"I have news for Larian," came Derrick's voice from the other side of the door. Larian looked up at this and frowned.

"The boss ain't seein' no one, you bastard," came the coarse reply from the bandit standing guard at the door to her quarters. "She'll come and find you when she's good and ready." She had to admire the bandit's tenacity and gall, but somehow suspected it would have dire repercussions.

The sound of something hard striking the door, accompanied by a grunt and groan of pain and topped off with the sound of something sliding down the door met her ears. The door opened shortly thereafter to reveal Derrick standing in the doorway - the bandit on his back, clutching at the back of his head.

"Were you not so important, I'd take your head off for assaulting one of my own," Larian said coolly. "He was right, by the way. I'm not seeing anybody right now. Get out, Derrick, and-"

"Skyrim's High King has secured help to retake Rorikstead. Your men at Helgen failed to take the town altogether because of some noteworthy resistance," he interrupted. She was irritated that he saw fit to interrupt her, but his news was definitely important enough to make it forgivable.

"My men had no orders to take Helgen," she muttered. "I can only imagine a handful decided they'd ingratiate themselves to me by taking the town, much as we took Rorikstead." She sighed heavily. "Idiots. They deserved whatever they got." She watched the guard bandit climb to his feet slowly. "Leave us," she commanded. "Derrick and I need to talk in private."

The bandit nodded, shot the Imperial a glare filled with pure venom, and stormed out of the inn altogether.

"Did you really have to bash his head against the door that hard?" Larian asked, crossing her arms. She wasn't entirely sure that was what happened, and even doubted it - Derrick was slight of build, after all, and she seriously doubted he had the physical strength to perform such a thing - but she couldn't think of anything else it could have been.

"I think you and I both agree my news was vital enough to justify it," he replied. Her brow quirked as he neither confirmed nor denied the 'head bashing' part.

"Be that as it may, be careful who you rough up. Just because I say you're important doesn't mean the others won't slit your throat in the middle of the night if you piss them off."

"I'll take that to heart." He leaned against the doorframe. "So what now?"

"Who told you about... well, both of those? About Helgen and the High King?"

Derrick only pointed skyward. She found this curious.

"Explain."

"Clavicus Vile takes care of his own," Derrick said smoothly. His words brought no small degree of loathing to Larian's mind. Was he suggesting that Vile didn't consider her an ally, or worthy of trust in any shape, way or form? "He has given me something through which to communicate with him," he added. "You can relax." She hadn't realized her hands had balled into tight fists until he'd said she could relax.

"Don't you tell me what to do," she hissed. The explanation was satisfactory, but it didn't ease her mind in the least. She did relax her hands, however, so the fists became slack. "And he hasn't given such a thing to me... why?"

"You have not been in his service nearly as long as I have. I have his trust because I've served him for a couple years now." That answer did set her mind at ease, and she felt the anger die down considerably.

"Fair enough. Was he generous enough to tell you who Ulfric sent to Rorikstead?"

"They haven't left for the town yet, so we are in no immediate danger... but Ulfric secured the help of an old friend to retake Rorikstead. Someone he trusts rather implicitly."

"Probably some Nord knuckle-dragger, then," Larian mused. "Even so, they'll eventually reach Rorikstead, and if they're someone Ulfric trusts, they're capable. We'll eventually have to give up on holding Rorikstead." She stared at Derrick for a few moments. "Did you find-"

"I did. There's an unusually large amount of magical energy in Labyrinthian. I heard the stories, that it had been visited in years past... but something still persists. Something remains, and I'm sure it's that 'something' which Clavicus wants."

Larian had also heard the stories of Labyrinthian, and a frown crossed her lips. She didn't want to venture into the legendary ruin for any reason, but knew she'd have to eventually. There were likely to be dangers the likes of which she'd never even dreamed possible.

"There's also a source of energy in a Dwemer ruin to the southeast of here," he continued.

This made Larian's frown grow, and she gave him a dubious look. She'd seen maps of Skyrim before, had traveled the wilds before.

"There are no Dwemer ruins to the southeast of here," she said flatly. "Southwest, perhaps, but southeast of here is southern Whiterun Hold and Falkreath Hold. Neither one hosts a Dwemer ruin."

"Not above ground," he said with a nod. She blinked at this, and forced herself not to belt him for smirking at her.

"Is there somewhere we could reach it from?" she asked. If she could take her mind off his air of superiority, she wouldn't need to try quite so hard to refrain from knocking him out cold with a punch.

"No, but there is a cave close by. With some digging, we could probably reach it ourselves."

"So you're suggesting I make my boys dig holes. Wonderful." She sighed wearily. "I'd rather not..."

"Do you have any better plans?" he asked, a rather amused tone slipping to his voice. He looked surprised when she smirked and nodded.

"I do, in fact..."


She'd become something of a local hero for her help in Helgen. Jerra no longer charged her for a room, and the townsfolk were amiable, more so than before.

The Stormcloaks, however, were wary of her. To that end, she'd been asked to 'visit' the keep and speak with them. She surmised she knew why. She was not wrong.

"I'm in Skyrim on business," she replied. She was seated in a chair in what appeared as though it was once a torture room. A table sat in front of her; across from her sat a Stormcloak, whose helmet hid his head from view.

"What sort of business?" he asked gruffly. She'd recognized his voice from the very start of this unofficial interrogation; it was the same Stormcloak who'd asked her for her help in freeing Helgen from the bandits.

"My employer, back home in High Rock, has business partners here in Skyrim. He sent me here to help them with something." It was the truth; she had papers saying as much.

"And that brings you to Helgen?" he challenged.

"I was in Elsweyr before I was asked to come here. I came north from Cyrodiil - Bruma to be exact. I have papers, if you want to see them." He nodded, and she began to rummage through her pack for them. "Though I will admit, this entire process seems... peculiar, considering..."

"While your help was welcome, Neria, we can't let just anyone stay here because they helped us with something. Anybody else might assume you brought those bandits here to look like a hero."

"That's a bit... much."

"I don't think like that, but not everyone thinks like me," he replied. "This is official process anyhow."

"I got through the border already, though. Why is this-" she began. She stopped when he held up his hand.

"Not everyone crosses the border legally. Did you hear about the Dragonborn, several years ago? The man who defeated Alduin and saved all of us? He crossed the border illegally."

"He wasn't thrown out?" she asked, quirking a brow.

"We had no High King then. Besides, once it came to light that he'd crossed the border illegally, throwing him out of Skyrim would really have been counterproductive. We could very easily be dead if that had happened."

"And now?" She was a little surprised to see the Stormcloak's shoulders slump a little.

"No one knows. He's been missing for eight years now. Far as anyone can tell, he's probably dead."

She only gave a small nod in response. Her fingers brushed against the small bundle of papers, and she grasped it firmly and withdrew it from the pack. She quickly thumbed through each of them to make sure they were all there, then extended them to the Stormcloak. She simply sat and waited for him to look them over. Neria had questions, but figured they could wait until after he was done.

"I'll have to confirm this with Nurelion, of course," the Stormcloak finally said, handing the bundle of papers back to Neria. "You'll have to stay here in Helgen until I get word back that Nurelion's indeed expecting you."

"No worries," she replied with a smile. "Those bandits came here for a reason, I'm sure; I have to wonder if they'll make another attempt at Helgen anytime soon." The Stormcloak gave a nod to this.

"You'll be under watch until we can figure up the truth of the matter. Business and all."

"Yes, yes," she sighed. "I understand, and you won't have any trouble from me."

"Be that as it may..." He stood up slowly. "Well, we're finished, then."


"The Arch-Mage is a common pawn."

The words made Runael bristle, and she glowered into the glowing pit.

"Am I wrong?"

"I am no pawn, Augur," she retorted. She rested her hands on the edge of the pit and sighed softly. She'd had trouble sleeping the past few nights, and hearing the Augur call for her didn't do much to settle her further. Unable to sleep, she'd decided to pay him a visit. These first few words were not particularly encouraging.

"And yet, you are preparing to do a task for someone, simply because they asked."

She had no real retort to that. She could try and reword it as she desired, but she knew that that was all it was - rewording.

"It is not unfamiliar, I suppose. You are adept at sticking your nose in others' business."

"Meaning...?" When the Augur didn't reply, she sighed wearily. "I'm not looking forward to this either, but for the sake of Skyrim's people, it ought to be done."

"And you must go along?"

"Ulfric can't very well go traipsing around Skyrim anymore, and my friends will need perspective from one of us. Again, I don't like it, but I must do this." The glow flickered briefly; she'd seen the flicker before and knew what it meant. "Don't give me that look. They're just bandits; how bad could this be?"

"Worse than you are thinking," he replied. Those words left her unsettled, and she held her breath, awaiting some dire warning or prophecy of some sort. "Toward the end of the path, between Arch-Mage, apprentice, Dragonborn and fighter, one of you will have perished. Whether the rest survive or not will depend on how clear the survivors' minds are."

Hearing that she, Mia, Adalla or Elsera were all but certain to die left Runael speechless, wide-eyed and horrified. Her mind went blank for several moments, and her vision became unfocused as she pondered the warning.

"Knowing this, will you press on? Knowing that you will lose a friend - if not your own life - will you continue?"

"I..." She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "...Have no choice. The word has been sent, and it's only a matter of time now... I'm not going to waste their time by telling them I've changed my mind. I will do all I can to protect those dear to me. I... I defy your dire warning, Augur."

"As long as you remember that I gave it when the moment has arrived, I do not care either way. Just remember, Arch-Mage... not all criminals possess linear thought. Some are craftier than you give them credit for. That will lead to the inevitable death." With that, the light began to dim in the pit.

"Can't you just tell me who it is?" she finally grumbled. "I don't want to worry non-stop about it; it'll affect my sleep."

The light was extremely faint now, but still present. Runael held her breath again, hoping against all hope that the Augur would tell her.

"I could," he murmured, "but knowing will only make it worse."

To that, she had no reply beyond silent acknowledgement. Nonetheless, she was starting to worry. She lifted her hands from the edge of the Augur's pit and sighed quietly.

"I'll defy this tragic fate of yours, Augur," she finally said. "And when I return triumphant, you and I will have a long talk about your incessant vagueness."

"No," he said, the light fading entirely from the pit. "We won't."

It was his tone with the last three words that made her think there was more than a simple denial to his reply. She was of a mind to speak up again, but knew, deep down, that he was gone for now.


A.N. - Larian, Neria and Runael. I couldn't really foresee myself writing about anyone else in this chapter. Larian's segment turned out the best, in my opinion; Runael's was alright. I do have some regrets about Neria's segment, but I just don't know how else to rewrite the entire segment. Hopefully, there will be more to come in the chapters to come.

I say 'hopefully' because I haven't touched Ch. 7 in almost two weeks. I seem to have hit a slump, unfortunately; I want to write certain characters, but I simultaneously don't want to feel like I'm focusing too much on one or the other more than others. I know some people do that, but I feel... guilty, I guess, if I do it. I'm also admittedly having conflicting thoughts on how to arrive at the first major plot development; there are two to three different ways I could arrive at it, and I'm not really sure which is best. Couple that uncertainty with a general sense of weariness as of late, and... yeah. I'll try and get some more writing done over the week; Ch. 7, contrary to my previous belief, is NOT done yet, and because of that, there's nothing to follow it at present. If I'm going to stick to my posting schedule (as I really want to), I'll need to get to it.

-Spiritslayer