Loredas, the 20th of Hearthfire, 4E201
"Are you sure you've gotten everything?"
"For the third time, yes. I'll be fine, Lydia."
Fortunata sat at the back of the cart, impatiently drumming her fingers on the wooden railing. That little exchange was a perfect microcosm of what she had to endure for the last few minutes. At least their driver seemed to be unbothered, lazily reading some book or another, not really paying attention to the conversation behind him.
"You've got the money to buy yourself proper food, so don't try to cheap out. None of that guard canteen shit, are we clear?" Saya crossed her arms, staring intensely at the Nord who looked rather uncomfortable with the large sum of coin she was entrusted with. "I won't be having my housecarl cut corners on her own health."
Lydia sighed quietly, murmuring. "If only you were this attentive to your own health…"
Saya's ear twitched. "What was that?"
"Nothing! Nothing." Her Thane's chuckle drew some pink to the girl's cheeks, though it did little to alleviate her frustration with Saya's carelessness. "But really, please be careful out there."
"I'll be as careful as I'm able to." There was a pause as Lydia's brows furrowed with worry. "Oh come on, don't look at me like that. It was just a joke, I'll be back soon, alright?" The Dragonborn grew more and more comically exasperated, like a child asking their parents if they're allowed to play outside past sundown.
Lydia was fully aware of this intensifying anxiety, and as such finally caved, nodding with a slight smile. "You better. I'll be expecting at least a letter by the end of the week."
"Okay, deal." Saya looked back at the cart, catching the Blade's subtle glare that nudged her to get a move on already. And so, the Dragonborn pulled her friend into a tight hug, ignoring the fact that she had to stand on her tiptoes just to be able to reach around her neck properly, and gave her a quick assuring pat on the back. "Gotta go, see you later!"
Lydia gave a small wave, still a little stunned from the unexpected contact but not necessarily displeased. Saya mirrored the gesture and hopped into the cart, giving the driver's shoulder a tap while she sat down. The man put down his book, took the reins and signaled his horse to go, and so the walls of Whiterun had finally begun to grow distant. Saya relaxed in her seat, pulling out her journal and marking off the start of a new day as she began to scribble away. Fortunata looked at this with mild amusement, but still brooding over the unnecessary waste of time.
"Did you really have to do all that?"
"What?" Two red eyes lifted off the journal, looking at the Breton on the opposite seat.
"All that fanfare and instruction? If all goes well, you'll be back in just three days. Would it be that hard to just say goodbye and be done with it?"
Saya scratched the back of her head sheepishly, laughing. "Yeah, well, I suck at those. I just can't help but worry a bit, you know?"
The Blade scoffed, turning to look at the road ahead. From the corner of her eye she could tell that the girl went back to writing at the first opportunity, paying no mind to the shaky road.
"Bad at goodbyes, huh… You don't say."
The road to Solitude was long, calm, and boring. For once, I was actually kind of wishing I'd get mugged on the way or something, but not even that small a blessing would grace me. Instead I simply had to stay put and let the bumpy road stir my brain into a nice chunky puree inside my skull. And what's worse, I couldn't even really take a nap - when the damn pathway did finally become straight enough to ride without too many jumps, my brain decided to look for some other stimuli to focus on and I suddenly felt just how gods-damned cold it was up north. Wonders of Hjaalmarch I guess: wet, soggy, and cold enough to alternate between snow and mud every five minutes.
The view of Solitude was great, I'll give it that. The enormous stone arch with a brilliant blue roof of the Jarl's palace shining at the peak… Man, what a glorious sight. The walls stretched on and on all the way until the city began tilting downhill, leading towards Dragon Bridge. Speaking of which, Dragon Bridge was a nice enough little town to pass through. I really liked the eponymous bridge. Apparently, the old thing predates the town itself by many centuries, to the point where people are unsure if the dragon skulls up there are just sculptures or if they're actual petrified bones. Maybe one of these days I'll crawl up there and find out, provided the guards don't start shooting me down.
And then, at long last, we reached Solitude itself. Or the stables of it, anyway. Fortunata decided to wait there for me and told me to seek out the Winking Skeever, and that I would be looking for a "short male Wood Elf with unruly brown hair". Easy enough to identify, seeing as how there's not many Bosmer around these parts.
There's apparently been an execution around here some week or two ago, too. Roggvir, the fella is called. Let Ulfric escape through the gates when he killed the High King, apparently. None of my business frankly, but I don't see why that's grounds to execute a man. A gatekeeper has his duty to open the gates when needed, and it's not like he knew what happened at the Blue Palace at the exact moment in time. One of these days the Nords should really learn to use their courts a bit more than they do their blocks. A lot easier to clean up.
So was anyone going to tell me the court wizard is a vampire? No? Nobody? Anyone?
At the very least I can attest that she delivered, and no questions asked. I'll have to ask Fortunata later about how these two came to know each other, but I do have a hunch. 'tis not by simple luck that a vampire can remain a member of the court for over a century without any suspicions arising.
Now, where was this… Winking Skeever? Great name. Hope the drinks are on par.
"Is the seat taken?"
A male Bosmer warily raised his eyes towards the unexpected visitor and slowly lowered his mug. The drink has been in there for a good few hours now, and yet the amount has stayed the same once he was past the halfway point. It was mostly there for the looks, really. Couldn't afford to be drunk on a job like this.
"I'm actually waiting for someone. It's reserved." There was a glint in the man's dark amber eyes. He was gauging Saya, probing her. That was a good sign.
"Then your wait is over. Our mutual acquaintance sent me." Saya pulled back the chair and settled in, placing her own drink on the table. "And she told me you're a good person to turn to if a girl new in town is looking to find her way around a party. Was I told wrong?"
Malborn pursed his lips. "You're the one she picked? I hope she knows what she's doing." The Bosmer picked his mug up again, leaning back in his chair. He didn't touch the drink, only staring at it for a few moments. Finally, he spoke. "Here's the deal: I can smuggle some things into the Embassy for you that you can't get past security. So long as it's not something as obvious as a warhammer, I can get it in, but the less things - the better."
Saya nodded, discreetly pulling out a small leather satchel. A dagger, some lockpicks, two vials, and three scrolls. Nothing less, nothing more. She slid it under the table, and the man quietly grabbed it, sliding it into his vest.
"I hope you're not planning to come to the party like this." He commented. "You need to be as inconspicuous as you can. I mean it."
Saya chuckled, shaking her head. "I'm working on it. Enjoy your drink."
As she was about to leave the table, though, he suddenly reached over and grabbed her wrist. The Dragonborn stopped in her tracks, looking back at him. His eyes looked serious, but there was an undertone of anxiety in there beneath the intense, forced professionalism.
"For both of our sakes, don't mess this up."
The Dunmer stared back at him silently for a few seconds and nodded. His surprisingly strong hand released her forearm, slowly pulling back. As she stepped away to rent herself a room for the night, she couldn't help but occasionally glance back at the lone man sitting in the corner, staring at his drink.
Morndas, the 22nd of Hearthfire, 4E201
The snow released a satisfying crunch as a pair of umber boots stepped down from the cart. The thick, fur-lined brown cloak Saya was wearing did wonders to protect her from the cold, but even still she could feel the snowfall occasionally grazing her face. The Thalmor Embassy was larger than she imagined, and the peculiar union of Nord and Imperial architecture did no service to its elven inhabitants, who probably looked at the entrance with scorn every time they had to patrol the building's facade.
"Welcome to the Thalmor Embassy." The carriage behind her began to drive out of the gateway, and Saya was approached by a tall elven man wearing intricate golden-colored armor. The entirety of it was stylized with eagle motifs, and a large insignia of the Thalmor was decorating the center of the chestpiece. "Your invitation, please."
The cloaked Dunmer nodded, searching through her pockets and pulling out the unsealed envelope. She could see the guard's brow twitch slightly at the sight of her red eyes, but he made no vocal comment as he examined the paper. "Here you are. Oh, and if I may, could I keep the invitation?" The slightly puzzled look from the Altmer begged for clarification. "I'm sort of a traveling collector and don't normally attend such parties, it would be nice to keep some sort of souvenir. Would that be possible?"
The guard looked at another who was standing beside him, and the other man simply shrugged. "I suppose so." He folded the invitation in two, just as it was given to him, and offered it back to Saya. "Everything is in order, cerum. The party has already begun, right this way."
She bowed her head slightly. "Thank you," she said, and entered the Embassy without any further ado.
The grandiose interior of the building truly made it seem much bigger on the inside than it was on the outside. Dominion banners flapped slightly at the draft from opening the door, and bright flames flickered atop their chandeliers. The entire room was built around many pillars, blending together sharp geometric and rounded designs as they stretched higher towards the ceiling, forming a large dome at the very top that made everything feel just that much more spacious.
Straight out of the door, Saya stepped out of an archway, and to her right she could see a relatively unremarkable counter. As expected, Malborn was idly cleaning the table, and he gave her a small glance as she entered. There was a sort of tenseness in his expression that could be written off as anxiety of being at a large gathering, but also a sense of relief at seeing that she really did arrive and he didn't go through all the trouble on his end for nothing.
"Ah, welcome." Saya lowered her hood and her ears almost visibly twitched at the female voice greeting her. It was high pitched and refined, but almost nauseatingly so, as though the speaker's welcoming words couldn't be any further from their actual intentions. "I don't believe we've met yet."
Saya looked the speaker up and down, taking in her appearance. She was an Altmer as well, though definitely of higher ranking. She wore a pair of matching boots and gloves made of some leather-like material, jet black but with golden linings for the most simplistic of decoration. Just above, where her boots ended, one could see a pair of fine yet equally simple black pants peeking out. However, the rest of the woman's body was almost completely concealed beneath a large, intricate overcoat that nearly reached the floor. It appeared to be three-layered: the bottom layer stretched down, almost covering her ankles at the front. The middle layer was more akin to a jacket, acting as the centerpoint of the outfit. There were no buttons - instead, the whole thing was held together with a black leather belt, a Thalmor insignia serving as the buckle. The final, topmost layer included a pair of large epaulets that extended into a collar, covering the bottom of her neck and held together by three black leather straps. Every single part of the coat was featuring the same black and gold color scheme, but if one were to look closely they could discern a simpler black silk undershirt at the very bottom. For a moment, Saya couldn't help but wonder if all of this was a fashion choice, or if the woman was really that badly accustomed to Skyrim's climate that she'd need all of this to keep warm, even indoors.
"Indeed we haven't. I was actually looking for a place to leave this…" Saya lifted her winter cloak slightly rather than call it by its name.
The Altmer woman smiled in understanding. "Ah yes. Just a moment." At the snap of her fingers, a noticeably shorter Bosmer servant quickly came to her. "Take care of our guest's cloak, please." The man (boy?) gave a quick nod and, almost a bit frantically, began to help Saya take off her overcloak. Once he was done, he quickly scurried off. "Now then, we may acquaint ourselves. I am Elenwen, the Thalmor Ambassador to Skyrim-"
"You're Elenwen? Oh, I've heard so much about you!" Saya jumped at the opportunity, cutting her off in a way that would've almost been seen as rude if it wasn't masked behind a hearty dose of childish enthusiasm.
"Ah, have you? All good things, I trust. But you've met me at a disadvantage of sorts. I'm afraid I know nothing about you." Elenwen cocked her head, displaying her curiosity. Her sharp yellow eyes, however, betrayed her intentions - she was very carefully examining the Dunmer's face, almost as if trying to recognize her. "Please, tell me, what brought you to this… to Skyrim?"
How diplomatic. "I'm something of a scholar, actually. I've been interested in exploring some of the local ruins, perhaps in search of something forgotten. There are many a legend regarding Skyrim's cities, just as many discoveries waiting for their discoverer, and a dozen pairs of greedy hands for every single one seeking to get an edge against the other side. You understand, with the current political climate…" She trailed off, leaning to the side with a wry smile but really - shooting Malborn a glance. The Bosmer acknowledged it with a subtle nod.
"I see. There's not many who would come to this kind of province in pursuit of knowledge, but that might also be why it is thought so dull." The corner of Elenwen's lips stretched into a subtle smirk as she spoke. Once she finished, however, her expression became more intense, as her gaze grew ever more attentive towards Saya's appearance. "Are you sure we're not acquainted? I could swear I've seen you somewhere…"
"Madam Ambassador, I'm sorry to interrupt…" As if on cue, Malborn's slightly shaky voice was heard from behind.
The Altmer's face warped into a scowl for a brief second before adopting the expression of neutrality once again. "What is it, Malborn?"
"It's just that we've run out of Alto wine. Do I have your permission to uncork the Arenthia red…?"
"Of course," She practically hissed, seemingly only holding back on the account of there being a guest in front of her. Saya felt for a moment as though she didn't want to know what she'd do out of her sight. "I've told you before not to bother me with such trifles."
"...Yes, madam ambassador." Malborn lowered his gaze, giving Saya only the briefest of glances before leaving to retrieve the coveted wine bottle.
The Dunmer thanked him internally for the distraction and looked to the side, her brows furrowing slightly. Jarls, Thanes, businessmen. The room was full of officials, talking honeyed words to one another. Ah, there was Erikur harassing a Bosmer servant girl. Of course he was.
Elenwen noticed it too, much to her own exasperation. "Ah… My apologies. We'll have to get more closely acquainted later. Please, enjoy the party." The woman cleared her throat, straightened her back and hastily excused herself to examine the situation.
Saya let out a heavy breath the moment she was finally alone again. Meeting Elenwen now was definitely not among her plans. Hopefully their confrontation wasn't long enough for her to remember her face. Malborn had already returned with a newly uncorked bottle of alcohol, and she approached the counter. Wordlessly, he got out a goblet and began to pour the drink.
"You made it in. Good." He spoke quietly, not taking his eyes off the bottle. "Your things are in a chamber leading into the other wing of the Embassy, through the kitchen. Get everyone's eyes off you, and I'll open the backdoor to get you in."
"Thank you." She said, in a normal conversational volume. The Bosmer responded with an almost cheerful "Of course!" and went back to his work, as inconspicuous as he could be.
Wine in hand, the Dragonborn turned to scan the room once more. Without the looming silhouette of the First Emissary obstructing her sight, Saya could now see the plentiful guests, among whom were even a few familiar faces. For example, she could recognize Maven Black-Briar, Riften's top dog, exchanging pleasantries with some trader or another. Probably some Eastern Empire Trading Company representative. They got around. Then, a more friendly familiar face entered the view.
"Jarl Balgruuf." The Dunmer gave a polite nod in greeting. The Nord smiled in pleasant surprise, returning the greeting.
"Ah, good day to you-"
"Good day indeed." She was quick to interrupt him, head tilting slightly towards the wall. Balgruuf looked a bit confused but followed, standing a bit further away from the main crowd. She gave another cursory glance to her surroundings before continuing. "I take it you're well-acquainted with some of the people here. I'll have to get acquainted with them later, myself." She emphasized the word a little more than necessary, hoping he takes the hint.
Thankfully, he did. "Oh, of course. Excuse me." The man cleared his throat awkwardly, a little uneasy. "What brings you to this… gathering? I didn't take you for a woman of such company at first glance," Balgruuf inquired. Now that he got a taste of the situation, he couldn't help but look behind his back, himself.
"Oh you know, business as usual. Learning new things, meeting new people..." She eyed Malborn. The Bosmer was still looking around the room occasionally, keeping close tabs on where Saya was. "Though I'm not used to such events, so it's rather… exhausting, not to mention time-consuming. To be frank, I didn't plan on staying here much longer, not once I get what I came for."
Balgruuf furrowed his brows and crossed his arms. The air of seriousness around the Dragonborn was getting a bit thick for his liking. "I see. Is there anything I can… help you with?"
Saya took a sip of her wine, leaning against the wall. Her gaze returned back to Elenwen, who was chatting with a few of the eastern nobles. She could almost feel how fake the smile was. "I'm trying to slip away to a less… crowded place. But Elenwen is a problem. She's the last person I want talking to me at the moment. Could you… occupy her for me, for a few minutes?"
The Jarl looked back at the Ambassador, then back to Saya. For a few seconds, he looked hesitant. Whatever she was doing had to be dangerous if she ended up in the lion's den like this, but… Well, the less he knew, the less they could use against him. "I will see what I can do." The Jarl said, toasting her and downing his goblet before moving out in Elenwen's direction with a certain resolution in his step. She watched him walk away and continued to scan the room, wondering what could possibly be used to cause a ruckus.
"Slip away, huh?" A voice just behind Saya's shoulder almost caused her to drop her goblet. As she was about to turn around and speak to the person addressing her, she was stopped. "Shhh, settle down. If you don't want to attract attention, start by not being so jumpy."
Begrudgingly, Saya stopped in her tracks and leaned against the wall, glancing in Malborn's direction again. The Bosmer was watching her unblinkingly, wiping a wine glass in his hands. He didn't seem to recognize the person speaking to her, either. "Who are you?"
"Someone interested in going places she's not supposed to be. And in that, I think our interests align." She stepped around the pillar, walking out in front of the Dunmer. It was an Imperial woman clothed in a rather fine winter gown, not unlike what Maven was wearing. She had light brown hair that just barely reached her shoulders, and her eyes were such a dark brown they were almost black.
"What do you want?" Saya asked cautiously. Mentally, she was already jotting down every detail of her appearance in case she needed to recognize her afterwards.
The woman gave her a knowing smile and then glanced back at Malborn. The Bosmer completely froze in his place for a second. Busted. Then, she turned around, speaking just as casually as before. "I can cause the commotion your friend needs. In return, I want him to let me slip out, too."
Saya squinted. Not a bad deal. "And I can trust you because…?"
"Trust?" She raised a quizzical eyebrow. "Because otherwise I'm informing the guards of a very interesting conversation I happened to overhear, and the two of you are going to the dungeons for attempted sabotage." There was no smile or smirk from the woman. She was dead serious. "So, deal?"
Saya mentally cursed. Should've known something would go wrong. Her eyes briefly darted over to Balgruuf who was still chatting with Elenwen about something or another, and the Ambassador's back was turned. She wouldn't get a better moment. "...Fine. Do your thing," Saya said, almost through gritted teeth.
The Imperial showed a self-satisfied smirk and wandered off with a slight spring to her step, leaving the Dunmer alone. Saya watched her approach a Redguard man by the entrance and winced. She'd seen drunks before, but at a high-class party like this… She shook her head, pushing the thought of societal degradation aside while she passed by the two of them, heading for the counter.
"Yes, how can I help you?" Malborn said, looking up at her. Silently, the girl nodded over to the Redguard who was beginning to get quite cheery after talking with the Imperial woman. For a moment, Saya could swear that she saw Malborn cringe slightly - the man appeared to not be a first time guest. "Alright. I'll give you the signal and you slip in as soon as you hear it."
"Let in that one, too." Saya gestured to the Imperial.
"What?" Malborn's voice cracked from the nervousness and he had to fight very hard not to drop the glass he was currently cleaning. "But-"
"She's our best chance. That, and she'll rat us both out if she can't come with." Saya half-turned to the bartender. A cold bead of sweat ran down his forehead. "...look, I know what it sounds like, but we have to do this. Now."
Meanwhile in front of them, the party was beginning to heat up. The drunken man had stood up and wrapped an arm around Elenwen's shoulders, proclaiming some loud toast while holding an opened bottle of wine inexplicably procured from somewhere. The Bosmer had backed up, putting an arm on the door handle while the Imperial approached them. They didn't speak, only exchanging an intense stare before there was the sound of guardsmen unsheathing their weapons. "Go," Malborn signaled, and all three quickly slipped into the doorway, leaving the scandalized main hall behind themselves.
Once the door closed behind them, the group couldn't help but collectively release a bated sigh. There was a strained silence as everyone continued exchanging looks, wondering what the other would do. Malborn was the first to speak up.
"I need to get back before they notice I'm gone. I'll lead you through the kitchen, just don't say a thing." He turned to Saya. "Your things are in the larder on the other side. Just… pretend that you're both unwell. I'll do the talking."
There was a silent nod from both women before the door pushed open. They entered a large kitchen, with many tables full of various ingredients and half-prepared dishes. A Khajiit woman was walking around hastily, juggling between the different recipes, but then she paused when seeing the newcomers. "Who comes, Malborn? You know I don't like strange smells in my kitchen."
The Bosmer didn't stop, continuing to walk between the tables and leading the two behind him. Saya was holding a hand to her stomach with a sickly expression, while the Imperial was covering her mouth. "The guests are feeling ill. Something off with one of the drinks, leave the poor wretches be."
The Khajiit widened her eyes. "Guests? In the kitchen? You know this is against the rules…"
Malborn stopped mid-step, sharply turning towards her. "'Rules', is it, Tsavani? I didn't realize that eating our stock of Moon Sugar was permitted. Should I ask the Ambassador?"
The cook's expression soured and she hissed. "Tss- I saw nothing. Just get out of here."
Leaving the kitchen behind them, Malborn closed the door into the larder and pulled out a key from one of his pockets. He knelt down and opened a chest, moving away the various produce before pulling out a small satchel and an ebony dagger. "Here." Saya took them, strapping the dagger to her belt and putting the satchel around her shoulder. He gestured to the way out. "I'll lock the door behind you. Go, and good luck with…" His eyes hovered over the brown-haired woman. "...whatever it is you're doing."
Saya nodded quietly. "Thank you." The other woman gave him a quiet nod and left the room. The Dunmer followed suit, and soon they heard the click of a lock behind them.
"So… What now?"
I thought the stressful part was behind me, but when I got out into the actual building I wasn't so sure anymore. I was glad to see that this girl that stuck with me wasn't helpless, at least. She was a damn good sneak, and she knew how to get a guard's attention for a quick disposal.
We also managed to find some spare robes in a sort of storage room next to the larder. Too big for me but fit on that sneak well enough. I gave her one of my scrolls once we got to the courtyard.
It sure was cold out there without the coat, though.
"Hold on, you there! Come over here." A Thalmor Justiciar called out, squinting as he looked at the approaching robed figure. Her face was obscured by the hood, but peeking out from just under it was a very human chin. "I don't recognize you. Show me your face."
"I'm here on official business," the Imperial said, still careful to avoid herself being seen. "With orders in writing, if you wish." With that, she pulled out a scroll and flipped it open, swiftly reading through the script and placing a hand on the wizard's shoulder. There was a slight flash of light green, and the man's eyes glassed over, his eyelids half-closed. The woman pointed back towards the Embassy. "Torch it." With a mindless nod, the Altmer began to hobble past her, unstable magical fire lighting within his hands. As soon as he walked away, the disguised Imperial pushed open the door, with a barely visible transparent figure following her closely.
Inside, Elenwen's Solar seemed even more spacious than it did from the outside. Saya and her companion instantly froze up, seeing a guard turned away from them as he was patrolling the room. The Dunmer's gaze jumped to a door on the left, where she could hear a passing conversation between two men behind a closed door. Softly, she stepped forward, grabbing her half-cape in hand and then putting that hand over the guard's mouth, silencing him with the thick cloth while she slit his throat.
The invisibility spell promptly dropped and Saya quietly laid the corpse down behind one of the pillars. Looking through his pockets, she found a small iron key, showing it to her temporary companion. The Imperial saw it and tilted her head in the direction of the stairway, pointing up. The Dunmer tossed her the key, and then pointed downward before putting out her hand with five fingers spread wide - 'meet in the basement in five minutes'. With another nod of affirmation, the pair split up: the robed woman continued upstairs while Saya remained there, slowly shifting over in the door's direction and listening in through a small gap.
"But I need the money, I earned it! I have my own expenses, you know." An obnoxiously squeaky voice spoke, his tone somehow both pleading and proud at the same time.
"Silence!" An Altmer voice responded, a distinct Summerset accent present in his speech. "Do not presume, Gissur. You are useful, but do not presume. We have other informants who are less… offensive."
Ah. An information exchange. Now that is curious.
"But no one else has brought you such valuable information, have they? Etienne, he's talked, hasn't he? He knows where that old man you're looking for is, he told me himself."
"You'll get the rest of your money when we confirm his story. As agreed."
"So he has talked! I knew it!"
There was a slam of a fist against wood. "Everyone talks, in the end. Now, I have work to do. Leave me to it, if you ever want to see the rest of your payment."
A brief pause. The pathetic voice spoke again. "Can I... I could help you. He'd talk to me. He trusts me."
"You'd like to come downstairs with me, is that it, Gissur? Shall we loose his bonds and put you in a cell together? You can ask him anything you like, and see how he answers."
"No! No. I'll... I'll wait outside."
"That would probably be best." Even through the door, Saya could hear the venom in the Altmer's voice. "Now get out!"
After that shout, the door suddenly swung open, Gissur almost half-running out of the office. The terrified Saya instantly put her back up against the wall, dagger at the ready. For a moment, their eyes locked. Gissur opened his mouth to scream, and a short strangled shriek erupted from his mouth before his lungs were pierced and filled up with his own blood. Quickly, the Dragonborn kicked away the body, and for a moment she hoped that she was quick enough and that nobody heard-
"Gissur?"
Ah, shit.
Quietly, she waited, her grip growing tighter around the ebony blade in her hand. She heard multiple footsteps, quiet and cautious, as the Thalmor agent approached the door. And then, just as she heard the slightest creak from it opening, her lungs drew a deep breath and she loosed a deafening Shout, ripping the door off its hinges and making it slam into the unsuspecting Altmer behind it. The window directly behind the Thalmor shattered from the pressure, and Saya dashed into the room to drive the blade through his ear as soon as the dazed man pushed the door off himself.
Now that the sealed window was broken, she could feel the smell of smoke coming from the outside. She quietly cursed under her breath, again looking through the man's pockets to find a slip of paper and another key, this one a bit more ornate. Quickly, she jumped over his desk, shoving any papers on it and within it into her satchel. Then, just as she was about to leave, she noticed a chest standing in the corner of the room. She tried the key, and it opened with a satisfying click. Inside were many things - she could see stacks of dossiers, various little notes and letters, but three things caught her eye. The first was a dossier "Dragonborn", which she promptly burned on the spot. The second was a series of dossiers labeled under "Blades", which quickly entered her satchel too. Lastly, in the corner of the chest was a small golden box containing a shining red gem. While she didn't think much of it, there was nothing else that was valuable for her in there, and so another blast of fire was directed at the chest, setting the remaining papers ablaze.
The Dunmer quickly ran out, seeing the Imperial standing on the stairs, already waiting for her with a very agitated expression. "What the fuck happened?!"
"A change of plans, hopefully the last one," the Dragonborn said, running past her and jumping over the railing to the basement level, and then looking back at the Imperial with a raised eyebrow. "Well? What are you waiting for, a formal invitation? Get down here!"
The thief pursed her lips and quickly followed downwards. The lock on the basement door released a distinct click when the iron key entered it, the heavy door opening with some difficulty. Right off the bat, they were facing a balcony leading ever further down. Behind the simple wooden railing was a relatively spacious room, a desk and chair standing by the right wall next to another chest. This one was open, as the voice of a Thalmor member could be heard from one of the three cells, seemingly interrogating some unfortunate prisoner. The pair made their way down the stairs inconspicuously. Saya approached the table, eyes gliding over the papers when she paused on the opened dossier right before her. "Esbern", "Blades Archivist". The few words were enough for her to shove it in with the others.
Her friend, on the other hand, took to rummaging through the chest. Much to her disappointment, it was empty - barring some loose papers and writing appliances. With a frustrated sigh, she backed away from the chest and began looking around, searching for something else to loot. Then, she visibly flinched as another voice spoke from the interrogation room. It was weak, barely audible, but pained and desperate at the same time.
"Etienne…?" She mumbled, almost with disbelief. Saya turned to look over at her, raising an eyebrow and following her gaze. Quietly, she stepped around the desk, readying her dagger and pointing at the cell with a quizzical head tilt. The Imperial clenched her fists and nodded.
With that affirmation, the Dunmer opened the cell door and immediately drove her blade into the Altmer's side. He froze up from shock, so another jab to the underside of the jaw was more than enough to make the poor bastard drop dead. Saya stepped over the body and saw a man suspended above the floor with a pair of manacles, covered in small lightning-shaped scars. "...bastards," the Imperial cursed, while Saya knelt down to rummage through the Thalmor's pockets.
"W… Who are you?" His voice was hoarse from screaming, and his eyes were watering as he looked up at the Dunmer. "Please, I don't know anything else."
"Good thing we're not here for that then," she said, finally fishing a key out of the robes and releasing the guy - Etienne, was it? - from his restraints. Instantly, he collapsed onto the floor, Saya barely managing to catch him. "Hey now, come on, a little early for bedtime. Can you walk?"
Etienne's heavy breathing was interrupted by a weak chuckle. "I think so… Thank you." With some help, the captive Breton managed to get back onto his feet, rubbing his wrists while hissing in pain. Definitely going to get scars from those. The two stumbled out of the cell, Etienne eventually having to lean onto Saya's shoulder to keep himself from falling. There was a flash of recognition as the Imperial woman entered his view. "...Illia?"
"Listen up, spy!" The reunion was interrupted with a loud shout and the basement door slamming shut. All attention was drawn back to the balcony, where two fully armored Thalmor soldiers were standing. Right next to them was Malborn, his hands cuffed and held tightly by the one on the left. "You're trapped in here, and we have your accomplice! Surrender immediately, or you will all die!"
"Leave quickly, I'm already-" Malborn was interrupted with a strong punch to the jaw, almost knocking him to the floor if he wasn't held up by the other guard.
"Silence, traitor!" The Altmer spat, and then turned back to Saya and the others. He aimed one hand at her, magical lightning coursing through the metal gauntlet. "Now, throw away your weapons and put your arms up. You have five seconds. One, two…"
Saya shot a glance at Illia, who begrudgingly raised both of her arms along with Etienne. The Dunmer shook her head, pulling her dagger out and raising it up in the air. The guard holding Malborn raised his sword closer to the Bosmer's neck, earning a barely audible whimper. The Dragonborn sighed, dropping it to the floor and staring him down.
"Put your arms up. NOW! I'm not asking again!" Saya looked at him, her eyes glinting with malice. But alas, she raised her hands, lowering her eyes to the floor.
Then, her hand released an orange glow and the dagger rose from the floor, shooting off like an arrow straight into the throat of the man holding Malborn. Illia and Etienne turned to her like she was mad, but by then she had already vanished in a gust of wind. The second guard had yet to process what just happened by the time she reappeared beside him, grabbed him by the helmet, and slammed him face-first into the wooden railing. The Atmer grunted, ears ringing from impact, and elbowed her in the stomach. The Dunmer coughed, stepping back as a dull ache lingered in the spot of impact.
"Now you've done it, you mutt!" The Thalmor hissed, turning around with a conjured longsword in his hand. Saya wiped her mouth, finding the other corpse on the balcony with her eyes before watching for the incoming strikes. One swing, two - on the third, she dropped down to the floor and slid past the Thalmor, tripping him as she stood up. She ran over to his dead partner and pried the dagger from his neck with a hiss. Then, without another moment's delay, she turned back to the living soldier and pointed at him, dull green magic flashing around her hand and enveloping his body, keeping him pinned to the floor with a magical burden.
Without turning her gaze away from him, Saya shouted at Malborn, who was standing by the railing and watching the unfolding events with abject horror. "Do you need an invitation too?! Move it!"
Breaking out of his catatonic state, the ex-servant ran past the helpless guard, down to the two humans who were trying to unlock some kind of trapdoor. Continuing to hold down the Thalmor before her, the Dunmer kept a mental count while listening for the others. As much as he was struggling, he was beginning to slowly stand up, although still struggling to raise his sword. Saya huffed, beginning to feel her magicka reserves starting to dwindle.
"It's open, everyone get in!" Illia shouted. In an instant, Saya dropped the Burden spell, and the Thalmor guard had to step back, thrown off balance by the sudden change in gravity. That moment of vulnerability was all she needed to plant the dagger's point into the back of his neck, and the Altmer went still soon after.
Seeing the opening, Saya pulled out the last scroll she had and read the text within. Another green glow - a brilliant, emerald green - flashed within her palm and she touched the door leading into the basement. A series of clicks was heard and the metal handle flashed the same emerald green, locking the door for good. Once that was done, the Dragonborn vaulted over the railing and ran over to the trapdoor, following everyone else wherever it led.
The first thing she felt was the cold nipping at her and she hissed, the bloody spots on her clothing sticking to her body. Everyone else was already down there, all in various stages of freezing, though Etienne notably had Illia's Thalmor robes to cover himself with. Malborn's shackles were unlocked, lying in the snow while he rubbed his wrists.
"You casually take out elite Thalmor agents like that every day or something?" Illia asked, her tone half-impressed but disgruntled more than anything.
Saya rolled her eyes. "It comes with the job."
NEVER AGAIN. If Fortunata ever asks me to infiltrate another Thalmor base, either that bitch is coming with me or doing it HERSELF.
NEVER. AGAIN.
As she promised, there was a carriage waiting for me a bit south of Solitude. It was a walk, but the driver didn't ask any questions about the guests. Thankful for that.
Our route took us on a bit of a road trip through the night. We rode through Dragonsbridge and down to Rorikstead (on a road that, with the authority given to me by myself, I will name "Reachman's Approach"), and then took a detour along the south side of Lake Ilinalta. Somewhere along the way, I tried to examine the gem that I found but then Illia instantly asked me if she could take it. It took a fair bit of coaxing and a half-threat, but she did explain why she wanted it.
Turns out, this little stone is actually why she was in the Embassy to begin with. She's with the Thieves Guild, and has been trying to collect these stones to discover some ancient treasure. I can't say I wasn't curious to get my hands on some bits of treasure myself, but I offered her a trade: if I needed her Guild's services, she'd owe me a favor and do whatever I'd ask for.
Must be some treasure if she agreed to it so readily.
We arrived at Riverwood in the middle of the night, I don't even really know when. All that I knew is that I will miss this suit. Shame it got so much blood over it, and Fortunata would probably say it's too recognizable, too.
She wouldn't be wrong, mind you, but I'm still bummed.
"Well look at that. You made it out alive." Fortunata looked the mess of an elf up and down, cocking her head. "Your uh, your things are in the chest, safe and sound as promised." She pointed at a wooden container by the wall. Saya, having just stumbled into the room while covered in blood splatter and beginning to really feel the full extent of her exhaustion, only managed a weak nod in response.
"Here," the Dragonborn croaked, slinging the bag off her shoulders and throwing it on the table with a loud thud. "Got some interesting papers in there. To save you some time, though, the Thalmor know jack about the dragons returning." She grunted as she unbuttoned her vest. Damn thing was made to last.
"Wait. Really?"
Saya grumbled, pulling off her shirt and tossing it on a free chair beside her. She turned around, giving the Blade a deadpan look. "No, Fortunata, not really. I just raided the archives of the Thalmor HQ so that I could make up the most outlandish joke to completely and utterly flabbergast you." She sighed, shaking her head. That was uncalled for. "They don't know any more than we do. If anything, I think we actually know more than they do, with Alduin raising dragons and whatnot."
"I…" Fortunata scratched her chin. "It's just a bit hard to believe. There had to be something though, something useful, right?"
"Well-", Saya huffed, pulling on her old pants with a quick hop, "-ironically, they actually think the Blades know something about the dragons. I brought back a few dossiers - the interrogator was actively adding to one titled 'Esbern'. Sound familiar?"
The Breton actually gasped at hearing the name. "Esbern? He's still alive?" The Dragonborn gave her a small nod, a bit surprised by the sudden display of emotion. The Blade smiled, a soft giggle building in the back of her throat before she burst into laughter - honest-to-gods laughter. Saya was almost a little disturbed at the display, watching 'Delphine' wipe away some tears. "He's… Gods, I thought the Thalmor must have gotten him years ago! Heh, the crazy old man…"
Saya chuckled, pulling on her boots. Guess even this one had a soft side. "They think he's hiding out somewhere in Riften. Captured a member of the Thieves Guild, tried interrogating him. He didn't know anything, though."
After one more sigh, Fortunata regained her composure. "Riften, huh? Probably the Ratway, then. That's where I'd go if I had to hide from something like the Thalmor, at least. Past the Ragged Flagon - you know it?"
"No, never been there. But I did meet a person from the Guild while in the Embassy and she owes me one." Before Fortunata could get a question in, she lifted her head and stared her dead in the eye. "Don't ask. Long story."
Fortunata opened her mouth and closed it silently, rubbing the bridge of her nose. Maybe she didn't want to know, but with that comment, she'll be thinking about it all day. She sighed. "Then you should call in that favor and find Esbern as soon as possible. If anyone would know how to stop the dragons, I can't think of another man to be a better candidate."
"A'ight. Moving out as soon as I can, then. I need some shut-eye." The Dunmer hopped off the chair with a little too much enthusiasm. Her brain was sure to hammer that part in as she almost faceplanted into the nearby desk, but managed to regain her balance just in time to save herself the embarrassment. She blinked. "...badly. I need some shut-eye, badly." She sighed, turning to the Breton. "Anything I should know in particular before Vaermina takes me by the ass?"
"Just one thing." The Dunmer cocked her head, waiting. "If you think I'm paranoid, then Esbern is on an entirely different level. When you have trouble getting him to talk, ask him if he remembers the 30th of Frostfall. He'll know."
The gears in Saya's head turned, trying to make some kind of meaningful connection with the date, but failing. Instead, she slowly nodded. "I'll try to keep that in mind."
With that information vaguely stored away in her brain, the Dragonborn shambled off to bed, leaving Fortunata to her emotional contemplations.
Tirdas, the 23rd of Hearthfire, 4E201
I think that after that mess, I deserve a day off.
I woke up at like... Noon. Absolutely horrific headache, like a hangover but without the vomiting.
Thank the Three there wasn't any vomiting...
I got to Whiterun a few hours after breakfast. Killed a few wolves on the way, went off the beaten path around the spot where the trail towards Bleak Falls was and burnt the suit there. There is no pain that the Thalmor could inflict unto me that would compare to watching the ashes of this glorious work of art spread on the wind.
It was nice meeting Lydia again. Made me feel relaxed. It was kind of funny but also a bit reassuring to hear her scold me the more she heard about how the Embassy mission went. Honestly at some point I just stopped listening to what she was saying and just… Listened to her talk. I swear, it was enough to make me pass out on the spot had she not called out to me a few times to make sure I was still listening.
I wonder what I should do. Actually thinking about it now, I never did anything to that one dagger I found, did I. I think I should have a few filled soul gems…
Enchanted the dagger with a charm to turn undead. Watch me scare off a draugr with a weapon I took from a draugr. I'd call that irony but this thing isn't even made out of iron.
Now, I actually had another thing planned for today, but I don't have the supplies for it. Hopefully Belethor's is still open.
"Thane, I'm back from training!" Lydia's voice echoed through Breezehome. In return, she heard only the soft crackling of fire. The housecarl quietly closed the door and the lock turned with a small click.
The Nord released a sigh, her body relaxing as she took off her coat and hung it by the entrance, and then took off her boots in favor of simpler, interior-oriented wool slippers. It was a while past sundown and the temperature shift, while not bad enough to really make her feel it, was still substantial enough that she'd risk catching a cold were she to walk around covered only in her armor and sweat. And for an adventurer, any kind of disease is a liability - the lifestyle isn't exactly the epitome of rest and self-care, after all.
It didn't take long for Lydia to spot her liege. There she was, sitting in a chair beside the fire pit. Her eyes were closed, and the soft breathing along with the relaxed posture showed that she was fast asleep, having drifted off in the middle of her task. In her left hand, clasped between her fingers, was a needle with some grey thread. In her right, she was loosely holding a dark grey cloak, with some string stretching between the eye of the needle and a torn seam around the collar. After moving her eyes to the side, the raven-haired woman noticed another cloak - brown, and belonging to Saya herself - tossed onto the back of the second chair, where a clear and kind of messy patch could easily be seen on the side.
Lydia smiled wryly, putting her training sword in its place against the wall. "Ever the hard-worker, huh."
She went upstairs, spending a few minutes rummaging about before she returned. With the care of a pickpocket in broad daylight, she grasped the needle and took it out of her hand. Then, Lydia's hand gently grasped Saya's wrist, and when the sleeping redhead released the cloth she was holding, the housecarl carefully removed that too. Lastly, the woman carefully unfolded a warm blanket she was holding under her arm, putting it over the lightly dressed Thane, and carefully tucked her in.
"There we go." She muttered, leaning back, seemingly satisfied with her work. She took a moment to stop and make sure everything was alright, but as Saya's lips stretched into a content, peaceful smile, so did Lydia's expression mirror her Thane's. As carefully as she entered, Lydia made her way back upstairs. And just as the Dragonborn was about to leave her sight, she made sure to look back, softly whispering:
"Goodnight, Saya."
She didn't wait for a response.