Arch-Mage Runael,
My lord has asked for your presence in the Palace of the Kings, located in Windhelm. He has recently learned that you were formerly with the Thalmor, and wishes to know why you are no longer with them. He also wishes to know why the Thalmor were so interested in the College of Winterhold to begin with. He also asked me to inform you, word for word, 'this is not a request'.
Humbly,
-Jorleif
Steward to Ulfric Stormcloak, Jarl of Windhelm
A storm raged out at sea, rocking the unfortunate vessel caught within. Waves crashed upon the sides of the ship, water flooding over the deck. More than one man or mer lost his footing, remaining on board solely by their grip upon ropes. Shouts filled the air as they struggled to maintain some sort of control of the vessel, and to stay on course.
The sound of rain hitting the deck was nothing more than a sleep-inducing thrum to those below deck, and indeed, the vast majority of the crew below deck was asleep. A few crew members were still awake, seeing to their duties.
Then there were the mer they were taking across the treacherous sea.
There were seven additional mer total, most of them wearing not the attire of a seafarer, but rather the armor of the Aldmeri Dominion. Glimmering elven armor that looked as if it had never seen battle, the finest robes that looked as if they were brand new and had never been worn before, and weapons that bore no marks of conflict whatsoever upon their edges or sides... were it not for the leader of the group, the sailors wouldn't have believed these mer were members of the Dominion that had faced combat before.
The leader was not clad in the armor of the Dominion, but rather in a suit of full ebony, each piece enchanted with potent magics by the most powerful enchanters back in Alinor. His sword, a single-handed ebony blade, was at his side. His helm, also ebony, was resting upon the desk within his chamber below deck.
One elbow rested upon the desk itself, his head propped up by the airborne hand. His other hand held a letter he'd been given before he departed Alinor by his superiors. His hair spoke of his age: for all intents and purposes, his white hair could easily be mistaken for grey, considering the multiple locks of grey hair he possessed; his face bore several wrinkles that also indicated his age. His vivid golden eyes seemed to sparkle with hidden youth, suggesting an energy unusual for one as old as he.
He set the letter down and let out a long, weary sigh. And to think, just a month ago, I was considering retirement, he mused to himself.
Vindicator Thellias had been at sea for three weeks now. He was roughly three weeks away from Solitude, and from landfall in Skyrim.
He had mixed thoughts on his earlier-than-intended start. On the one hand, he was quite looking forward to catching the floundering Elenwen off-guard by arriving two weeks earlier than he'd informed her... but on the other, he was not particularly looking forward to the frigid climate that was Skyrim.
A knock at his door turned his attention to it, and he looked over his shoulder at the door. "Speak," he commanded, his voice sharp and authoritative.
"Sir, there's been an... incident." The voice belonged to one of the six mer under Thellias' authority. "The ship's captain is trying to... cause trouble, to put it lightly."
"Emphasize." He didn't want to find out he was going to be cleaning up a mess the ship's captain himself should be trying to clean up instead.
"Saarie's being harassed."
Thellias felt his eye twitch.
"I did all I could to suppress the captain, sir, but... well, I wouldn't be bothering you if he remained such."
The elder mer pushed his chair away from the desk slowly, the sound of wood dragging across wood meeting his ears as he did. When he rose, he did so with a small, almost imperceptible groan. He picked up his ebony helm - more so out of habit than necessity - and tucked it under his left arm. "No one harasses my second and gets away with it," he growled. In a matter of a few strides, he was at the door and opening it. "Lead the way. I have some choice words for the so-called 'honorable' captain."
The other mer nodded, then led his superior to the troublesome captain's quarters. "Saarie's back in her quarters already," he explained upon seeing the Vindicator's eye twitch again. "I dragged the captain back here, though."
"And you left him unguarded? His door locks from within, no?"
"I think I made my point well enough to convince him," the mer said, opening the door and pushing it inward firmly.
The sound of the wooden door slamming against the wall, coupled with the sound of ebony boots stepping purposefully over the wooden floor, was more than enough to elicit a surprised yelp from within the quarters. The captain came into view, holding a small dagger as if to attack someone, which made Thellias laugh inwardly.
"You're a sorry sight. Hardly professional," the elder mer commented.
Indeed, the ship's captain looked disheveled. His light brown hair was a mess, with tufts sticking out here and there; it even looked tangled in some places near the back. He wore no top, though thankfully his leggings remained in place. The man, a Redguard whose ship had been hired a few times in the past, lowered the dagger slowly. "Oh, it's just you," he grumbled.
"Yes, it's just me." Thellias stepped forward once more. "Were you perhaps expecting someone else? Especially after word of your treatment toward Saarie reached my ears?"
"All I asked her was if she wanted to eat with me once we got out of this storm," the captain protested.
"How many times have you asked her?" The elder mer affixed the Redguard captain with a hard stare.
"Just once-"
Thellias held up his free hand to silence the captain, then strode toward the captain's desk. Both hands gripped his ebony helm, and he slammed it upon the desk. The sound made the captain flinch, and when the Redguard saw a flash of anger in the elder mer's eyes, he shrank back. "How many times have you asked her?" Thellias asked once more, sounding more insistent. "And how many times has she turned you down?"
The captain's mouth opened and closed wordlessly for several moments, as if weighing the options of telling another lie.
"Since we've been out at sea, she has told me you have asked her every... other... day. She is tired of telling you 'no', and wishes you would take a hint." Thellias' tone was calm, but that said nothing of the irritation in his eyes. "She's also told me you've been trying... other things with her."
The captain remained silent.
"We're out in a storm, captain," the Vindicator continued on. "This is your ship. You should be more involved in the well-being of your crew and vessel right this moment. You should not be trying to make the guests upon your vessel uncomfortable or irritated with you... especially not both."
"I have faith in my crew," the Redguard replied, finally finding his voice again. "I don't feel as though I'm absolutely necessary for getting us through this storm."
"No?" Thellias tapped his chin lightly. "Tell me, how far off course are we right now because of the storm? Do you even know if we're off course? How many of your men remain onboard, and how many have been swept overboard by the raging waves? Do you know how much longer we'll be stuck in this storm? Did you even know we were sailing into a storm?"
The captain's face burned with embarassment at being questioned as he was, and he looked ashamed of himself for not having answers to give.
"It's no wonder you humans were fool enough to grant divine status to another human," Thellias growled. "You all do whatever you please, whenever you please... and damn whomever suffers because of your decisions. You cannot and will not think of where you ought to be in times of need."
"Talos has nothing to do with-"
The Vindicator took a step toward the captain. "No, but the example does. You humans are vain and irresponsible. It's a miracle your kind have even managed to hold an Empire intact as long as you have. I will confess, Tiber Septim did an amazing job of that task, but an amazing Emperor does not equate to a Divine. There are those among you who seem to think so, though, as evidenced by the name 'Talos' being heralded as a Divine. As I said... vain."
"And who was our worship of Talos hurting?" the captain snapped. "No one! Who cares who we choose to worship? Why is it such a terrible thing to worship the only man who ascended to godhood? You want to talk about the flaws of a race? I have some choice words for-" He realized what he'd said so far, and what he was about to say, and cut himself off abruptly.
"No, please..." Thellias gave a smile that made the Redguard's skin crawl. "Continue. I insist. I'm curious as to which race you're going to critique, and in what manner. This little visit has proven most... engaging, and I'm loath to leave you be now..."
"I-it's nothing," the captain stammered. "I-I have a ship to see to, and a crew. Excuse me." He brushed past Thellias brusquely, clearly eager to put distance between himself and the Thalmor Vindicator.
Thellias let him go, and marveled at how the Redguard had no issues leaving the elder mer alone in the captain's quarters... especially after the suspicions Thellias now had about the 'good' captain. He closed the door and locked it, then turned to regard the chamber. Now... if I were a worshipper of Talos... where would I hide my amulet, or shrine, or both...? With that in mind, Vindicator Thellias began to search the captain's quarters.
"That thief of yours got caught."
Olfrid blinked at the words. "What? How did-"
Eorlund Grey-Mane shook his head. "Simple. He's a thief. I'm willing to bet he saw coin and deviated from the task you gave him."
The patron of the Battle-Born clan rubbed his chin with a frown. "Damn. I suppose I should have known better than to put such a delicate matter in a thief's hands, but they're supposed to be some of the best at sneaking around..."
Eorlund picked up the letter that rested upon the table, and scanned the words.
Grey-Mane,
I cannot and will not tolerate your antics any longer. I am willing to overlook this partcular incident, as no harm came of it, but persist in this and you may find yourself living outside of Whiterun.
Your ties to the so-called 'Thieves Guild', however, are another matter altogether, and for the sake of Whiterun, I will be taking steps to counteract the menace of the 'Guild'.
-Regent of Whiterun
Olfrid watched the elder Grey-Mane read the letter, and tried to do the same. "Who...?"
"That Thalmor bitch up in Dragonsreach." He tossed the letter toward Olfrid. "She thinks I'm the one with ties to the Thieves Guild."
Olfrid read the letter, and frowned. "When did you receive this letter?"
"Shortly after your thief was captured." Eorlund heaved a sigh and leaned back in his chair. "I'm still appalled that you have ties to a guild of thieves, Battle-Born, but hopefully that will work out in our favor in the end. That's also assuming the rest of them don't let their greed blind them."
"And when exactly was the thief captured? It's been at least two days since I set him on the task... I'd just assumed he was taking it simple, staking out Dragonsreach, observing and making sure he didn't get caught."
"He was caught a couple nights ago," Eorlund said, looking troubled. "Though I'm still unsure why she assumed I sent him..."
"Maybe he talked, and pointed a false finger?" Olfrid commented. "If that's the case, though, he certainly could have pointed elsewhere. He risked much, naming your family."
Eorlund nodded and took the letter back as it was offered to him, then tossed it into the firepit in the middle of his home. "Which is exactly why I warned against you sending a thief to do the job. No honor, no self-control, and horrible under pressure."
"So now what? It's too soon to try sending someone else to infiltrate Dragonsreach..." Olfrid watched the letter burn, his expression thoughtful.
"We still don't know the state of affairs within Dragonsreach, so that remains our top priority." Eorlund stood and began to pace. "We need someone who can infiltrate Dragonsreach without arousing suspicion. Someone like..." His face twisted in disgust. "...A member of the Thalmor," he all but spat the words.
"You've lost your mind, Grey-Mane," Olfrid sighed. "No elf is going to defy their masters like that, especially not for something that counteracts their presence in Whiterun."
"It was an example, idiot," Eorlund snapped. "I'm aware of that fact. Who else does the Thalmor trust nowadays, though?"
Silence settled between them as they both lapsed into thought on the topic. The silence was broken by the sound of the Grey-Mane home's front door being opened. Both men turned their attention to the door.
"Ah, not just Eorlund Grey-Mane, but Olfrid Battle-Born as well?" The voice was female, sharp and bore much arrogance. The speaker was an elf dressed in the robes of the Thalmor. "I'm sorry to intrude at this hour."
Both men paled at the mer's presence. "Regent," Eorlund said, maintaining as much calm as he could muster. "To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?"
"You received my letter," the Regent of Whiterun said with a humored tone. "I'm following up on it." She glanced about the home. "You don't mind if I look around, do you? The best interests of Whiterun, after all, may very well hang in the balance."
"By all means, Regent. I do kindly ask you refrain from entering the closed room upstairs, however." He shook his head as the high elf's eyes narrowed. "I've nothing to hide, of course, but Fralia may not be so... tolerant of you in her room."
"I'll deal with that if it arises," the Regent said dismissively. Two more Thalmor guards stepped into the home, and the door finally closed. "You two are to search the home for anything proving the thief's story true. I personally do not believe it, but cannot dismiss it, either." The last comment seemed to be directed at Eorlund.
"I should be leaving, then," Olfrid said, rising from his seat. "I'd hate to get in your way."
"No no, Battle-Born. Stay. I insist." There was a malevolent glint in the Regent's eyes. "I'd heard you two had mended fences, but hadn't dared believe it. Your families finally tired of the petty squabbles born of this war?" Her eyes followed the two guards as one began to search the lower level, while the second walked upstairs.
"We found a common enemy that's more important than the war," Eorlund said.
"Truly? And who might that enemy be?" The Regent sounded genuinely interested, but Eorlund suspected it was an act intended to lull him into saying more than needed.
"These dragons, of course. We know nothing of them, but we try to learn whatever we can."
"Dragons." The tone in the Regent's voice was less than convinced. "And so to learn more about dragons, you send a thief to Dragonsreach?"
"I'm sorry, Regent, but I haven't a clue what you mean. Why would I send a dishonorable individual such as a thief to gather anything such as information? To Dragonsreach, no less, home of the Jarl? And the Regent, I may add," he said, noting her expression at mention of the Jarl.
"I think the better question is, why wouldn't you?" Her tone was amused.
"For the very reasons I outlined," he replied. "Besides, I have no ties to such dishonorable folk as thieves, let alone a guild of them."
"M'lady!" came a voice from upstairs. "I've found something of interest!"
The Regent's eyes registered the confusion in Eorlund's eyes with no small amount of humor. "Anything I ought to be concerned with, Grey-Mane?" she said softly.
"I would think not," he replied, though the way the guard upstairs had called down, he had cause to be concerned. He began to wonder if he'd left any incriminating letters in his home.
The guard came downstairs, holding in his hand an amulet. The wooden carving attached to the string was the symbol commonly associated with Talos. "I found this in the nightstand next to Grey-Mane's bed," he commented. "Apparently, the destruction of the statue was not message enough."
Eorlund glared at the guard. "How dare you," he growled. "I've not worshipped Talos in years, not since you elves mandated the banning of it! I no longer own an amulet of Talos!"
"My guard seems to be holding evidence otherwise," the Regent said smoothly.
"Evidence you brought in with you!" he roared. "That amulet is not mine!"
"Mm, you could be right about that," the Regent mused. "You're not the only one who lives here, after all." Her eyes turned to the guard holding the amulet. "Bring Grey-Mane and his family to Dragonsreach. We'll discern the true owner, given enough-"
"Wait!" Olfrid's voice was sudden and made everyone jump. "He speaks true, Regent. The amulet of Talos isn't his."
"And how would you know that, Battle-Born? It's here, in his home." The Regent's eyes were now upon Olfrid, narrowed rather dangerously.
"Because it's mine." Olfrid's voice was unwavering, such that it almost convinced Eorlund. "I hid the amulet away here months ago, without Eorlund's knowledge."
Eorlund knew Olfrid was lying. He's taking the fall for me, he thought, his respect for the patron of the Battle-Born clan swelling.
The Regent and the guard both exchanged glances. "Was there anything out of the ordinary about your amulet, Battle-Born? Any unusual carvings on the back, or any damage?" she asked.
"No."
"We'll see, then." She reached a hand out for the amulet. "So when I inspect this amulet, I'll find no damage, or personal touches made to it, correct?"
"Correct, unless you create them before my very eyes," Olfrid said, his eyes sparkling lightly with amusement, as if to say the idea was ludicrous.
The Regent turned the amulet over in her hands, looking it over closely; her fingertips glided over the wooden carving, as if to feel any damage or markings her keen eyes may miss. "Well, that's interesting..." She glanced up at Olfrid. "It's as you say. No damage, no markings. It's simply a well-worn, ordinary wooden amulet of Talos upon string." She handed the amulet back to the guard who'd found it. "How very bold of you to speak up and be honest. One does not see it often enough anymore." She nodded at the guard. "Arrest him. Bring him to Dragonsreach."
"I'll go quietly," Olfrid said, hands moving to plain view.
"Generous of you." The Regent watched the guard with the amulet gesture toward the door, then turned her gaze to the second guard. "And you, did you find anything in the Grey-Mane's home?"
"Only this letter." He held up the letter in question. "I thought nothing of it, but my thoughts are not yours, Regent."
Eorlund stared at the letter, as if hoping to identify it.
The Regent of Whiterun reached out and took the letter, unfolded it, and began to read it aloud. "'I can bear it no longer, Olfina. Let us slip out of Whiterun soon and travel to Riften, where we can'- did you even bother to read this, guardsman?" She waved the letter around exasperatedly. "This is clearly a love letter from..." She scanned the bottom of the letter. "...Jon Battle-Born."
Eorlund and Olfrid exchanged stunned glances.
"I'll assume you two knew nothing of this, then." She handed the letter to the stunned Eorlund. "Harmless enough. We have other matters to attend to... but thank you, guardsman, for... enlightening these two." She nodded to the other guard. "Take Battle-Born away. As for you, Grey-Mane..." Her eyes shifted to Eorlund. "Your innocence seems proven. I apologize for the unannounced visit and the accusations. Rest assured when I say the thief we caught in Dragonsreach will pay for his lie very dearly."
"As you see fit, Regent." He watched as the Regent, both guards, and Olfrid departed his home. His mind spun with everything that had happened, and he decided to check the letter the other guardsman had found.
I can bear it no longer, Olfina. Let us slip out of Whiterun soon and travel to Riften, where we can be wed at long last. If this means our families will be outraged, we will distances ourselves from them and begin a new family of our own.
You remember that Khajiit I told you about, the one who stayed at the Mare three months ago? He has gotten back to me, and told me he can fashion us some of the most exquisite rings for us to wear. He also said he has information that our families may be interested in, but he wanted to speak of it in person.
If you would be mine, meet me during the day wearing a wreath of red, blue and purple mountain flowers. We will depart later that evening for Riften by way of carriage.
With deepest love,
Jon Battle-Born
"My lord, I have news." The Dunmer's voice snapped the blonde Nord from his doldrums, and turned his attention to the door of his bedroom. "Olfrid Battle-Born was just brought in on accusations of worshipping Talos."
"That's absurd," a balding Imperial said, rising from his chair near the door. "The Battle-Borns sided with the Empire, so-"
"Perhaps not," the Nord said slowly. "Just because the Battle-Borns sided with the Empire doesn't mean they've stopped believing. The same could be said of me." His gaze shifted to the Dunmer. "Irileth, don't tell me you've been sneaking about again."
"One of us has to stay in the know, Jarl Balgruuf," she said with a chuckle. "Besides, they haven't caught me yet, and I've been sneaking about Dragonsreach for three months now."
He sighed heavily. "That's not my point," he grumbled. "If they do catch you-"
"Which they won't," she added.
"There will be no mercy for you, or for any of us," Balgruuf finished. "You risk more than your own neck, my friend. Just remember that."
"I'm aware, my lord. That's why I'm so careful to remain hidden."
Balgruuf scratched his chin gently. "Still, Olfrid... it is odd, I'll give it that. Where did they bring him from? His home?"
"Apparently, he was visiting Eorlund when the so-called Regent paid the Grey-Mane home a visit," Irileth said quietly. "You remember that thief they found sneaking around Dragonsreach? The Regent seemed to suspect Eorlund had a hand behind that, for whatever reason, because she went to 'investigate the Grey-Mane household'. I understand he's not here, so she must not have found anything."
"Hmm..." The Jarl lowered his hand. "She goes in with the suspicion that Eorlund was involved, and comes back to Dragonsreach with Olfrid on accusations of worshipping Talos... no doubt they searched the Grey-Mane family's home top to bottom... but how would Olfrid have been identified as...?"
"I overheard one of the guards saying that, on orders from the Regent herself, he brought an amulet of Talos into the home and pretended to find it. The ruthless 'plant the evidence' trick, it seems." Irileth looked disgusted.
"But Olfrid ended up in...?" His brow furrowed in thought. "It makes no sense... the only thing I can think of is that Olfrid took the fall for Eorlund. Why would he do that, though...?"
"Perhaps because he suspected the amulet was brought in, and that if he owned up to it, he couldn't be punished for something he didn't do." It was the Imperial who spoke. "It's not entirely impossible he was trying to protect Eorlund, either; according to Adrianne, both families are getting along better lately. Have been for quite some time now."
Balgruuf sighed. "These Thalmor are running Whiterun into the ground," he muttered.
"That's nothing new," Irileth said quietly. "I'm sure they'd run Skyrim into the ground if they controlled it entirely."
Balgruuf glanced at the Imperial. "Proventus, do you think you can still sneak letters out of Dragonsreach?"
"Assuming the Thalmor haven't blocked off the exit to your balcony, yes." Proventus straightened up.
"Good. I want you and yours to send a letter to the College of Winterhold." His expression became thoughtful. "Tell the Arch-Mage it's time for the College to repay their debt to Irileth and I."
"M'lord." The Imperial rose from his seat, bowed to Balgruuf, and departed the room, leaving the Jarl with his Housecarl.
"Are you sure that's wise, m'lord?" Irileth asked softly. "Getting the College involved..."
"I'd rather not, either," he agreed, sitting upon the edge of his bed. "Even so, I can think of no one else who still owes us a debt. I'm through waiting for something to happen that we can exploit; it's time for us to take action." He looked Irileth in the eyes. "It's time we took Whiterun back from the Thalmor."
Elenwen,
I understand recent events have left the Embassy in a state of disarray. I believe I may have a solution for you, but I will require something of you before I can give it so freely.
If you wish for the infiltrator who disgraced your fine name to be caught and brought before you to face justice, I will require a sum of two hundred gold pieces and free access to the Embassy.
If you wish for me to solve your little defection problem, I will require a sum of three hundred gold pieces and a note that marks the bearer as a representative of the Aldmeri Dominion.
If you wish for me to solve both issues, I will require all conditions as listed above, in addition to an artifact the Regent of Whiterun confiscated when she assumed control of Dragonsreach: the Ebony Blade. I also do not wish to be asked any questions as to why I need any of the aforementioned things.
Do not forget how well I have served both you, and the Aldmeri Dominion, in the past. As ever, I look forward to fruitful business with you.
-En'zhar
A.N. - That moment where you go to use the keyboard commands of Ctrl-I and Ctrl-B for the 'A.N.' annotation, and somehow end up pressing Ctrl-A (the keyboard command for 'Select All', for those who aren't fully aware) instead... had a moment of panic and 'be very careful, man...'
Thellias makes his first appearance, and things are getting interesting in Whiterun. I do feel bad for leaving both Runael and Elenwen out of this chapter, excluding correspondence from others, but I didn't want to fill this chapter with too much. For me, introducing Thellias and developing things in Whiterun a bit further took just a tiny bit more precedence over Runael/Elenwen this chapter.
Next chapter... will be along as soon as I can manage it. I will admit I had a case of writer's block between Chapters 2 and 3, but that seems to have vanished now, and I do have the weekend off, so I should be able to get some writing in. (You didn't expect me to reveal too much as to what's to come, did you? :P )
-Spiritslayer