None of them had known what to expect when they reached Rorikstead. Although they'd kept their evenings camped in the wilderness wrought with stories, laughs and the like, all four of them knew at heart that the journey to Rorikstead had a purpose. Once they had reached Whiterun, they'd begun planning how best to infiltrate the town and find the bandits' assumed leader. Mia had been given the task of slipping into the town to search for the assumed leader, while Runael and Elsera would keep an eye on the western and eastern gates; Adalla would watch the town from the hill looming to the south, and would go wherever she was needed most. They had all silently agreed that it would be easiest to do under the cover of night.

The lack of bandits outside either gate was their first warning sign that something was amiss. The second sign was that the gates were opened for the Arch-Mage and her apprentice. The third and final sign was that Mia, although successful in infiltrating the town, had found no bandits strutting about within.

"They knew we were coming?" Adalla said in disbelief. All four of them had since reunited in the tavern, where they were unable to believe what had ultimately transpired. There had been a table pulled away from the wall, and a bench had been moved to the other side. All four of them were seated at the table, two on each side.

"Seems so," Mia muttered.

"I've told no one else of this," Runael said, frowning. "I don't think Ulfric would waste our time by letting it slip, either." She was hesitant to continue, but did so. "The only explanation is that there's a spy in the palace, and they heard Ulfric and I discussing the matter."

The citizens of Rorikstead had been able to confirm that there had indeed been bandits in the town for a couple weeks. They had even given a very detailed description of the one to whom the rest answered to. They spoke of an Imperial mage, as well, who was the only individual the bandits had permitted to enter and leave the town freely - although the first time had been met with much suspicion from the bandits. Matching accounts from the citizenry had dismissed the notion that there were no bandits in Rorikstead to begin with, as Elsera assumed was the case.

Then, almost a week ago, the bandits had just... left. There was no explanation offered to the citizenry, no apologies given for occupying their town. While the citizens were baffled, they had nonetheless been glad to know that the bandits had apparently given up.

Runael was less than pleased, however, to know that the bandit leader had given them the slip. While she was glad the town was liberated, she was silently furious that the bandits had left. She was not looking forward to notifying Ulfric of the development in any shape, way or form; in the past, even the mere suggestion that his Stormcloaks may have been compromised in some way was more than enough to anger him. He and Runael had stopped talking several times in the past because she'd dared suggest it. And now she had to suggest it again.

"Sometimes, I wonder if my relationship with Ulfric is worth the trouble," she sighed, rubbing her temples wearily. "He's not going to be pleased to hear this."

"Relationship?" Adalla asked, looking shocked.

"'Friendship' may be the best way to describe it," Runael said once she realized how her words could be taken. "Nothing like what you're thinking." She looked at Mia, then Elsera, then Adalla. "There's nothing more we can do here, in regards to the bandits. I suppose we should head to Windhelm and notify Ulfric in person."

"Is that wise?" Elsera asked. She knew about Ulfric's temper because she'd been witness to it once, and had heard even more tales of it from Runael. The Arch-Mage knew his temper was exactly why Elsera was asking.

"Better to speak with him directly than write a letter and make it seem like I'm scared of him," the Altmer replied. There were no arguments there from the other three.

"Why did they leave, though?" Adalla murmured. "Surely there weren't so few of them that they had no chance whatsoever...?"

"They didn't," Mia replied with a chuckle. "No gang of bandits've got a chance in Oblivion 'gainst the four of us."

"I mean... from their point of view, what's a small group of would-be heroes? Why wouldn't they stick around and fight for Rorikstead - maybe even destroy it, once they realized they're outmatched?" Adalla continued. "You and I have seen it a lot in the past, Mia: bandits in caves or ruined forts, thinking I was alone or the other way around, and even when they saw both of us, they still thought they had a better chance than us of winning."

"Perhaps the leader's smarter than that," Runael said after a time. "Lead her men to their deaths, then take the town down while she goes down swinging? Typical for a power-hungry idiot, perhaps, but..."

"Not smart enough to leave the town be in the first place," Elsera muttered.

"I didn't say she was a genius." The Dunmer offered no reply to the amused comment from Runael. "My point is, this does seem to confirm there's a leader of bandits... if not throughout Skyrim, then with this particular band. She's very dangerous, if she's able to take a town and hold it, and know when it's best to retreat when faced with imminent threats."

"You think she has former experience in these sort of things, like a former commander or some such?" Adalla asked.

"It's not impossible, but if the descriptions are right, she doesn't sound to be that old. Mid-to late-twenties, perhaps... not a lot of time to have years of experience like that. If she was a former commander, she must have led from a rather young age." Runael sighed lightly. "To be honest, that's a terrifying thought... because if that's the case, then she must be a prodigy... if not a genius."

"Maybe we're giving her too much credit," Elsera began slowly. "They'd settled in for a couple weeks, right? Then the Imperial mage comes along, and not long after that, they leave Rorikstead. What if he had something to do with it?"

"Same sort of deal, I'd think," Adalla replied. "Except it would mean he's the prodigal former commander, not her... and yet, she was the one giving orders, the one the rest answered to - the Imperial mage included."

"Sitting here contemplating it won't resolve it any sooner, sadly." Runael swung her legs over the bench and stood up, stretching her legs a little. "We'll make for Windhelm and inform Ulfric of the development. From there, we'll see what our next move is."


Larian had felt quite pleased with herself. It wasn't because she had captured miners from Darkwater Crossing several days ago, or that she'd followed that up with miners from Shor's Stone but a couple days ago. It was the fact that she'd ordered Derrick to keep an eye on the miners as they dug through the cavern that would get them to the Dwemer ruin. He wouldn't be alone, of course; she'd sent Nadine and several other bandits from the Valtheim Towers to Falkreath, and they would be at the cave to keep the miners in check, make sure none of them - particularly the orc from Shor's Stone - would give Derrick any trouble.

Above all else, she was quite pleased to find that he was very irritated being effectively assigned the position of 'foreman'. All that mattered to her was the space it gave her from him. He had always grated on her nerves, of course - always trying to order her around when she was the one in charge, for example - but the opportunity was simply too great to pass up.

She, in the meantime, had told him she'd be 'somewhere in the northern reaches of Skyrim'. Larian had chosen to be so vague and stay that vague just to annoy him, but she also suspected that Vile would tell him where she was anyway... which worked out, considering she didn't know exactly where she'd be staying. There weren't many bandits hanging around Labyrinthian, after all, which limited her options somewhat.

She had decided it best to split up. No one would suspect she was in Labyrinthian, looking around for whatever it was that gave off magical emanations strong enough to catch Vile's eye. Derrick, in turn, would do the same in the Dwemer ruin because she'd told him to. She felt as if she had triumphed in some battle against him once he had acquiesced to her wishes.

Of course, that had been but a couple days ago. As she drew closer to Labyrinthian, however, the satisfaction of bossing him around began to fade, and the tales and legends surrounding Labyrinthian came back to her. She was not keen on delving into the ancient and legendary ruin for any reason whatsoever, yet she had to do just that. She was of a mind to visit whatever bandits were nearest the ruin and bring them along, but she also reminded herself that should they fall, her overall grip on Skyrim would lessen. No, she would manage this alone... and yet, that sense of unease just would not leave her alone. She had a sneaking suspicion something was going to happen to her, and it was going to be her end... that this was some devious ploy of Vile's to get her killed for his own amusement. The fact that she'd had no contact with him directly since he'd given her this recent assignment did not alleviate this concern, either.

She was snapped back to reality when she felt something like the tip of a blade press against the back of her neck. She knew instantly it was no bandit; even if they didn't know her name, they knew her face and figure, and would know better than to pull a weapon on her.

"You serve Vile." The voice was male, though Larian couldn't figure out who her apparent assailant was.

"No idea what you're talking about," she replied calmly, continuing forward. She opted to stop when the tip of the blade departed the back of her neck - and the weapon's sharp edge suddenly found a place pressed, ever so slightly, against the front of her neck.

"Your lie does not amuse me," the mysterious man growled. "My lord is not blind. He knows what Vile plots, and knows your role in it."

"Enlighten me, then. I'd love to know what the bastard's up to." She decided there was no sense pretending she answered to no Daedric Prince.

"There is no point. You will be dead before long, and Vile's ploy thwarted." She felt the blade inch draw but a hair closer to her neck.

She didn't permit him to pull it any closer. One second, she drove her right elbow into the man's side, making him grunt in pain and causing the blade to still; the next, her left hand seized the blade and pulled it away from her neck, allowing her to step forward several paces and whirl around to face her assailant.

The man was clad in a black robe and had a hood up. He also wore a mask unlike anything she'd ever seen before. His hands were covered in a pair of gloves, such as those farmers or other workers typically wore; leather boots were upon his feet. It was a strange ensemble, as she'd traditionally seen mages wearing robes - yet this man had no magic radiating from his hand, and was instead fixing his grip on the steel blade in his right hand.

"I'll give you one last chance," Larian said calmly, reaching up to seize the hilt of her greatsword. "Tell me what Vile's up to."

"I have no more words for a dead woman," came the cold reply. She drew her blade and pointed it at him threateningly, then readied it for a charging thrust. She stopped, however, when she saw deep violet magic coalesce in his left hand. She knew what he was up to, but found herself curious all the same. It was her curiosity that caused her to still her blade for but a moment.

It was only a moment that the masked man needed. A rippling pool of magic appeared in the air briefly, and from its heart spilled forth a creature she'd never seen before. It towered over her, had long limbs, large hands, and what seemed to be a fish-like head. Its hands curled into fists, and it loosed an unearthly roar in her direction that unnerved her. Once it straightened up, it began to stomp toward her.

Larian had already recovered, however, and was charging the creature, greatsword drawn back. She stopped a couple steps away from it, planting her foot on the ground, and pivoted in place, swinging the greatsword with both hands in a wide arc in front of her. She felt the sharp edge of the blade bury itself into the creature's left arm... then stop. She blinked in surprise, and attempted to wrench the blade free of the creature's limb.

Its right fist came swinging at her left side, and she had but a couple seconds to react. She gave up on her greatsword for the time being, and instead leapt back a short distance, causing the creature's fist to miss. It had failed to strike her, but she was at a disadvantage. Her sword was still lodged in its left arm, and it apparently fought with its fists.

The sound of a footfall behind her was the only warning she received of an attack from behind. She spun around to face the assailant, and felt the tip of a steel sword pierce her right side. She winced, but bit down the cry of pain that she wished to release instead. The masked man had snuck around to flank her, and it was his sword that was being pushed just a little further into her side.

Between the large creature's fists and the blade pushing into her side, she decided the massive behemoth was an easier target to evade. She darted to the left and away from the blade; she felt the steel sword depart her side a moment before her left side hit the ground. A quick glance told her that, while she was on her side and on the ground, she was also between the creature's legs. The man was approaching her, while the creature was backing up slowly so it could strike her easier. For now, her eyes were on the masked man.

Her foot caught him square in the groin once he was close enough, and the blow made him double over. She was on her feet almost immediately after and sent her right knee soaring upward. She felt a grim satisfaction as her knee connected with his face full-force and heard the unmistakable sound of something breaking. The impact snapped him upright again; after a brief second's pause, he fell onto his back. His sword clattered on the ground as it fell from his hand; she was quick to kick it away from him, then follow the blade and snap it up in her own hands. The sound of a heavy impact upon the ground made her glance back - to see the large creature had slammed both of its fists into the ground where she'd been standing just a moment ago. Her greatsword was still lodged in its left arm, however, which made her very wary; surely its presence should have weakened such a blow...?

The masked man's gasp for air drew her attention to him once more, and the creature straightening up once more made her glance at it again. She was, at the least, determined to reclaim her blade, and so she charged at the creature with the steel sword in hand. It swung its right fist at her in fury; she ducked beneath the fist, then tumbled forward and between its legs. Once she was upright again, she was on one knee; she rose swiftly, turned to face the creature's back, and with all the might she could muster, drove the steel sword into the center of the creature's back, hoping it had a spine to pierce.

The creature roared in agony before falling forward. It wasn't moving much, though that didn't answer the question as to whether or not it had a spine. She was able to move to its left side, place her foot against its leg, and wrench her greatsword free. She buried its tip in the ground, and began to look for the masked man; she decided cutting his throat with his own sword would be a fitting, and somewhat ironic, end.

The creature dispersed into nothingness. Once it was gone, Larian realized that so, too, was the masked man. He had escaped her somehow.

"Coward," she growled. She threw his steel sword away from her, watching the weapon sail through the air before its tip was buried in the trunk of a tree. Pain radiated from her right side, reminding her that she'd been wounded; in the heat of the moment, she'd been able to zone it out. She ignored it long enough to grasp the hilt of her greatsword and replace it at her back, then gripped her right side firmly with her left hand.

She would treat it once she found a safer place. For now, treating her injury was inviting him to attack her again, were he still nearby. With that in mind, she set forth on her chosen path again... this time, trying to determine the identity of her mysterious assailant... and of his lord.


A.N. - Okay, so we all know who the attacker's lord is (possibly). That doesn't mean Larian has the 'meta' advantage. :P

I had a lot of fun with this chapter, particularly the fight. I can't really remember the last time I did anything like this - that is, a 1v2 situation. Typically, it's a 1v1 (unless I'm forgetting something somewhere...), so writing a 1v2 was equally challenging and fun. Plus, it gave me a chance to show off how Larian fights, just a bit. I just wish I still had screenshots of Larian...! x.x

Not a whole lot more to say here, really. Next chapter's ready for next week, and I should be able to write another chapter or two over the course of the next two weeks.

-Spiritslayer