I had a horse, Shadowmere, stabled at the Imperial City stables, and, replacing my prisoner's garb with a set of clothing I stole from the inn at Weye, recovered her quickly and set out for Weynon Priory. I had a home in the Imperial City as well, but my arms and armour had been confiscated by the Watch and wouldn't be there anyway, and the gold I had sewn into Shadowmere's saddle would be enough to sustain me should I need it. I didn't fancy getting caught again by showing my face in the city too soon. Too much risk. I wasn't at my wits' best either considering I'd spent most of the previous night awake, so, once I was away from the city, I found a safe place off the road and had myself a much needed few hours of rest. Fortunately, and in spite of this, I was able to spy the priory in sight just before the sun was beginning to set.
The road Shadowmere and I travelled climbed a slight hill leading towards the priory, and then split into two, one veering away to the left, to Chorrol, and the other passing through the priory grounds. Through the trees, the tops of the priory buildings were touched with orange in the sun's slowly dying light, at least what I could see of them. As I rode, I touched the Amulet of Kings through the cloth of a pouch at my waist for reassurance – it wouldn't do to have it go missing. My thoughts flickered back to what had happened over that past day. It would be strange when this was all over. I would give the Amulet to Jauffre, whoever he was, he would take it to Uriel's bastard heir, and Cyrodiil would return to normal. Uriel, his sons, and his Blades' deaths would be reduced to a simple mark on a paper and perhaps a topic of conversation. No one would remember me. I was only the messenger, caught up in events bigger than her.
And yet, I had spoken to the emperor himself and carried the sacred Amulet of Kings. It was more than most of Tamriel could say. I wondered briefly if my part in the tale would get me out of any potential future jail time, and then discarded the idea as unlikely. Unless Baurus testified, no one would believe me. Well, Modryn might, but he'd throw a fit when he heard. I smiled at the thought of my Dunmer friend. Perhaps if this business concluded swiftly, I could make it to Chorrol before they closed the gates. It would be good to see him again. He might even have work for me.
As I crested the hill, the priory grounds opened up before me. There was a low house to one side and a small chapel to the other, with the main building nestled between them behind a well and arching over the dirt road that split its grounds. Through the arch of the centre building I could see the stables. There weren't any markings I could see to indicate what the low house and main building were, so, when I reached the grounds, I dismounted and paused by the well, trying to judge where Jauffre would be. Baurus had said he wouldn't look like the Grandmaster of the Blades, but other than that had given me no description. I didn't matter. I had worked on less before. The name, for instance, was enough to narrow down his race. Jauffre was a Breton name. Which made the silver-haired Dunmer rounding the corner of the main building an unlikely – but potentially helpful – candidate.
"Excuse me," I called out, and he stopped and looked at me, a question in his eyes. I closed the distance between us, Shadowmere following obediently. "I have a message for a man named Jauffre," I said as I neared. "I was given his name but not his description, I'm afraid. Could you show me to him?"
"Oh, well, if he's not sleeping or eating, he'll be fussing over his books, I reckon, over in Priory House," the Dunmer said. He gestured to the main building in front of us. "I'd show you myself, but I've got a bit of work to do before the sun sets. Just look for the older Breton man if Prior Maborel isn't there to take you to him."
"Ah, my thanks." I gave him a polite smile. "And you are...? I didn't catch your name."
"Eroner," he replied. "I'm the shepherd here."
"A pleasure then. Good fortune with your work."
He stepped away and I moved to the door of the Priory House. Breton, indeed.
The House itself was built of cold, grey stone, but it was warmed by the merry fire burning in the hearth to my left. There was a table before it with two monks eating, and, as I entered, one of them rose and approached me.
"I am Prior Maborel. Is there something I can help you with?" Although the Prior's tone was cordial, his warmth of his greeting was belied by the scowl on his face. I wondered briefly if all the monks here were secretly Blades, like Jauffre, like Baurus. I shifted a little so I could reach my bow easier, just in case. I didn't fully trust them to trust me.
"I have a message for Jauffre. Could you tell me where he is?" I asked. The Prior's frown eased a little.
"He's upstairs," he said, pointing. "Go ahead." I ducked my head in polite deference and followed the directions laid out by his arm, climbing the stairs at the back of the room. He watched as I went. At the top of the stairs I turned right, stepping onto a landing that held several bookcases, a chest, and an older Breton man studying a heavy tome behind a solid, wooden desk. I approached slowly so as not to startle him.
"Excuse me," I asked in my best Tamrielic. "Are you Jauffre?" The man looked up, frowning.
"Yes, I'm Brother Jauffre," he said. "What do you want?" I took a deep breath and took the Amulet of Kings from my waist pouch, striding across the room to place it carefully on the desk before him.
"The emperor told me to bring this to you."
Jauffre frowned further and shut his tome, placing it somewhere by his feet out of sight. Then he leaned forward and lifted the Amulet from the desk to inspect it further.
"Is this...?" he said, and then he raised steely eyes to meet mine. "You'd better explain yourself. Now."
I nodded my chin at the Amulet, my own expression stony.
"That is the Amulet of Kings, given to me by Emperor Uriel. He is dead, slain by assassins in the hidden passages below the Imperial Prison."
Jauffre lowered the Amulet, and gestured to the chair set against the nearby wall.
"Sit," he said. "And tell me everything you know."
It took some time to relate everything that had happened – the jail cell, my first meeting with Uriel, Captain Renault's death, Glenroy, Baurus, the assassins – but when I had, Jauffre sat in silence, thinking it all over.
"As unlikely as your story sounds," he said eventually, "I believe you. Only the strange destiny of Uriel Septim could have brought you to me carrying the Amulet of Kings." He shook his head in confounded amazement. I was quiet for a moment longer, but something the emperor had said nagged at the back of my mind.
"Who is the Prince of Destruction?" I asked. "What did the emperor mean by 'close shut the jaws of Oblivion'?"
The Grandmaster shook his head.
"His meaning is unclear to me as well. The Prince of Destruction he referred to is none other than Mehrunes Dagon, one of the lords of the demonic realm of Oblivion. It is clear the emperor perceived some threat from Oblivion, but all the scholars agree that the mortal world is protected from the daedra by magical barriers."
"So how could Mehrunes Dagon be a threat then?"
"I'm not sure," Jauffre replied. "The Amulet of Kings is ancient. Saint Alessia herself received it from the gods – it is a holy relic of great power. When an emperor is crowned, he uses it to light the Dragonfires at the Temple of the One in the Imperial City, but only the emperors truly understand the meaning of the rituals of coronation. With the Emperor dead and no new heir crowned, the Dragonfires in the Temple will be dark for the first time in centuries. It may be that the Dragonfires protected us from a threat that only the Emperor was aware of."
I sighed and leaned back in my chair.
"So you need to find Uriel's bastard heir then, don't you?" I said. "Will he even know anything?"
Jauffre shook his head.
"It may not even be that he needs to know. Merely being of the Septim blood may be enough to undo what has been done. Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to get my men organized. Prior Maborel will reward you for your efforts, and I trust your discretion in this delicate matter. If anyone finds out about the heir, he could be dead before we get to him, and then everything will be truly lost." He rose and picked up the Amulet, placing it in a pocket at his waist before beginning to make his way past me. I stared at the spot where it had been a moment before, my inner thoughts in turmoil. You're just the messenger, Sarasamacial, I told myself. Take your reward and go. This isn't your problem to deal with. You're not... fit for it. The memory of my nightmare in the prison cell flashed before me, my old self taunting me and the dead fingers of those I'd murdered grasping at my limbs. No, I wasn't fit to serve.
You alone must stand against the Prince of Destruction and his mortal servants.
A newly reformed ex-thief trying to get over a bad hist run and her own traumatic nightmares didn't make a good candidate for world saving, especially not an ex-thief with a history such as mine.
But in your face I behold the sun's companion.
Uriel hadn't even know me. He hadn't know what I'd done. If he did, he'd have never...
You are the one from my dreams.
And it didn't matter if he knew. He was old, grief stricken. He couldn't have been thinking straight when he said I could help. When he said I had to help.
With such hope, and with the promises of your aid, my heart must be satisfied.
And yet, I wanted... If I saved others, then maybe I...
"Jauffre."
The Breton paused at the top of the stairs, his questioning gaze turned to me. I rose and faced him.
"Where can I find Uriel's heir?" I asked. Oblivion take it, you stupid s'wit, part of me admonished. You'll only ruin it if you get involved. Look at Uriel!
He frowned.
"His whereabouts aren't your concern," he said. "The fewer who know who and where he is the safer he'll be until this is all over."
"I want to help. I can be of use to you."
"Your offer is appreciated, but this is a matter for the Blades––"
"That isn't true."
Jauffre scowled at me. I drew in a breath and hardened my resolve.
"If Mehrunes Dagon is the threat you think he is, than this is a matter for all of Tamriel, not just the Blades," I argued. "I am Sarasamacial, Champion of the Fighters Guild of Cyrodiil. I know what it's like to command a force that doesn't have enough men. And I'm not saying that this is the case with the Blades, but surely it will take time to alert and debrief another on the situation, yes? I'm here, and I'm available now." I paused, glancing away for one moment as I reflected on the words I was about to speak. "Besides, the emperor asked it of me."
Jauffre was quiet a moment as he thought on what I said, although the scowl that had marred his aged features had disappeared.
"What you say is true," he said slowly, moving closer as he did so. "And if you are who you say you are, then I have heard tale of you skills in dealing with the Blackwood Company. You are a warrior to be feared."
"So I like to think," I said softly, inwardly cringing from his words. The echoes of my nightmare haunted me. Innocent blood on my hands.
With sudden decision, Jauffre walked past me and to the chest near his desk.
"Uriel's heir serves Akatosh in the Chapel in the city of Kvatch, south of here," he said, his voice firm with resolve and command. "His name is Martin. If the enemy is aware of his existence, as seems likely, he is in terrible danger. You will go to Kvatch and find him at once." He faced me. "Baurus trusted you. The Emperor trusted you... it seems I have no reason I should not." He withdrew a silver key from inside his robes, bent, and unlocked the chest. Rising, he turned to me again. "My resources here are limited, but I will help in any way I can." He gestured to the chest. "Help yourself to whatever you need. Now, excuse me, I must attend to my Blades."
"Thank you, Jauffre."
"May Talos guide you, Sarasamacial." He walked past me. I watched him go, his silvered, tonsured head disappearing down the stairs. When I could no longer see him, I turned to the chest and outfitted myself with studded leathers that thankfully fit my form fairly well, restocked my arrows, and helped myself to several potions.
When I went to take my leave, however, I was stopped by Brother Piner.
"You're going into danger, aren't you?" he said. "Jauffre didn't tell us any more than that, but know that our prayers go with you." He looked down, as if a little embarrassed, and offered me a small bundle he held in his hands. "It may not help much, but I want you to have this. It's from my days when I trained as a Blade." I accepted the bundle, and carefully undid the knot at the top that kept it together. The cloth fell back, revealing a whetstone and oiling kit. I smiled at him and closed it up.
"Thank you," I said. "I'm sure I'll have great use for it."
"I'm glad. Talos guide you," he said.
"And you."
The gates to Chorrol were just closing as I ran up from the stables. Fortunately for me, it was Astius Phillian doing the closing, an old friend from my early Fighter's Guild days. He smiled and waved, and I called a breathless 'thanks' as I slowed to a stop beside him.
"Getting a little out of shape," he teased, and I smiled at his cheeky tone as I caught my breath. "I remember a time when you boasted of running from Chorrol to Cheydinhal without rest." I grinned up at him as I straightened, my breath returning.
"I think that was the same time I claimed I could jump to the moon, but Modryn grabbed me and pulled me off the table to stop my attempt. I remember because he spilt my mead."
Astius gave a laugh.
"Always getting into trouble, aren't you?" He sobered a little, his blue eyes watching me from under the rim of his helmet. "How is Oreyn doing, by the way? I haven't seen much of him off shift lately."
"The guild keeps him busy," I replied. "We're still recovering from that run in with the Blackwood Company. Recruiting is low. Pay is even lower. The only thing that's improved is our reputation. "
"Damn Argonians and their hist," he said with a shake of his head. "Well, when you see him, give him my regards. Tell him to go get a drink."
"I will," I replied with a laugh. "Thanks for letting me in."
The first thing I saw as I entered the town proper was the statue of the dying soldier and the healer. At least, that was what I'd always thought of it as. It didn't quite seem a good omen considering my task, but I ignored the thought and headed past it, following the streets I knew so very well. It took me only a few minutes to cross the city, and soon I was heading up the steps to the Fighter's Guild, the heavy, wooden handle of the door under my hand.
The sights and smells of the Chorrol Fighter's Guild hall were some of the most memorable in all my forty-odd years of life, and I sighed in contentment as I fell over me. Turning, I nimbly hopped up the stairs, nodding in acknowledgement to the porter who saluted me as I passed. As I neared the guild master's floor a familiar muttering and cursing filled my ears, and I smiled.
"Shouldn't you be home by now?" I said teasingly to the dark blue head bent over a pile of manuscripts. The head in question lifted, revealing an angry scowl I knew too well. Ah, Modryn Oreyn. He never changed. Part of why I loved the man.
"There you are!" he exclaimed. He put down his quill angrily. "What in the blazes took you so long? We had word that your contract has been filled for over a week!"
"Sorry," I said with a nonchalant shrug. "I got a little tied up in the Imperial City." I settled myself on the edge of his desk while my friend glowered. "Things are bad, Modryn."
He leaned back a little, the fury on his face dissipating by a degree.
"How bad?" he asked, his eyes narrowing. "Not the Blackwood Company or something again, is it?"
I shook my head.
"Worse. The Emperor is dead. So are his heirs." Shock registered briefly on his face.
"What do you mean, 'dead'?"
"'Dead' as in he isn't going to rule any time soon, and his sons aren't going to do it, either. I don't know when word of this will get out, but as of this morning we've been officially ruled by the Elder Council."
Modryn pushed himself back from the desk and rose. He began to pace in front of me.
"How do you know this?" he asked. "You said it happened this morning… barely anyone would have heard of it by now. It's not something the Council would want known until they'd had a chance to deal with it."
I sighed and steeled myself.
"I was there, Modryn. I watched the Emperor die." He stopped his pacing, and stared at me.
"You what?"
So I told him. Much as I had with Jauffre, I explained my imprisonment, the hidden passage, our separation, our reunion, of the attacks, and, finally, of Uriel's death. I left out the Amulet, however, and Martin. I had learned long ago the cold, cruel lesson of ill placed trust. Modryn was the closest thing I had to family and a dearest friend, but some things were wiser not to speak of. Besides, the less he knew, the less of a threat he was, and the less likely he was to be a target for any future assassinations.
During my account, Modryn had returned to his chair, and now sat there with his chin resting on his hands and a look of disbelief on his face.
"I don't know what to think, Sara," he said slowly. "Are you in any danger?"
I shook my head.
"I don't believe so. Any of the assassins who might have seen my face were slain. Baurus told me to see the head of the Blades to pass on the Emperor's final words, but other than that I've no association with them."
"Good. Keep it that way. You've always had a knack for getting yourself into trouble."
I smiled wistfully at my friend. If only he knew. How I wished I could take him on my merry adventure.
I rose swiftly.
"I'm going to Kvatch tomorrow," I announced casually as I settled my bow more comfortably. "I'll be leaving at first light."
"Kvatch?" Modryn questioned. "Did Burz gro-Khash give you a contract I'm unaware of?"
"No, not Burz. Personal business."
Modryn frowned at me, but he could find no reason to tell me no. I had, after all, earned any time off I desired. I was the guild's shining star.
"All right," he grudgingly agreed. His face unexpectedly softened, and I saw the weight of his many years in the faint, faint lines of his face. "Just come back safe, will you? With the Emperor dead, who knows what will happen."
I nodded and touched his shoulder fondly.
"I will. Don't worry."
He offered me a bed at his home as we made our way down the stairs, allowing me the chance to avoid sleeping in the common room with all our other guild-mates, but I turned him down. I didn't mind sharing spaces with my comrades, even if my rank entitled me to more luxurious accommodations. Regardless if I had said yes, however, I would have spent the entire night feeling guilty. Modryn only had one bed, and that meant giving it to me if I accepted. No protestations on my part would be able to change his mind on that, either, and I didn't like the thought of my friend sleeping on the floor of his own home. It was my hope that with his new position in the guild he might soon be able to afford a few extra comforts. He deserved them.
I bade my friend good night, and settled myself in one of the empty cots on the second floor of the guild hall, near a window. I wanted to make sure the sunlight would wake me if my own internal clock failed. Snuggling into the thin blankets, I slept. It would be a long journey tomorrow.