Esteemed Ulfric Stormcloak, Jarl of Windhelm,
I regret to inform you that I am unable to answer your summons at this time, as my duties as Arch-Mage have me inexplicably busy of late. That is not to say I am refusing to see you at all; already, I make plans to visit Windhelm in the near future. I am hoping that you can wait just a little while longer for my visit.
-Runael, Arch-Mage of the College of Winterhold
She had done it. She was not sure how, especially not with security as tight as it was, but she had finally done it.
Irileth was finally able to gaze at Dragonsreach from the outside once again. She did not do so on a whim, of course; Jarl Balgruuf had asked her to sneak out as soon as possible once news had reached her ears that Idolaf had led a failed assault on Dragonsreach. That had been nearly a week ago, and Irileth had spent much time probing the Thalmor's defenses for a possible escape route.
She did find it fortunate that there was an escape route the Jarl could use, one that was safe... but she found it quite unfortunate that said escape route was one-way. It utilized the exit to his balcony, and from there, required a rather daring descent from the steep rooftops. Irileth herself had nearly fallen to the ground below several times during her own descent.
Hopefully, he decides to escape as well and sees the path I used. With that thought, Irileth began to slip away from the Cloud District of Whiterun under cover of a moonless night. She found her movements rather awkward, as she was wearing a black robe, but as she skirted around the edges of blazing braziers, she was grateful the robe didn't reflect light... unlike a couple metallic pieces of her preferred leather armor.
She was unsure of where to go once she managed to escape Whiterun. The center of Skyrim was more or less Thalmor territory, so she couldn't stay there... but Whiterun had no definitive allies beyond the hold's limits. Until Whiterun took a side in the civil war, neither the Empire nor the Stormcloaks would offer aid. No, she needed to go somewhere unaffiliated, somewhere that had no allegiance to the civil war, either.
They hadn't heard back from the College of Winterhold yet. Irileth decided the College would be as safe a place as any to escape to, to hide in. Besides, if something had befallen the courier bearing Proventus' letter, she could communicate the matter to them directly... and if they had received the letter, she could very easily remind them of it.
She stopped moving altogether as her eyes rested upon a very familiar, and very dangerous figure. What is she doing out of Dragonsreach at this hour?! Irileth thought wildly.
She was gazing upon the figure of the Regent of Whiterun, illuminated by dancing flames within their braziers. She knew it was far from uncommon for the Regent to walk Whiterun's streets... but that was always during the day. She'd not thought the Regent would be out now, though.
Her skin crawled as the Regent looked in her direction for several seconds, and though Irileth was in utter darkness, she couldn't help but worry she'd somehow been spotted. There was no call, however, to arrest the Dunmer sneaking about in the shadows, nor did the Regent move to investigate further. Irileth let out the tiniest of relieved sighs when the Regent's gaze shifted toward the stairs descending from the Cloud District into the rest of the city.
Then she began to speak.
"Beautiful, is it not?" the Regent murmured. "By day, Whiterun is a wondrous sight... but there's just something about the city at night, without Masser and Secunda lighting the sky overhead... just... the light of fire illuminating the city."
Irileth wondered who she was talking to, if anyone. She could see no one from her vantage point.
The Regent's gaze again shifted to where Irileth was located - and a smile played at the Altmer's lips. "Yes, I'm talking to you, Housecarl," she mused. "I'm in a particularly good mood, though, so I will not be arresting you... right this moment."
A chill ran up and down the Dunmer's spine. "How are you able to see me?" she asked quietly, figuring there was no point in hiding her presence any longer; the Regent had specified a Housecarl, after all.
The Regent laughed quietly. "Yes, I suppose you would like to know that." She wrapped magicka around her right hand, and released the spell after channeling for a moment. "It's as simple as detecting life with a spell. None but the dead hide from me while I use this spell." She continued to wear that smile... that triumphant smile that was starting to irritate Irileth. "So. Assuming you got away from Dragonsreach, where were you planning to go, Housecarl? There are not many places you could hide away in, not anymore."
She had to keep the College of Winterhold a secret from the Regent, but she could think of nowhere else that would sound convincing.
To her general relief, it seemed as if the Regent hadn't been expecting an answer. "I thought so. You have nowhere to go, and yet you attempt to escape. I may not live in the wilderness, Housecarl, but that owes, in part, to the dangers therein. Bandits, wolves, saber cats, bears... the walking dead, witches, rogue wizards and necromancers..." The Regent sighed softly. "It makes a home of barbaric Nords seem peaceful."
Irileth didn't answer; she was afraid speaking would give away more than she cared for.
"Not very talkative, are you?" The Regent chuckled softly. "Well, that's alright. You've humored me, so I'll humor you." She pointed toward the rest of the city. "I'll let you escape. I'll even be sporting enough to give you until dawn before I send guards to bring you back here." She lowered her hand, and smiled wickedly at Irileth. "Assuming they bring you back alive, you will suffer a great deal at my hands, Housecarl. Since you have nowhere to go, it will only be a matter of time. You will spend what free time you have left looking over your shoulder, living in a state of constant paranoia."
The thought didn't exactly appeal to Irileth, living in paranoia for a time, but she knew she would find relative safety in the College. "I'll endure," was all she said.
"Will you? Such bravado." The Altmer's wicked smile returned to a softer one. "Of course, you could always just go back inside. You will be arrested, of course, and beaten for trying to escape, but once that's through, you'll be free to... well, not 'go', per se, but return to your quarters." She turned her back to Irileth. "The choice is yours, Housecarl. A lifetime of isolated paranoia, or a brief period of agony and discomfort. Make your choice, and follow it through." With that, the Regent strode into Whiterun itself. "Oh, and one final thing... if you attempt to follow me, to learn where it is I'm going, I will skip the pleasantries and kill you myself."
Irileth tried to resist, but she found the words escaping her before she could stop them: "How would the First Ambassador react, knowing you've let someone under house arrest escape?" She was resigned to her fate now, knowing that her words-
"Elenwen?" The Regent laughed, and even stopped walking briefly. "That arrogant little girl has no control over me. I'm not afraid of her; I scarcely even bother answering to her any longer. No, the 'First Ambassador' is of no concern to me." With those words, she continued into Whiterun.
Irileth's mind spun briefly at the revelation. All is not well with the Thalmor... or, at the very least, something is wrong with the Regent... she thought. Her gaze shifted to Dragonsreach for but a moment.
She tore her gaze from the palace as she set off, determined to slip away from Whiterun and reach the College. She could worry about the Regent's state of mind once she was there.
The sensation of being dragged across the ground caused Adalla to stir. Her eyes opened, but she saw little in the darkness surrounding her. She felt a hand gripping her leg... no, two hands gripping both legs. Whom they belonged to, she couldn't tell... her vision was blurry, and their back was to her besides.
She felt a dull throbbing in both shoulders, as well as numbness in her right arm.
Hadn't she been killed? Why, then, did she feel... anything?
She tried to move, but found movement of her arms to be rather restricted. When she tried again, she felt it: rope binding her arms behind her back. The realization made her start to panic a little, and her legs instinctively kicked.
She felt the ground stop moving below her, felt her legs drop. Whoever was dragging her had let her go, but why-
A blow to the side of her head made her lose consciousness once again, but not before she registered she was likely someone's captive. Is it better than being dead, I wonder...?
Eorlund Grey-Mane knew that unease had fallen upon Whiterun.
Nearly a week ago, he had received the letter from Idolaf, stating a very bold attack on Dragonsreach the same night. He had ordered his own family not to take part in the attack, deeming it 'far too reckless to succeed'. Though even his own family had doubted it, the day following only proved Eorlund was right: none who went to Dragonsreach the evening prior returned. As far as anyone in Whiterun could tell, they were all dead.
This, of course, made the far subtler plan of overthrowing the Regent that much harder. There was only so much the Grey-Manes could do alone when it came to the Thalmor; that had been the entire basis of Eorlund contacting Olfrid in the first place.
He heard knocking on the door to the home, and froze. Who in Oblivion, and at this hour...? "Who goes there?" he asked loudly and sharply.
"It's me," came a familiar voice, one he hadn't heard in nearly two weeks now. "I'm home." The door opened slowly, and in stepped a young woman, smiling softly.
"Olfina," Eorlund said with a sigh of relief. "Damn it, girl, you've worried us all."
"I'm sorry," she said, striding to embrace Eorlund. "There was something I had to-"
"Eloping with Jon Battle-Born was foolish, especially nowadays," Eorlund interrupted, deciding to tip his hand.
His words shocked Olfina, and she backed away slowly. "I-I can... wait, h-how did you...?"
He picked up the letter that had been found two weeks ago. "This was found. Not by me," he added, noting her look of betrayed trust. "The Regent of Whiterun paid me a visit a couple weeks ago. Searched the home for any signs of relations to the Thieves Guild."
Olfina looked confused. "Why would she suspect...?"
"I don't know. In any event, that letter was discovered by one of the guardsmen she brought with her." He beckoned to the nearest seat. "So, where is your new husband?"
"I... I didn't think you'd approve of him being here," she muttered.
"Girl, listen to me." Eorlund rested both hands on her shoulders. "We may have chosen our sides in this war, but that doesn't mean we have to hate the other family through and through. Personally, I'm accepting of your decision. I don't speak for the rest of the family, of course, but you'll find no disagreement from me. If love can blossom in this day and age, and during a time of conflict, no less, then I think it best to pursue it."
She smiled and embraced him once again. "Thank you."
"That said, I still think you were both foolish to leave for Riften. Skyrim has always been dangerous, of course, but you don't know how to fight."
"Excuse me," she said defensively, patting the small dagger at her side.
"Let me rephrase that." He cracked a small grin. "You don't know how to fight. Swinging a dagger around does not equate to fighting, girl."
She sighed exasperatedly and rolled her eyes. "I'm not joining the Companions."
"I'm not asking you to." He steered her toward the chair he'd gestured to. "I'm simply saying that your disappearance, coupled with your inability to fight, had us all worried."
"I was with Jon. He knows how to fight," she responded defensively.
"True though that may be, I don't think any of us trusted him to protect you sufficiently." He gently eased her into the chair. "Speaking of Jon, you never did answer me. Where is he now?"
"He went home after escorting me home," she replied.
"He's in for a shock, then." Eorlund shook his head. "Much happened while you two were off in Riften. The Regent's visit turned up nothing against me, but she brought an amulet of Talos with her - or, more to the point, the guardsman who 'found' it did. She tried pinning that on me." He scowled at the memory. "She would have succeeded, too, had Olfrid not been visiting."
"I... don't understand."
"He took the fall for me," he explained. "Claimed it was his, that he'd hidden it away. He was able to accurately guess the current state of the amulet, and because of that, and from an official standpoint-"
Frantic knocking echoed upon the Grey-Mane family's door, directing attention to it. "Olfina?" they heard a male's voice call. "Are you still-"
"Enter, boy," Eorlund said gruffly.
He knew there was much hesitation from Jon Battle-Born to enter the home, especially since he'd heard Eorlund respond instead of Olfina, but he did eventually enter. "Eorlund," he said as calmly as he could; his eyes, which were filled with trepidation, amused the elder Grey-Mane, however.
"It's not every day we get a Battle-Born asking for a Grey-Mane by name," he said, crossing his arms. "To what do we owe the... 'pleasure'?"
Jon looked at Olfina helplessly, blinking in surprise when she shook her head with a smile. "Y-you... know?" he asked, looking at Eorlund once again.
"I do." Eorlund let the hard exterior fall away, and he extended a hand toward Jon. "I do believe congratulations are in order. Were these better times for such an occasion, however."
Jon stepped close enough to shake Eorlund's hand, still in a state of disbelief. "Thank you," he replied, his voice sounding rather meek. "This was... unexpected. We were thinking we'd have to try and beat sense into both you and father." Jon's expression fell at mention of his father. "Speaking of, where is father? No, forget that... where's my family? I only saw Lars..."
"I was just explaining," Eorlund said. He picked up the nearest chair and set it next to Olfina, who now looked just as concerned as Jon. "Sit. I'll start from the beginning, so you'll better understand."
"Do you think she escaped, m'lord?" Proventus asked tentatively.
"This is Irileth we're talking about, Proventus," Balgruuf responded. There was no denying the look of concern upon his face all the same. "I think she did, and I'm hoping so. Escaping Dragonsreach, however, is not the same as escaping Whiterun."
"No, I suppose not." The Imperial thrummed his fingers upon the armrest of his chair. "Where would she go? I can think of nowhere safe from the Thalmor's reach."
"The College," the Jarl replied. "It's the first place I'd go, if I were put in her position."
"You mean the College of Winterhold?" Proventus asked, staring at Balgruuf. "What do they owe you and Irileth, anyway? It occurred to me that I didn't ask, when you asked me to write to the Arch-Mage, but I didn't think it appropriate to ask-"
"And yet you think it appropriate now?" Balgruuf interrupted, looking amused.
Proventus sputtered out incoherent words, as if trying to defend himself.
"It's fine, Proventus, you can relax." The Jarl crossed his arms. "This was... years ago now. You remember how I told the Dragonborn, several months ago, that I climbed the Seven Thousand Steps to High Hrothgar in the past?"
"I do, yes."
"That wasn't the only thing I did." Balgruuf's expression became distant. "Once, I was more of an adventurer than I currently am. Irileth was my travel companion for that time, too. One of our older, and quieter, exploits involved the College of Winterhold. Neither of us had a particular talent," he gestured to himself, "or interest in the College, so we never actually gained entry."
"What happened with the College, m'lord?"
"We saved them." Balgruuf closed his eyes. "Sometimes, it feels like it was just yesterday, and other times, it feels like it was several lifetimes ago. Funny how becoming Jarl of Whiterun will do that to a man's perspective..." He sighed. "I digress. Years and years ago, Irileth and I found ourselves in Winterhold, staying at the inn. We heard then that the College was having trouble with a group of necromancers, operating out of a small surface ruin to the southeast of the... well, to call it the 'city' is a stretch, given its current state, and what it was like when we visited.
"This trouble wasn't a simple disagreement, either. These necromancers were kidnapping apprentices of the College and using them as... test subjects for their spells, potions, poisons... you name it, it was being tested. It was horrific to imagine, and I suppose it still is. I've not thought about it for quite some time now. The College had attempted to stop these necromancers themselves, but had failed several times.
"It was Irileth who suggested we help the College, saying that 'it would do both of us much good to have the College of Winterhold owing the both of us a debt'." Balgruuf chuckled. "Funny, then, how right she was."
"So you two dove into the ruin and eliminated the necromancers?"
"Well..." The Jarl hesitated. "Yes... and no. We succeeded in freeing the apprentices, yes, and returning them safely to the College... the ones who lived, anyway... but we never did kill the necromancers' leader. He was... he became too strong for us." Balgruuf's eyes opened, and looked rather troubled. "Are you familiar with what a lich is, Proventus?"
"Isn't a lich the pinnacle of necromantic reanimation? An undead being with immense power?"
"Eh... close enough. A lich is an undead monstrosity with powerful magic, but from what I understand, a lich is not something that's simply reanimated. Most liches apparently become such directly from life; the one trying to become a lich is trying to escape the inevitability of death." The Jarl shivered a bit. "This lich Irileth and I faced... we were no real match for it. We had to flee and hide the fact that we left the lich be. She and I would probably have died if we tried to destroy it.
"The College was grateful for our aid in solving their problems for them, and offered us a reward. I was content with taking what was offered; Irileth, on our behalf, turned it all down, saying that we would likely have need of a favor from them later in time." He sighed softly. "It makes me wonder just how far ahead she was thinking. Did she suspect something like this would happen...?"
"And the lich, m'lord?" Proventus was in awe at the tale he'd heard, and looked just as concerned to hear about the lich.
"From what I understand, it never bothered the College again; otherwise, I think Irileth and I would have heard about it in some patronizing manner." He chuckled at the thought. "Part of me suspected the lich would hunt Irileth and I down for interfering, and we hardly slept in the weeks that followed. As we put distance between us and Winterhold, though... well, we eventually stopped worrying." His mood darkened. "If the lich still persists, though, I imagine it remains in Winterhold somewhere... and if it remembers Irileth and I, she may have cause to worry on her way to the College."
The two fell silent, each lost in their own thoughts.
"We should go with her, m'lord," Proventus finally said. "There's nothing we can do here but wait."
Balgruuf shook his head. "No. It's easier for one Dunmer to escape Whiterun than it is for the recognizable Jarl to do the same. She won't stand out nearly as much outside of Whiterun; I, on the other hand, am better known... and if anyone's foolish enough to sympathize with the Thalmor, I could very easily be reported to the damn elves."
"But-"
"Don't misunderstand me, Proventus; I want to be out of here, too." Balgruuf looked irritated at their situation. "Now is not the time, however. I risk far more trying to escape than Irileth does. If I'm killed outside of Whiterun, who will rule the city once it's liberated from the Thalmor?"
Proventus remained silent at these words, as he hadn't considered the repercussions of such. "Forgive me, m'lord," he finally said. "I just thought..."
"No harm done."
It didn't matter how much he tossed and turned. Jon couldn't sleep.
"Settle down," he heard Olfina murmur quietly next to him. "I'm just as concerned as you, my love."
"It's not your father or family who could very well be dead because of the so-called Regent," he spat. "You will never be as concerned as-"
She turned to face him, and he saw the look in her eyes. "You don't mean that," she said softly, "so I'm willing to forgive it. I know you're just frustrated, and don't have anyone to take it out on."
Jon stared at her, then shook his head. "I'm sorry," he muttered. "You're right, I'm..." He sighed heavily. "I should have been here to fight with them," he grumbled. "Or at the very least, to try and talk them out of it."
"You had no way of knowing this would happen," Olfina reassured him. "Neither of us did. And besides, if you'd been fighting alongside Idolaf..." She wrapped her arms around him and held him close. "I'd be missing you."
He returned the gesture, kissing her gently on the cheek. "I think I begrudged Eorlund when he mentioned he refused to take part in the fight, but in the end, I know he had the right of it," he murmured softly. "I know Idolaf meant well, but if the Regent was so easy to defeat that a half-assed plan such as that would succeed, we wouldn't have needed to plan things as secretly as we have been for the past couple months."
"Eorlund is wiser than your family likely ever gave him credit," Olfina said with a smile.
"So I'm realizing." Jon closed his eyes. "I refuse to believe they're dead, but 'prisoners of the Thalmor' isn't exactly comforting in comparison. When I think of how much more likely that is, I almost want to believe Idolaf and the others are dead." He gave a bitter chuckle. "Neither is desirable, yet I wish one or the other on them."
She squeezed him gently in her arms. "Don't dwell on it, love. Rest. It will take some time and effort yet, but if they are still alive, we can save them... assuming we take careful steps."
He held her tighter in turn, then kissed her on the lips. "Sorry, and thank you. Talking to you about it seems to have helped quiet my mind a little." He sighed lightly. "I doubt I'll know true ease again until the so-called Regent has been replaced, though."
It had been ages since Irileth watched the sun rise out in the wilderness.
She had managed to put several hours between herself and Whiterun; even if the Regent did rouse the guard to arrest Irileth, she still had a decent lead on them.
The Dunmer's makeshift camp wasn't much: it only consisted of a firepit that she could take care of within minutes. Assuming the Thalmor found the location, she doubted they'd link it to her. Throughout the night, Irileth had also put together a cooking spit to cook a couple of fish she'd caught from the nearby river; she had since destroyed the spit and used it as fuel to keep the fire burning through the night.
She had slept but a couple hours through the night, her subconscious realizing that everything could end if she were too careless. She knew she couldn't rest easy until she reached the College. Now that the sun had risen, she had to keep moving, or the Thalmor would inevitably find her.
She stood slowly and stretched out, then traveled to the nearby river. She had spent much of the night pondering how best to carry water from the river to her tiny camp; after all, if she was going to eliminate the small firepit, she had to douse the smoldering embers.
The answer had come in the form of a mudcrab's hard carapace. One of the critters had wandered too close to her camp in the middle of the night, and apparently assumed the weaponless, robed Dunmer was an easy target.
Two Lightning Bolts later proved such was not the case. She had spent the rest of that night hollowing out the mudcrab's tall carapace, making it suitable for use. She allowed herself a moment to cup water in her hands and splash it in her face. The cold water served to jolt her firmly awake, and rid herself of the desire to sleep for a while yet. She wiped some of it away from her face, then picked up the hollowed carapace and filled it with water.
As she returned to her camp, she found herself thinking about the safest route to the College. She had no weapon and no armor; she was no slouch with the Lightning Bolt spell, but she was not particularly inclined in magic beyond that, and knew she would be an easy target once her magicka reserves ran out. That makes killing a stray bandit risky, even if it's the best means of obtaining a weapon and armor. They almost always travel in groups, too.
She had hoped against all hope that when she left Whiterun, the Khajiit caravan would be located outside the walls, and that she could wake and obtain supplies from the caravan leader. Such was not the case, however, and she considered herself unfortunate for that.
She dumped the water upon the firepit, watching as smoke rose from the hissing pit. She gave it a few moments before kicking at the firepit to disperse it, to keep it from somehow catching flame again. With the carapace empty, she began to scoop up the ashes from the fire and dump them into the carapace. Once it reached a point where she was getting miniscule amounts of ash, she decided it was good enough, and simply kicked the rest about on the ground.
As she set about her task of covering her presence in this spot, she thought about how she'd done this several times in the past with Balgruuf. It also made her realize just how much she missed him.
I'm foolish, she thought to herself. The way I'm thinking, others may see fit to suggest I've fallen for him. They'd never understand the bond we share, though; he and I have been through much together.
Soon, she was finished dispersing what remained of her small campsite; she gave the site a closer, scrutinizing look, then nodded to herself. This is as good as it's going to look, she thought. Best I get a move on; the sooner I reach Winterhold, the better. I suppose I'll stick to the road, and hope for the best.
My friend,
I am pleased to hear you've accepted my offer. I am more than willing to craft you and your lovely new wife the rings you requested. I am even willing to forgo charging you a monetary price... as long as you can do me a favor instead.
There are tales of an unusual gem within Dragonsreach. Normally, I would obtain this gem myself, but circumstances mandate my presence elsewhere. I will not lie, obtaining it is likely to be difficult, perhaps even impossible; you could face trouble with the Regent of Whiterun or her guards for trying to take it.
I assure you, however, that if you can obtain this gem for me, I will be more than happy to craft the rings for you at no monetary cost. In addition, I would be more than willing to provide other services to you in the future, should you choose this route... and trust me, my friend, when I say that I am a very well-connected individual.
If the risk of obtaining the gem is something you cannot stomach, then I will likely be disappointed, but I will still craft the rings for you, and at a cost of five hundred gold pieces each. The price is non-negotiable, and in addition, I cannot promise you any future services or aid from me.
I look forward to speaking with you in person once again. Do give your lovely wife my regards.
-E
A.N. - Two chapters in one day? Madness must have claimed me. I can guarantee there will be no 'three in one' deal, however, and I can't promise this 'two for one' thing will happen again.
I tweaked this chapter a bit to make sure it was to my satisfaction. Of course, my satisfaction does not equate the satisfaction of the actual reader, so I'll see what everyone else thinks, and hope for the best.
Yeah, still not much else to say. Just one of those days/nights for me, I suppose.
-Spiritslayer