Arch-Mage,
I am through waiting for your 'visit'. In one week's time, I will be traveling to Winterhold if that is what it takes to speak with you about the matter of your former allegiance with the Thalmor.
Note that this makes everyone unhappy. My general suddenly finds himself waiting for me to return, I find myself inconvenienced by the need to travel, and you find yourself on the receiving end of much frustration as a result.
I will accept no excuses
His hand stopped as he heard someone knock on the door. "I'm busy with something," he snapped impatiently. "Who is it, and what do you want?"
"M'lord," he heard Jorleif's voice begin. "You have a visitor."
"I'm sure they can wait for me in the great hall, as every other visitor-"
"I'm sure 'every other visitor' hasn't been... ordered to visit you by means of letter," he heard the voice of a female elf say, sounding rather amused. "Still, if my Jarl wishes me to wait in the great hall, I shall."
Ulfric Stormcloak lowered the quill and set it upon the nearly-complete letter. "You would be the Arch-Mage I've been waiting for," he said softly, turning his head to the now-opening door.
"I am," Runael replied, arms crossed and a playful smile at her lips. "Arch-Mage Runael, as you request- ah, that's right too, you didn't request my presence so much as demand it."
His eyes narrowed at the Altmer standing before him. "You amuse no one but yourself, elf," he snarled. "You are easily two weeks later than expected."
"I had College business to attend to," she said simply. "Just as I'm certain you would have delayed a visit to another if something came up with the Stormcloaks."
"Your little College and my Stormcloaks do not even begin to resemble one another," he snapped, "so don't you dare make the comparison."
She held up her hands, as if to quell his anger. "As you say." She glanced at the now-departing steward, then back at Ulfric. "So, shall I await you in the great hall, or do you find the current location more to your liking?"
"Return to the great hall, and wait for me there. There is nothing we will discuss that requires such privacy that others may start ill rumors." With that, he slammed the door shut in her face.
The Regent of Whiterun was in a remarkably good mood, and she could think of no one explanation.
Maybe it had been the Housecarl's escape, and how she had not sent a single Thalmor guard to pursue her - but rather, a single Nord she knew the Dunmer wouldn't suspect. She knew it just added to the Dunmer's paranoia, to suspect she was being followed by Thalmor that weren't truly following her.
Maybe it had been the fact that she'd heard word from her husband for the first time in what felt like months, word that said he had been freed from his imprisonment, and that he was making plans to visit Skyrim, to visit Whiterun... to visit her.
Whatever the cause, she knew she was in a fine mood, and much preferred it that way. Thus, she had no cause to snap irritatedly at whomever was knocking at her door. "What is it?" she snapped, with nary a hint of irritation in her voice. There's no reason I can't still snap at people, good mood or not, she mused.
"You have a guest in the hall. He bears a notice from the First Ambassador."
Just like that, her good mood was ruined, and she scowled. "I'll be there shortly." Though I'd rather not listen to anything she has to say. She set the book she'd been reading down upon the nightstand, then threw the door open, didn't care if it closed properly or not, and made her way to the main hall of Dragonsreach.
"If Elenwen is sending notice that I'm to lose another of my guards for some personal errand, she is testing my patience and abusing her authority," she began, quite loudly, as she descended the stairs. "If she sends orders, kindly deposit them upon the end of the table nearest you and be on your way. If her correspondence is anything else, do yourself, the First Ambassador, and myself a favor, and toss whatever note you bear upon the fire between the tables."
"You sound to be in a fine mood, Lady Regent," she heard a smooth voice all but purr. It was... oddly calming, and she felt her frustrations at being contacted by Elenwen melt away somewhat.
"I was," she replied flatly, looking at the speaker. A Khajiit bears a notice from the insufferable brat? she thought, her curiosity clear upon her face. "Who are you, and what notice do you have from Elenwen?"
"To many, I am known simply as 'E'," the Khajiit began. "You shall be among that number for a time, Lady Regent, but perhaps we can come to something less... impersonal, given time."
E... that Khajiit Runael when I last saw her. The Regent made a mental note of the moniker, but registered no recognition of it. "We'll see. And this notice of yours?"
He approached the throne, which she had since taken a seat upon, and extended a small, folded paper with a scarlet seal upon it toward her. "You would not believe me if I read it aloud," was all he offered in way of explanation.
Her eyes narrowed, but she took the notice, broke the seal upon it, and unfolded it.
Regent,
The Khajiit known as E, who stands before you, is hereby entitled to the Ebony Blade you have hidden away, by my orders. As you seem to have no use for it - for this is indeed the first I've heard of you possessing such a blade - you should have no qualms giving it to him.
-First Ambassador Elenwen
She stared at the contents of the notice. "She's wrong," she said stiffly.
"I'm sorry?" E asked, a look of curiosity coming over his own features.
"She presumes I have no qualms giving you the Ebony Blade. She's wrong." She lowered the notice. "Why do you need it, Khajiit?"
"One could ask the same of you, but you've asked the question first; thus, I shall answer." He cleared his throat. "A collector desires the Blade. I promised him I could obtain it. It is as simple as that."
"She orders me to give away a Daedric artifact for a business proposition?" the Regent said, looking as if Elenwen had lost her mind. "No, you will not be coming into possession of the Blade, Khajiit."
"That notice says otherwise."
She crumpled the notice in her hands, then tossed it over his head and watched it land in the fire. "I no longer see a notice entitling you to the Ebony Blade," she said coolly, "only a piece of paper starting to burn."
He watched it sail into the fire, then turned to face the Regent with a look of contempt. "You would do well to give me the Ebony Blade, as you were ordered to do," he said calmly. "I'm certain your husband would appreciate the prolonging of-"
She could no longer hide it, and she burst into laughter, bringing an expression of confusion once more to E's face. "She has used that against me for so long," she gasped out between laughs. "But she no longer can."
"Excuse me?"
"He was freed," she said, calming down, smiling at the Khajiit. "She is no longer able to use that as leverage against me."
"Who? Oh, Elenwen." He chuckled softly. "I'm sorry, I thought you were referring to my man- well, woman, who has been keeping an eye on him ever since his imprisonment."
The Regent's expression hardened. "I beg your pardon? Do you mean to say you've been watching my husband?"
"I do. I do also mean to suggest that your love for him is greater than any manner of defiance to those who would do him harm." He smiled. "He is your biggest weakness, Lady Regent."
Her expression darkened at the very subtle threat. "You wouldn't dare," she snarled. "You do not have the authority to execute-"
"No, but the funny thing about a convicted man- pardon, mer going free... not everyone will accept that freedom, especially not those who advocated his execution in the first place." He winked at the Regent. "It would be so tragic if he were to, say... die because his first hearty meal was poisoned, or if he were set upon by dissenters."
She felt her eye twitch. "You touch him, Khajiit, and I swear to all that is divine, I will have your head over my hearth back in Alinor," she growled.
"Odd of you to swear upon divinity, given your current state," he commented.
That got her attention. "I'm afraid I don't-"
"You think me oblivious, Regent? I recognize the signs." He gestured to her glowing eyes. "The most telling sign of what you've become rests within your mouth - which I got a good look at while you were laughing so heartily." He stepped a little closer. "How do you think the people of Whiterun - your own guards, in fact - would react to learn the Regent ruling over them is a vampire?"
Her eyes flashed dangerously. "You wouldn't dare."
"I don't need to, provided you give me what I need. Keep it from me, however... well, your husband may not be quite as accepting to learn what's become of his beloved."
She shot the Khajiit the fiercest glare she could. This bastard...
"How long have you been a vampire?" he asked. "Was it after you departed the Embassy, and before you arrived in Whiterun?"
"I- how could you have possibly known when I contracted-" Her mouth closed then, and she stared at him intently. "...I give you the Ebony Blade... and you keep this quiet? You leave my husband be?"
"I do, on both accounts. I am nothing if not true to my word."
She rose from the throne. "Follow me, then. I'll lead you to it."
It's a far cry from what I'm accustomed to from the College, Irileth thought bitterly.
She'd reached Winterhold about a day earlier than she'd anticipated, and was perfectly alright with this. She had approached the College and asked to speak with the Arch-Mage, but had been turned away by the high elf standing out front. When Irileth introduced herself, hoping the name would spark recognition, she was frustrated to find it accomplished no such thing. When she demanded entry, the high elf threatened her.
When it came to blows, as Irileth had grown agitated and desperate, the high elf had triumphed against Irileth and dragged her into the College, tossing her into a small, dark cell beneath the College - in a place she recognized as the Midden.
Not the best way to ingratiate myself to the College in Whiterun's time of need, but at least I'm in. Irileth leaned against the cold stone wall and heaved a sigh. It's better than where the Jarl of Winterhold sends criminals, at any rate, and that's if the stories are true.
"...leth..."
She blinked at the sudden sound. It was faint, and had an echo to it, but she knew she'd heard a voice. She stood up straight and moved toward the cell door. "Who's there?" she called.
Silence was the only response she received. Although she knew the cell door was locked, her hand still went to the handle and tried to open it. Her expression was one of surprise and confusion as the handle moved easily and the door opened. Since when has my door been...?
"...leth..." The voice again called out, faint once again. She knew she hadn't been hearing things, then, and began to seek out the source.
The Arch-Mage of Winterhold drummed her fingers upon the table as she waited for Ulfric Stormcloak to emerge from his quarters and arrive in the great hall. "The irony of the moment is not lost on me," she mused to herself.
"What do you mean?" she heard Jorleif reply.
"I find myself waiting and my patience wearing thin... just as he found himself waiting for my visit." She chuckled softly. "If his tone was any indicator, he was quite impatient himself."
"The Jarl is many things, Arch-Mage, but 'one who administers petty revenge' is not one of them. If he's going to get revenge, or make things even, he does so with a more... dramatic flair."
"You oversell me, Jorleif," she heard Ulfric's voice call from the war-room. "I will not claim I am above petty revenge, but neither do I exercise it every chance I get. No, if I am going to be petty, it's going to be towards someone who deserves it." He strode into view, eyes affixed upon Runael - as if he were referring to her with his comment.
"I apologize for the delay, my Jarl," Runael began.
"Save your breath, elf." Ulfric sat upon his throne and looked down at her through narrowed eyes. "I have little patience left with you, so you will speak only when spoken to, and you will answer my questions - nothing more. Understood?"
"Understood." Were it anyone else, Runael would have simply laughed at those words, but she knew this was Ulfric Stormcloak, the man who killed the former High King and started his own rebellion against the Empire. He is not a man to be trifled with, especially not within his own palace.
"How long were you with the Thalmor?" was his first question.
"While I fail to see how this is relevant to anything," she began, "I see no harm in telling you I'd been with the Thalmor for forty-nine years. I had no involvement with the Great War," she added, noting the look upon his face and the question seemingly forming at his lips, "as I had duties keeping me occupied elsewhere at the time."
"When did you join the College of Winterhold?"
"Six months ago. A lot can happen in that time."
"So I've heard." Ulfric stared at her intently. "What exactly was the chaos a few months ago?"
"Some unpleasantness involving an object of great power and somebody choosing to abuse it for his own purposes," Runael replied. "He is dead now, however, and the object in question has been... nullified."
"Care to emphasize? I have not been waiting for two weeks to receive short answers, elf."
Runael held up both hands, as if to try and calm him. "Fair enough. Well then, the best place to start is from the beginning. Six months ago, I received a letter from the First Ambassador telling me to head to the College..."
"You seek answers, but shall find nothing but questions," a voice sounded from the other side of the door. "Turn back."
This is definitely the voice I heard, Irileth thought, hand resting upon the wooden door between them. Her hand moved to try and force the door open, but it remained locked.
"Still you persist? Very well, you may enter." The door unlocked and swung open. "Just do not be disappointed if what you seek is not what you think."
She wasn't disappointed so much as surprised at what greeted her. There was no one in the room she was now entering, only a pit with a bluish glow radiating from it. "Where are you?" she asked sharply.
"A question with deeper meaning than you realize," the voice came again, from the pit before her. The door swung shut, and she heard it lock behind her. "One could argue I exist within Tamriel; another could say I exist in another plane of existence. Yet another could, and probably would, state that I persist here from the realm of the dead." The voice gave a small, amused chuckle at the confused look on the Dunmer's face. "For all intents and purposes, however, I am within the pit before you."
"Who are you?" she asked, eyes upon the glow above the pit.
"Another deep question with multiple answers, but to you, and those with the College, I am known as the Augur of Dunlain."
"The Augur... I've heard of you." Irileth stared at the pit with an expression of awe. "Yours is a most... curious past."
"As is yours, Irileth, Housecarl of Whiterun." The Augur surprised Irileth by knowing who she was, but she didn't register the surprise. "The past is the past, however; the future holds greater potential for curiosity than that which has been set in stone."
She didn't answer, for she had no idea why she had been called by the Augur. Even so... "You called me here, but then tried to turn me away," she said flatly.
"A test. I needed to see if your curiosity was genuine enough. I am pleased to see it was." She could almost imagine the Augur crossing his arms and leaning back in a chair, a smug smile upon his face.
"Why did you call for me, then?"
"Because you came from Whiterun for help, not realizing the dangers involved with doing so. I am not faulting you - the College can and likely will help you - but rather, warning you of the dangers yet to come as a result."
"The Thalmor-"
"Are not your immediate problem. Within Whiterun, there is one who calls herself 'Thalmor', yet swears allegiance to another. Indeed, the Dominion of Skyrim are victims of internal dispute."
This caught Irileth's attention. "But... we've seen no traces of-"
"Were you them, would you want the rest of Tamriel to learn the truth?" The Augur's voice was amused now. "Given enough time, the internal dispute will gnaw at them from within, as such situations typically do for others."
"...You mentioned 'one who calls herself 'Thalmor', yet swears allegiance to another'. Are you referring to the Regent?" Irileth asked.
"Make of it what you wish, Housecarl. I make no claims of certainty, only giving you what I know to be true."
"Wouldn't you need to be certain of something to know it's true?" she asked, irritated.
"One may know the truth of something and still be uncertain. It comes with doubts and second-guessing. No one is perfect, and those who try to make themselves such only dive deeper into imperfection."
Irileth frowned at these words, not because she was dissatisfied with them, but because she knew they seemed like an attempt to cover one's tracks. "Let's... go back. Assuming the Regent is the one you were referring to, then to whom does she swear allegiance?"
"To one darker than night, colder than the grave and more sinister than all the evil in Nirn," the Augur replied. "Once, he was a man, but then he met adventurers two. He was thwarted, but not destroyed. For years, he has waited; for decades, he has plotted. In this era of strife, between dragons, civil war and petty conflicts, what is but one more danger brewing beneath the surface?"
She rubbed her temples. His vagueness makes my head hurt. "What were these dangers you referred to? The dangers involved with my coming to Winterhold, and the dangers to come as a result?" When the Augur didn't reply, Irileth narrowed her eyes at the pit. "Are you still there?"
"You have been warned of what lurks," the Augur replied. "And what will soon come to surface. You came to the College for help, and will receive it. There is one other who may prove invaluable in your endeavors, even despite her allegiance to the Dominion."
"Not interested," Irileth said flatly.
"Should your mind change, you need look only where the hills whisper, and step inside their mouth."
Runael watched Ulfric for a few moments, having finished relaying the story of what had transpired within the College to him. "The Thalmor wanted me - or rather, Ancano - to hand the College to them once there was a Thalmor Arch-Mage leading it. I have no intention of doing so, and it's that which led to my defection from the Thalmor."
"So only a few know about your defection," Ulfric murmured.
"Yes." A thought suddenly struck Runael. "My Jarl, how was it you came to learn of my defection?"
"Some cat came by and told me about it," he said dismissively. "Acted as if he knew you personally."
E. Runael had had her suspicions. "Seems as if he's been in touch with everyone but me as of late," she mused.
"What will you do with the College now?" Ulfric asked, as if he hadn't heard her.
"Lead it, of course. I have no special plans for it myself, and see no reason to restrict activities within." She regarded Ulfric for a few moments. "Perhaps I would even be willing to lend the might of the College to the war-"
"Save it," he interrupted. "Magic is wielded by three types of individuals: cowards, untrustworthy people, and elves. There is no need for it in the Stormcloaks. We Nords pride ourselves-"
She only held up a hand, his slight against her and magic on the whole largely overlooked. "I understand."
He looked irked at being interrupted, but nodded nonetheless. "So, if you were with the Thalmor for forty-nine years, you must know many things about them only a few others would know."
She narrowed her eyes at his comment. "I'm... afraid I don't follow."
"Secrets of the Thalmor. You must know some by now, correct? Secrets so important, it could hurt the Thalmor?"
She rose abruptly. "I can't say I approve of the direction this conversation is taking, Jarl Ulfric," she said tersely. "I have told you about my defection and the reasons for such. If you'll excuse me, I must return to Winterhold."
"You have made me wait for two weeks, elf," Ulfric said, rising slowly and crossing his arms across his chest.
"And I have told you all of what you asked of me through the letter." She bowed lightly. "If you'll excuse me."
"You're not going anywhere," he replied, snapping his fingers. His eyes remained focused on Runael as she slowly backed away from him, and a smile crossed his lips as she backed into the crossed battleaxes of the two guardsmen at the entrance to the palace.
She glanced behind herself at the two guards, then glared at Ulfric. "You would dare the wrath of an Arch-Mage?" she growled.
"The 'wrath of an Arch-Mage' pales in comparison to the fury of a Jarl," Ulfric replied smoothly. "You so much as attack me, and my Stormcloaks will scour Skyrim for you. I would prefer if they brought you back alive, but if they deem your death necessary, I won't hold it against them."
For once, it was her turn to smile, and the smile made him uneasy. "Who said anything about attacking you?" she replied, a triumphant tone in her voice. Magic swirled about her hands.
It took Ulfric a few moments to realize the implications of her actions and words, but when he did, his eyes widened. "Guards, seize-"
He was too late: Runael released the spell in her left hand, and her every movement was suddenly very silent; she released the spell in her right, and vanished from view. The second she turned invisible, she sprinted toward the door, counting on the Muffle spell to keep her dash for the door silent.
"Surely she's still there! Grab her!" Ulfric shouted, sounding quite furious that the Arch-Mage had given him the slip.
"Not quite," she replied with a chuckle, causing all heads to turn to the palace door - which she had open now. "Do not count on my visit again, Ulfric Stormcloak; you have left a worse impression on me than the reports at the Embassy ever could have." With that, she slipped out of the palace, closed the door behind her, and vanished from view with the aid of the Invisibility spell once more. She slipped away into the streets of Windhelm, holding back the laughter that bubbled within her as she heard the fabled Voice of Ulfric Stormcloak echo from within the palace.
A.N. - First of all, I have a couple apologies to make.
I'm sorry this chapter took me a month to write. I'd suffered a bout with writer's block for a little bit, and to try and remedy the situation, I began playing Skyrim again... which did nothing to make this story easier, as the character I chose to play was not Runael, but rather... well, I'll get into that a bit later. I'm also sorry this chapter is shorter than the previous five, and didn't end with the usual 'departing letter' format I've stuck to. This time, I felt like 'Runael escapes Windhelm' should be the end point. I'd also toyed heavily with the notion of a more cordial relationship between Ulfric and Runael, so there was that; I'd also contemplated a less-than-optimal outcome for Runael, but decided it would only drag things on longer than I'd like.
So, Skyrim. I've been trying out mods lately from NexusMods. A few have been hit-and-miss for me, some have been truly memorable, some... I haven't finished just yet. Easily the biggest mod I've taken a huge shine to is Frostfall, which adds a 'character temperature' element to the game; for those unfamiliar, it means your character can freeze to death (on the right settings). Swimming in the water suddenly becomes a HUGE deal and something you, ideally, want to avoid - because it makes you much colder MUCH faster. Been playing Skyrim with Frostfall on Hardcore, meaning I can't fast-travel... which means I get to have all sorts of fun wandering the southern reaches of Skyrim on my Ashen survivalist.
Yes, I said Ashen. I also downloaded the Ashen mod, which adds a new race to the game. Again, for those unfamiliar, Ashen (according to the mod - I could find no actual lore on the Ashen anywhere) are... I call them 'refugees' from Akavir, fleeing a life of enslavement in exchange for the life of a mercenary, a wanderer, an adventurer, etc. My Ashen is a 'survivalist' - I rarely visit cities (typically only doing so to sell the vast amounts of loot I gather on my forays), and that's also owing in part to the fact that I can't fast-travel. The merchants in Riften have no gold to buy my brewed potions/poisons with? I have to head to Whiterun or Windhelm on foot, taking care not to freeze. (Also, I have a fun Alchemy tip: mix Deathbell and River Betty together. The resulting poison is just cruel. ;) ) I do own Breezehome on Mia (my Ashen), and when I'm in town, and can't sell stuff, I tend to just stick my spare stuff in chests around the house. The drawback to Frostfall is that I can't explore the northern regions as much as I'd like to. I've been to Solitude, and from the gates of the city (completely warm, the warmest you can be) to the Solitude Lighthouse, I hit 'freezing to death' (I think that's the lowest you can get it, but can't remember; I have killed a character once via the freezing aspect). This was without getting soaked, and this was with a cloak (which helps keep you warm to some extent). I felt like an ass, using the fire at the Lighthouse to warm up... then extinguishing it for Jaree. Of course, then he wanted me to head to the Icerunner. It's a long walk, and no way in hell am I swimming across the way, like I would typically do. (Had a similar situation in Windhelm, except I got cold much faster.) I'm not even going to TRY a trip to Winterhold, which, for me, is always snowing. ALWAYS. I have never seen Winterhold when it's not snowing. I imagine it looks nice. I wouldn't know. I doubt I'll EVER know.
Of course, Mia hasn't been to Whiterun lately... or Riften. Or Falkreath. She's been through the ancient gate that leads to Falskaar, and has been there since. The temperatures there are bearable; the coldest Mia's gotten so far is 'freezing' (which is bad, but not immensely so). I would rather not discuss Falskaar too much, as I'd hate to ruin any surprises for anyone who hasn't tried it yet... but to put it simply, Falskaar is another land you can visit. It has Tamrielic lore, so far as I can tell - Nords settled the land many years ago, from what I've gathered. Want to get back to Skyrim? It's a little bit of a journey (even longer if you can't fast-travel), but there are docks at the southern coast of Falskaar that lead you back to Skyrim itself. I haven't left yet; there's too much I want to explore with Falskaar first. (I'd imagine the return point, from Skyrim to Falskaar, is through the gate you came from, but can't say for sure.) Thus far, the primary enemy has been bandits - and these buggers mean business. Mia's a survivalist clad in leather armor (for RP-esque purposes) who uses stealth, bow-and-arrow to get the jump on enemies, and then light shields and one-handed weapons (whatever's strongest) to fight. In one-on-one or one-vs.-two situations, that's not so bad... but these bandits travel in packs of anywhere from 4-6, maybe even 7 at times. You get one or two shooting at you, one throwing spells at you, and the rest trying to bludgeon/slash you to death? I'm just glad I have a healthy pursuit of Alchemy, and create potions whenever I get the chance. (Frostfall provides you with a mortar and pestle you can use out in the wilderness, but you need to buy it from an apothecary in a city first.) They don't drop like flies, either; even with a 3x sneak attack from a Dwarven Bow, I don't do as much damage as I'd like with my opening shot. Lately, though, I've been favoring melee sneak attacks if I can manage them - these are usually fatal, for obvious damage multiplier reasons. I love the storyline so far, and am rather disappointed with one of the developments (not because it had so much more potential, but because... well, I think I'd be spoiling if I tried to explain. It was well-executed, but that doesn't mean I'm glad it happens.)
So, mod-rant aside...
I do hope my updates become more frequent now that I've got this chapter out. My bout with writer's block seems to have lifted, at any rate, and ideas are once again flowing to me - albeit in trickles, but still, it's better than damming.
-Spiritslayer