Eorlund,
You know as well as I do that my father is not guilty of what he claimed, and the Thalmor certainly know it as well... yet they continue to hold him in Dragonsreach. This is an affront to the Battle-Born family's name, and we're not going to simply take it.
We strike Dragonsreach tonight to free my father. Your family is welcome to join us.
-Idolaf
The only thing Adalla actively registered was the sudden shift in her balance, moments before she fell to the stone-lined road. She broke her fall with her hands, and glanced back distractedly.
Her foot had snagged on a creep cluster while she'd been distracted by her own thoughts. Embarrassed by this, she quickly stood, glanced about for anyone who may have seen her trip, and when she saw no one, she continued on as if nothing had happened.
She dearly wished such was the case in the long run, too. It had taken some time to convince the Regent of Whiterun that she was needed elsewhere, as ordered by First Ambassador Elenwen; not even the threat to the Regent's husband had been quite enough at first. Once Adalla had written a letter to Elenwen, however, and was about to send it off, the Regent was made aware of the letter's contents, and realized that the First Ambassador was quite serious about the new orders.
She had been stunned, perhaps even mortified, to learn that Runael, her best friend in Skyrim - perhaps even Tamriel - had betrayed the Dominion. She had resolved to slap Runael for keeping her defection a secret, but had also sworn to do whatever it took to change her best friend's mind... before it did become too late. If Alinor hadn't yet heard about it, they eventually would.
A low growl caught Adalla's attention, and she glanced about quickly for the source. It was a low growl, easily that of an animal. Saber cat? she wondered, eyes scanning the wilderness on either side of the road. Clasped to her left arm was an elven shield, which she raised slowly; her right hand moved to the elven sword at her waist.
No sooner did her hand touch the hilt did she hear movement from the bushes to her immediate left. Her head turned to face the source: it was indeed a saber cat, and it was all but flying through the air as it pounced upon its prospective prey.
She was no slouch, however, and quickly moved the shield to block the saber cat's lunge. The surface of the shield met the feline's face quite firmly, and as it collapsed to the ground, dazed from the impact, Adalla prepared the shield for a more active bash. The feline staggered from the impact, and even seemed to be contemplating a retreat; at the very least, it seemed hesitant to press the attack against the mer.
So focused was she on the saber cat that she almost didn't register a new rustling from the bushes to her left. Her eyes shifted to the bushes a split-second before a second saber cat leapt from hiding. Her shield was not quite so fast this time, however, and the large feline collided with Adalla, knocking her onto her back. She considered herself fortunate to be wearing armor, as it helped cushion the brunt of the fall and keep her from being completely winded, but she was now at a severe disadvantage: two saber cats against none but herself.
The first recovered from its dazed state and reared back, as if preparing to pounce. It made no other moves, however; perhaps this was because the second saber cat was pressing its own attack, trying to sink claws into the mer's elven armor to no success.
It was enough for Adalla, though. She was able to move her shield arm and bash the second feline's face fiercely, dazing it as she had the first. She took advantage of the moment to draw her elven blade; the close proximity of the dazed feline meant that the sharp edge of the sword found a mark in the saber cat's side, which caused it to yowl in pain. She scrambled to her feet, burying the tip of her sword in the ground long enough to push herself completely upright, then drew the blade and readied it once more. "Come on, then!" she taunted, settling into a combat stance. She was still outnumbered, but now that she had an advantage-
She felt a sudden pain explode through her left shoulder, and cried out to reflect the pain; control of her arm became much harder to maintain. In fact, before she knew it, she couldn't even move it. Horrific realization dawned on her as she realized the immobility was spreading through her body. Paralysis poison...! she thought; a quick glance to her shoulder confirmed the suspicion that she'd been poisoned: an arrow, daedric in appearance, was sticking out of her shoulder.
Soon, Adalla was unable to move, and the first saber cat lunged at her, knocking her helplessly onto the road. She would have cried out in agony as the feline's powerful jaws sank sharp teeth into her right arm, had the poison not restricted her ability to do even that.
Out the corner of her eye, she could see someone step into the open: a Khajiit, fur as black as ebony, eyes as golden as a sunset. He was wearing hide armor, tufts of greenery attached to it by leather strips - camouflage, she realized. She'd never been good at recognizing a Khajiit's facial expressions, but she was fairly certain this Khajiit was smirking.
"E sends his regards, as well as his apologies," the Khajiit said, his voice as smooth as any other of his kind. "Your death, while regrettable, is also necessary."
E...? Could it be Runael's...? Adalla's head swam with a mixture of pain and confusion. She saw the second saber cat prepare to attack her.
Although she couldn't move, she could still feel pain - and she certainly felt a second arrow bury itself in her right shoulder. The excrutiating pain she was now feeling proved too much for her, and she only managed to think I'm going to die... before blacking out.
"I'm afraid I don't know who you're talking about," the Khajiit said with a sniff.
Runael sighed softly. "E told me he knew all the caravan leaders, so I'm inclined to think otherwise."
The Khajiit, seated upon his woven mat, only shook his head.
The mer stared at him for a moment. "Come on, Ma'dran. You know you can trust-"
"I know nothing of the sort," he interrupted, eyes meeting Runael's and affixing her with a fierce glare. "We have done business in the past, this is true. This does not mean, however, that I know I can trust you."
Runael shifted her pack around to her front and rummaged through it briefly. "Fine. I can play it this way."
"You mean to threaten me, do you?" Ma'dran snarled. "Or perhaps bribe me with coin? You cannot possibly change my mind-"
She pulled out the pouch filled with moon sugar and extended it to him. "It's not coin, but perhaps this will change your tune," she said simply. "Now, where can I find E?"
Ma'dran took the pouch and opened it. Runael smiled as his eyes widened, and just watched as he took a tentative sniff. "This is... most certainly his," Ma'dran murmured. His eyes shifted up toward Runael. "Understand something, my friend: E has just as many enemies as he does friends, contacts and acquaintances. One can never be too careful when it comes to protecting such a Khajiit."
"I understand." She reached out to take the pouch away from Ma'dran. "Now tell me where E is, or I'll be taking that back."
He pulled it away from her and sighed. "Very well. I do not know where he is now, but he was here in Windhelm a little over a week ago. He made it sound as though he was staying at Candlehearth Hall for a while yet; while we haven't seen him depart, that does not mean he has not left."
"What was he doing in Windhelm?" she asked, brow raised in curiosity.
"That, I cannot say - for I do not know," he added, noting her dubious expression. "Given this is E we're talking about, he was probably pursuing some lucrative business venture, or perhaps meeting with a friend." Ma'dran paused to think for a moment. "...Come to think of it, when we last spoke, he seemed... enthused about a prospective venture with the Thalmor once again. He did mention he had a visit to Solitude planned in the near future."
"The Thalmor?" she echoed. "Did he give any sort of hint as to what he was-"
Ma'dran shook his head. "He did not. You know how he is: he will say whom he's involved with, but not the what or the why."
"Because it 'adds to the mystery'," she mused with a chuckle.
"Precisely." Ma'dran regarded her for a moment longer. "Do you have need of E, my friend?"
She shook her head. "It's nothing pressing, Ma'dran," she replied. "I would appreciate his help with a matter, but if he's busy, it can wait."
"I'll pass along the message, when I next see him," the Khajiit responded with a smile.
"Thank you." She reached out for the pouch again.
Ma'dran blinked at her outstretched hand. "You paid for the information," he said stiffly.
"I did, but I didn't get nearly what that pouch was worth. Keep half of it, and hand the rest back." Her fingers curled inward.
"You are ruthless in much, Runael," he commented with a smile. "I'd not thought bartering for information was counted among your talents." He retreated into his tent, remaining in view of the Altmer, and returned with an empty pouch. Carefully, he transferred some of the moon sugar from the full pouch to the empty one, then handed the newest pouch back to Runael.
She took it, looked inside, and frowned. "This isn't half," she said flatly. "Looks more like but a tiny fraction of what I gave you."
"Sometimes, information is more valuable than you realize," Ma'dran commented. "You must also consider that I am willing to pass a message along to E for your sake; if I did everything for free, my friend, I would soon be out of business."
Her frown deepened. "All you told me about E was vague, and thus not worth as much as you're presuming." She extended the pouch toward him. "Half and half."
"All I told you about E was accurate; if you feel so inclined to follow up on what I mentioned about Solitude, then it is entirely accurate," he countered. "So tell me, my friend: what need have you for so much moon sugar?"
To deal with stubborn caravaneers such as yourself, she thought; she'd suspected it was likely the only reason E had left her the pouch in the first place. "The same could very well be asked of you."
"I am a merchant, Runael," Ma'dran responded, starting to look annoyed. "A purveyor of rare and exotic goods. Moon sugar is one such good, and I am able to do far more with it than you could likely imagine."
"I see only three uses for it," she said tentatively, noting the expression upon his face. "Eating it, refining it into skooma - which is borderline illegal, if not outright - and selling it."
"And in your shortsightedness do you not realize there are more uses for it," Ma'dran sighed. "Insistent as you are, I'll give you a little more: you will leave here with one quarter of the original contents of the pouch."
Runael considered pushing her luck just a bit more. "One-third," she offered.
The Khajiit shook his head. "You push your luck a bit too firmly, my friend; I advise against it. One quarter, or you walk away with what you currently have."
All was busy in the Winking Skeever, unusually so. Most seats were taken, if not all of them; Lisette's voice was barely audible over the din of the inn's patrons. More than a few people had filed into the Winking Skeever, only to find that perhaps it was too busy for them to stay for a bit longer.
This was not the case of a figure wearing a black robe, a hood up and over their face. When they walked in, they began to look about the inn, as if hoping to find someone in particular.
One pair of eyes followed the unknown newcomer with some amusement. The one to whom they belonged was a Khajiit of dark brown fur, with black tufts of fur about his eyes and upon his face; he wore a fine blue coat, neatly-kept brown pants and a pair of black boots over his feet. His golden eyes were directed down to the tankard of mead in one clawed hand, then closed briefly as the Khajiit took a brief drink from the tankard. When the tankard was lowered and his eyes opened, the figure was standing before him, looking directly at him. "You found me," he mused softly, yet loud enough for them - and only them - to hear.
"Your courier may have mentioned you were here," came the voice of Elenwen from beneath the hood, quiet enough for him alone to hear. She jerked her head toward the stairs leading to the upper floor. "You rented a room?"
"I did. You wish to talk somewhere more... private." It was not a question, and he was already standing up. "Follow me, my friend."
"We are hardly 'friends'," she muttered quietly; he could tell she tried to make sure he didn't hear it, but he pretended not to notice. Still, she followed him as he moved toward the stairs, and into the first room on the left. Once the door was closed, she pulled her hood back and sighed. "I hate feeling as though I need to sneak about Solitude."
"Such is the curse of being with the Dominion," he said with a chuckle. "Undesired attention and all. Still, your treatment here is better than it would be in Windhelm."
She grimaced at these words. "Very true, and not all that comforting besides." She sat in a chair near the bed. "Your offers were tempting, and your... prices rather questionable."
"Do you mean to question me about them?" En'zhar asked, his golden eyes narrowing.
"No. I would like to, but I shall refrain from doing so." Elenwen met his eyes with her own. "I know you have your reasons, En'zhar, and always will."
"Will you be taking me up on my offers, then?" the Khajiit inquired, leaning against the door and crossing his arms.
"I will not question why you desire what you've asked of me, but I do still have questions," she commented. "Why do you wish to help me with matters that are none of your business in the first place?"
"While it's true the infiltration of the Embassy has nothing to do with me," En'zhar agreed, "the defection of Runael does. You are - pardon, were not the only one within the Embassy who was willing to work with me."
"That doesn't answer the question."
En'zhar considered his words carefully for several moments, aware of the sharp gaze from the First Ambassador. "At risk of sounding as though I have ulterior motives, I needed more than one mer within the Embassy. I am in hopes that I can convince Runael to return to the Embassy, the Thalmor... and to you." He added the final bit in hopes of making it seem much more personal for Elenwen.
He succeeded: her expression became a mixture of equal parts pain and longing, both light in measure. "I am currently trying to do the very same," she said quietly. "I sent her best friend to try and persuade-"
"That you resort to the word 'try' means you don't have faith in the effort," he interrupted. "You hope against hope. You know that I can, and will, get things done to your satisfaction. Trust not the efforts of an unproven talent, my friend."
Elenwen looked offended at his rather quick judgment of her. "Adalla has always been able to persuade Runael where I have not," she snapped defensively.
The name 'Adalla' made En'zhar's eye twitch, but no other indicator of familiarity with the name was made. She is destined to fail, but I ought not impart that information... "Do you think she's persuasive enough to get this job done?" he replied.
"I..." She folded her hands in her lap and looked at them. "...I'd like to think so."
"So your answer is 'no'." He chuckled softly.
"I suppose." She didn't sound all that enthused to be agreeing with the Khajiit. "Why the matter of the infiltration?"
"Word has reached me that you are preparing the Embassy for a guest. Someone from Alinor, yes?"
She stared at him. "That's... a confidential matter. How did you learn of that?" she asked sharply, and in such a way that suggested she would not accept a dismissive answer.
"I have my means," he said, and he offered no more than that. "In any event, wouldn't you like to resolve the matter of the infiltration, and get some closure for it besides, before the Vindicator arrives?"
"I would, yes," she agreed. "Don't deflect the question, though. How did you learn of the Vindicator coming to visit from Alinor? That matter is classified to those outside the Embassy."
"I told you, I have my means."
"That's not good enough," she snapped. "You forget who you're trying to deflect, Khajiit. If you do not answer me, former dealings be damned: I will drag you back to the Embassy and obtain the answer in far less pleasant methods... well, for you."
En'zhar looked doubtful at first, but he'd worked with Elenwen enough in the past to know when she was serious... and the expression upon her face was deadly so. "Your newest guard," he confessed. "He kept me up-to-date on things in Runael's absence, but that was all. He told me about Runael's defection - even informing me that he delivered the letter bearing the ill news to you himself - and that the Embassy was being prepared for a visitor."
"Have you told anyone else about this matter?" she asked, her voice still sharp.
"No. There is no point in letting word slip; doing so could risk much for the Dominion both here and afar."
She nodded at this. "You may wish to find a new... 'informant'," she said after a moment's pause. "Your current one will be facing punishment for leaking classified information to an outside party. I also regret to inform you that knowing you obtained the information in the first place does not give me a compelling reason to trust you with your offers."
His expression fell a bit at these words. I need to try and stay in her good graces, and get her to accept at least one offer. "I understand. I'd not thought it would be as big a deal as you make it out to be."
"That was your mistake, then." She stood abruptly. "I'll be leaving, then, unless you have something else to tell me."
He had not been expecting the abrupt decision on Elenwen's part. "What if I told you why I needed the things I do for each of my offers?" he ventured.
"I don't see why it would keep me interested in hiring you again, but you have my attention." She remained standing, as though ready to depart the moment she heard something she didn't like.
He hoped his reasons wouldn't cause such to happen. "First, the five hundred gold pieces. Even I must pay contacts and informants," he said. "Even then, my services are never free - so I will not hide the fact that a portion of that would be for my own personal gain."
"Fair enough." She sounded agreeable enough with this reason.
"Full access to the Embassy should seem self-explanatory: I cannot deduce how the infiltrator navigated the Embassy without seeing it for myself. They may have left some manner of clue behind that they were unaware of, and that you and yours have not found just yet - I'm not saying you're incapable," he added quickly, noting her expression of irritation, "just that I've probably spent more time searching for such things than those at the Embassy have."
"...Acceptable, albeit barely."
"The note indicating official representation of the Aldmeri Dominion is... well, if it's all the same to you, First Ambassador, I'd rather keep that a secret. It will have its uses, though, I assure you, and in the end, it would play a pivotal role in solving the matter of Runael's defection."
The answer seemed barely passable for Elenwen, as she nodded very lightly. "Very well. And the Ebony Blade? This is the first I've heard of any such thing being in Whiterun."
"Then allow me to explain that first." En'zhar cleared his throat. "Several months ago, there was talk that one of the Jarl's children was... troubled. Someone went to investigate the matter. They were arrested and executed for murdering the court wizard and taking a key from his body; they were linked to the death when the Jarl caught them trying to steal a key from his person.
"Both keys had been in his possession up to the point where the current Regent of Whiterun confronted him and placed him under house arrest. She found both keys, and asked him what they unlocked. I understand he was very reluctant to speak of it, but... well, you of all people know that the Dominion is good at obtaining answers they desire."
She simply nodded at this.
"When she found the Ebony Blade within its 'prison', she apparently moved the artifact somewhere else, presumably somewhere more secure. It seems likely she has not used it herself."
"And why do you want it?"
"To be blunt... profit. I have a prospective buyer who would be interested in obtaining the Blade for his collection. This buyer is very well-connected, as well, and having him among my list of contacts would expand my own network quite substantially... which, in turn, and assuming you and I continue to do business, means you have a wider reach throughout Tamriel." En'zhar flashed a smile. "It's a win-win in the end, First Ambassador."
"I'll be the judge of that." She stared at him for a moment. "How would you go about convincing Runael to return, if such is your plan?"
"Speaking with her, trying to convince her myself... and then using that note if spoken word fails me." The Khajiit moved away from the door and began to pace. "She and I have worked together in the past; I hope to use that to my advantage."
"What do you mean when you say 'using the note'?" Elenwen asked, her curiosity piqued.
"Ah, no. Sorry, but that would ruin the surprise." He smiled apologetically. I also don't want to give you any ideas that would cut me out of profits, he thought to himself.
Once again, she was staring at him through narrowed eyes. "I have no reason to trust you right now," she began. "You have obtained classified information, you have tried to keep the means of such secret from me, and you will not explain what exactly the note is for. At the same time, however, I know for a fact that you do indeed know how to get things done... and the thought of turning down nothing short of a guaranteed resolution to two headaches makes me think myself mad.
"I will accept your offers, but with one condition." Elenwen crossed her arms, as if daring En'zhar to protest. "You will keep me up-to-date on every development, be they big or small. If I find you keep even one fact from me, I will have you dragged to the Embassy, where I can and will arrange for you to... 'visit' Alinor."
The Khajiit knew the implications behind such a 'visit', and knew that he was risking much in his own way by agreeing to her condition. But still... "Agreed. I can start immediately, provided you have the gold and the note; I will also need a notice from you telling the Regent that I am owed the Ebony Blade, too."
She wordlessly reached into a small satchel at her waist and pulled out a small note, then set it upon the seat she'd been using prior. "I'll be on my way, then." She brushed past him and opened the door, but hesitated a moment. "And En'zhar. Thank you for offering to help. I was all but at my wits' end, but now... now, perhaps I can finally relax my mind." She pulled her hood over her head.
He listened to her depart, then strode toward the note she'd left behind. That was less than optimal, he thought to himself. Still, she agreed to both. I just need to be careful in how I keep information from her, and everything will work out fine. He picked up the note, unfolded it, and read it.
You will find five hundred gold pieces, a letter granting you free access to the Embassy, and a note marking the bearer as a representative of the Aldmeri Dominion within a small chest behind the statue of Meridia, atop Mount Kilkreath. While I cannot deliver the Ebony Blade to you, I have also left a letter for you to deliver to the Regent of Whiterun, which in turn will grant you the Blade. The chest is locked by a rather complex lock, but I think that will thwart all but you.
Do not make me regret this decision, En'zhar, or I will personally remove your head from your shoulders.
"Pathetic," the Regent murmured, smiling wickedly. She was seated upon the throne of Dragonsreach, feeling quite pleased with herself - and for good reason.
Idolaf Battle-Born lay upon the floor before the throne, writhing in pain. The rest of his family, as well as those who opted to fight alongside him, were unconscious. The Grey-Manes were not present, however.
"Did you really think you could defeat me with such a half-hearted attempt, Battle-Born?" she cooed. "I am the Regent of Whiterun; you are all beneath me."
"Shut up, bitch," Idolaf groaned out.
"Hmm, you've still got some fight in you, I see..." She rose from the throne slowly. "But is it worth my time...?" She strode toward him slowly, eyes never leaving Idolaf's writhing form.
She had not been expecting him to lash out with a dagger in hand, and hissed in pain as the blade slashed across her clothed calf. He managed to roll onto his front, and readied himself as best he could to strike again.
She countered this by simply stomping on his wrist with her other foot. "Fool," she snarled. "Do not get so confident simply because you cut me once." She ground her heel upon his wrist, making him cry out in pain, and eventually forcing his grip on the dagger to loosen until it fell.
"Y-you... won't get... away with this..." he gasped.
"I'd say you're confused. After all, you are the one who tried - and failed - to assault Dragonsreach." She glanced down at the injury upon her leg. "Still... you've proven... energetic enough." She gave him a smile that made his skin crawl. "You'll do."
"Wh-what...? What are you going on abo-" His words were cut off by a sudden kick to the side of the head, and he lost consciousness.
She looked at the rest of the family. "Guardsmen," she called. "Take the rest to the dungeon - separate cells." She looked down at Idolaf, and let her smile twist to a sinister grin... one that revealed an unnatural pair of fangs. "This one, however, is mine..."
I cannot be off this ship soon enough. The captain continues to harass me, even after Thellias confronted him directly a week ago. It was all I could do to keep from drawing my blade on him this last time. According to Thellias, death would be fitting for the captain, were we not out at sea.
An amulet of Talos was found in the captain's quarters, with a small shrine to Talos built into a false wardrobe. That this vessel and its captain have been hired by the Dominion several times in the past, and has been home to heresy, is a slap to the Dominion's face. The worship of Talos is punishable by death; Thellias has promised me that I may exact it upon the captain once we land in Solitude.
Not that the captain knows, of course. Thellias hasn't said a word of his discoveries, and has no intention of letting it slip to anyone but myself. Even the other five don't know about the captain's heresy.
They'll know soon enough. Two more weeks before we reach Solitude.
Thought of the week: the disappearance of the Dwemer millennia ago... did they truly disappear from Tamriel, or is there more to the story?
-Saarie, Vindicator-in-training
A.N. - Not a whole lot to say here and now. Had the opportunity to write up the next three chapters, but the two following this one... well, I'm not sure about the next, and I'm definitely considering a rewrite of the one following. We'll see, I guess.
-Spiritslayer