Saarie,

The moment we make landfall in Solitude, I will lead the rest of our squad to the Embassy. You, on the other hand, have another task to deal with before you depart for the Embassy.

You know what must be done. See that it is done.

Vindicator Thellias

"...So let me get this straight..." Runael said, rubbing her temples gently. "You... want me... me, whom the Regent recognizes... me, who defected from the Thalmor... to help you rid Whiterun of the Thalmor?"

Irileth was barely paying any attention anymore. She'd thought hope had yet come to Whiterun when she'd heard that the Arch-Mage had returned to Winterhold after an 'ill-fated meeting in Windhelm', but felt her hope waver when she saw the Arch-Mage was an Altmer. Her hopes dropped even further once she'd learned that said Arch-Mage was formerly with the Thalmor herself. Nonetheless, she'd taken the opportunity to speak with the Arch-Mage in the Arcanaeum, hoping to make her case convincingly.

"Understand, Housecarl, that ours is a neutral organization at this point in time," Runael was saying. "That I am even meeting with you, who threatened Faralda and even attacked her, should be considered fortunate for you. By all rights, I ought to have thrown you out, but I figured you had a good reason for-"

"Liberating Whiterun from your kind isn't 'good reason' enough?" Irileth interrupted.

"'My kind' are overreaching their bounds, " Runael responded, "and do not represent the entirety of the race. You are already on thin ice with the College, Dunmer; do not test your luck any further." She crossed her arms. "Still... the stories I've heard about Whiterun as of late... I will agree with you, in that the Thalmor are running the city into the ground..."

"Yet you won't help."

"We're still recovering from recent events," Runael replied simply.

"It takes you months to do that? You're one College, one building, and one team of wizards," Irileth said incredulously. "Surely it doesn't take so long that-"

Runael affixed the dark elf with a hard look. "And here I thought you'd understand, given your position of 'Housecarl' to a Jarl," she said with a sigh. "I'm not talking about the physical aspects of recovery. Our reputation was already tainted before the incident with the Eye; even though I resolved that particular issue, our reputation may yet worsen. Even now, my master wizard, Tolfdir, tells me there are... anomalies throughout Skyrim that appear once in a while. None of us here know just yet what the long-term repercussions of the incident with the Eye may yet be; until we do know, we don't dare take any undue risks."

"But-"

"That, unfortunately, includes trying to purge the Thalmor from Skyrim as a whole," Runael said, giving a light nod. "Do not mistake my dismissal of Whiterun's problems as disinterest, Housecarl; we simply cannot help at this moment. I don't know that we'll ever be able to help in the coming months, maybe even years."

While the answer did give Irileth some general peace of mind, it still wasn't what she wanted. "Are you... absolutely sure you cannot offer any aid?"

The Arch-Mage heaved a sigh and closed her eyes. "The more you insist, Irileth, the more you come across as 'no options left'. Whiterun surely has allies beyond its own boundaries and the promise of a favor to the Jarl and his Housecarl?" She opened one eye. "What of the Dragonborn? Hasn't he-"

"We've seen neither hide nor hair of him since he trapped that dragon in Dragonsreach," Irileth muttered. "Divines know his help would be welcome, though..."

Runael frowned, then opened her other eye. "Hmm..." She thrummed her fingers upon the table before her, eyes scanning the spines of the books locked away behind glass. "...I... can offer no one, Irileth, for we are still trying to recover... but..." Her fingers stilled. "...I may be able to offer... if you've a mind to learn, perhaps you can bring some of what you came for with you."

It took Irileth a moment to realize what Runael was suggesting. "Are you asking me to stay and study?"

"Where else do you have to go, Irileth? Right now, the College is the safest place for you to be at this moment. Here, the Thalmor cannot reach you, for the College will keep them out. I can spare no one to help you, but I can spare time to teach you. I'd say the rest of the staff could spare that time, as well." She smiled gently. "Besides, if you're going to be staying here, there's only so much you can do before you start to go out of your mind with boredom, correct?"

Irileth didn't like it. The suggestion meant she could easily be spending months within the College, trying to learn magic that was probably beyond her to begin with. Those would be months she needed to spend trying to find ways to free Whiterun from the Thalmor presence infesting it.

"I'm not saying you'd have to commit to months and months of lessons," Runael added, as if reading the Dunmer's mind. "You'd be free to leave at any time - now included, in fact. Know, however, that as long as you choose to stay here, you'd have the protection of the College available to you. I cannot promise you that protection if you leave of your own accord."

"'Of my own accord'?" Irileth repeated.

Runael smiled. "You don't think our lessons are contained to the College, do you? Assuming you agree to join, there would be multiple opportunities for you - pardon, us - to get out of the College and travel. Granted, that means the Thalmor would have an easier time getting to us... but, well, I doubt even they would be stupid enough to attack a group of College magi without due provocation."

Irileth shook her head gently. "I... need to think about this. The offer is... not without its merits, I won't deny that, but I can't say I'd be willing to commit to study with the College when Whiterun needs help."

"I understand." The smile never left Runael's lips, but Irileth could almost swear it faltered ever so slightly. "Well, the Midden hardly seems a place for you to stay in the meantime. I'll inform Tolfdir you're to stay in my old quarters, before I moved into the Arch-Mage's quarters upstairs. You'll be sharing space with apprentices of the College, I'm afraid, so do be mindful of that."

"I..."

"Would you prefer that unwelcoming cell in the Midden?" Runael asked, peering at Irileth. "That's just about the only other place I'd dare to put you at this point in time."

"...No. The... former arrangement sounds... fine."

"Captain..." Saarie's voice was all but a purr, and was as music to the Redguard's ears. He turned his head to see the high elf standing in the doorway to his quarters, and couldn't fight back the small smile that came to his lips.

"Ah. Saarie, was it? I do want to apologize for my... behavior while we were at sea," he said, trying to sound sincere. If the tone was any indicator, however, he also suspected that maybe she'd warmed to the thought of time with him. I'll be damned if I let such a beauty get away.

"I appreciate the apology, Captain," she said softly, stepping closer, hands clasped behind her back. "It's... what, 'water under the bridge'? Hmm... perhaps 'water under the hull' would fit in this case?"

He laughed at the term. "'Water under the hull'... that's clever. I like it." He beckoned her inside. "Please, make yourself comfortable."

"I couldn't impose." She gave him a look of sorrow.

"You're not imposing if you're invited, you know."

"That's... true, I suppose." She stepped into his quarters, then closed and locked the door behind her. That made his curiosity pique; previously, she'd insisted the door remain wide open and unlocked at all times.

"To what do I owe the pleasure of such a beauty's visit?" he asked quietly. "Did you find my rugged charm and good looks-" His words failed him as her hands moved into view; in her right hand was an ebony dagger, the blade held firmly between her fingertips.

"Gods, but you are insufferable," she growled. "Did you really think I'd fall for someone as pathetic as you? A drunkard, a womanizer, a human, and one who worships Talos besides?"

His eyes widened as he slowly realized what was going on. He was unarmed, and his nearest weapon was a cutlass mounted upon the wall, above the head of his bed. "Come now, surely we can talk about this..." he began.

She stepped closer to him, away from the door. "There are no words for you, filth, only the silence that walks hand-in-hand with death."

Recognizing the threat for what it was, the Redguard turned his back on her and sprinted for the cutlass on the wall. His fingers wrapped around the hilt when he felt pain explode from the center of his back, originating from the spine. He fell, face-first, onto the bed, cutlass falling from his hand.

"I pierced your spine with the dagger. You'll suffer before you bleed to death." Her voice was nowhere near him, which made the Redguard realize she had likely thrown the blade - and with terrifying accuracy, at that. "I suggest you make the best of your last moments, and think about how foolish you - and all who follow Talos - truly are. A man cannot become a god; such is naught but vanity of a people."

His mouth moved, and sounds gurgled from his throat... but he could form no words. All failed him.

"Oblivion take you, lecher. Tamriel is better off without you." With those words, he heard his door open, then close. He heard the unmistakable sound of the lock clicking into place, and knew that none would find him in time to help him.

Contrary to what she said, he spent his last moments praying to the Divines... and, as if to spit upon those who killed him, he offered the most prayer to Talos, even to his dying breath.

The sound of knocking upon her solar door directed an otherwise irritable Elenwen's attention toward the source. "Who is it, and what do you want?" she snapped. "If you have correspondence from-"

She was quite appalled when she watched the door fly inward, smashing against the wall. She glared at the Altmer clad in ebony armor as he strode into the solar as if he were in charge of the place. "You are Elenwen," the mer said; it was not a question.

"I am. And who are you, to barge in on me so brazenly? You know my name; you know what my rank is, and what it means for-"

"Is this how you greet all visitors from Alinor?" the mer interrupted, a glare in his eyes. "Little wonder Skyrim is slipping from our grasp, then. You're correct, I'm aware you were First Ambassador of Skyrim for the Thalmor; that is the only reason I haven't yet struck you for disrespecting your superior."

Every word of what he said registered with Elenwen, and her face quickly drained of color; soon, her horrified expression was upon a face as pale as snow. "V-Vindicator Thellias..." she whispered. "I-I... we were not expecting you for two more-"

"I got an earlier start than expected," Thellias said, smirking. "I'll assume that this is the reason the Embassy does not, contrary to what was requested, look as though it was prepared for visitors from Alinor. Did you truly think you could put that off to the last minute?" He spat upon the floor. "Perhaps that is one of many reasons you haven't yet made progress into the infiltration."

She was silent. She knew she'd already crossed many lines snapping at him as she had, and didn't dare cross any others. She did clear her throat, however, and force a smile. "I welcome you to-"

"Save it," Thellias snapped, slamming his ebony helm upon her clutter-free desk. "You already 'welcomed' me to Skyrim, and to the Embassy; suffice to say, I did not find it... amusing. Your guardsman within the gate did a far better job welcoming me than you did."

She had to fight the urge to cringe; she knew the comment was intended to make her do so, but she didn't want to give him the satisfaction. "I, ah..."

"Since you couldn't be bothered to prepare the Embassy for my visit," he interrupted, "you will be staying in whatever guest quarters you have prepared; if you have none, then it seems you'll be staying with the rest of the guards. I, on the other hand, will be making full use of this room as my own personal quarters. If you have any protests, I suggest you make them now, that I may get disciplinary action out of the way sooner, rather than later."

Her mouth opened, but closed quickly. "N-no, sir."

"Excellent. Now..." He let his eyes wander her barren desk, and he snorted. "Are the problems you've been facing truly so unimportant to you that you can hide them away as if there's nothing wrong?" he snarled. "Or do you happen to have good news pertaining to the infiltration?"

"I-I..." She knew she was in too much trouble, and that if she said anything, she was just digging a deeper grave for herself.

"I thought not. Pitiful." He again spat on the floor, and she felt her eye twitch at the disrespectful act. "How you ever became First Ambassador is beyond me. Then again, I suppose giving head to-"

"How dare you," she snapped, the suggestive insult pushing her too far. "Everything I've ever attained within the Dominion, I have earned rightfully, not through lewd 'favors' or bribes! I don't care who you think you are, Vindicator, but I will not tolerate you slandering my name thus!"

His lips curled into a smirk, and only when she calmed down somewhat did she realize just what she'd said. "Are you suggesting you're equal to me, or even... superior to me? Are you suggesting that I did not earn my rank of 'Vindicator', Elenwen? Speak plainly, now..."

"Not at all, sir," she said, collecting herself as best she could. "Simply that... that I did indeed earn the title of-"

"Perhaps you had earned it," he interrupted, "but you are no longer worthy of retaining it. As of this moment, in fact, you are no longer the First Ambassador of Skyrim. You haven't been since I first heard your... 'warm' greeting, in fact."

The horror of realization dawned on her, and she knew that everything she was trying to keep quiet... "And... who is-"

"Sir!" A new voice preceded the arrival of another Altmer into the solar. She saluted Thellias, who returned the salute, then looked at Elenwen, smirked at her, then turned her attention back to Thellias. "In regards to the task you assigned me before we arrived in Solitude. It is done."

"Excellent work, Saarie. That is how things get done in the Dominion: as soon as possible, in as efficient a manner as possible." He shot Elenwen a sharp look. "Unlike some people, who think they can complete their tasks at their own leisure."

"Sir, with all due respect, there has been a frustrating lack of progress-"

"Then you're not trying hard enough!" he roared. The sudden outburst caused Elenwen to shrink back, even cower a little. "If you can't find information, then expand your gods-damned information network! Make those little parties you threw into opportunities: ask your guests to accomplish something for you, and grant them something in return! The one thing you do not do, however, is take it slowly!"

She had no words in response to this.

"Saarie!"

"Yes sir?" The other mer stood at attention and saluted.

"At ease." Thellias' tone softened as he faced Saarie once again. "Since Elenwen here has proven far too incompetent to run an Embassy, let alone maintain our presence in Skyrim, the time has come for your final test." He gave her a small smile and a nod. "From this moment forth, and until I say otherwise, you are now First Ambassador of Skyrim. I will process the paperwork once this meeting is through, and will send it back to Alinor as soon as possible. The time has come, Saarie, for you to take charge. Show me that you can take command of any situation, and when your task is through, that which you commanded is in a better state than when you assumed command. Though I will admit..." He shot a glare at Elenwen. "Given the state of our Embassy and our presence in Skyrim, I'd say this one's too easy."

"Not true, sir. Granted, this won't be hard, by any definition of the term," she added, giving Elenwen a condescending look, "but I'd say it will be challenging enough."

He nodded at Saarie. "You've made me proud so far, my dear," he said, smiling. "Pass this test, and I suspect you'll make one of the finest Vindicators to date." He cleared his throat. "Now, the problems plaguing the Embassy, and the Dominion of Skyrim in general, are in your hands. Unless I say otherwise, I am simply here to observe."

"Sir." She saluted, then looked at Elenwen. "Now... as for you... as much as I'd like to dismiss you from the Dominion altogether for your incompetence, I believe in second chances. Perhaps if you were to 'start anew', you would be reminded what it means to be part of the Aldmeri Dominion."

Elenwen stared at Saarie, and her hands balled slowly into fists. "Are you... demoting-"

"I believe Vindicator Thellias has already done so," Saarie replied coolly. "No, I'm simply informing you of your new rank." She pointed toward the door. "In fact, I'd say it's about time for your shift."

"What are you-"

Saarie smiled wickedly at Elenwen. "Why, to stand guard, of course. That poor guardsman outside must be cold by now... I'd say it's time you took his place. Oh, and you'll be watching the gate alone - as you've assigned others to do for months now."

Elenwen could stand it no longer, but knew better than to lash out, either with words or worse. She simply offered the least passable salute she could to both of them, then left the solar without another word.

It didn't matter how she moved, or how hard she strained; Adalla could not seem to free her wrists from their bonds.

She had no idea where she was, only that it appeared as though she were in the ruins of a fort. She was in a prison cell, and had a view only of the stone wall ahead of her. She wasn't even sure why she was bound; she had tried the cell door with her back turned to it, but had been unable to budge the handle. She was clad in nothing but ragged robes and footwraps, the like of which prisoners usually wore.

She didn't know whether she preferred captivity over death or not. She had yet to see her captor - perhaps captors, for that matter. She'd heard no one else, seen not even a shadow... it was as if she'd been taken captive and forgotten. Were it not for those occasions when she woke to find a plate of food within her cell, her wrists unbound, she would have assumed she had been forgotten.

Her stomach growled as she thought about food, and she groaned lightly. She knew it was wrong, but she longed for the food that was to come; it was never anything like stale bread and moldy cheese, but rather such things as cooked venison, vegetable soups, and refreshing water. She always knew it was drugged, though; every time prior she'd eaten the food, she'd been pulled into a deep slumber, only to awaken some time later with her wrists bound once again.

She strained against her bonds once more, and bit her lower lip to suppress the cry of pain that accompanied this one: the straining had rubbed her wrists raw in the past, but this time... she could almost swear she had broken her skin with the struggling.

Then, for the first time since she'd first awoken in the cell, she heard them: footsteps. They got louder as the one to whom they belonged seemed to approach. The scent of food preceded them, and made her stomach growl once more. She managed to ignore the pain at her wrists, her attention now focused on the possibility of learning the identity of one, if not the only, captor.

Perhaps they hadn't been expecting her to be awake, because when they stopped in front of her cell door, their face registered surprise. It was a woman with long brown hair pulled back into a ponytail, clad sleeveless leather armor, bracers and boots, and a white fur cloak about her shoulders. At her back was a quiver of arrows and a dwarven bow. At her right side was what appeared to be an ebony war axe, while at her left was a dwarven dagger. In her right hand was a plate bearing cooked beef, a rich tomato soup, and what appeared to be a flagon of mead. "Awake at last," the woman said. She set the plate down on the stone floor briefly. "Stay where y'are, eh? Don't want to hurt ya if I don't gotta." She fished a key out of a small satchel behind her dagger.

"Who-"

"The woman who saved yer life," the mysterious woman said simply. She regarded Adalla closely. "Yer're not gonna lunge at me if I open the door to pass yer meal through, are ya?"

She considered it, but she couldn't deny that she was hungry. "No."

The woman nodded, then unlocked the cell door and placed the plate of food inside, then closed and locked the door again. "Been hopin' I'd get a chance to talk to ya some. Guess m'first question is... what in Oblivion'd ya do t'get locked up by bandits?"

Adalla blinked, rising slowly and approaching the cell door. She turned around so her bound wrists were exposed. "Bandits?"

The mystery woman didn't say anything for a moment, and then... "Ah, right, must wanna be free so y'can eat." She felt the chill of what was undoubtedly the dagger press against her wrist, then felt the flat of the blade rub against her hand as the edge severed her bonds. "Figured I'd keep tyin' yer wrists 'till I could figure out whether or not ya were dangerous. Don't see no- gods damn, just how hard did ya struggle?" Adalla felt fingers poke at the fresh injuries she'd created at her wrists. "Damn, elf, even fools know when t'give it up..."

"Pardon me, but I wanted to get free," Adalla snapped, moving away from the woman's fingers and turning around. She sat upon the fur that had served as her blanket for a while now, and picked up the plate of food. "Can you really fault me that?"

"Guess not," the woman said with a sheepish grin. "Sorry. Can see now that y'aren't all that dangerous. Why them idiot bandits had ya bound up as they did, I don't know." She watched as Adalla began to devour her meal. "Thought ya'd like somethin' other than venison for a change, so... there's that."

Adalla swallowed what must have been her sixth or seventh mouthful of food before she asked the woman a few questions of her own. "Who are you? Where am I? What happened?"

"Well, as I said, I'm the one who saved yer life. As for the 'where'... think it's called 'Uttering Hills Cave', or some such. Was a bandit lair, least 'till I came upon it during that last bad storm... ah, but ya don't know 'bout that." She chuckled softly. "As to the 'what'... was hopin' y'could tell me that. Two arrowheads broken off in yer shoulders, traces of paralytic poison on each, and a pretty bad bite wound to your arm 'sides? Someone had it in for ya, elf, and I'd say it's a miracle yer still alive. So, I'll ask again..." She leaned closer. "What in Oblivion happened to ya?"

"I'm afraid I can't take it," Ma'dran said, shaking his head.

En'zhar stared at his fellow Khajiit. "What? Why-"

"Recent events," the merchant said in response. "I can say nothing more, my friend."

En'zhar reached into the satchel at his waist and pulled out a pouch of moon sugar. "And now?"

To his surprise, Ma'dran shook his head. "It changes..." He hesitated, then beckoned En'zhar closer with one hand. When he spoke next, his voice was much lower. "My friend... I had to talk. I had no choice; the elf was insistent. His fellows had subdued the rest of the caravan, and my throat was graced with the unwelcome presence of a blade's tip."

"What elf? Who dared-" En'zhar stopped. "What did you speak of?"

"I told him... about our deal. The Blade, the buyer, and the reasons. And... and you. Not by name," he added, noting the anger that flashed across En'zhar's face, "but by that which you go by to everyone but the closest. E."

E frowned, and shook his head after a moment longer. "What did the elf say when you told him about...?"

"Nothing. I think... I think mentioning your alias was all he wanted. Still, I don't dare take the Blade. There's no telling what will happen to me - or to you - if I do."

En'zhar stared at the two-handed Daedric artifact for a moment. "Yet if I keep it, it marks me as E. Everyone will know who I am."

"The... thought crossed my mind. I think that's what the elf was aiming for." Ma'dran sighed gently. "Someone within the Thalmor wants you dead, E, and they want to know exactly who you are. If you pass the Blade along to another... that will be innocent blood on your hands, and on mine besides."

E furrowed his brow in thought. "...There are many things I will not do," he began. "Leaving another to die in my place is among them." He picked up the Daedric artifact. "I'm not much of a fighter with two-handed blades, but perhaps I'll learn. And if these elves who search for me manage to track me down, then perhaps they will learn what it means to cross me."

Ma'dran gave a nod. "I am sorry, my friend; I truly am. They mentioned reporting to the 'new First Ambassador', if that helps any."

This comment alone struck a greater blow to E's confidence than he let on outwardly. If Elenwen is no longer leading the Embassy, I no longer have anyone within the Dominion... and thus, I no longer know their movements. "I see. Thank you, my friend." He gave the Ebony Blade a small twirl in his hand. "I also apologize."

"Apologize? For what?"

In a flash, En'zhar buried the Ebony Blade's tip in the Khajiit merchant's chest. Ma'dran's eyes widened, and his hands reached up to claw at the Blade in vain. "I know the story behind the Blade," E murmured softly. "Slay those who trust you implicitly, and the Blade grows stronger... so, in essence..." He twisted the Blade in Ma'dran's chest. "Betraying your friends gives you strength." He narrowed his eyes at Ma'dran. "That aside, was I not a worthy patron that you would take a blade for me? Did you truly think I would tolerate being sold out - to the Thalmor, of all people, simply so you could live?" He cast a glance at the other three members of the caravan, all of whom were still somehow asleep. "I will offer my condolences to Ri'saad, for he has lost an entire caravan this night." With that, he pulled the Blade from Ma'dran's chest, and moved silently toward the other three Khajiit.

Thellias,

I understand that you are here to observe, and that realistically, I have no authority over you... but I don't know who else I can trust within the Embassy with this information.

I discovered several letters hidden away - by Elenwen, no doubt - within the solar. Each one was signed by a Khajiit who is wanted for theft, fraud and various other crimes back in Alinor. I know not who else within the Embassy knows about Elenwen's 'under-the-table' dealings with such an infamous criminal back home, and so I ask you instead, not as an order, but as a favor:

Find En'zhar, who apparently lives in Skyrim, and hunt him down like the animal he is.

-First Ambassador Saarie

Vindicator-in-training

A.N. - I think I had just a little too much fun writing this chapter, especially the interaction between Thellias, Elenwen and Saarie; does it make me a bad person if I enjoy someone else's misfortune that much?

Since I want to keep this Author's Note nice and short, I'm only going to say that lately, I've been playing Final Fantasy XIV: A Realm Reborn. I bought the original version a couple years back, and tried to play it; it didn't cooperate with my pathetic computer back then (an Acer laptop). Well, my new computer can handle ARR, and it's fun. I'm playing a Pugilist, and having a blast with it. Reached level 25 last night, so I'm halfway to level cap. I'm not sure what I want to do with WoW anymore. I'm stuck waiting until Warlords of Draenor for anything new there, and... it doesn't really call to me. 'Time travel to what Outland used to look like and fight the Horde's notable figures'? Yeah, no thanks. I'll see if there's anything else to pull me in, but... at present, not so much. FFXIV, in the meantime, is amazing, and I don't see myself getting bored with it anytime soon. If I can figure up the past and put together a halfway decent RP profile for my character, I may even dip into that as well. (If anyone else plays, don't be afraid to contact me in-game! My character is Adelena Hayle, on Balmung. Just let me know you came from so I'm not confused. ^^)

...Well, the Author's Note was short-ish, I guess. I'll end it here before I blab too much, like I did with the last one. ^^;

-Spiritslayer