reputation. It did not surprise Sitirus when his father said, "Because only I can guarantee his downfall with absolute certainty, Horlka," as he got to his feet. "Were he to undergo this voyage, I would lose the power to decide how." He evaluated his neck and was pleased it no longer bled or stung, adding, "I would not have that bastard placed in jeopardy I have no say in or control over. By keeping him here in Anvil, I can handle it however I please and whenever I feel so inclined to." Sitirus raised an eyebrow at that since he did not think his father would have sounded like he was contradicting himself on purpose or by accident. There was nothing Luthiele could gain from keeping him around or alive any longer, apart from avoiding a scandal or keeping it concealed to prevent ruin if unescapable, so Sitirus could see through his father's deception with ease. A thought crossed his mind that his father was genuinely trying to be sincere and that it was the only way he could articulate his love, though it was only fleeting at best.

Horlka, meanwhile, only smirked at his attempt to sound threatening. She chuckled, saying, "And just how do you plan to make his life any worse, Luthiele? And when? You just succeeded."

Taking that as a sign his son was aboard, Luthiele whirled his head towards the cabin where Sitirus observed their argument from only to find that Sitirus quickly withdrew his face. The young warrior did not think his father actually caught a glimpse of him, believing Luthiele was just being paranoid and jumping to that conclusion without solid evidence to prove him right. But him turning to face his direction as if otherwise made Sitirus think twice, especially since he heard him declare, "I knew you were harboring him, Horlka!" while trying to break away for the cabin. "Goes to show you are the only Nord in Anvil who would even think to take his side and try to get away with it." He was stopped when she stormed over and shoved him into a sitting position on one of the chests. "Unhand me, you wretch!" Luthiele demanded before she let go, and then pointed right at the cabin to accusingly say, "Harboring a fugitive is a serious offense against Anvil! This proves it, Horlka!"

"It proves nothing, Luthiele," she countered, not buying his intimidation and adding, "other than your depraved indifference towards your own son. What crime has Sitirus committed against you that he should be arrested for, other than simply existing with a defect you hate him for despite it not being his fault? Even if he's as guilty as sin, you've already disinherited him. The boy can't even afford to remain in Cyrodiil anymore because you won't let him. If Sitirus were to leave and go wherever he'd like, his absence wouldn't be any different from whatever you'll do to stop him. You'd be glad to be rid of him either way. Why bother trying to when you don't have the right nor the authority to? Anvil doesn't have the power or the funding for a pursuit of fugitives beyond the borders of its own outskirts or even to petition for either. Empire could care less about a bastard's flight from some petty town, especially one who's claim's been revoked while they're still at war."

"That is not the point, you dolt!" snapped Luthiele as he leapt to his feet to better confront her. "It is the principle that matters! As the County Battlemage, I am sworn to uphold Anvil's laws and make each conviction a statement to anybody who would dare think about violating its laws!"

Horlka tsked, challenging to his assertion. "Says the man interfering in imperial business."

"Says who?!" he demanded and received a nod from her that directed his attention towards the gangplank where two men, one in robes and the other heavily armored, just boarded. Although Sitirus could not make out who Horlka referred to, he was intrigued by their sudden arrival enough to wonder who they were. His unspoken question was answered when Luthiele said in ridicule, "A Moth Priest, Horlka? Really? You think some random Moth Priest, whose order abandoned Anvil, has the power to represent the Empire on yet another of their failed expeditions? How wonderful."

The Moth Priest, whom Sitirus still could not make out in the throng of sailors, gave a very flippant chuckle while presenting his papers to one of the sailors. "If that random Moth Priest was authorized to search for an Elder Scroll, yes," he responded just as dismissively as if Luthiele were an unworthy serf whose insult was easily deflected. The priest's apparent egotism seemed to sound commanding, like if he were a nobleman like Luthiele or a ruler from one of the Cyrodilic counties or High Rock's kingdoms. It was a strong first impression that made Sitirus want to know more so he could gain a better understanding of the Moth Priest and the Cult of the Ancestor Moth. Seeing one appear as if out of nowhere and behave like he was taking the Red Dugal's reins seemed to be in line with some of the mannerisms associated with the order and its priesthood. From what little he understood about its culture in general, their devotion to Elder Scrolls and their acquisition was of greater significance than worshipping the Divines. When they were not on duty in the Imperial Library or their temple, they were visiting royal courts to educate rulers on how to properly follow whatever knowledge the Elder Scrolls carried, preaching to a select few who sought to join, or out in the field searching for Elder Scrolls. Since the scrolls' disappearance from the Imperial Library, however, they were exclusively at their temple or going around looking. Their relevance to politics lost all meaning but its existence, so they were no longer invited to courts and new initiates became fewer and far between. Why try when they had become that unwanted all throughout the Empire?

Sitirus watched as the Moth Priest and his bodyguard approached Horlka so she could take a look at his papers for herself. He handed them over and she skimmed the text to review it in brief, returning the papers once she was satisfied. "Looks clear," she said. "My crew will help carry your stuff on board. Just give me a few minutes and I'll assign one of them to show you to your cabin." Seeing the Moth Priest give a curt nod in thanks and step aside made Sitirus ponder where he was going. He did not think they were both heading for Taneth simultaneously, though would not have been surprised by the coincidence. Most likely, the priest was bound someplace else on a quest for an Elder Scroll; presumably somewhere in Hammerfell or even in High Rock. He strongly doubted the Moth Priests would have gone into the Dominion's provinces with the war going and much of Elsweyr conquered by the Argonians. However, islands in the Abecean Sea not under the Thalmor government were just as likely as the provinces. Sitirus thought about asking but believed it would have been improper. The mission would have been classified so wrong hands would not catch on. He also observed that his father was not interrupting the proceeding since the Moth Priest's mission carried more weight, though knew Luthiele well enough to know he likely doubted the man's story.

Just as it seemed like his father's argument with Horlka would resume, Sitirus then noticed more guards boarding the Red Dugal. Seeing the town's insignia on their pauldrons, he realized it was a squad from the town guard coming to investigate the predicament. "Why, Captain!" he heard his father call out, revealing they were led by Hasustius Laecelia, a Colovian Imperial who recently became Captain of the Guard. "How nice of you to join us; your timing is impeccable. I just caught this Stormcloak attempting to rouse a petty revolt here in Harborside," Luthiele explained in brief, trying to persuade Hasustius and curry favor with him. "Her attempt on my life would have ended me had my spell failed. Do not worry about me but see to it that she and her whole crew are taken into custody on the charges of inciting violence against Anvil and treason before they try to flee."

"A Stormcloak provoking a revolt in Anvil?" Hasustius did not buy it, looking to Horlka.

"His implication, not mine," she spat, directing her anger at Luthiele.

"She very stupidly confessed to her crimes in public," said Luthiele, hoping it would work.

"And what crimes are that?" Hasustius inquired sarcastically. "Ferrying her people into the Wood Elves' lands to help the Legion? Give me a break, Luthiele, I've got better things to do than wipe your ass. Only crime I see is you interfering in official business. Illegal here in Anvil, recall?"

"Performing my duties is a crime, Captain?!" Luthiele retorted in disbelief.

"They are when you're trying to keep that Moth Priest from his expedition," said the guard captain. "Especially since you've been made aware of it." Hasustius raised a hand to interrupt when the Nibenese Imperial opened his mouth to talk back. "Save it, I've heard enough. If her ship's got a contract with the Empire on behalf of his cult, their business comes first. You know that as much as I do, nor do you have the right to come aboard and detain it without an arrest warrant signed by me." Luthiele opened his mouth again to demand he sign one, though Hasustius sternly interrupted again before the nobleman could get a word in. "But you already know that too, Luthiele, so don't even think about overstepping your bounds. Mayor's given me the authority, and I only sign when I see something going on or have evidence—not whenever you can't get your damn way. Besides, he's sent for you and won't be too happy to know you're late because you're playing with my job." He stepped closer to the battlemage, glancing at each of his remaining house guards and signaling for them to leave. "So, round up your men and go. I've got enough trouble to deal with this morning and I don't need you adding to it. If I have to hear another word of this, I swear you won't like it."

"But she threatened me! An attempt was made on my life, Captain!" Luthiele tried his best to protest but to no avail. "It is a crime against Anvil that should not go unpunished! Am I to stand by and watch as you grant this pirate clemency and amnesty her transgression?! You are the law!"

Hasustius' face reddened in anger as he got right in the battlemage's face. "Yes, I am," the guard captain confirmed sharply, slowly emphasizing it. "And yes, you shall. Wouldn't be the first time someone's tried to kick your ass for pissing them off, and she's well within her rights to." He then stepped back to let Luthiele have some space to breathe before adding, "Don't make me repeat myself, Luthiele. I'm already in a bad mood and you've made me furious enough, so just shut up."

Luthiele clenched his fists in anger, steaming with rage as he replied, "Fine, but least detain this woman so I can deal with her later! The mayor can wait; I have a bastard I need to apprehend!"

Hasustius' face darkened as he gripped the hilt of his silver longsword, threatening, "Don't push it, I'll drag your ass off to prison if you do. And if I have to draw this and run you through if you resist arrest and don't come quietly, I will. Don't expect the mayor to bail you out of this one."

The Nibenese Imperial stammered and stuttered angrily, trying to contain his rage at having been humiliated by both of them. But he reluctantly acquiesced as he turned towards Horlka. "You are going to regret this later, Horlka!" he yelled at her before shoving his way past the other captain. Just as he was about to disembark with his house guards, Luthiele whirled around to glare at them, Horlka's crew, and the town guards. "Mark my words, Anvil will rise again! It is still the greatest county of Cyrodiil, the most superior of the Colovian Estates! No one, not even Sutch, can deny it the power it has rightfully held and shall continue to rightfully maintain forevermore! You should all know your place in Anvil and remember this: when the county is restored, the rule of law shall be restored with it!" Even though he did not specify that he would have used it to take revenge on those who crossed him specifically, the unspoken threat echoed loud and clear. "That goes double for that bastard in particular!" he added, glaring at Horlka before looking to the cabin where Sitirus eavesdropped from and hid only when he saw his father turning toward his direction. "Do not think to protect him for long or that I will not find out where he is heading! I know that bastard's on this ship, Horlka, and I know he is listening! By my right as Patriarch of House Kratian, I hereby revoke his citizenship in Anvil! As of this moment, he is a traitor to this town and the county it will regain! Should he dare show his face in Anvil or contact anyone from it ever again, I will know and I will have him brought to justice for his treachery! From now on, he lives with a bounty upon his head!"

Hasustius stormed over and grabbed Luthiele by the collar. "You accuse someone for a riot and try to instigate one yourself one more time, and I'll bring your head to the mayor on a pike!" he warned for the last time to make sure the Nibenese Imperial understood his intent. Watching as Luthiele paled in fright while still remaining indignant towards his authority, he silently dared the battlemage to risk his life by opening his mouth or making another move. Luthiele appeared to be calculating his chances of success versus failure before whirling and departing in haste. The guard captain sighed while turning to Horlka to apologize, saying, "So sorry about the fuss, Horlka. Want me to lodge a formal complaint on your behalf? Don't worry about leaving, mayor's aware of your contract and won't try to stop ya. But make sure your cargo's secure; won't do to have it wrecked."

"Just keep him off my ship," she instructed impatiently as she turned to head for the cabin.

Sitirus exhaled sharply as he saw Hasustius leave with his own guards, relieved that he was able to make his father withdraw before he could follow up on his threats. "Way to go, cap'n!" the Breton bosun laughed with the sailors, allowing them to head out while he went to Sitirus to check on him. "Damn, bastard's sure got it in for ya, huh?" he asked in astonishment at what they heard.

"You have no idea," said Sitirus as his shoulders sagged, glad to be rid of that burden. But he was not entirely at ease since he was at Horlka's mercy if the Nord had ill intent like she implied to his father. He was about to return to his cabin when the door opened and he found himself close to facing her. The captain's appearance was as he expected; mid-fifties but appearing spry enough with about as much strength as Sutch's Orsimer or a little more. Her charcoal colored hair was tied into a neatly combed ponytail that rested against the back of her neck but appeared nearly as rough as her wrinkles. She wore an olive vest, green felt linens, and oiled linen shoes. A silver ring around her left index finger was worn in contrast to show how much wealth she could afford or had hidden. From the Elder Council's insignia, Sitirus guessed it also demonstrated how they viewed Horlka's service to the Empire: useful but to a degree and no better than someone they could put their faith in. He did not see the color of her eyes at first because she faced Faridrum, saying, "Fetch the boy, I'll see him now. Then check the hull for damage. I'm almost sure it hit the dock when pulling in."

"He's already here," the bosun pointed at the young man so Horlka could turn to face him, allowing Sitirus to see she had brown eyes that regarded him with more bated breath than concern. She glared while sizing him up, giving Sitirus the impression she disapproved of his eavesdropping on the argument with his father. Faridrum tried to vouch for him but she shushed him with a finger.

He half-thought she was expecting something from him when she turned back to Faridrum, saying, "I told you to tell him I'd see him when called for. Why didn't you usher him to his cabin?"

"He wanted to listen," said the Breton as he held his hands up innocently to avoid conflict.

"He speaks the truth," Sitirus came to Faridrum's defense because it was the right thing to do and as thanks for watching the door. "I actually came to see you when I overheard you speaking with my father. It was rude of me to eavesdrop, for which I am sorry, but I worried he might try to escalate the situation in his favor. I did not wish for harm to befall you and your crew in my place."

Horlka snorted, "I'm more than capable of taking care of myself and can put a cheap mage like him in his place without breaking a sweat. If you were so worried, you should've paid attention to my bosun and gotten your ass back below deck. I don't need some nobleman's son in the way."

"Sorry," Sitirus apologized again. "Admittedly, I sort of anticipated his arrival sooner since he seemed intent on stopping me. I did not expect him to suddenly show up later than I expected."

"Mm," the Nord seemed to agree. "Wondered if he was going to myself." Although Sitirus felt sorry for not having communicated that to her prior, her comment alleviated the guilt since his mother must have warned Horlka for him. He did not recall her mentioning that to her during their meeting the other day. "But for the record, Sitirus, don't stick around next time you're in danger."

"Of course," he agreed before following Horlka into her quarters to talk in private. He had some questions about the voyage and what they could have expected, though he believed she would have covered everything without him needing to ask for efficiency's sake. Upon entering, he found himself amazed by the decorations she could afford. A few expensive tapestries, banners, portraits and wall scrolls from around the Gold Coast and southern Hammerfell hung from the walls. Some of the shelves were packed with all sorts of curios, including a few taxidermized fish caught across the Abecean Sea that he recognized but could not put names to. A few steps led to the door which he assumed opened into her bedroom, though it was shut to keep prying eyes like his out. The large table by the windows overlooking the sea had an ornate chest sitting atop, surrounded by gems and jewels, jewelry, coin purses, and loose drakes. He guessed there was more treasure within the chest but did not want to come across as curious about it. Horlka's desk was over by the wall, positioned so she could sit with her back to it. Atop it were scattered papers, a pile of which were held together by a Cyrodilic silver dagger that Horlka could wield as a backup weapon, and an inkwell and quill to write with. As they approached the desk, Sitirus caught a gleam from another silver dagger that lay hidden in the treasure on the table. Her back was turned to him so she did not catch him sighting it but he had no intention of wielding it himself or ambushing her with it. It was so obscure enough to eyes not as keen that it enabled Horlka to sneak the weapon into her sleeves or behind her back. Then, he noticed the bare weapon plaque hanging from the wall over her desk which she hung her ebony longsword on after unsheathing it. He had not gotten a good look at it from the porthole, so he now observed that it was forged in the Redguard Crown style. It made him wonder how Horlka could have acquired such a blade before realizing it was for a past service rendered or from a raid.

"Won it in a bet against some noble from Rihad," her brief explanation startled him slightly. He had not noticed she caught him staring at it, supposing he admired it or had simply been curious and seeming to have understood his unspoken question. "Wagered it for my ship. Fool then thought I wouldn't catch him cheating. Pulled a trick of my own then called him out for his." She smirked wryly. "Never saw through mine, nor could've argued against it." She took the chair out from her desk and sat down, adding as she motioned for him to approach, "Takes a scallywag to know one."

"He never gave you trouble, did he?" Sitirus asked, stepping up at her invitation.

"Never did," Horlka answered. "Realized he'd gone too far and couldn't do anything about it. Stopped just short of betting his mother's entire fortune too. Didn't want to risk pissing her off." That bit about the noble's mother made Sitirus glad he was not like him. He knew his father would have been just as or angrier with him if he were to attempt a stunt like that. Furious given his defect which already garnered a lot more of Luthiele's ire than he might have deserved if he was to blame.

He smiled, holding his hands behind his back. "Then I suppose he got off lightly, then."

The Nord shrugged. "Perhaps," she seemed to agree or admit to letting that noble go. "He's one of the few smart enough to not press his luck when he's been caught. Not many who've played cards with me don't think I won't notice the next one. And I've played with a lot of people who've slid another up their sleeves thinking I've let my guard down. That they can get away with it since I've already called them out the first time. It's that arrogance that gets my blood boiling." She put her elbows on the desk and rested her chin atop her fingers. "I despise cheaters, Sitirus. Not having to do it myself, that's just how you've gotta play sometimes. But I don't appreciate when someone crosses me. Including double-crossing because my trust is hard to earn but worth having long term. Do you know what happens to people who do, Sitirus?" The question made him feel uncomfortable since it carried certain connotations he believed she would have acted upon. Like any one of those situations she mentioned earlier if she did not kill him herself. It was to keep him in check, telling him to behave whether he harbored ill will and intent to commit it or not. Both of which he lacked.

Sitirus frowned as he nodded and answered, "Yes," though thought she would ask if he had wanted to hear the consequences anyway. He felt relieved when Horlka did not and sat up straight.

"Your mother informed you well," she added. Sitirus could not tell if it was a statement or if she meant to pose it as a question. It was true regardless, so he had little response but to confirm with a nod. Truth be told, Motira had not; but it was better to show he understood the half-truth so as not to come across otherwise. "Saves me the trouble of having to explain everything. You know you're bound for Taneth and that we'll arrive in a week's time. Could be a rough week, what with the pirates coming out of their shells, so just be prepared to help defend my ship if we're attacked. That sailor who brought you aboard explained when the mess hall's open, right?" Receiving a nod from Sitirus, she continued with, "Little else aside from keeping out of the way till then. You'll be free to disembark and go about your business once we've docked in Taneth. But you'll be on your own then; this is a one-way trip, so don't expect to return with your tail tucked between your legs."

Sitirus cleared his throat before saying, "I understand. In fact, that is what I wished to speak about with you, Horlka." Not wanting to create a misunderstanding and needing to be honest about what just came to him, he put his cards on the table upfront. "Although to tell you the truth, I would like to propose an alternative if I may." He watched as Horlka narrowed her eyes in annoyance, silently demanding if there was a problem with the arrangement. "This is a huge favor my mother called in and I am in your debt. Defending the Red Dugal from pirates, although important, hardly seems enough to cover it," he clarified. "If I could be of service for the duration of my stay, by all means, please do make use of me as a token of gratitude. I am aware of the lengths you are going ferrying me to Taneth as repayment to my mother, and I thank you on her behalf and mine as well. However, and feel free to correct me if I am mistaken, your help does not come as cheap as you make it sound. Some measure of further reimbursement is required, through drakes or by working for you until my parting. If I am not mistaken, how many drakes must I pay? Or what sort of work would you require? In addition to fortifying against pirates, I could also load and unload shipments, work with the ship's cook, and help the crew with their duties maintaining the vessel if permitted."

Horlka crossed her arms and said, "I've already got sailors for all that," rejecting his offer. But she leaned back into her chair and added, "But you're right about more payment." She watched as Sitirus opened his mouth to offer drakes and held a hand up to turn him down. "No need to pay me in coin, Sitirus, your mother's already given plenty." She leaned forward and placed her elbows on the desk to rest her chin on both hands. "Aware of Sutch's pressing need for a navy?" she asked half rhetorically to demonstrate her familiarity with his background. "Word in Anvil suggests their king's looking to build one as a buffer against piracy. As someone who's had her fair share sinking pirate ships all across the Empire's waters in the Abecean Sea, I'd be happy to cooperate. But only on a contract basis; we're still privateers, and oftentimes smuggle contraband from Anvil into each of Hammerfell's bay kingdoms and its peninsula," she proposed, worrying Sitirus since he did not like where her idea was going and had no choice but to follow along. He started to question it when she shushed him with a finger. "I'm not asking you to fool the king into thinking we're upstanding folk, Sitirus," she added to alleviate his concern. "Gods know we're not; he's aware too and would see right through our deception. But we've been upfront to him about our smuggling as a courtesy, so he doesn't obstruct it even though he disapproves. What I'd like from you instead of coin is for you to write a recommendation. Reaffirm we've no interest in quarreling with him over contraband not meant for his kingdom and express our mutual agreement. We share a common enemy and are committed to seeing pirates brought to justice. I'd rather not make an enemy of him if I don't have to; it wouldn't benefit me. However, each time I've had to sail through his waters his ships accosted the Red Dugal to inspect it for goods stolen from his kingdom. I'm not so stupid as to carry them. I'd like for them to stop so we can have safe passage to be on our merry way without interference."

"Ah, I see," Sitirus understood where she was going. It made sense given her reputation.

"It'd be impossible not to. Why risk my ship on a pointless inconvenience?" Horlka asked rhetorically, looking at him expectantly. "You can do it, right, Sitirus? It'd actually be simple to."

Sitirus put a hand to his chin and looked down at the floor in thought. "I could," he said in consideration. "Your aid would be instrumental to his cause. You have greater flexibility by being a privateer than an officer of the law and are on the king's side. What is more, you have connections in the criminal underworld who can provide information on the pirates' comings and goings. You are free to go against the law if it is for a common interest and does a public service. Though King Grunak gro-Uzugurz of Sutch would pay, it would save him the costs of outfitting the Red Dugal."

"Exactly," she replied. "Nobody knows my ship better than I. I know how to keep it afloat."

"However," Sitirus then looked up with a counterargument, explaining, "by writing a letter of recommendation I would be suborning smuggling. My name will forever be associated with the crime as somebody willing to turn a blind eye. My integrity shall be at stake and I will be suspected of aiding and abetting a smuggling ring whether I am part of it or not. Even if I am found unwilling by some, there will always be people who would see me as a criminal, making me subject to their interrogation of my involvement. I could be found not guilty in a court of law but they would still perceive me negatively if they feel the judge erred in their declaration. On the flipside, let us say I am found guilty and sentenced to imprisonment. The ruling could enable their prosecution of you, should the Empire no longer have need of your services or if Hammerfell's kingdoms determine I had a hand in this scheme, especially were I to cooperate if it would decrease my own time served. I might even become a victim as much as a collaborator if rival competitors carry grudges against you and think I can be used as leverage. Affiliation would get me caught in the crossfire. Anything that impedes me, be it trouble with the law, injury or death, would even accomplish what my father likely intends if he were to get his hands on me. It would also tarnish my reputation in Sutch. I am in good standing with the Orsimer and know they are not so forgiving of someone who would even shield lawbreakers. It would not benefit me because there is simply none to gain. Apart from being given no choice since I am indebted to you and could be disposed of with ease, the crime of which can be covered up, for what reasons would I knowingly break the law if it puts me at risk or fails?"

"None," Horlka answered promptly in a curt tone. She reached down to open a drawer and pulled out a decanter, setting it on the desk before bringing out a pair of glasses. She took one and held it out as a way of asking if he wanted a drink. Sitirus politely shook his head, raising his hand to decline. Unoffended, Horlka put the glass back before pulling the cork out, saying, "Everyone's got to get their hands dirty sometimes, Sitirus," as she poured the wine into her own. "That's how the world works, including combat. You've just started learning the ways of battle if not war. You make enemies every day, and you'll be raising your weapons and bringing them down a lot. You're no longer a boy, Sitirus, but a grown man, so you should realize that the world's not going to bow to your whims just because you don't want to bend the rules or break them. You have to pull at its strings to make it work for you and know when you should and when not to. Nobody'll do anything out of the goodness of their hearts unless you do something for them, be it payment or doing them a service. How do you think politics and business work, Sitirus? Not that I need to ask; you already know the answer." She picked up her glass and took a sip before resuming, "Otherwise, you'll find yourself all alone with nobody to look out for you because you can't do the same for them. Motira knows this just as well and fought tooth and nail getting favors so she could give the world to you. Why else would I agree to overlook you stowing away on the Red Dugal and ferrying you to safety in Taneth? There's nothing in it for me personally, just your mother calling in the favor I owe her."

"Sorry," Sitirus apologized. "I worry the gesture will give the impression that I am a felon."

"Then explain why you're writing it," Horlka offered. "He'll understand."

"You sound as if you know he will," the young man commented.

"I'm not the one who lived in Sutch for four years, Sitirus," Horlka turned it around towards him, taking another sip. "Even if you've never met him in person, you know him more than I do."

"You mean "familiar," Horlka?" he clarified for her.

She shrugged. "Same thing in my book," she dismissed the semantics, removing a logbook from another drawer and setting it by the inkwell and quill. "I want that letter written, Sitirus, and I expect it done by the time we reach Rihad so my contact in the capital can get it to Sutch at once."

Sitirus tilted his head inquisitively. "If you do not mind my asking, how might it get there?"

"Across the Brena River, obviously," Horlka answered pointedly, though it seemed she did not care keeping that confidential. As she said, the Brena River was the only thing that divided the Kingdoms of Rihad and Sutch. "But if you're interested in the details, there's someone in the area who'll take small parcels over it for a price. Sometimes they'll ferry a person for the right amount. Otherwise, they'd have to take the bridge and bribe the right people if they're on duty. Good if you need something—like the letter—delivered without scrutiny from the Legion or with expedience." She then gulped down another sip of wine, adding, "You want to stay in touch with your mother?"

Sitirus shook his head again to politely decline, saying, "I appreciate the offer, though I am afraid not. Neither of us want to risk communication with the other to keep my father from finding out. Still, I do not wish to rule it out if and when I must write to her in secret, like on my deathbed."

Horlka wrote on a blank sheet, saying, "Here, my contact in Rihad," as she handed it over.

Accepting the paper from her and folding it, Sitirus pocketed it with the realization that he was bordering criminality. He was almost half-tempted to go against his mother's wish by sending word through an unsanctioned channel. It was wrong of him to have taken the name from Horlka. That gave him the impression he was buying moon-sugar or one of the drugs produced with it from a Skooma dealer. He did not dare examine it to keep physical contact at a minimum and store it in a controlled environment. His pocket was too close for comfort, so he resolved to contain it in one of his sacks later. A part of him hoped he would somehow misplace the parchment or that it would get damaged. Its loss would have freed him from having to hold onto the name he had yet to peruse and memorize. Realistically though, he was going to have to look at it at some point, figuring there would have been time later to and to decide if he was going to commit to keeping it or abandon it.

"Going back to defending my ship," Horlka resumed, "I expect you'll take orders well and fall in line. Despite your mother's…opinionated objection, she reluctantly consented knowing it's time you learn hardship without her there to coddle you or a teacher to show the way. She's assured me you'll take initiative when the situation calls for it. I shouldn't be taking her word at face value quite yet, though Motira's one of the most credible people I've worked with in Anvil. So, I'll give you the benefit of the doubt by giving that much credit upfront." She finished the last sip of wine, placing the glass on the desk as she stood and walked around to stand in front of Sitirus. "Besides, it'd be good training. Not every day someone like you gets to learn how to fight alongside privateers like mine. She raised a finger pointedly to add, "If we get into a scuffle," before lowering it. "I've got some room tucked away in the cargo hold for training dummies. You'd do well to make use of your time getting to know how to swing your weapons inside a moving ship. The cramped spaces will do you some good if we're forced inside during a raid or if you find yourself onboard another ship in the future. Learn how to be mindful of your surroundings on one and to be careful fighting around cargo. Lot of ships go around carrying some pretty dangerous cargo they," Horlka raised a hand to list with her fingers, "don't want found, lost, damaged, or set loose aboard their own ships."

Sitirus inclined his head in appreciation. "Thank you, I will do my best."

Horlka nodded, warning, "Just don't go swinging them around anywhere else on my ship," to make it clear he understood. "I'll not tolerate that sort of tomfoolery, even from my own crew." She walked past him to start cleaning up the treasure. "Can't tell you how many times I've had to throw someone overboard for that. I stopped counting because even that's become an annoyance."

"I can only imagine," Sitirus replied, turning to her. "I promise to keep my training limited to the designated area. Would anyone in your crew be accommodating if I were to ask for advice?"

"Feel free to ask any of them whenever they're down there," she permitted while throwing her treasure into the chest haphazardly but taking care not to break anything of value. "Some were trainers since before signing on. They know their stuff, so it'll be worthwhile learning from them."

"It should be," he agreed. "I am eager to contribute what I can if I am able to learn."

"Don't get your hopes up just yet," said Horlka. "You've only got a week or so aboard my ship, Sitirus. What little you learn will only be things new blood is expected to get. Basic stuff, but in your case it's going to be a lot less. Just try to make the most of it, so don't worry if you've not understood enough." She shut the chest once the treasure was inside and turned around to face him while warning, "And stay out of my crew's way. They'll take care of things, so you won't need to worry. Chances are they'll likely stop whoever's got the guts to attack my ship before you'll even see the light of battle." She got closer to grab him by the collar. "And another thing, Sitirus, don't even think about maiming them even while training. I need them, and I can be very unforgiving if one of them winds up dead of foul play when they're supposed to keep the ship afloat and sailing."

"I will be careful," Sitirus promised to ensure he would not harm her crew.

"See that you are," Horlka held him to it, releasing her grip and stepping back to lean upon the table. She crossed her arms while asking, "Now, what's this alternative you've in mind, Sitirus? You don't want to sail for Taneth anymore? You know your mother wanted me to ferry you there. I'm not going to change course again just because you suddenly want to go elsewhere on a whim."

Sitirus was quick to alleviate her impatience with him by shaking his head and saying, "No, I still want to comply with my mother's wish for me to sail north. Though I noticed the Moth Priest who boarded during your quarrel with my father. Since you just said you diverted from your prior course, I presume he is bound elsewhere on a quest for an Elder Scroll." His deduction was sound, though based more on common knowledge. Word spread whenever the Cult of the Ancestor Moth went out looking, so it was a rather obvious conclusion anyone could reach without full awareness.

"You're more perceptive than I thought," the Nordic woman observed. "Although, whether your eavesdropping brings you fruition or ruin is yet to be determined." The young man could not help but frown slightly at that, worried that Horlka was plotting something he almost interfered in. He remained silent as she went on, "But you're right, the priest's off on another of those pigheaded missions. They're a driven bunch, I'll give them that much. But it's been thirty-one years since the damn things up and vanished from their vaults in the Imperial Palace. Into Thalmor hands I'd bet, thanks to whatever Naarifin's done in the Imperial City. Best guess is those scrolls are somewhere in Alinor, Kingdom of Alinor specifically. It's where their leadership rules from and where they'll be able to figure out how to decipher the scrolls for themselves. Lots of nooks and crannies so they can hide out with the scrolls too when the Alliance gets there to put them into the ground. Or, if it were me, preferably, Coldharbour. If there's one thing those High Elves are good at, it's concealing their hiding spots in the short-term whenever they're not incompetent enough to figure out how to. Until they royally screw even that up or the Alliance finds them with more ease than they've ever had. How they managed to last is beyond me. If the priests want their scrolls back, they'll need to wait until the Alliance is done invading Alinor. Unless they're stupid enough to be too impatient."

Sitirus politely cleared his throat before saying, "To be fair, the Cult of the Ancestor Moth is right to be concerned. That I agree on. It does not help that the Last Dragonborn discovered three in Skyrim and immediately handed them over to Ulfric Stormcloak." He put a fist to his chin while looking at the floor in thought. "One that supposedly helped stop Alduin and the others from aiding the Dawnguard in their mission to purge Clan Volkihar from Haafingar." He made eye contact and added, "Those three remain in Ulfric's clutches in Windhelm where his own Stormcloaks are still trying to interpret them to his personal gain without the cult's aid. Who knows what they will do?"

Horlka snorted at his counterpoint. "So what?" she demanded rhetorically. "That traitorous milk drinker can have them for all I care. The damn things contain prophecies of the future, right? Did those scrolls predict the Dominion's rise to power and the First Great War decades ago? Have the priests ever shared that knowledge with the Empire so they could stop those High Elf Thalmor ahead of time?" Her questions, though rhetorical, could have had answers Sitirus might have given had he known any. As much as he felt it right to defend the cult's honor, even he had to admit she had a point. Since the First Great War's end, Cyrodiil was divided over the cult's service and use. While some still respected them, many were just as quick to say the cult did nothing to warn against the Thalmor's sudden invasion. Nor did Sitirus feel prepared to stand up for them knowing so little himself. So much time passed since then; the Empire and the rest of Tamriel long since moved on, now focused on ending the Thalmor and their Dominion. And Ulfric Stormcloak, he hoped, as the evil barbarian usurper was already plotting to betray his temporary allies by invading once the war concluded. Ulfric might not have been able to read the Elder Scrolls in his possession himself; his complete illiteracy afforded some comfort. However, the Last Dragonborn supposedly could even though he was also illiterate and thus unable to properly interpret the scrolls the way a Moth Priest could. He most likely told his High King what he wanted to hear, things that the whole Stormcloak army dreamed of too in their overly fanatical enrapturement with Ulfric. Willing enslavement was more like it. Although he thought the cult was useless, Ulfric could change his mind at any time if he realized how important it was. As the only ones who could read Elder Scrolls and interpret them correctly, the Moth Priests were at risk of being kidnapped by Stormcloaks for their unlawful ruler.

Sitirus cleared his throat. "I am sure they have their reasons," he gave them the best defense he could think of. It was more of an avoidance, and a weak one at that, but what more could he say on the cult's behalf? "They know more about the Elder Scrolls than we do and, although that puts them at an advantage over everyone else should they make a play, understand the consequences of misusing the scrolls. We may be right to worry or not concern ourselves with the cult's relevance but the reality is that they are the only ones who can handle the scrolls with care and responsibility. Without them, who knows what sort of people would in their place? Someone like the Thalmor or Ulfric Stormcloak?" He watched as Horlka considered his point, aware she could care less but saw where he was going. Sitirus considered asking if she could resume her original course as the Moth Priest wanted depending on her response. Her refusal seemed more likely though, so a compromise was in order. In case she was inclined to reject even that, he asked, "Given his destination is likely confidential, I shall not inquire as to where he is going. But would I be allowed to know what port you are ferrying him to, if you do not mind my asking?" hoping that would force the issue for him. Though it was not his business, the place in question would determine if he could change his own.

Horlka considered his question while eyeing him suspiciously, wondering why he posed it and if she should or should not answer it. Determining he meant no harm, she answered, "Hegathe, on the other side of southern Hammerfell," without clarifying whether she referred to the kingdom or its capital. Before he responded, she asked, "Why? You looking to work for him or something?"

Sitirus opened his mouth then closed it to ponder the idea. Helping a Moth Priest in search of an Elder Scroll was bound to get him noticed by the Empire's upper echelons of Cyrodiil. That included his father. But it would get him further from the province by placing him in Hegathe, the capital or somewhere in its kingdom, or wherever else the Moth Priest's journey went. That Elder Scroll, or more than one, might not have necessarily been in Hegathe or anywhere in its kingdom. Once it was discovered, Sitirus' contract could end there and leave him free to adventure anywhere. He had to admit it was tempting, though he stood by his mother's decision as close as he could by replying with, "No, I would like to ask for you to resume course for Hegathe. His mission is more important than my safety, and I do not wish to obstruct him from wherever his journey takes him," to test if she would be open to his concession by deferring to where she was taking the Moth Priest.

Horlka narrowed her eyes again, this time accusatorily. "Are you daft, Sitirus?" she asked. "Taneth's closer than Hegathe, and your mother swore me to see you there safely with great haste."

"But my passage was negotiated off the books and on short notice, yes?" Sitirus asked her. "If his was arranged and set in stone prior, his should take priority over mine. The cult is going to wonder why his mission was delayed if word gets out you chose to help me over one of their own."

"His was," the Nord confirmed. "But my favor to your mother takes precedence. If they're going to get their robes in a bunch over it, let them. It'll serve them right for not telling the Empire."

Sitirus was starting to wonder if she would even accept his proposal given her bias against the cult. He did not want to back down on their behalf though, but could not deny his defense was more of a courtesy and made primarily to keep people with ill intent from acquiring Elder Scrolls. "I appreciate your commitment to my mother and I, Horlka," he thanked her and bowed his head in gratitude. "But are you certain it is wise to prioritize mine over that of a Moth Priest's quest for Elder Scrolls?" He held a hand up requesting she hear him out before reaching the decision already made. "I understand your point and cannot deny I am in some agreement. But given my argument, I think you should reconsider. Suppose someone with ill intent were to discover the scrolls; maybe, as we established, the Thalmor, Ulfric Stormcloak, or someone like them. Are you truly okay with letting them keep the Elder Scrolls and wield powers only the cult understands than the cult itself?"

Horlka eyed him sharply for a moment before exhaling. "You make a good point," she said while shutting her eyes. "However," she then opened them while giving Sitirus a hard look which implied her mind was set, "the cult's influence across the Empire isn't what it used to be. Cyrodiil and High Rock are the only two provinces left, and the latter's inclined to secede now that they've got no reason to remain." She walked over to one of the shelves and ran her finger along a stuffed fish as if to check it for dust. "Nobody listens to the cult preach its values and traditions anymore. Rulers and royal courts across both provinces no longer invite Moth Priests to advise them or give prophecies. Appointments to the Imperial Library dried up when the Elder Scrolls up and vanished. Novitiates have become rather scarce that it's rare to see one enlist; they're so few and far between that even the cult's given up on recruitment altogether." She turned back to him, adding, "The Cult of the Ancestor Moth's become just another temple in Cyrodiil. Very few of them hope their order will regain the power it lost. Though even the faithful are steadily declining in number. Its members are either dying or relinquishing their faith. They'll soon disappear in the footsteps of their scrolls."

"Perhaps," Sitirus said on middle ground, aware he had no power over the cult's future. He would not have been able to change it for better or worse even if he tried. As one apprentice warrior leaving the Gold Coast for Hammerfell, Sitirus stood no chance of offering even the remotest help. Luck was not exactly on one's side when actively searching for Elder Scrolls, which made coming across even one an unlikelihood to impossibility. The Elder Scrolls were numerous in number and uncountable due to their mysterious properties. No one, not even the Moth Priests themselves, had ever been successful in specifying an exact total that would stick. Despite that sounding like it was in his favor, Sitirus could go his whole life without laying eyes on one or finding clues pointing to it. The cult's quest was no task for an apprentice warrior like him, a Nibenese Imperial who lacked Magicka to call upon. It was best left to the Moth Priests since they were the only ones who could interpret signs of the Elder Scrolls' whereabouts and were equipped to handle the scrolls. However, that alone might not have been enough to restore their order. Having the scrolls helped, though the cult needed to convince the Empire to allow them back into its good graces. Some parts of Cyrodiil at least could probably be persuaded into welcoming them back, though High Rock was uncertain to readmit the cult and it was just as unknown if the rest of Tamriel would either. Who knew if the provinces would look favorably upon a restored Cult of the Ancestor Moth prioritizing the Empire?

Thinking he was running out of time to compromise, Sitirus decided to stop beating around the bush and ask, "So, if you will not resume prior course, would it at least be acceptable to allow me to disembark somewhere before Taneth?" to force the issue again, hoping she would consider.

"Where?" the captain asked. "You can't go to Rihad's kingdom, and I'm not allowing you to set foot on the peninsula or Stirk either. You wouldn't last a day against the thieves and pirates."

"Someplace in the Kingdom of Taneth would be fine," he clarified, "but I do not know the kingdom very well. Its capital is the only place I am familiar with but have never been to. I assume though, that being a bay kingdom means a number of its settlements are ports or harbor towns. Are we going to be stopping at any one along the way? If so, which would you recommend I leave at?"

Horlka raised an eyebrow at his inquiry but saw no reason to question him. "There's plenty along the kingdom's coasts, Sitirus," she answered, returning to her desk. She opened a drawer to pull out a map, then moved her glass and pushed some loose papers aside to unfurl it. Sitirus joined her to see for himself, reading to himself the names of ports and harbor towns in the kingdom. The captain touched one in particular and said, "Biggest of which is this one, Roseguard, a checkpoint to the capital." She turned to face him. "This is the one the Red Dugal's going to stop at en route."

Sitirus placed his own finger by the name and repeated, "Roseguard…" trying to remember if he knew the place. "I feel like I heard of it before but only in passing." He returned the look and asked, "It is the harbor town where the Battle of Roseguard was fought during the First Great War and got its name from, correct?" for confirmation once he recalled learning about that growing up.

"One and the same," Horlka confirmed.

"Do you know anything about it?" he inquired.

"Little, I'm afraid," she replied. "Roseguard's been one of the most important checkpoints in the kingdom's history. Most merchandise delivered to the capital from the south and east always passes through the town, where the goods are examined by the kingdom's Census and Excise office for approval. Anything given the go ahead goes straight to the capital, though the town gets it fair share of shipments too. It's as much a center of commerce as the capital itself with about as many stores and guilds. The biggest branch of the Bank of Taneth you'll find outside the capital is there. Roseguard's also got several temples. Most important of which are to the Yokudan gods, Tava and Zeht, and their Imperial counterparts, Kynareth and Zenithar. Rest are dedicated to the minor gods worshipped across the kingdom and in the rest of Hammerfell. You'll also come across quite a few inns and taverns that cater to the needs of their clients, and bunkhouses for sailors. But you'll want to steer clear of corner clubs because all sorts of shady characters frequent the joints. Including the Hammerfell Thieves Guild and Skooma dealers; not to mention cheating gamblers, sirens, women and men alike, pretending to share a night of pleasure, smugglers—worse than me—and corsairs."

"Hmm…" Sitirus turned back to the map and said, "Sounds like Anvil. Or what it used to."

"Roseguard's a much better place than Anvil," Horlka added. "Even though it was invaded by Arannelya after her conquest of Anvil, the town's been completely rebuilt since its destruction. There's hardly any ruins left, apart from the remains of a few old quarters that some of its residents still live in. Comes from its status as a checkpoint." She walked away from the map to look out of her windows at the Abecean Sea. "Compared to Anvil, Roseguard makes this place look more like a backwater slum. The Empire stopped giving a damn about this town when Arannelya left nothing standing." Horlka held her hands behind her back as she explained, "Because Anvil was the capital of its county, it stood to lose a lot more than a kingdom's checkpoint. A harbor town like Roseguard can be reconstructed to full glory since the kingdom's funding it. As rightfully it should so capital can resume circulation. A kingdom can only prosper if coffers are replenished, shelves restocked."

She then turned back to Sitirus. "But Anvil? It was the port city-state of the Gold Coast. A fortress made as impregnable as major city-states like the Imperial City by the strength of its walls. Coin and merchandise flowed upstream; people looking for imported goods from Hammerfell and High Rock, and even Skyrim's Haafingar, by ship always came here. Some of the biggest maritime markets ever known were shaped right here in Anvil. It shared such close ties with its immediate neighbors that it was like a brotherhood. The Imperial Navy harbored many of their best warships in Anvil. Its guildhalls were among the best in Cyrodiil, and its temples some of the most beautiful in part due to Dibellan influence." She watched as Sitirus touched the amulet around his neck and paused to let the young man recall when he and his mother parted ways earlier that morning. Horlka recognized it as an amulet of Dibella, though did not take Sitirus for one of the Divine's followers. However, she waited for him to bring his hand down before concluding, "Then Arannelya wrecked everything, turning the once vibrant shine of the Gold Coast into a destitute backwater no different from the former harbor towns it once ruled. Better than Bravil and Leyawiin over east but still, the Empire's got no reason to keep Anvil funded. Not when there's a more powerful candidate north."

"Sutch," said Sitirus declaratively.

Horlka replied with, "Exactly."

Sitirus turned back to the map to examine the spot marked with Roseguard's name. "Makes sense," he agreed even as the reminder of Anvil's fall pained him. "Did Roseguard fully recover?"

"Like Arannelya never conquered it," Horlka answered. "You'll see for yourself."

Sitirus' eyes lit up for a moment. "Does that mean you approve?"

"Do you not want to disembark in Roseguard?" she asked with a sarcastic smirk.

The young man nodded. "Yes, I do."

The captain returned to her desk and sat down, taking a ledger out from one of the drawers and opening it as she did. "Fine, Roseguard it is," she replied, dipping her quill in the inkwell and then writing something down. At first, Sitirus thought she was recording the change to his itinerary. A quick glance assuaged his concern when he saw the page contained no reference on his presence. "You're not in the book, Sitirus," Horlka said to fully dispel what remained of any doubt. "I'll tell the crew we'll be stopping there instead, while you get yourself down to the mess hall. Seems you could use a bite to eat since you left your house. I'd recommend hurrying so you can snatch a seat. Once the crew makes their way over, there's no telling if you'll find one. Reserve one if you can."

Sitirus nodded but did not bow to show he would excuse himself just yet. "Thank you," he said to show his appreciation before asking, "One last thing for now though. Might I return to you with more questions later if any come up? I do not mean to further impose if it would be a bother."

Horlka was still writing when she answered with, "If you've got questions, now's the time to be asking. I've got more pressing things to deal with, so I won't have time later today." Stopping for a moment, she looked up and added, "But you'll be dining with me tomorrow night rather than the mess hall. I make it a habit to invite passengers for a meal and get to know them a little better."

"Mm," Sitirus bowed his head in appreciation. "I will be looking forward to it," he replied as he ignored the growling coming from his stomach. He would be satisfying its demand for food, though wanted to address another pressing concern first. "While overhearing the argument before, I noticed you lie about surrendering me to the pirates on Stirk." The remark got Horlka's attention and she looked up from the ledger as if he was accusing her after expressing gratitude, then realized he was not. He gave a slight smile at her understanding. "I know you shall not and told him that to try and persuade him into leaving," he added, then frowned. "But in spite of your aforementioned opposition to piracy, there are rumors you are affiliated with that particular crew. In what capacity and to what extent, I do not know. If you do not mind my asking, may I hear your side of the story so I can rest easy knowing I am in safe hands? I apologize if it is too accusatory a request, though I must confess part of me has some lingering doubts and I worry for my mother's safety in Anvil."

Horlka understood his reasoning, saying, "You're not the first to think that, Sitirus," before shifting in her chair to get more comfortable. "I'm aware of the gossip but don't give a damn from a scamp's ass. Load of dung is what it is, quite frankly." She returned to her writing as she added, "There's no way I'd ever consort with those vipers, even if my own crew were in danger. Although, we've got something of a ceasefire for now." Sitirus gave her an inquisitive look she caught in her peripheral vision, so she explained, "When the war began, the Empire and the Kingdom of Rihad's king got them to sign an armistice. According to the terms, neither the Empire or Hammerfell will cull their ships so long as the pirates stick to laying siege to the Kingdom of Falinesti instead. For their cooperation and leaving us alone, they'll receive the Wood Elven kingdom once Valenwood's been fully conquered. They've already begun moving in because they've just finished usurping its throne and are now bringing Jaqspur into their armada, so it'll be official soon enough. With Stirk and the Kingdom of Falinesti under their control, they'll be able to legitimize their raids and have a strong claim to this part of the Gold Coast since the Empire's influence over it is waning heavily."

"And the Alliance is alright with this?" Sitirus asked, not liking where that was going.

"For the time being, or so long as they don't backstab us while we're preoccupied," Horlka answered. "The Empire and Hammerfell are going to divvy up Valenwood once the war concludes with a Thalmor defeat. I hear Cyrodiil's only getting the Kingdom of Arenthia but everything else, save the Kingdom of Falinesti as I said, will all go to Hammerfell. You'd think we'd get more but the Empire's in no position to rule more than it can handle in Cyrodiil. It'll squeeze what little the kingdom's got for itself, though I suppose the Count of Skingrad will confiscate most of it because anything that comes out of Arenthia will pass through his county." Horlka smirked and gave a wry chuckle. "Won't that be a kick in the Empire's teeth?" she quipped as if anticipating the day when her reins would snap in its grip. "Just another example of Colovian Estate power appropriating the spoils of war." Her good humor quickly faded though as she shook her head like she was doubting her own argument. "Then again, the Empire's also going to try and use the Kingdom of Arenthia's lands as ground zero for an attempted restoration. It'll install some Colovian Imperial king to rule the kingdom or use one of the Wood Elves as their puppet king to spare themselves the trouble of having to figure out which of their Colovian Imperial nobles is fit to rule Arenthia on their behalf."

Sitirus tilted his head in thought, wondering how the Empire would achieve recovery with only a single Bosmeri kingdom. It already lost all of the provinces but High Rock and those Breton kingdoms were retaking power like the Colovian Estates. It was not like when the whole continent was conquered by Reman Cyrodiil in the First Era and Tiber Septim at the end of the Second Era. The first scenario Horlka described sounded more than likely given its current state. "I do not think the Empire would be able to hold the Kingdom of Arenthia indefinitely," he voiced his skepticism. "The kingdom was invaded by the Alliance when the war began. There is hardly anything left that could even sustain what remains of Arenthia." He ran a hand over his chin, considering the length of time it would take for a supposed reign over the kingdom to last. "Speaking hypothetically, the Empire would need to account for a number of things. For instance: training the right candidate to govern Arenthia for it. Who would the emperor and Elder Council have in mind? How obedient is the king going to be? What does he need from the Empire for his reign? Is he at all familiar with a kingdom he never ruled? Who would be on his council and how will his royal court be staffed? Is he going to rebuild the Kingdom of Arenthia's infrastructure so the Empire could potentially gain a net income and resources, and how soon could it acquire both? Will he keep the Bosmeri people happy and from rebelling against his rule, and how effective would he be at suppressing revolts in the kingdom? How effective would his steward be at collecting taxes? Would he contribute to the conversion to worship of our Divines and how? Above all, what does he expect to gain for himself, and can the king establish his dynasty and secure its future? The list goes on, and all of it and more is required for a long-term investment that will not only guarantee success but generate dividends."

He made eye contact with Horlka and added, "The king also has to calculate what Arenthia will have left in the Second Great War's aftermath which, I assume, is not going to amount to very much. Even if all of the above criteria has been met in full, that alone is going to determine whether his reign is going to last and for how long or not. If he cannot provide service to the Empire, there is little to no need keeping him on retainer or installing a king at all for that matter. Why go to the trouble of installing a king or a puppet king who would have no more power and authority than its mayors? Better to take what it can get and then abandon the kingdom to whoever wants it. Or, split the lands apart by destroying its status and letting them fend for themselves to keep someone from constructing a new kingdom on Arenthia's ashes. That would inhibit anyone from challenging the Empire. Although, it could be a long time before someone could pose such a threat and there is no guarantee they would achieve progress, if anyone goes to the trouble of seeing if it were possible."

Horlka shrugged as she sat back, eyeing the drawer that contained her decanter indecisively enough that Sitirus realized his explanation, though comprehensive, exhausted her. "Everything's got to be so difficult with the Empire's nobles," she sighed in exasperation. "Sorry, Sitirus, present company not excluded but nothing personal." Tearing her eyes from the drawer, the Nordic woman blinked rapidly to clear her head. She took the glass off the desk and stored it in another drawer to mitigate her wine's temptation, going as far as locking the drawer with a key she put in her pocket.

Sitirus gave her an understand smile to show he did not mind. "No offense taken, Horlka," he said. "But do the Lhotunics really mind letting the pirates take over the Kingdom of Falinesti?"

"It's one less Wood Elf kingdom for them to manage," Horlka answered. "That'll take the load off since they're going for the rest of Valenwood. All of Alinor too, I'd wager." Seeing Sitirus tilt his head inquiringly, she elaborated, "From what I've gathered, Hammerfell's already set itself up to begin establishing its own empire. The Lhotunics are getting most of Valenwood like I said, and they'll most likely lay claim to the whole of Alinor. The Alliance of Man was created because it shared a common enemy in the Thalmor and their Dominion. But of the trio, only Hammerfell's able to benefit in the long run. It's using its allies just as much as they are using the Lhotunics, and the Empire's the only other party that knows it though doesn't have the power to halt Hammerfell."

"Including the Kingdom of Rihad?" Sitirus asked, getting something of an incredulous look from her in response. "Having lived in Sutch for four years, I know its kingdom does not approve of this arrangement. The outrage heightened tension between the Orsimer and their allies in Rihad and the Empire. While strong enough to defend against an invasion by pirates, unlike the Kingdom of Wayrest when it was first sacked, the concession was made without their consent. The Kingdom of Sutch only became aware when the news broke after. They are angry at having been left out by their allies as it implied they were not considered as such. It reminds them of how Nova Orsinium was mistreated by High Rock and northern Hammerfell in the Late Third Era and Early Fourth, so they fear another sacking is inevitable. The Kingdom of Rihad is aware of this and has given them its apology and assurances that future accords that impact the Kingdom of Sutch will include them. But the Empire's position is that the Kingdom of Sutch is not a major player in the Second Great War in that it is a part of the Empire and as such has to abide by the terms of treaties it establishes."

"I'm well aware of the king's decree," said Horlka. "He proclaimed his opposition and then pledged support to Anvil and its surroundings. Won him a lot of popularity in this part of the Gold Coast even though some are correct in saying he's only doing it to defend his own kingdom instead of them. Thing is, he can only do so much; war's taken its fair share of Orcish soldiers which limits him to assigning patrols in the southwest. Not to mention that it's part of a play for absorbing Anvil into his kingdom. More land he gets, the better his chances are of being named a Count of Cyrodiil. Doesn't surprise me though, the Gold Coast's southwest is up for grabs to whoever may desire it."

"Like Count Kastullian Fausonicus of Kvatch?" Sitirus suggested. "There was talk around Anvil lately that he is plotting to claim the southwest for himself. Rumors mostly, but one merchant visiting from Kvatch seemed convinced the Count was. I cannot fathom why though. He and King Grunak have been such staunch allies that they are like brothers." He raised a hand to his chin and thought of the consequences. "If I had to guess, he will hold the southwest for some time and then gift it when the time is right. The Elder Council has a long history of denying the Orsimer approval to expand their borders. With County Anvil's status gone and the other Colovian Estates shaking off the Empire's grip bit by bit, one might think the king able to take advantage. The Elder Council is not keen on losing their hold over the estates though, so they would do anything to try and retain what lands they have left, even if those lands are as worthless as petty trinkets." Sitirus paced back and forth as he further evaluated the situation. "It would not be unusual for County Kvatch to take territory that does not belong to it. It already laid claim to the lands south of its capital which used to be covered by County Anvil's jurisdiction. Its takeover would look like yet another power grab by a Colovian Estate. Annexation has practically become uncommon in the estates these days that nobody bats an eye. It also leaves Emperor Ashterius and the Elder Council vulnerable; they cannot risk opposing one without provoking the others. The only way they could would be to isolate them.

"Except that is easier said than done. County Kvatch is by far the most powerful estate and both Counties Skingrad and Chorrol know it. Controlling most of the Gold Coast will make County Kvatch much stronger than it already is. This will enable it to stand against the Empire and become its own kingdom. That kind of power is irresistible to rulers, not excluding Count Kastullian since he is primed to cement his rule." Sitirus held one hand up and then the other while adding, "Though Skingrad and Chorrol can switch allegiances to fight for the Empire; King Grunak would view his conquest as a betrayal of their bond. Alienated from them, County Kvatch would stand alone unless it looks to Hammerfell for aid. Count Kastullian does not have as close ties with Hammerfell like County Chorrol and King Grunak, unfortunately. The latter of whom, with County Skingrad, pose the most immediate threats. War with both would leave all three too engrossed to notice the Empire betraying County Chorrol and unable to intervene if they did. Chorrol is not exactly easy pickings because it has the terrain advantage in the Colovian Highlands' mountains and has, as I just alluded to, the Kingdom of Elinhir as an ally. Assuming its count does not call it to honor their allegiance, the emperor and Elder Council can reassert their authority and wait for the civil war to end so they can eliminate surviving resistance. The King of Elinhir may also see the conflict as a civil dispute between Cyrodilic powers he has nothing to gain from." He stopped and turned to Horlka, adding, "But control would be theirs again only for a time because even with whatever power is left over from their subjugation, it is far too costly now that Cyrodiil's weaker. And the prospect of inviting County Chorrol to join Hammerfell as a kingdom reinforces their allegiance. Provided he is willing to lend funds, resources, and soldiers to Chorrol's defense, and should the Count of Chorrol agree to secede from Cyrodiil, the sudden infighting would spell doom for Cyrodiil." He walked back to her desk, placing his hands on it to lean over as if he was concluding a pitch to sell her something like a charismatic merchant. His presentation actually impressed Horlka so much that she appeared to consider giving him a standing ovation. She did not because he had yet to share his final delivery.

"Neither Emperor Ashterius nor the Elder Council would dare risk a war with Hammerfell. That leaves them unable to tackle County Chorrol and is just one of the reasons why it should take care when dealing with County Kvatch," he concluded. "It is also one of the same reasons why the Count of Kvatch would not hold most of the Gold Coast or at least not indefinitely." Sitirus stepped back, finishing with, "Cyrodiil's already bleak future would be thrown into limbo were there to be a drastic change to the current social order. Just because that would be the case does not necessarily mean Hammerfell's responsible though. The Redguards are simply fortunate that their province is in an advantageous lead over Cyrodiil. Their ties to the Kingdom of Sutch and County Chorrol are invaluable and give them reason to lend aid should they choose. Infighting among the estates would only weaken Cyrodiil, thereby creating openings Hammerfell can exploit with these two alliances. As long as the Colovian Estates keep from doing anything rash or without reason, and explain their motives to one another, including King Grunak, their solidarity or its illusion holds the Redguards at bay. It is the only bulwark against their invasion and the estates know how fragile its foundation is. One misstep could invite the whole of Hammerfell into invading Cyrodiil at a moment's notice. Maybe not now due to the Second Great War, but at some point after when the Redguards recover their strength. That is why the estates must tread with caution knowing that without them, Cyrodiil will fall to Hammerfell." Sitirus breathed in and exhaled deeply after that display of deduction. He put a lot of thought into it on the spot but knew with confidence that his logic was sound. Knowing the Colovian Estates were Cyrodiil's last defense against Hammerfell brought no comfort though.

Horlka reappraised him with an approving smile, unable to keep herself from chuckling at his thorough analysis. "Wow," she sounded beyond overwhelmed with the rhetoric used to support that logic. "So, this is what it's like talking to a Nibenese Imperial noble from Cyrodiil. First time I've ever had the pleasure." She thought about applauding but crossed her arms instead since there was no one else to share in the round. "Color me impressed, Sitirus. That was quite a precise speech you gave. You've clearly got the knack for eloquence. Not even Hammerfell's Nibenese Imperials could debate on the same level and you've only presented a single argument. How can your father ignore such a gift when his own is so terrible? With that skill in oratory you could have royal courts applying to you instead of the other way around." She watched as Sitirus returned the smile while giving a light chuckle of his own before adding, "I'm serious, Sitirus. I've talked with plenty during my sails between the Gold Coast and Hammerfell. None have even gotten an ounce of compliments out of me, and here you are showing them up. I confess, you'd easily put me to shame in a debate."

"Forgive me," Sitirus apologized with a gracious smile. "I did not mean to upstage you."

"No need," Horlka waved it aside with a smile of her own. "I know when I'm beat. You've got a better understanding of Colovian Imperial politics than I do. Ain't no way I can match words with you, Sitirus." She looked at her quill to find the ink dried and then turned her attention to the ledger. Deciding she could finish after her discussion with Sitirus, she set it aside but kept the book open so the ink could dry. "To answer your point, Count Fausonicus has all the strength he requires to conquer the entire region. Whether he does and for what reason is, as you explained, uncertain."

"That he does," Sitirus had to agree with a sigh and slumped shoulders. "The Empire is not exactly in the best position to salvage what it can for a restored Cyrodiil. It lost Counties Leyawiin, Bravil, and Anvil in the First Great War. High Rock, the Colovian Estates, and Nibenay tenuously remain at best but are each drifting further and further away. Nibenean culture is in decline. County Bruma is the only place in Cyrodiil where it still stands but Stormcloak sympathizing Nords repel it with their racism and Stormcloak supremacy. The Argonians are absorbing all of Blackwood so that it can become official territory of Argonia; quite frankly, it already is and they need not declare it. The way I see it, Cyrodiil is only going to keep getting smaller and weaker. Emperor Ashterius and the Elder Council only seem to be interested in destroying the Thalmor and their Dominion. It feels like the Empire's already reached the point where the end is nigh. In my honest opinion, there is practically no Empire anymore anyway nor any need for it to keep existing. All everyone appears to be doing is maintaining the impression that it still breathes afloat just long enough to milk what they can take or get away in time before it crumbles into dust." Sitirus looked up when he saw the captain bring out her decanter again with the glass she previously offered him. He had to admit his throat was parched from all the talking he just did and decided to accept this time. Though he was not overly fond of wine, he appreciated how it quenched his thirst and gave a measure of comfort.

"Mm," Horlka agreed, her tone softening. "The Empire should be damn ashamed of itself. It's really let itself down with all the infighting." She poured another glass for herself to join Sitirus in his melancholy. "Whole thing's done nothing but fester under the weight of its sins for centuries. Hardly shocking given that the Empire's only ever committed the barest minimum to fixing things. Tamriel wouldn't be so screwed up if the Septims had done their jobs." Taking a sip, she shrugged uncaring before adding, "Maybe it's a good thing the Empire's coming to an end after all this time. It'll finally learn why it kept rotting to the core so the next one, if there's even a next one, can learn from its mistakes." Horlka exhaled and looked deep into the wine as if she was watching something in Sitirus could not see. "Like those pirates on Stirk, for example. Those bastards are in plain sight and the Empire's simply content to let them have the Kingdom of Falinesti instead of telling those Redguards in Hammerfell it wants the kingdom or to take it themselves. They're practically giving it to them for cheap coin so they won't have to take responsibility for administering it." She raised the glass to her lips and gulped another sip down the same time Sitirus took another sip of his own. "The worst part is the Empire's not strong enough to remove them nor will be if this keeps up, and Hammerfell's not going to give a damn one way or the other. The plays are made in the Redguards' favor regardless, whether they are intentionally behind this or are simply fortunate. Both them and the Empire are dropping the pirates onto our laps and expect us to deal with it ourselves like we've always done for them or accept the fact it'll keep happening and move on for the sake of this war."

"Managing its own administration has never been the Empire's strong suit," Sitirus agreed, pausing to look into his wine and see if it contained mysteries or solutions to immerse himself in.

"Ain't that the truth," Horlka lifted her glass to toast his comment. "I know you're unsettled by this, Sitirus. Believe me, I don't like it either. This sort of thing wouldn't have happened under the Commodore, Fasil Umbranox. Were he around today, he'd have thrown everything his armada had against those pirates and laid claim to Stirk himself. Perhaps the Kingdom of Falinesti as well."

"He would deserve it," Sitirus agreed, wondering if King Grunak considered taking up the legacy. It suddenly made him remember to remind her, "Speaking of, how were you involved with that armistice the Empire and Kingdom of Rihad signed with the pirates? Were you a party to it?"

"Oh, that?" she recalled he wanted to know. "In a manner of speaking. Their meeting with the pirates' commodore took place on my ship. I took emissaries from the Empire and the kingdom aboard and sailed to a remote area in the Abecean Sea, across from where the Brena's mouth meets it. That's where we held the negotiation, although I guess it was more of a mercenary contract they were offering him. As the Red Dugal's captain, I was obligated to serve as a witness to its signing."

Sitirus tilted his head, catching her referral to the pirates' leader as a commodore. "Did you sign the document too?" he asked instead, feeling the leader wore it as an insult to Fasil Umbranox.

Horlka shook her head. "Nope, wasn't permitted to. The Empire called me as its witness."

"Meaning you saw their commodore in person?" Sitirus then inquired, figuring his previous question led right into it. "Or read the signature to confirm he signed it and that it was his name?"

The Nordic woman gave an affirmative nod and took another sip. "Sure did. He was every bit as the stories claimed. Didn't even surprise me when he took to that contract for the riches and rule over the Kingdom of Falinesti." Horlka turned her eyes to the windows like she was trying to see if one of the pirate ships was sailing for Anvil. Sitirus got the intent and followed her gaze but found nothing out of the ordinary, just the Abecean Sea's calm waters. "Thought that would be the only time we'd have to meet," she suddenly added to get his attention again even as hers remained on the sea. "But the Empire's emissary instructed me to keep an eye on him and his crew to prevent them from turning on us. Emperor Ashterius and the Elder Council don't trust him enough to keep his end of the bargain but can't be bothered to meet with him in person themselves." Turning back to Sitirus, she took another sip of wine and elaborated, "So, they've appointed me their go-between once the contract was signed and sealed. A liaison, so to speak. As if they think I'd get rid of him."

Sitirus tilted his head, eyes glancing up towards the ceiling. "That makes sense, I suppose," he said, understanding where they were coming from. "You are the only captain for miles who can singlehandedly match up to four pirate ships at once, if the stories of your endeavors are true. And you are also the only person available who knows the Abecean Sea better than most people around Anvil right now." He looked down at her again, thinking he could offer a counterpoint on Horlka's behalf before realizing it was easily refutable. Because the Empire lacked the power to enforce the terms forbidding assault against its lands, there was little stopping the pirates from breaching their contract. The armistice was void without an arbiter to hold them to their word. Had Horlka declined to follow the order, Anvil would have been invaded and its people put to the sword by a merciless pirate captain whose bloodthirst was as unsatiable as his greed. Including everyone he loved dearly and cherished; like his mother, the servants who were like family, and the friends standing by him even as he was leaving forever. He could just picture their faces contorting in fright and sorrow at the armed pirates storming their town and setting it ablaze like Lady Arannelya's army did before. Then, Sitirus had a chilling realization. "But if you are ferrying me to Roseguard and then bringing the Moth Priest to Hegathe," he asked, forcing himself to remain calm, "who shall protect Anvil?"

Horlka raised an eyebrow at his inquiry but could tell he was conflicted and appeared to be aware that what he feared had the potential to become reality. "That was my concern as well when I was assigned this position. I demanded for the Imperial Navy to have a couple of warships nearby for times I had to sail away from Anvil. If the Empire expects me to maintain their accord, they're gonna have to accede to mine." She sighed, taking the last sip of her wine and setting the glass on the desk in annoyance. "Although, whether they've got the firepower available or my demand went in one ear and out the other remains to be seen. Can't blame them if they don't have any warships to spare, depending on how many they might've lost. But I'll be quite cross if they're intentionally letting their obsession with destroying the Thalmor and the Dominion blind them from needing to give a damn. So, unfortunately, only answers are Anvil's town guards and maybe Sutch's patrols." Seeing that did little to allay Sitirus' concern, she added, "But don't worry about your mother and everyone else you love, Sitirus," in a reassuring tone. "They'll be just fine in your absence if those pirates don't attack and if there aren't any bandits in the vicinity. If things appear to go south, they can head for Sutch or Kvatch before the storm hits." Horlka watched him finish his own glass and return it to her before concluding with, "You may not want to hear this, Sitirus, but they don't want that to ever befall you. It's why Motira's helping spirit you from Anvil, because if she met a terrible fate and suffered for it she'd be happy knowing you didn't despite worrying over sending you into another. She knows the world's big and scary but that you'll be able to make it right for yourself."

"How can you be so sure?" Sitirus mistakenly asked aloud. He meant to keep it to himself or think voicing it through a little longer because he worried the question would make him look as if he was doubting their survival. It was a fair question though, so he hoped she had an equal reply.

"Because I've known a part of Motira she's had to adopt so her role in the marriage to your father can work," Horlka responded evenly. "You're aware she's had to do some things she's never told you about but hinted at, right?" He nodded as she went on, "It's tough business keeping those pirates satisfied with some of the contract's minor terms so they won't get any ideas. Frankly, I'm of the mindset to just sail for Stirk and clear it out myself before they even think about it. Not that I'd actually do it, I've got my crew and the ship to worry about and I'm not so reckless as to attack them head-on without a good armada of my own. But my point is you learn things when you don't. You'll get word of what they're doing from passerby in the know or from the source themselves." She leaned forward to share something with him, lowering her voice so nobody outside her quarters could hear. "Case in point, I happen to play cards with some of their captains in the local bunkhouse and taverns whenever they make port in Anvil. A little drink goes a long way in getting me the dirt I can use. So does lowering my guard in games sometimes since their cheating me out of my honest winnings pays off in future investments. I've made it quite clear I know when they're about to but intentionally let them get away with it. Puts the ones I can count on in debt to me and scares those who aren't into wondering when I'll collect and who among their own will surrender them to me."

Sitirus' eyes widened a bit as he said in surprise, "You have your own network among the pirates?" He was not sure if he should have been impressed or concerned despite her assurance on the contrary. That was something expected of agencies like the Penitus Oculatus or the now defunct Blades proven to have survived the Thalmor's pogrom against them, not to mention spy networks in service to their rulers and the Synod. Or groups conspiring to remove certain people from power.

Horlka smirked. "I do," she replied as if she were letting him in on a little secret. "It's how I know things their commodore wants swept under the rug. For instance, he was contracted by the Thalmor from 4E 201 until the war started. Then didn't hesitate to betray them when the war began and it was apparent the Alliance would win, since working for the Alliance instead equals profits." She leaned back in her chair but kept her grin plastered, asking, "Better the Thalmor and the Wood Elves than us, am I right?" before getting right back to business. "You may be wondering how it'll give the Empire an edge if the Imperial Navy were ordered to abruptly set sail and march on Stirk."

Sitirus had no trouble following her logic. "They might be hiding Thalmor Justiciars."

"Bingo," she confirmed it was a suspicion. "Although nothing concrete has come of it just yet in that regard. Still, isn't it somewhat ironic? The Thalmor went after Talos worshipping Nords; now, the Empire and the Lhotunics are going after anyone harboring Thalmor. Including the pirates on Stirk because of the commodore's prior work for them. Anything the Penitus Oculatus and spies from Hammerfell can sniff out is fair game, and everyone is a suspect at some point until they are proven innocent. I don't think the pirates are that stupid though. They may give Anvil's town guard trouble with petty thievery and drunken brawls here and there but didn't do anything to warrant an extended or indefinite stay in gaol. Not even a good purge can come about from their petty crimes."

"But their contract with the Empire and the Lhotunics ends with the war, correct? Meaning the commodore can invade Anvil after?" Sitirus asked, wondering how much time that bought the town so its people could flee or shore up their defenses and hoping the commodore kept his word.

"He could," Horlka admitted, "if he sees the need to. If Anvil's lucky, he might not because of the Empire's lack of influence. Assuming neither King Grunak or Count Kastullian absorb this part of the Gold Coast into their domains, the commodore can simply step right up and claim Anvil without opposition or bloodshed. It'll be a tense transition but a nonviolent one with a cold peace."

"And that is the extent of your involvement with them yourself?" Sitirus asked, pleased to hear she was committed to Anvil. Even though he doubted the town would go quietly and be taken without harm to its people, Horlka gave him enough of a convincing argument that it could survive.

Horlka narrowed her eyes. "I'm not helping them smuggle contraband into Anvil or letting them kidnap people or spill their blood if that's what you're accusing me of, Sitirus," she responded tartly. "I may let some things happen under my watch provided it benefits me later and smuggle a bit of contraband into Hammerfell's bay kingdoms, though I'll not stoop any lower nor turn against those who earned my loyalty." She then pointed an accusatory finger at him while saying, "You're the half-pampered son of a nobleman, Sitirus. No matter how hard you've had to work attempting to please him, you've only gotten a glimpse of the real world nor are used to reality." Horlka stood up from her desk to get another book from a nearby shelf. "Piracy's long run rampant in Anvil for many centuries since the First Era. Its rulers have tried to untangle that sordid history and failed to because it's become such a part of the norm that its removal would only be too out of the ordinary. Arannelya's invasion merely disrupted the routine but pirates came back in her absence to pick the city-state's carcass clean. Reconstruction was their opportunity to make coin. The laws that forbid piracy were, unfortunately, too empty and devoid of execution to make for an effective stopgap. If the pirates believed there was no point rebuilding, nobody would. Their presence and influence in Anvil are, unfortunately, not just a basic necessity but an established fact. They brought back with them one of the core foundations that helped this town regain a sense of normalcy or as normal as it gets in this part of the Gold Coast." Horlka set the book down on her desk and returned her gaze to Sitirus. "Not that I'm thanking them. I've just long since learned to live with it. Everybody has."

As he had seen all that during his upbringing, Sitirus supposed there was no argument there. It had never affected him personally but was a part of his life in Anvil. Thinking back, he realized there were times he encountered pirates on the streets without at first knowing who they were. The pirates never seemed like pirates to him, no different than Anvil's regulars and sailors making port from the other side of Cyrodiil or other parts of Tamriel. They were so alike at first glance that the distinctions were nearly impossible to make out. Perhaps Horlka was correct in her assessment but right to worry. If Stirk's pirates could fool some but be acknowledged at the same time with nobody to report or stop them, Anvil's citizens must have reluctantly resigned themselves to the fact there was nothing they could do to stop the pirates from taking control. It showed how powerless Anvil's mayor was and spat in the face of King Grunak for daring to try and remove them from power with the threat of building a navy that could combat the pirates' might. A reckoning seemed imminent, and Sitirus could not help but wonder whose blood would be left to rule Anvil once it drained from the Abecean Sea again. Would King Grunak or the commodore be left standing, or did a third party plot to pit them against one another for control of Anvil and the limited maritime trade remaining? Might it have been Count Kastullian despite his argument on the contrary or an enemy they shared?

"No offense," he inquired, "but would that not be considered collusion?" When she looked at him like he meant to maintain an already disproven allegation, he clarified by saying, "I am not asking to imply anything untoward. It is just that some people might perceive the lack of trying as depraved indifference. Moreover, one can get away with lying to another's face if there is no proof they are involved." Sitirus held his hands behind his back, adding, "That being said, I trust you are telling the truth, Horlka, because you have nothing to lose by it. I am leaving Anvil and could very well be killed aboard your ship with my mother and the town guard unaware. Nobody would even be alerted to anything you might be plotting or are in on. Even if Anvil was, nothing could be done to stop you from betraying the town for your own gain or to another. The costs of making enemies who would put a bounty on your head matters little; hardly anyone from this part of the Gold Coast can afford to pay and the biggest threat, the Empire, lacks the power to arrest you for transgressions against a town it hardly administers anymore nor cares to. Any justification to can be perceived as an overreach of authority or an unwarranted citizen's arrest. Not to mention the fact that you want to skirt around opposition from the Kingdom of Sutch by allying with the navy it is building. There is also no reason for you to worry about Count Kastullian quite yet if the rumor of him taking over has yet to be proven true. This gives you all the power you want and plenty of time to make plans." A part of him also wanted to concede that she was correct about Anvil serving as a breeding ground for piracy but kept it to himself since the realization had only just come to him right at that moment.

Horlka tilted her head, raising an eyebrow. "You're sure placing a lot of faith in me."

"I have no other alternative," said Sitirus plainly, acknowledging the reality of his situation but not wanting to compromise his morals. Even though sleeping with the enemy was occasionally the only solution, he did not desire being the one to do it. Such intrigue was best left to the shadows.

"Indeed, you don't," she regarded his submission coolly before taking one of the scattered papers on her desk to look at it. "Good or bad, it never sat right with me knowing I was a last hope. Particularly with the pirates." She handed it to him for his perusal while elaborating, "The bastards are already onto something. They've been learning where the line's drawn for years and found out how to not only cross it but push the line further back. My gut says they've discovered a way that'll make the Empire more lenient and do the dirty work for them, though a few slipups say otherwise."

Sitirus kept his attention on her while she was speaking and then read the document with a growingly disconcerted expression. What it reported sounded like something out of a Thalmor plot against the Empire. "They are fishing and digging for Daedric Artifacts at the Ayleid ruin of Garlas Malatar," he deducted from a few precise details it provided, including several of Horlka's contacts in the armada, maps of Garlas Malatar, and sketches of a sword and a ring. Sitirus did not recognize either object but emphasis was on the sword's rain-guard and the ring's gemstone since they were drawn with straight lines as if they were shining. Like light itself, he believed with certainty while adding, "Meridia's to be exact. Garlas Malatar contained a portal to the Colored Rooms, her Plane of Oblivion, that Umaril the Unfeathered came through once his physical body was reconstructed, bringing with him an army of her Aurorans to reconquer Cyrodiil. This was after Martin Septim's sacrifice banished Mehrunes Dagon." He returned the report to her desk, watching her read it again as he continued with, "I doubt they will find any though. Lady Arannelya combed its beaches after her conquest of Anvil and walked away empty-handed. Treasure hunters and adventurers tried for years since the Seventh Champion of Cyrodiil swept the whole Ayleid ruin clean in 3E 433, shortly after aiding Martin. Whatever Daedric Artifacts they found were brought back to the Priory of the Nine and banished back to the Colored Rooms. The Imperial Cult reviewed the area too and found some that were overlooked in the initial probe. Even if something was left, the chances are that its discovery will be more disappointing than encouraging. Finding a Daedric Artifact is exceedingly difficult; so is acquiring them from the Daedric Princes themselves for services rendered. Because Garlas Malatar was declared a holy site by the knights and the cult, named in triumph over Umaril and Meridia, it is unlikely that one of hers would be found there and for one of her cults to settle."

Horlka was surprised he knew that much, saying, "You're awfully familiar with that place," as if accusing him of worshipping the very Daedric Prince called the Lady of Infinite Energies and Greed. It was without merit though, as she was rather impressed, complimenting Sitirus by adding, "You must quite be an expert on Anvil's history to have discerned that much from a single report."

"It was an important part of my curriculum growing up," he replied with a gracious smile. In spite of his assurances that Garlas Malatar itself no longer threatened the Gold Coast or Cyrodiil as a whole and that there were no more artifacts to be gained, that was more wishful thinking than absolute certainty. Ancient Ayleid relics and Auroran artifacts could have lain hidden all along its beaches, buried so deep in the sand and in underwater crevices that nobody would know where to look or that they even existed. Similar pieces likely sank with the ruin when subterranean passages flooded as a result of the Champion's victory over Umaril and on other occasions long after, swept away with the tide if carried by the Abecean Sea. Some of which might have washed up on shores in Hammerfell, Valenwood, or Alinor; or have even traveled up the Brena and Strid Rivers, which, to his concern, was partly how the Thalmor could acquire those artifacts if not from Garlas Malatar.

"You're lucky to have had one," Horlka replied. "Not all warriors your age can get one that isn't swinging weapons. But then not all warriors are Nibenese Imperials, aren't they? Just goes to show how much you'll stick out like a sore thumb when you step off the gangplank in Roseguard." Her advice, though short and to the point, identified one of the problems Sitirus knew he was going to confront upon disembarking. His proper etiquette made him more like a bard or a knight hailing from a royal court than a young upstart with a chip on his shoulder. It was going to be hard for him to speak less like a noble even though the commoner's speech was easy to adopt. People all around him would question his background if he did not come across as one of them or adopt their way of life. While there was nothing wrong with being himself, Sitirus needed to unlearn some of his old habits if he was to fit in and not give himself away as a nobleman's half-pampered son as she said.

"I will keep that in mind," he said in consideration of her guidance. Thinking ahead, Sitirus then asked, "Assuming I remain in Roseguard for some time or move on, what sort of employment would you recommend an apprentice warrior like myself find? Do you believe I am cut out for the Fighters Guild or mercenary work, or should I start small with guard duty in town or to someone?"

Horlka shrugged as she answered, "Whatever you want, Sitirus. You're a free man without any ties to nobility anymore. But for a start, you might want to check with the town guards and see if they'll take you. If not, give the Fighters Guild a try; I hear Roseguard's got a decent guild hall."

"Know of anyone in either I should speak with?" he asked more specifically in response in spite of knowing it was likely a stupid question he would kick himself for posing in the first place.

She shook her head. "Nobody I'm aware of. I don't make it a point to meet with them when I've already got a crew to take care of our needs and get things done. Saves me the drakes. Besides, why would I want to out myself to the guard when I'm smuggling contraband into their kingdom?" Even though she seemed affronted, Horlka surprised him with a smirk to show she was half-joking.

Sitirus chuckled, thankful to have avoided accidently offending her. "I suppose you would not," he replied in good humor. He would have said something contrariwise but figured that would have been pushing his luck. Ascertaining that his remark somewhat tried her patience nonetheless, he figured that was the best place to end their conversation for now by concluding with, "Anyway, since you expect to be quite busy today, I will take my leave for the mess hall. Assuming it has yet to become too packed and rowdy for me to find a seat and keep it. If not, might I also be permitted outside on deck for a view of the land and the Abecean Sea so I can know the lay of the land better? It would help knowing how much space I would have to work with if we are fighting above deck."

"You're a guest aboard my ship, Sitirus," Horlka answered. "That gives you access to what freedom of mobility I allow in unrestricted areas. You'll find out where you're not wanted when I or somebody else tells you it's off limits. As long as you stay out of our way, feel free to come and go as you please. But don't bother us unless it's an emergency or I explicitly say so, got it? They've got their jobs and you yours, Sitirus, so don't go trying to interfere whether you ask to help or not."

Sitirus nodded, saying, "You have made your point, Horlka." He then bowed before her to express his gratitude for the conversation, adding, "If you will excuse me," before stepping out the door and closing it behind him so the clamor of moving cargo would not disturb her concentration.