Chapter CXXIX – A Brief Visit

Now that Secunda waned once more, Bishop and Aeyrin were free to return to their original plans.

This time, they had a clear agenda. No matter how much Aeyrin might have wanted to postpone this, they needed to return to the hermit in the Sea of Ghosts and see if he had the key to Blackreach. Bishop had a point – they still couldn't be sure if the man would come through. And they couldn't be sure if the Scroll was really in Blackreach.

Regardless, the fact that a Moth Priest was currently nowhere near Sky Haven Temple was comforting. That was someone else's issue and it would likely take even longer than their hunt for the Scroll. And hopefully longer than the Companions' search for the cure.

But those concerns were out of her hands. The best thing right now was to carry on forward and see what secrets the hermit held beneath his ice and Dwemer barricades.

That was, of course, on the other side of the Province entirely, but keeping on the move was far from a bad idea anyway – they'd been camped out in one spot for way too long for either of their comforts.

And the first place that beckoned them, after three days of travels across Hjaalmarch and the Pale, was Windhelm.

They were only going to stop there for a brief visit. They wanted to resupply properly, first and foremost. They wanted to see if the Quintus had received his everlasting ice. They wanted to see whether their rescue made it to the docks with her bugs. And Aeyrin also wanted to see if Brunwulf Free-Winter was back from Cyrodiil, despite his lack of communication. Maybe he was being watched or his messages were the ones that got intercepted by someone.

One thing was for certain though – they did not want to spend a night at the cornerclub. Not a chance. After their five-day bender, they were only going to say hello to the elves at the most. They were spending one calm evening at the Candlehearth there and that was that. The next day, they would head straight for Winterhold.

When they reached the city, the unfamiliar atmosphere was palpable instantly.

It was so… different. It was much like it had been the first time they visited together. The streets were bustling again, the people seemed actually happy and carefree. It was as if the entire Butcher massacre never even happened. It was encouraging to see this. But more than anything, it was freeing to move about without as many guards hovering around. In fact, there were barely any to be seen anywhere.

Maybe they were all enjoying the calm as well in their own way.

But it was certainly nothing to be concerned about – it was a welcome reprieve to be able to walk around without the ever-vigilant eyes of the Stormcloaks on them constantly.

They headed to the markets first and bought up all the supplies that they needed. The last stop on their shopping agenda was The White Phial.

"Welcome, welcome," Quintus's voice rang through the store before he even looked up from his alchemy station. "I'll be with you in a minute."

They waited patiently as the Imperial mixed some concoctions together, until he finally put down his vials and turned towards them.

"Ah. It's you," he gave them a soft smile. "I'm glad to see you two back here. I've been hoping you would come by soon again."

"We came to check if you got your magical ice," Aeyrin chuckled at him. "And to get some supplies."

"Yes. Thank you again, you have no idea how timely it was," Quintus smiled. "Master Nurelion… he was… he was very old. Almost three hundred years, could you believe that?" His expression turned sad within a second. It was clear from how he spoke that there was no more master Nurelion. "He had dedicated his life to the Phial and so… I wanted him to see it, working, just once before he would pass."

"Did he?" Aeyrin asked quietly. She really hoped that they managed to send the snow in time. They went to the Throat almost right away after they got the letter. She would feel awful if any brief dawdling prevented the elf from seeing his life's work realized.

"He did," Quintus's face lit up again. "I managed to repair the Phial only a few days before his passing, but he did see it in all its glory. I don't think I've ever seen him so happy. And… even proud of me," he chuckled softly.

That was a relief. At least the man spent his life knowing that all that research bore fruit.

"Actually, I've been thinking a lot as Master Nurelion's last days were coming to an end," he continued, a little absentmindedly. "The Phial is such an intriguing object. There might be more to find out about it, even now. It's very… tempting to delve into the research again. But… I don't want one thing to consume all my studies like Master Nurelion's. I would not wish to fear in my final days that I have wasted my life. I decided to give the Phial away."

"Did you send it to the College or something?" Bishop raised his brow at him. Maybe the mages would be able to study it more. Or they would be able to turn it into some incredibly dangerous artifact that would threaten the world. Both options were plausible.

"The College? Oh no, those nitwits are getting nothing from me," Quintus huffed. "When Master Nurelion tried to join them years ago, they rejected him. Apparently alchemy is not 'good enough', not 'magic enough' for one of their students to focus on. Master Nurelion would be turning in his grave if I sent it to them."

Well… that did sound like the College mages. They liked to scoff even on the restoration school of magic.

"Actually, I wanted to offer it to you," the Imperial smiled again and when they gave him a surprised look, he quickly started to explain. "I owe you much. You retrieved it. You were instrumental in getting me what I needed to fix it. I think it's only fair. One day, someone else will surely find the Phial, wherever it ends up, and they may study it again, but for now, I think it should be actually… used. What good is such an object if it only sits on some scholar's desk after all?"

That was a good point. Though neither of them really remembered what the Phial was actually good for. If Quintus had ever even explained it.

"What does it do?" Bishop smirked. They had spent quite some time and a lot of effort on this thing and they didn't even know what for.

"When it's filled with a potion, along with a special concoction, it has the ability to replenish the potion… well forever. I have already tried it and it works wonderfully. One would also need a special catalyst to fill it with a different concoction, but you could come to me for that, if you ever needed."

That sounded beyond useful. They could have a healing potion always on hand. Or any other one.

"So the liquid never disappears?" Aeyrin gaped at him in astonishment. It was just as unbelievable as that magical snow.

"No… it doesn't work like that," Quintus shook his head. "Once you drink it, it's gone, but it does replenish eventually."

"How fast?" Bishop asked. If it would take too long, it would barely be more useful than regular potions. Well… it would just save them some money.

"Within a day," the Imperial smiled.

That sounded good. It would definitely be very useful for their adventuring.

"So what potion is in there now?" Bishop asked curiously. Hopefully it really would be a useful one.

"None. But I can prepare one for you. It's up to you what you choose, provided I can make it. Though I doubt you could find one that I couldn't," Quintus chuckled proudly.

Aeyrin and Bishop looked at each other with palpable intrigue. This had a lot of potential. They always had a stock of healing potions with them and they were sold at every corner. Something less easily available might be a smarter option.

"What about an invisibility potion?" Aeyrin suggested. "Those are expensive." And Bishop went through them quickly whenever he had one of his special missions on his plate.

Bishop could only nod enthusiastically. That was a great idea. It would save them a lot of money and it was good to have for emergencies. If, by some very bad accident, he got stuck somewhere and needed to get out, he could just wait it out until the Phial replenished.

"You… use those a lot?" Quintus raised his brow at them a little uncertainly. It was understandable that it would be a bit suspect, after the whole business with the Butcher and his invisible rampage. Besides, those potions were likely rarely used by regular people.

"They're useful in dungeons," Bishop nodded. That wasn't his first idea on when to use one, but it was true nonetheless. "If there's an overwhelming force, it's great for quick escapes."

"That is… true," Quintus nodded with a slight smile. "Very well. I can do that. Why don't you browse a bit for a spell while I prepare it for you."

This was a very pleasant surprise.

It might even come in handy on their potential Blackreach expedition.

…

After receiving the Phial and restocking on the rest of their potions and tinctures, Bishop and Aeyrin rented a room at the Candlehearth and stashed their heavy packs there.

After that, they headed straight for Brunwulf Free-Winter's house, unburdened.

Aeyrin really hoped that the man would have good news for her. She was so worried about Master Therien. There was probably nothing scarier than Thalmor snooping – not dragons, not assassins, not even hordes of Falmer, which she was pretty sure would await them again if they were to embark on new adventures in Dwemer ruins.

They stopped by the house and knocked on the door, but there was no answer. They tried again and then once more until finally, after several minutes, they heard footsteps behind the door.

A middle-aged Nord woman opened the door. They thought it might be Brunwulf's wife, if he had one, but she was wearing what looked like a maid uniform. They didn't think that Brunwulf would be someone who had a maid – his house even paled in comparison to those in Valunstrad. Despite his wealth and nobility, he didn't look or act like most nobles. But everyone probably needed a little help sometimes.

"Yes?" The woman raised her brow at them.

"We're looking for lord Free-Winter," Aeyrin smiled politely. She certainly hoped they had the right house, but she remembered it a bit – it was the one they camped on when they were watching the streets for the Butcher – that day she got arrested and subsequently banished. Bishop had been here again later too in order to get Brunwulf to bail out Ambarys. It was unlikely that they would mistake it.

"He's not here," the woman shook her head. She wasn't very informative.

"Do you know when he might be back?" Aeyrin prodded. She wanted to know where he was and if she could talk to him. She really needed to ask about Cyrodiil. She was so nervous that he hadn't written to her yet.

"Wish I knew. It's been a while. He's on business in Cyrodiil," the woman sighed.

Still?! He was still in Cyrodiil? It's been over a month! That did not make Aeyrin any calmer.

"He hasn't come back yet?" she gasped. "And you haven't heard from him?" Something terrible must have happened. The Thalmor must have found out something. Maybe they imprisoned him. Maybe they imprisoned Master Therien. This was bad.

"I heard from him just a week ago. He writes regularly," the woman nodded, though she did seem caught off guard by Aeyrin knowing about him leaving for Cyrodiil at all. "Why don't you come in for a second? My food will burn if I dawdle here any longer." She probably figured that they wouldn't be content with a quick dismissal.

They all shuffled inside the house and the woman promptly rushed into the kitchen with Bishop and Aeyrin in tow. She started to stir a pot on the fire while she began turning the meat-filled roasting stick right next to it at the same time.

They waited a few seconds for her to quickly save her meal, before she finally turned her head to them again. She did not leave the food alone this time though.

"I'm lord Free-Winter's housekeeper. He's busy or away on business a lot and I'm here to take care of his home. He always lets me know where he is or when he expects to come back."

It was comforting at least that Brunwulf was alive and capable of writing to this woman. But this all still didn't bode well.

"He's been writing to me every week ever since he left," she continued. "He is well and there's no need for concern. His business down south just takes longer than he had expected. He's still going to stay there for a while."

They weren't sure if the woman knew why Brunwulf was in Cyrodiil and just didn't want to risk speaking about it in front of strangers, or if she had no idea. In either case, she wasn't divulging anything, but right now that was a little inconvenient for them. The fact that he stayed for over a month surely couldn't mean anything good. If things were fine, he would have written back to Aeyrin.

Then again, investigating spies was probably not easy. He would have to be patient. Maybe nothing happened. Maybe nothing happened – maybe he didn't find anything yet and he needed more time. Aeyrin kept reminding herself of that possibility. It was the only thing keeping her from fully panicking.

"He mentioned that things are going well though, if you are concerned," the woman shot them a brief smile. "He says that if someone comes looking for him, I should just tell them to wait until he returns. Sorry. The man does important business and I'm sure he wouldn't appreciate me calling him off back here prematurely."

That was understandable. And it begged the question if Brunwulf included this directive for their benefit as well, in case they were the ones looking for him. Or maybe he had left behind more people eager for his help and attention.

It was… comforting that Brunwulf spoke like that in his letter. And it was certainly a delicate situation. When they had no information on what Brunwulf was actually doing, they could mess up everything by coming down there and even interacting with him in any way. That could be dangerous. Aeyrin was… tempted to disguise the check-up as a surprise visit to the temple in Chorrol, but she was still a bit worried about messing up. Besides, there was the whole Blackreach business looming over them now and if the hermit didn't have the key or if the Scroll wasn't there, they would have to start working on a different plan right away.

He said things are going well. Remember that.

Gods, she hated that he told her not to write Master Therien. She really wanted to know that he was alright, but hopefully Brunwulf's letter implied that. Though if this all took much longer, she wasn't sure if she was going to be able to keep that promise. She wouldn't be able to take it without at least a word from the man.

"I see… thank you," she mumbled quietly in response while the woman concentrated on her cooking again. The house felt empty otherwise, but the amount of food she was making suggested that more people would partake. That or she was making herself meals for several days.

"Sorry, whatever business you have with him will have to wait," the woman didn't even look back anymore, just shrugged her shoulders noncommittally, absorbed in her cooking. "Anything else?"

There was probably nothing more to say. Brunwulf was clearly careful about what he sends back to Skyrim – understandable, given what he was investigating down south – and the same was likely the case for Master Therien. After all, unless he knew what was going on by now, he would have written to Aeyrin again to catch up. This just meant that they were… handling things. Being careful and investigating. Yeah.

"He said it's going well," Bishop murmured at Aeyrin quietly to reassure her.

Brunwulf did write that. He would have surely written something like: 'things got complicated' or 'I've run into some issues' if he did – to let anyone who might help know. This message was clear – stay away. She just had to be patient.

She gave Bishop a soft nod before she spoke to the housekeeper once more. "No… thank you for the information."

"Sure thing," the woman looked back only briefly. "Well… you know where the door is."

She didn't have to tell them twice. There was not much for them to do there anymore.

…

The door shut behind them again and the two found themselves on the bustling streets of Windhelm once more.

Aeyrin still wasn't sure how she should feel about all of this. She was partially calmer than she had been before when she had absolutely no news from the south. But she was also partially more panicked about Brunwulf still not being back with good news.

Then again, it might have really been naïve of her to expect miracles. The journey south alone took a lot of time and investigating anything subtly, especially spies, couldn't have been a matter of a day or two. She should just try and be realistic about this. Brunwulf was clearly alright and he was clearly still investigating.

It was just hard, letting go, letting someone else take care of this. She knew that she herself would be of no help, but she still hated not being directly involved. Even if it was for the best.

Then again, Master Therien was very likely already informed and on top of this. It was always more calming when she thought about him taking care of things. Maybe it was just a habit from her childhood to rely on the comfort of her mentor making everything right, but it was a relaxing comfort.

It was also comforting to feel Bishop's arm sneak behind her white fur cloak and wrap snugly around her waist. She instantly felt compelled to nuzzle into his side and rest her head against his shoulder. He didn't even need to say anything for her to feel some much needed ease returning to her.

Hopefully Brunwulf or Master Therien would get in touch soon to erase the last remnants of her fears.

Without a word, they stepped into the streets again and headed towards the docks. But before they could make their way out of the Stone Quarter towards the large gate leading down to the waterfront, a loud synchronized noise of clanking metal stopped them in their tracks and tore their attention away from their next destination.

The lack of guards and soldiers in the city had been noticeable before, but now, there was a large group of them, all in their heavy Stormcloak armor, marching by the inn and heading towards the main gate. It looked like a military contingent, ready for battle.

That would have been enough of that distraction – the war was hardly over after all, it was only interesting for a second because of the noise those men made, other than that, it was nothing new, right?

But the voices of two citizens standing only a hair's breadth from the two of them made them linger a bit longer.

"Another squadron," one of the women said with palpable intrigue in her voice.

"Is it any wonder they need so many rushing out now?" the other smirked. "I hear they're trying to retake the Reach."

That was the end of their brief discussion as the women continued to watch the soldiers march silently. By then, Bishop and Aeyrin already began moving towards the docks again, but the words still lingered in their thoughts.

Increased military activity would certainly explain the lack of guards more logically than the theory that they 'wanted a break' after the Butcher business. And their thoughts did occasionally come back to the sight that they had caught just recently – the assault on the fort in the Reach territory, Fort Sungard. The Stormcloaks were not victorious that day, not to mention that nobody was probably victorious as a dragon swooped down to pick off whoever was left, but the Stormcloaks certainly didn't retake the foothold for their efforts. Maybe they weren't done trying though.

"You really think that…" Aeyrin started to ponder out loud. It was strange, she couldn't understand why Ulfric would send his armies all the way to the Reach first. Could he even get his soldiers there without crossing enemy territory? Did Jarl Balgruuf allow troop movements in his Hold, despite his neutrality? He certainly didn't allow Thalmor on his land, they knew that by now. But maybe he decided to let the soldiers march through for his own peace. Come to think of it, they had definitely seen both corpses and groups of marching soldiers in the Hold before.

It was still an odd tactic from Ulfric though to start with the most remote territory he could.

"Pfft. Ulfric can't retake the Reach," Bishop scoffed mockingly. "There's Forsworn all over. He barely manages to fight the Empire in his own Holds, let alone two forces at once in one far from home."

"Yeah… yeah, you're right." That was another baffling thing about his move to the Reach. It was surely the most dangerous area for him that he could find. Perhaps save for Haafingar. "Why would he start with the Reach then?" she pondered out loud again.

"I don't know. Because he's a maniac with a bruised ego?" Bishop smirked. "Maybe it's the mines. Controlling the Reach would mean controlling the entire silver trade. He could get armor, weapons, everything. Maybe he has no more resources and he's getting desperate."

Aeyrin nodded absentmindedly. Maybe he was right. But whatever the reason was, she just hoped that Ulfric would fail to withstand the assault of both the Empire and the Reachmen. The last thing she wanted was to have to worry about his spies and racist zealots in yet another place. As if the Silver-Bloods weren't enough of a nuisance in Markarth. And she really didn't want anyone to hurt Calcelmo. As an Altmer, he would likely not be spared, no matter how useful he was.

Ugh, these thoughts were no more pleasant than her previous ones. She picked up her pace a little so that they would be at the docks already. Some good news surely awaited them there – about how the Argonians were getting up on their feet again with the docks reopened and helpful travelers bringing them… bugs.

They passed the docks gate and headed down towards the ships. They weren't even sure what they would do there. Aeyrin wanted to see the docks opened again – to see the Argonians and to see if they were alright. She was pretty sure that none of them would even remember her – they had spent some time there on her first visit to Windhelm and Aeyrin talked a lot to the people down here. She gave some coins to some of them, listened to them, but she wasn't sure if it was something they would ever remember. Besides, it's been over a year.

The docks seemed rather lively. There were ships everywhere again, as a stark contrast to the empty waters they could see all the time before whenever they approached the city, and there were a lot of people around. The Argonians scurried about, working just as they had remembered them.

Bishop and Aeyrin weren't really sure what to do, they just walked around for a while. It was nice. The fresh sea air, the sun, already almost setting on the horizon, the soft snow drifting through the air. Windhelm was always a little nicer from the outside.

"Dry-skins," a green-blue Argonian with bright yellow eyes greeted them as he passed. He stopped after a moment and looked at them more carefully again. "I remember you. And I have heard the beek-ojel speak of things passed. Of how the killer died."

Aeyrin couldn't help but beam at him. It made her feel a little proud that he remembered them from that visit so long ago. And then she instantly felt bad for feeling proud of herself for giving a starving man a few measly coins. She really hoped that they were all better off now.

"Y-yes. We met before. I'm… I'm glad the docks are open again," she smiled while Bishop only nodded in greeting at the man. He remembered him too – this Argonian tried to help him when Aeyrin was sick and Bishop was hopelessly looking for the ingredients for her cure. Except that the Argonian just thought Bishop was looking for moon sugar and not actual ingredients. But it was the thought that counted, right?

"Makes no difference, dry-skin," the man sighed. "We erect our spines with hope and pride that we may earn to live again, yet they are used to us clawing for scraps down on our knees now. More work, but barely more coin."

The Nords had been underpaying the Argonian workers before this whole Butcher mess but it was even worse now? After everything that this city had been through, they still remained just as callous. It was a shame that Brunwulf was gone. Although it would likely be equally callous to give him yet another responsibility for another group of marginalized people. As if he didn't have his hands full with helping the Dunmer in the city as well as escapee Talos worshippers now.

"But do not hang your head, dry-skins. At least the opened gates allow the priests to come often," the Argonian smiled encouragingly. "They made arrangements," he smirked.

"The bugs?" Aeyrin's eyes lit up. "We met a traveler bringing some to you on the road. She got ambushed by some bandits and we helped her out."

"Then I extend the claw of gratitude," the man smiled and, just as he had said, he extended his claw to shake each of their hands. "First, we traded with the fur-skins, but their goods are too expensive. Some of the farmers from the shore helped, but…" his voice trailed off. It was clear that the farmers' help was not enough when there was no work and the Nords refused to pay their wages.

"You said that the priests made the arrangements?" Aeyrin looked at him in surprise.

"The young one, she came first. The soldiers let her bring us some food, but… not enough. So she started to look for help. Her raj-deelith, the elder priest, he was the one who started asking what we even eat. It was the only way he could think of – something that the dry-skins would not mind parting with for… our sake."

That eagerness to help did sound like Jora alright. It was quite surprising that her Master was willing to help the Argonians as well though. He had always appeared more… traditional when it came to his… Nordiness. Much like Ulfric himself in some of his opinions. Maybe that was an unfair judgment on that man though.

"You really eat bugs?" Bishop smirked at the man. He wondered what those tasted like, aside from maybe him accidentally swallowing one at some point. Though it didn't really feel right to take some from the Argonians just out of curiosity, since they were starving and shit.

"You really eat something you first bury in your earth and then dig up again, dry skin?" the Argonian smirked back at him promptly. It took a while for Bishop to realize that he was probably referring to various vegetables. He knew that Argonians ate those too though. But now he wondered if they actually wanted to eat such things or if it was only out of necessity.

One thing was for certain though – Windhelm may have appeared back to its old ways, but it was far from it. The Nords had gotten too used to getting away with more abuse and ostracism.

It only made Bishop and Aeyrin wonder what state the Grey Quarter was in.

…

They hadn't exactly been planning on it, but eventually, they did agree to make the cornerclub their last stop before they got some proper rest in the comfort of Candlehearth.

They were worried about the bad influence that the Dunmer community tended to have on them there. They really didn't want to drink the night away. Then again, it was not as if they could actually accuse the Dunmer of being at fault for their wild nights at the place. The two of them hardly ever needed convincing before.

This time, it was still decently early so there was a chance that the cornerclub wouldn't be too wild yet. And they just wanted to come by and see how the Dunmer were doing now that the Butcher business had settled.

And it was always nice to see the elves – drinks or no drinks.

The streets of the Grey Quarter were not that much livelier from before, unfortunately. There were a few elves moving about, but the alleys were a far cry from the vibrant streets in the other quarters.

But the second Bishop and Aeyrin entered the cornerclub, familiar cheers rumbled through the place.

"Hla-aka! F'lah! Good to see you again," Ambarys raised the empty goblet he was just cleaning to them.

Everyone here was always so merry, or drunk, it was so warm and welcoming, even if the Dunmer were constantly going through hardships in Windhelm.

"Flin or sujamma? A also have some shein from Solstheim, but I don't think you'll like that," the man smirked while a few of the Dunmer rose from their seats to come and welcome the two with pats on the back or hand squeezes.

"We're not drinking this time, Ambarys," Aeyrin let out a nervous chuckle. Hopefully they wouldn't try and convince them. She wouldn't mind a small drink, but more like a tankard of mead or wine with dinner. Not one of the Dunmer spirits.

"Yeah, we just came to check on you," Bishop nodded. "No more shitty orders, right?"

"Sure. Without those, the snowberries are just snuggly little puppies now," Idesa scoffed as she gently patted them on the back and then promptly returned to her seat. "We all love each other again, can't you tell?"

The rest of the room grumbled in accord. Well, that was discouraging.

"We just thought… maybe things would be getting a little better without…" Aeyrin stammered a bit, uncertain what to say to that.

"Look, hla-aka," Revyn interrupted her. "We're better off without the orders, sure. We're grateful for you killing that shithead. But things don't get 'good' for us here. They get slightly less shitty and then they get even shittier again. You really need to stop worrying about this. Nothing to be done," he sighed.

That sounded even more depressing. And it was even worse to think that they just brought the good mood at the cornerclub down so fast with this talk. As long as Ulfric and his zealots were in charge, things were going to be bad for the elves, no matter what.

"Many have died and many are still in prison. It's no use dwelling on it, there's no magical cure for how we're treated," Ambarys sighed as well as he finally finished cleaning some dishes and, instead, reached for one of the bottles on a shelf behind him. "Except for our spirits, that is. So I don't care if you're drinking or not, forget this shit, sit your asses down and give us some stories instead."

That was fair. It was certainly time to elevate the mood a bit again – their day in Windhelm had started off so promising and it was all just downhill from there.

Some time spent sharing tales with the Dunmer would hopefully help all of them take their minds off things.

"Yeah. Like what happened to your arm?" Idesa inclined her head towards Bishop. "Or better yet, why aren't you drinking?" she smirked. "I sense a fun story there."

They weren't sure how 'fun' this was going to be when they didn't even remember anything from their last bender.

But it certainly sounded much better than wallowing in the misfortunes found throughout the city.

It must have been satisfying to Ulfric – he got his content and prosperous city back, but he didn't have to stop mistreating the people he wanted out of here regardless. It was frustrating. And the most influential person who tended to set the maniac straight with his oppression wasn't even here now.

It was still only a couple of months though. Maybe after some more time, the Stormcloaks would have to release the rest of the prisoners, with Brunwulf's aid or without it. Maybe after some time, the Nord citizens would stop enjoying their own newfound freedom and safety blindly without any regard for those that still didn't get theirs.

Or maybe Ulfric would get gutted by a Forsworn.

That was a very comforting image.

More so than any that the Dunmer spirits could provide instead.