No matter how hard she tried to dismiss it, Neria could not forget. No amount of mead in Candlehearth Hall, no mindless task for Nurelion, no feigned interest in any manner of topic with the local - and somewhat wary, if not hostile - Nords could make her forget.

It had been far too long since she'd last seen Larian Ravell... and yet, the hair on the Nord bandit over a week ago had looked so similar in its color. It had been more than enough to unsettle the Breton knight, who usually prided herself in her relatively unshakable personality. It hadn't affected her ability to perform tasks for Nurelion - most of which involved collecting ingredients that he could not go and collect himself, owing in large part to an ailment which had come over him in recent times - but it did leave her unable to sleep quite often. Every time she closed her eyes, she could only see the dark brown hair and emerald eyes she remembered Larian having. If she did sleep, it was to wake from a nightmare in which Larian was killed before her eyes - even despite the fact that, in truth, Larian had simply vanished from High Rock one day, and none had seen her since.

Nurelion's apprentice, Quintis Navale, had proven observant enough to know something was troubling Neria. She, in turn, had decided to confide in him, deciding it best to speak of it with someone - and she had surmised Nurelion simply wouldn't care. To the old high elf, Neria was nothing more than 'an aide from a business partner' - which was true, but still somewhat irksome to be told quite bluntly.

Quintis, on the other hand, had proven quite understanding. He'd shared his own tale of losing an old friend, never knowing what had happened to them, but always wanting to find out and have closure. His words had served to help ease her mind somewhat, but never were they enough to help her forget.

Neria had been coming back from a trip to the southern reaches of Eastmarch, where she'd been collecting jazbay grapes and dragon's tongue; she'd also chanced upon a few skeletons, which yielded bone meal, and had spent a couple evenings in a strangely derelict mining community, which, according to her map, was called Darkwater Crossing. There had been signs of a scuffle - burn marks on the side of the main farmhouse, several deep gashes in the wooden beams outside the mine that looked as if a large sword had been buried into them - but no bodies were anywhere to be found... not even in the lake nearby, which Neria had chosen to swim in a few times.

Darkwater Crossing had been attacked... but by whom? Neria had no answers to that question, and no one was there to answer the question for her. With no answers forthcoming, Neria had chosen to gather as many fish from the lake as she could carry back with her, had taken steps to preserve said fish so it didn't spoil on her trip back to Windhelm, and left the empty Darkwater Crossing behind. She would report it to the guards back in the city, and they would address the matter from there.

"I've returned," Neria began as she entered the White Phial. Night had fallen, and the shop was closed, but Nurelion had entrusted her with a key and permitted her to stay in the Phial instead of forcing her to stay in Candlehearth Hall... although she had to sleep on the wooden floor upstairs, as there was no spare bed for her to sleep in. Not the most comfortable arrangement, but she was fine with it.

She had not been expecting to see Nurelion and Quintis both behind the counter, arguing back and forth. She contemplated sticking her nose into the matter, but chose instead to silently put the ingredients she'd collected in safe storage places, where Nurelion would take care of them from there. Her curiosity would not ebb, however, and once she finished storing the ingredients she'd gathered, she decided she'd at least ask.

Nurelion was not quite so approachable for anything, least of all this particular matter, so she went to Quintis instead. He told her that Nurelion had found the final resting place of the apothecary's namesake - the White Phial - and that he wanted to retrieve it himself, but given the older elf's health, Quintis suggested it was a bad idea. Neria had to agree, although she didn't vocalize it.

"What if I retrieved it for him?" she offered.

"I... well, it would probably be safer than if he went after it," Quintis began tentatively, "but-" He was interrupted by the sound of footsteps coming down the stairs. Both Quintis and Neria fell silent.

"You would do that?" Nurelion's voice said, softly, from the stairs.

"Well... I am here to help you, no? If it's to be a dangerous trip, I'm admittedly better suited to retrieving it than either of you," she replied carefully.

"It was buried with its maker, Curalmil, in a long forsaken cave to the west of here," Nurelion replied, "so if you're the sort to believe in the walking dead, it may be a dangerous trip." His tone when speaking of the walking dead told Neria he didn't believe in such things. He then informed her that she'd need a mixture to reach the Phial itself, and upon passing a bottle to her, told her it was the mixture in question. She wasn't sure what to do with it, but decided to keep that uncertainty to herself for now. With a curt and grumpy way of saying 'thank you for agreeing to help me with this', Nurelion returned upstairs.

"Neria, are you sure that you-" Quintis began. She lifted her hand to silence him, however, and smiled at him.

"I'm sure, Quintis. You don't need to worry so." She didn't want to share her own anxiety over it. She'd delved into ruins and caves before for previous business partners of her employer, so the overall lifestyle of being an adventurer was not foreign to her... but it would be her first time actually delving into a crypt. She'd faced the skeletons dotting Eastmarch, but knew there were more undead creatures than shambling bones... and it was these 'more' that she'd never faced before.

He appeared ready to protest it even further, but let it go after a few moments. He simply nodded, gave her a small package containing potions that he had made, and wished her luck. She thanked him, then informed him she wouldn't be leaving until morning so she could get some rest for the trip ahead. With the new task at hand, she decided she'd restock her provisions, as well, and departed for Candlehearth Hall to see what they had for long journeys - as well as eat dinner, seeing whereas Nurelion, in his eternal 'hospitality', did not provide meals, only lodging.

She had almost reached Candlehearth Hall when she heard the unmistakable sound of a Nord saying 'Halt!' very near her. Unable to see anyone else nearby, she decided she was the one being told to stop, and complied.

"Are you the one who told the guards outside the gate about Darkwater Crossing?" It was a Stormcloak. The way 'Halt' had been said, she was expecting a weapon to be drawn, but no such weapon was.

"I am," she replied. "Is there a problem?"

"The High King wants to speak with you about it." This revelation stunned her. She was not accustomed to speaking to someone so important about something so... well, 'mundane' would be an understatement, as it was a fairly important issue, but she hadn't thought...

"When?" She was hoping it wouldn't clash with her ability to retrieve the White Phial. Between wandering through a crypt and meeting with the High King of Skyrim, she was honestly leaning more toward the crypt. She'd heard stories of Ulfric Stormcloak over the years, and had never thought to meet him... nor did she realistically want to.

"Right now," came the Stormcloak's reply. "He sent me to bring you to the palace."

"I..." She sighed softly. "...Lead the way, then. I'll just eat dinner afterwards."

The Stormcloak was not quite as friendly as Galar of Helgen. He said very little to her, and for the most part, ignored her when she tried to speak to him. She eventually gave up trying altogether, and simply made noises of empty acknowledgement whenever he said something. Once they reached the Palace of the Kings, the Stormcloak ushered her inside; she hesitated for only a moment before complying. Nothing she'd learned in the past had ever prepared her to meet royalty.

The great hall of the palace was vast and imposing. Neria felt ridiculously small in the hall, but forced her unease down. At the opposite end of the hall sat a throne wrought of stone, upon which sat a man clad in upper-class clothing. Standing in front of him, at the bottom of the steps leading up to the throne, was a man clad in what appeared to be fur armor, with a helm much like a bear's head upon his head. The two men were talking quietly with one another, but as she drew nearer, she could hear such things as 'bandits' and 'coincidence' - although the latter term was laced with negativity for whatever reason. The man on the throne noticed Neria once she was nearer, and held up his hand to interrupt the other man.

"I, ah..." Neria hesitated, and her mind went blank. After a time, she decided she'd do the respectful thing and dropped to a knee, bowing her head to him. "One of your soldiers told me you wished to speak to me, Your Majesty?" She glanced up at him, hoping that she'd not made a fool of herself; she assumed it was High King Ulfric Stormcloak seated upon the throne, but had no idea what he looked like, so she wasn't sure.

"Assuming you are the one who brought news of Darkwater Crossing back with you, yes," he replied. His deep voice practically shook her to her core, so commanding and imposing was it. She forced herself to remain calm. "Who are you, then, to bring such news back?"

"I- my name is Neria, and I've been helping Nurelion at the White Phial," she answered quickly. "I was gathering ingredients for him throughout Eastmarch the past couple of days, and came across Darkwater Crossing during that trip." The other man cleared his throat pointedly, and she realized why. "Your Majesty," she added, feeling foolish.

"Neria?" he said, quirking a brow. "I recognize your name. You were at Helgen when the bandits tried to take it. Galar's report spoke rather highly of you. It's not often an outsider throws their life on the line to defend Skyrim."

"To be fair, Your Majesty, very few outsiders are permitted into Skyrim to begin with," she said tentatively. To her immense relief and some surprise, he chuckled at this.

"True enough. Most have no business entering our home." He regarded her for a few moments in silence, and in time, she began to shift uneasily under his gaze. "Galar's report said you are a knight. Are you sworn to a lord?"

"No, though I am in the employ of-" She stopped when he lifted a hand.

"Then more a 'warrior' than 'knight'," he said. At this, she felt more than a little incensed.

"I swore an oath of knighthood," she replied rather defiantly, "vowing to protect the weak and innocent with my blood and honor. I'll not have that oath dismissed quite so easily. I serve no lord at present, but that does not invalidate my status, Your Majesty."

The other man glared at her and growled a bit at her defiance, but Ulfric remained rather calm in comparison. There was something in his eyes, however, that Neria could not readily identify.

"In place of a lord, then, you serve the people... when you aren't serving your employer." She didn't respond, as she saw no need; she presumed it to be a rhetorical statement. "To the heart of the matter, then. Tell me all you saw in Darkwater Crossing. Leave no detail unspoken; anything we can use to identify what happened to it is welcome."

She complied, telling him of the burn marks on the farmhouse, the deep gashes in the wooden beams, and the strangely absent bodies of any who may have died in the attack. She also mentioned how the mine itself had appeared as if it had been abandoned while the workers were in the middle of working; there had been chunks of stone and ore littering the ground within, and there were a couple pickaxes that appeared as if they'd been dropped in surprise, rather than set down. As she spoke of even the tiniest details she could recall, she noticed that both Ulfric and the other man were looking somewhat concerned; Ulfric's brows were furrowed as she recounted it to him. By the time she finished, he was stroking his beard thoughtfully.

"I've known something was amiss," he finally said. "Oengul War-Anvil, the blacksmith, recently informed me that he never received a shipment from Darkwater Crossing - a shipment he was supposed to receive several days ago. I sent soldiers to investigate, but they've not returned. To think it was attacked, however, and no bodies were found..."

"I... heard you mention bandits?" Neria asked slowly.

"Aye," the other man finally said, making her jump; his voice was rough and had something of a growl to it. "Bandits took Rorikstead a few weeks ago. You already know about their failed attempt to take Helgen. Bandits seem likely at Darkwater Crossing, but they didn't try taking it over for themselves this time."

"You can't be dismissive of it, Galmar," Ulfric replied. "Magic and blades were used in the attack. Bandits are the only things that use both in Skyrim."

"I'm not being dismissive, I'm trying to keep our options open. If we're wrong about the source of the attack?"

Neria shifted a little. She was starting to feel unnecessary, but didn't dare try to dismiss herself from their presence just yet.

"If we're wrong, then the only thing we do 'wrong' is purge Skyrim of more bandits. I fail to see a downside to that."

"We would let the real culprits run free," the man named Galmar replied. To this, Ulfric didn't respond; instead, he looked at Neria again.

"Do you have any plans in the near future?"

"I... well, tomorrow, I was planning to head to the west and retrieve something for Nurelion..." she said tentatively.

"So no." Again, she felt irked at his dismissive nature, but held her tongue. "I'll assemble a small group of soldiers to investigate Darkwater Crossing closer. I want you, in the meantime, to investigate Shor's Stone."

"I... honestly, Your Majesty, I don't think I should be-" she began.

"Are you refusing the High King's request?" Galmar growled. Ulfric said nothing, but the look on his face suggested he was thinking the same thing that Galmar had vocalized.

"I- well, no, but my employer-" she started.

"I'm sure your employer - Elsath, was it? I'm sure he'll understand that I wish to address a problem quickly and, in so doing, make business easier for both him and Nurelion to conduct," Ulfric replied coolly.

"...Why Shor's Stone?" she asked, resigning herself to her quite reluctant and hopefully temporary role of 'servant to the High King'.

"I received a report from Riften a few days ago that shipments from Shor's Stone to Riften have stopped completely. Does the situation sound familiar?" It did, and she somehow knew exactly what to expect, but...

"Why send me, though?"

"You won't draw as much attention investigating Shor's Stone alone. If it's occupied, get to Riften and send word to me; if not, see what you can find. If there's anything you can carry back, I expect you to do so."

She could not help but feel as though she was expendable in Ulfric's eyes, whereas his soldiers were not. She was liking this less and less, but was in no position to refuse his request. She knew it had been the right thing to do, reporting what she'd discovered at Darkwater Crossing... but even so, there was a part of her that regretted it altogether.


A.N. - And now Neria's caught up in this bandit crisis. As was planned from day one, of course. All I'll say at this point is that Neria will actually have a very big part to play in all of this.

Neria's only real saving grace in the Palace of the Kings was how she helped defend Helgen from bandits, and comes well recommended by a Stormcloak who fought alongside her in Helgen. The situation sounds... almost familiar... but I can't place exactly where-

Oh, right, the vanilla start to Skyrim. Some marked differences, of course, but as I wrote this chapter, I realized that it had that whole 'visit the Jarl, mention Helgen, get sent to do something for him' aspect to it. Bandits and dragons are not the same, though, and I've decided it's alright to let this subtle 'deja vu' slip because that's about as 'deja vu' as I intend to let it get.

I realize it's not Monday yet, but a recent issue with this computer has made me decide it's best to start saving my chapters to the site's Doc Manager shortly after they're finished; that way, if my computer does decide to die on me, I won't lose all the progress I had. Of course, that comes with the downside of 'I'll only ever have so many chapters done in such a case, and won't reliably be able to write more', but better to hit that roadblock when I come to it than to derail entirely because all of my progress was lost to a 5-year-old computer's age showing. So why am I posting the new chapter a couple days early? Because seeing it sit in the Doc Manager, ready to publish but not doing it yet just... I dunno, frustrates me? To each their own; I'll update next Monday (not this Monday coming up after the weekend).

-Spiritslayer