Chapter V: Cloud Ruler Temple
Frostcrag Spire…
23 Frost Fall 4E21
"So the enemy had the Amulet of Kings?" The Bosmer asked.
"Yes," Aywin nodded. "And without that Martin could not light the Dragonfires at the Temple of the One, protecting Cyrodiil from Oblivion."
"Then why did the enemy not simply destroy the Amulet?"
Aywin smiled. "That would have certainly been a feat. Nobody knew, at that time, how it could be done. And besides the man who took the Amulet had larger plans for it. But we will delve into that another time."
The Bosmer nodded his head, contented.
"Now, Cloud Ruler Temple," Aywin said and she walked towards her balcony, beckoning the others to follow her.
On the ground in front of them were nine stone circles each marked with the talismans of the eight cities of Cyrodiil and the Imperial City. Aywin pointed over these stones westward along the Jerall Mountain range.
In the clear moonlight the three men could see the outline of a stone figure several dozen miles to the west of their current location.
"Of course it has long since been abandoned now that there is no Emperor to defend," Aywin began. "But that was the place where Martin Septim spent the remainder of his days."
Cloud Ruler Temple…
30 Last Seed 3E433
The trek through the frosted forests near Bruma had been a bleak affair. Martin had barely uttered a word, such was his complete disbelief of the situation. Jauffre was undoubtedly still mourning the loss of Brother Maborel, who had perished in the attack. And Ignin still had this bizarre sense of feeling completely out of place.
In the past three days he had awoken with no memory of his surroundings inside a prison, witnessed the death of the Emperor, been charged with a quest upon which the fate of the world depended, seen a city burnt to rubble by demonic enemies from another realm, and now he found himself intruding upon the hallowed ground of Cloud Ruler Temple.
The massive stone gates towered above them. They opened slowly and a guard came out to greet them. He rushed up to Jauffre and then took a look at Martin.
"Grandmaster is this…?"
"Yes, Cyrus," Jauffre nodded. "This is the Emperor's son, Martin Septim."
Cyrus walked over to Martin and bowed. "My lord, welcome to Cloud Ruler Temple. We've not had the honor of an Emperor's visit in many years!"
Martin was thoroughly caught off guard at being addressed as "Emperor". He stumbled over his words. "Ah, well… thank you. The honor is mine."
Jauffre turned to Martin and patted his shoulder encouragingly. "Come. Your Blades are waiting to greet you."
Inside the gates were a set of massive stone stairs that led up at least a hundred feet. Torches lined the side and seemed to warm the very bone as the four men ascended the stairs.
At the top of these stairs was the temple itself. A relatively small building, but strategically positioned in the crux of the mountain. Jauffre was right. From this vantage point any invader would have no choice but to attempt to siege the main gate.
Blades had lined up along the side of the small stone courtyard. Martin and Jauffre took their place at the front of this formation. Cryrus moved onto one of the side flanks and Ignin, not sure where else he should go, stood opposite of Cyrus.
Jauffre spoke to the formation. "Blades! Dark times are upon us. The Emperor and his sons were slain on our watch. The Empire is in chaos. But there is yet hope. Here is Martin Septim, true son of Uriel Septim."
At this the Blades raised their swords and shouted praises to Martin. "Hail Martin Septim!" and "Hail Dragonborn!" rang across the silent mountain and seemed to echo throughout the Imperium. It reminded Ignin unpleasantly of the time he had announced the Emperor's death in Aleswell.
"Your highness," Jauffre said to Martin. "The Blades are at your command. You will be safe here until you can take up your throne."
Martin turned to Jauffre and nodded. He then turned to the formation. "Jauffre. All of you. I know you all expect me to be Emperor. I'll do my best but this is all new to me. I'm not used to giving speeches, but I want you all to know I appreciate your welcome. I hope I prove myself worthy of your loyalty in the coming days. That's it. Thank you."
Jauffre nodded encouragingly. "Well then. Thank you, Martin." He turned to the Blade standing to his right. "We'd all best get back to our duties, eh Captain?"
And with that, the formation dispersed.
Martin walked over to Ignin and shrugged. "Not much of a speech was it. Didn't seem to bother them though. The Blades saluting me and hailing me as Martin Septim…I don't mean to sound ungrateful. I know I would be dead by now if it weren't for you. Thank you." He sighed. "But everyone expects me to suddenly know what to do. How to behave. They want an Emperor to tell them what to do. And I haven't the faintest idea…"
Ignin placed his hand on Martin's shoulder but withdrew it. He got the feeling that Martin was growing tired of that particular encouraging gesture.
"The Amulet of Kings," Ignin said. "The enemy has it. We need to get it back."
"Of course," Martin nodded. "So we…I… can take it to the Temple of the One and light the Dragonfires. And stop the Oblivion invasion."
"And then you will be Emperor," Ignin added.
"The Emperor. That's an idea that will take some getting used to. In any case we need the Amulet first. Maybe Jauffre will know where to start."
As if he had heard Martin, Jauffre approached them. Martin nodded and headed inside the temple. Jauffre gave Ignin a serious, appraising look.
"You have proven yourself a loyal servant of the Empire, as worthy as any of the Blades to stand by Martin's side during this crisis. As Grandmaster of the Blades, I would be honored to accept you into our order. Will you join us?"
It was Ignin's turn to stumble over his words. "A Blade… but I…"
Jauffre said nothing, but let Ignin's mind turn over the new information he had just received. What was he to do now? He could certainly not abandon Martin now, when the battle was just beginning. And it was not as though he had anywhere to go. He could not remember anything about himself anyways.
"Very well," Ignin nodded. "I suppose I haven't got much of a choice anyways."
Jauffre smiled. "There are always choices to be made, Ignin."
Cheydinhal Sanctuary…
30 Last Seed 3E433
Azeg-Rael arrived at the sanctuary a bit later than he had anticipated. He had not expected to be stopped by a Legion guard just outside the Waterfront. Just as Azeg-Rael was preparing to take him down, the guard smiled and said, "Give my thanks to Ocheeva."
The pirates must have been giving the guard a hard time
The sanctuary was as lively as ever. Gogron was out on a mission, but Teinaava, Antoinetta and M'raaj-Dar were having a very loud conversation in the main hall.
"So is it true?" Teinaava asked, chuckling.
"What?" M'raaj-Dar asked, with a slight smirk.
"We heard you had some complications with your last contract," Antoinetta smiled.
"Yes, well I was not expecting an entire squad of Legion guards to show up in the middle of my duty," M'raaj-Dar chuckled. "But I certainly had fun cleaning up my own mess."
"Well if there's one thing you're good for it's getting yourself out of tight spots," Antoinetta laughed.
Teinaava noticed Azeg-Rael first. "Ah, if it isn't the budding Murderer back from his first contract."
M'raaj-Dar sniffed angrily and returned to his usual spot on the second floor landing.
"How did it go?" Antoinetta asked.
Azeg-Rael grimaced.
"Oh never mind him, he's always rude to the new ones," Antoinetta chuckled.
Azeg-Rael decided not to press the point that it was actually her that he was annoyed with, and continued. "Well enough. The Captain is dead, as are his accomplices."
"That is quite impressive. Pirates are no slouch with blades," Teinaava smiled.
"Neither am I," Azeg-Rael said simply, moving towards the stairwell leading down to Vicente's room. Teinaava nodded respectfully.
Vicente seemed quite pleased with Azeg-Rael's work, and yet Azeg-Rael was unsure of how Vicente could already know. Azeg-Rael wrote this off as something that he felt would understand later.
"So, the pirate has been eliminated. Excellent. No one will mourn his passing, and Sithis has been appeased," Vicente smiled. "Now perhaps you should get some re-"
"I want another contract," Azeg-Rael said assertively, although keeping his tone respectful.
Vicente raised his eyebrows. "The thrill of murder can be overwhelming to some, but to others it is more like a drug. They can't seem to get enough of it. You will find that the high wears off unless you have the proper attitude."
"Perhaps," Azeg-Rael nodded. "But you have another contract for me, do you not?"
Vicente grinned almost unwillingly. "As a matter of fact I do. We need you to stage an… accident. Kill the target in the manner specified. The target is a Wood Elf named Baenlin. He lives in a house in Bruma with his manservant Gromm. On the second floor is a door leading to a crawlspace. Inside are the fastenings of a mounted head that hangs over Baenlin's favorite chair. I think you see where I am going with this."
Azeg-Rael nodded.
"Now we would prefer you to kill Baenlin in the manner we have laid out for you. It will be written off as an accident, something the client specifically requested. Also, we have no desire to see the manservant, Gromm, killed. So please, use stealth, something which you have already shown aptitude for," Vicente said.
"I will make it happen. I shall leave for Bruma at once," Azeg-Rael bowed.
Anvil, Fighter's Guild…
30 Last Seed 3E433
"I guess if you make enough crazy claims one is bound to be right," Azzan sighed.
Davion had sat behind the old loon's house for three straight hours, barely moving a muscle. But sure enough, as Arvena had claimed, her Argonian neighbor named Quill-Weave had come behind her house in the middle of the night and placed rotten meat in a small hole near her cellar wall.
When confronted, Quill-Weave had insisted that she had not meant to lure mountain lions into the basement, but only to lure the rats out, so that the town Watch would dispose of them. This seemed a reasonable excuse, and Davion felt no need to rat out the poor woman who swore never to do it again.
Arvena seemed uneasy, but grateful that the problem was over. She began bricking up the hole in the cellar wall that evening.
"That makes my second completed contract. Please tell me my next assignment will be more interesting," Davion said almost pleadingly.
"Actually yeah," Azzan nodded. "I have one more contract for you to take care of, but it's risky."
"Finally," Davion sighed cheering up immensely. "Not that I'm not grateful mind you, but Modryn spun me tales of adventure and excitement hunting down wild beasts and taking care of dangerous people."
"What happened to the broken down old buffer that Modryn told me about?" Azzan asked, with a hint of a smile.
"He got a sword," Davion nodded. "What's the contract?"
"Norbert Lelles. He's a shopkeeper. Owns Lelles' Quality Merchandise. He's been having some trouble with break-ins apparently. I hope you're ready for a sleepover. It's already one in the morning," Azzan chuckled.
The docks seemed to be a very different atmosphere from the city proper. Sailors chatted loudly, and rudely, and even fought openly with the Guard merely watching on not willing to try and arrest them.
Lelle's store was a beaten down old shack on the waterfront. The sign out front read: "Lelles' Quality Mercandise." A tiny "h" had been scratched on between the "c" and "a" in "Mercandise" to try and correct the spelling error, but this was quite obvious.
As Davion walked in the store, Lelles sang out merrily over the rattle of pots and pans from the back of the store: "Be right with you!"
Lelles emerged from the storeroom and spun right into his mercantile theatrics. "Welcome to Lelles' Quality Merchandise, the finest wares for you hard earned septims!" He faltered and smiled innocently. "Oh, and perhaps you've seen the sign out front. Bit of bad luck that."
"I'm sorry I'm not a customer. I'm with the Fighter's Guild. I hear you've been having some troubles?" Davion asked.
"Ah yes that. I've lost a great deal of merchandise over the last few months; I keep replacing it, but they keep stealing it, new locks on the doors be damned! They keep coming in at night, after I've gone to bed. I would like you to wait in the shop overnight and see if you can catch them in the act," Lelles instructed.
"Very well. But I insist that you do not pay me unless I actually catch somebody," Davion nodded.
Lelles smiled and nodded. "I can see the caliber of people they have in the Fighter's Guild. I was right to choose you for this job."
And with that Lelles left the store, leaving Davion to wonder what he had meant when he said he chose the Fighter's Guild.
Davion, of course, did not sleep. This would be counterproductive. He was still on Fighter's Guild time. He made a mental note to start taking a break between contracts, as the loss of sleep was beginning to take a toll on him; he wasn't a young man anymore.
Then, at four in the morning, he heard a creaking at the door. The door slowly slid open and three thugs crept inside. Davion waited until they had shut the door behind them to announce himself.
"Evening kids," Davion said confidently in a loud voice.
The first one jumped and the second raised his dagger automatically.
"Is he with the Watch?" The third asked.
"I'm Fighter's Guild, I'm twice any of your ages, and I'm a little cranky. Missed my naptime, you see. So why don't you just surrender so we can put an end to all this," Davion said.
The three men chose to fight, and died in the battle. Davion's many evenings of practicing in the garden under the moonlight, and his two recent encounters with monsters had proven to be more skill than any of these petty criminals had. They fell within minutes, one after the other.
Davion sighed sheathing his claymore. "Damn kids. You threw away your lives for a few coins."
Fort Blueblood
30 Last Seed 3E433
Alessia's task with the Leyawin Mage's Guild had seemed a much more serious matter than the tasks she'd been set with thus far. The menial tasks had seemed like a cakewalk compared to her current Recommendation.
The leader of the Mage's Guild, Dagail, was a troubled woman. She spoke clearly, but her thought process was unhinged. The words she said made sense unto themselves, but absolutely none in the context of the conversation. The only thing she had said which seemed to make any sort of sense during Alessia's plea for understanding was a simple phrase.
"Words are… difficult," Dagail sighed.
With the help of Agata, another mage, Alessia discovered the cause of Dagail's dementia. There was a stone called the Seer's Stone which she wore to keep voices that invaded her mind at bay. Dagail was gifted with the rare trait of mind-reading, however this was a much less controllable phenomena than Alessia had thought.
Without a Seer Stone, she could not control whose voices entered her mind, meaning that every waking moment dozens and sometimes hundreds of voices invaded her thoughts, making it impossible to have a conversation.
Agata did not have the authority to issue a recommendation, so it seemed as though Alessia's journey had come to a dead halt. She had a light dinner in the dining room, and sat next to a man named Kalthar.
Kalthar had seemed rather animated about the subject of the Seer Stone.
"Why should we be under the rule of somebody who is only kept sane by a magical trinket!" He insisted.
This was in itself suspicious, but when she had mentioned that the magical trinket was missing, he smiled.
"Good. Word is starting to spread. They won't be able to keep up this façade much longer."
Upon returning to Dagail and Agata, Agata seemed unnerved by this callousness as well.
"He also mentioned somebody named Maduin," Alessia said. "Who was that?"
Agata frowned. "Maduin? That's Dagail's father."
"Blood ran blue… what was my sires must be mine," Dagail whimpered.
"Dagail?" Agata asked.
"Blood ran blue," she repeated.
"Blueblood?" Agata asked. "Do you mean Fort Blueblood?"
And so here was Alessia, sneaking her way through a decrepit tomb. A massive stone fort and beneath it a hideout for Marauders. Though she was a Guild Mage, Destruction magic was her least proficient. Some said that was a good thing, that the only people who ever truly got good at Destruction magic were usually dark wizards and necromancers. That spark of purity inside her kept her from using violent magic except in the most necessary of circumstances.
Others criticized her for her lack of common sense. That sooner or later she would need Destruction magic and she should be studying harder.
This certainly seemed like a good time to use some destruction magic as she had so far only been able to sneak around one guard. Another had caught her, but before he could shout a warning to the others he was silenced by a bolt of lightning.
In a large hallway, she found a troop of marauders, at least five strong by the sound of their voices. She was trapped, there was no way she could take all of them at once.
"What have we here?" Shouted a dark elf marauder as he jumped down behind Alessia and grabbed her wrist.
"Let go of me!" Alessia shouted.
"A little girl's lost her way into our happy home," The Dunmer crooned, pulling Alessia closer.
Before Alessia could even begin to think of a spell, the other Marauders had surrounded her. The warlord was an orc who seemed to have a bad temper about more than just the intruder.
"I don't have time for brats right now. Just tie her up and set her down for now," the Orc insisted.
Alessia's wrists were bound behind her with a small cord. Her ankles were wrapped up using the same twine as bowstring. They set her down against a wall.
"Should we blindfold her?" One of the marauders asked.
"No need. She's already seen all of our faces. We'll deal with her in a minute," the Dunmer nodded. "So, boss, what are your plans?"
"Black Brugo is dead. Mogens is dead. The Black Bow Bandits are being hunted down one by one and slaughtered by some mad knight. And if that isn't the worst, the Blackwood Company has been hired as well. If we don't something soon, we'll lose our foothold in the Niben Bay," The orc said.
Alessia struggled against her bonds, but she did not know any spell that could undo ropes, and any attempt to cast something in front of them would simply result in her being killed.
She had to think of a way out of this. Whichever spell she did cast could have to both undo her bonds, and give her a moment to escape. But her knowledge of spells was still very fresh, and there was no such spell in her immediate memory.
"The Blackwood Company!" A Bosmer cried. "They've just been stealing jobs from the Fighter's Guild."
"They're worse than the Fighter's Guild," The Orc said. "They're merciless. You heard about what happened to Azani Blackheart."
There was a murmur of assent.
"So what are we going to do? Just hold out here. One last stand?" A Khajitt asked.
"We aren't beaten yet. We still have at least one hundred men. That's more than enough to launch a counter-attack," The Orc insisted. "But we'll need to be patient. Rowlan," he pointed the Dunmer. "Take these instructions to our associate. You know who I'm talking about. Do not read them yourself, understood? Do everything he tells you to do."
"Yes, sir," The Dunmer nodded. He moved towards the exit, running his hand across Alessia's cheek as he went.
Once the Dunmer was out of sight the Orc continued talking. "Hopefully Rowlan succeeds his mission and we'll be able to move to the next phase of the operation."
"A counter-attack on Leyawin, sir? But what of these strange gates opening up everywhere? And that door in the bay-"
The Bosmer was cut off by the Orc grunting. "They are immaterial to us. In fact they might actually work to our advantage. A distraction of some kind. We'll await our orders. Rest up and get some food."
The men did as they were told. Two of them went straight to bedrolls as though they'd been up for days before the conversation. The Khajitt sat down next to Alessia.
"What should we do with her?" He asked.
"Leave her. If things get desperate she'll make a good hostage," The Orc instructed.
Suddenly there was a scream. Rowlan's voice echoed through the halls of Fort Blueblood. Footsteps charged down the stairs, and into the room walked a large Orc woman in steel armor.
"It's Mazoga!" The Orc shouted.
"What a lucky coincidence! I stumble upon the fort where you were planning the counter-attack. The Count's spies do a great job," Mazoga smiled.
"The brat?" The Orc exclaimed.
But suddenly the Khajitt pulled out a dagger and untied Alessia's hands and feet. He turned around and threw the dagger into the Bosmer's heart.
All hell broke loose. Alessia jumped out of the way as Mazoga and the Khajitt tore the marauders apart. When only the Orc warlord remained, Mazoga cleaved his head straight off.
"Are you alright?" The Khajitt asked, his face suddenly more kind.
"I'm perfectly alright," Alessia nodded. She sighed. "This is embarrassing. I'm a guild mage. I should be better than this."
Mazoga shook her head. "You were outnumbered and caught by surprise. It happens to the best of us."
Alessia nodded. "Thank you for the help."
"Do you want us to escort you back to town?" Mazoga asked.
"No, I have a mission to complete," Alessia explained.
"Very well, but we can't stay to help. Rowlan's note just revealed a very serious threat to the people of Leyawin. We must inform the Count straight away," The Khajitt said.
"I understand, thank you for everything," Alessia smiled.
And with that, the two bolted up the stairs and out of Fort Blueblood.
The final room was a large crypt with several old coffins. One stood out among the rest. It was not more ornate than the others but seemed to have a central position among the heap of decaying stone.
Alessia, with some hesitation, pushed the stone lid off the coffin and saw a large blue stone attached to a golden chain, clasped firmly in the hand of a skeleton. Alessia took the stone and could have sworn for a brief moment that the skeleton was resisting, before finally letting the chain slide out of its hand.
Alessia turned back towards the stairs and let out a startled scream.
"Oh! Kalthar you scared me," Alessia sighed.
"Sorry," Kalthar grunted. "So, you found that stone eh?"
"How did you know about this one?" Alessia asked.
"I didn't mean for anybody to get hurt. I just kept on getting overlooked," Kalthar sighed. "Look, please just put it back, okay?"
"You did steal the other Seer Stone!" Alessia exclaimed.
"And cast it into the bay," Kalthar laughed darkly. "Which is what I should have done with this one, but the damn Marauders used it as their hideout. I can't let you ruin my chances, Alessia. Why are you doing this? Why are you ruining everything?"
And before Alessia had time to think she was knocked back against the far wall. Kalthar had smashed her in the stomach with a mace. Alessia's insides burned with pain as she stumbled back to her feet.
"You can't even fight your battles with magic," Alessia cursed, spitting up a small amount of blood.
"Well if you were killed magically everybody would know it was me. This way it looks like you were just killed by the Marauders. I'm not an idiot," Kalthar grinned cruelly.
The mace was high above Alessia's head now. Without thinking she cried her last hope and let a surge of lightning shoot through her fingertips. Conducted by the steel mace the force of the strike was magnified and Kalthar's fleshed seared as he screamed in pain. It was over in seconds. The ruined corpse of Kalthar now lay dead on the ground in front of her.
She had killed. The horrible truth struck her as hard as the mace. So this is what it felt like to kill a person. She knew she'd had no choice, but it was only a small comfort. She knelt down on the ground in front of her attacker. Things had changed now. She had crossed that line that she had been so firmly resisting since her journey began.
She bowed her head and wept.
Imperial City Arena…
30 Last Seed 3E433
It was the Gray Prince who made him stay.
Borin had been quite prepared to take the words of the Battle Matron to heart. He was prepared to pack up his belongings and return to the service of the Count of Leyawin. However, as he had finished gathering his scant belongings, a large Orcish man had approached him.
Taking one look at the fellow Orc, Borin could tell that this was an experienced warrior. Although his raiment was not like the raiment that the other combatants wore. It was ornate with gold trimmings and the main color was red rather than blue or yellow.
"Giving up after one fight?" The Orc had asked.
"I don't think this is my line of work," Borin replied casually. "I'm sorry, Borin gro-Kromlock. And you are?"
"Never heard of me?" The Orc chuckled. "You must be from out of town. I'm the Gray Prince, the current Arena Grand Champion."
"It's an honor, I guess," Borin replied, trying not to be unfriendly, although wary of the significance of that title.
"I know you got chewed out by the Battle Matron, but you gotta understand she loves all the combatants, even rookies like you," The Gray Prince explained.
"Got a funny way of showing it," Borin replied.
"It's tough love. You just don't understand arena culture is all. Because you're new. Because you, like every rookie before you, has questioned what makes death such an important part of it."
"It's all about the spectators, right? Making them happy?"
"That's only part of it. It's the part Ysabel focuses on the most. For men like me and Owyn, however, there's a much more sacred part."
Borin folded his arms. "And that is?"
"We are not murderers," The Gray Prince said calmly. "Every man and woman who enters this arena is aware of the consequence of failure."
"So?"
"So, we still engage in battle. For most of us, the thrill of death, the potential of losing our life is what makes it so engaging for us," The Gray Prince nodded. "And when we lose, do you think we suddenly change?"
"What do you mean by that?" Borin asked.
"Many of these men come from the war, or from service to our lord. Others been fighting their whole lives. They were denied the honorable passage of death by the blade. I know many seek it here."
"But that's insane," Borin protested.
The Gray Prince laughed. "Yeah, I suppose it is."
And yet, somehow Borin understood this man more than he had understood the condescending tone of Ysabel.
"You've got natural talent," The Gray Prince said. "It'd be a shame to see somebody like you give up after only one fight is all."
The Gray Prince patted him on the shoulder and then walked back around the Bloodworks to his private quarters. Borin nodded and made his way to the Blademaster and Battle Matron's joined room.
Owyn took one look at him and nodded. "So you didn't go running home to Momma. That's a good sign I guess."
"Just sign me up, Blademaster," Borin replied.
Bruma County Jail…
30 Last Seed 3E433
Will awoke on the cold stone floor of the Bruma Jail. He rubbed his eyes and as he slowly tried to stand up he felt the familiar stabbing pain in his head. He had drunk too much again last night.
"Ugh, what did I do?" Will groaned.
The guard standing beside his cell grunted back. "You got a little rowdy at Olavs. Punched him in the face."
"Damn it," Will grunted. "Is he badly hurt?"
"No, Olav can take care of himself," the guard nodded. "We're only gonna keep you in here a few more hours and then you can go give him a proper apology."
"I'll do that. Thank you sir," Will nodded.
"No problem. Mind you watch out for Jorundr there," and the guard pointed towards a man laying in the corner. He was slowly stirring, undoubtedly about to wake up any moment. "I'll go grab you boys both some breakfast."
The guard left, shutting and locking the door behind to the cells behind him. The man named Jorundr rose up out of bed and rubbed his head.
"Rough night too?" Will chuckled.
"Rough couple of years," Jorundr responded coldly. "Who are you?"
Will was annoyed at the terse greeting but nodded. "Name's Will. You must be Jorundr?"
"The guard likes to talk," Jorundr grunted. "But yes, I am Jorundr."
"What's got you in such a mood?" Will asked. "What are you in for?"
Jorundr sighed. "I suppose I can trust you. In fact, maybe you can help me with a bit of problem. And make some money for yourself in the process."
"How's that?" Will asked.
"I'm in here for the long haul. They got me for murder, even though I didn't do it. And once the Count makes a ruling, there's no way its changing. I owe all of this to that heartless treacherous witch, Arnora."
"What did she do to you?" Will asked.
"I'll tell you. I was betrayed. Stabbed in the back. I'm in here and Arnora's out there, living in my house," Jorundr let out another sigh and leaned back against the wall. "We were doing petty crimes all over Cyrodiil. Small scores: 10 gold here, 25 there. Nothing big enough to have them investigate you. Then along comes Arnora with a 'plan; to waylay a tax shipment for the Imperial City. We're talking serious gold, complete with armed escorts."
"I would imagine," Will nodded. "And you went along with that?"
Jorundr shrugged. "I told her she was crazy, but she insisted. Women have a way of getting men to do what they want. So we did it. We ambushed the shipment. In the process, Arnora killed the guard. I told her to be careful and just to knock them out but she didn't listen. We then buried the gold in the woods."
"And they found you?" Will asked.
"Oh they found us all right. Arnora disappears one night to get 'supplies'. Suddenly the campsite gets raided by the Bruma City Guard. There's no way they could have found us."
"She told them?" Will was leaning forward now, immensely interested.
"There's no doubt she tipped them off. But I was one step ahead. I reburied the loot while she was away. My final revenge. Or was it?" Jorundr chuckled.
"So, what are you getting at?" Will asked.
"I'll tell you. I want Arnora dead."
"What?"
"That's right I said dead. She took my life away, now I want hers taken as well. Do that for me and the money is yours. All I need for proof is that damn amulet she always wears."
"You've got me mistaken for somebody else," Will said. "I'm not going to do this."
Jorundr shrugged. "Suit yourself. But I think if you ever meet her you might change your mind. Remember she deserves to die for more than what she did to me."
A few hours later the guard returned to release Will, as he had promised. Will walked down the street, rubbing his head at the confusing situation that had been brought before him.
He noticed that a small Breton woman was following him as he walked towards the inn. He turned around.
"What do you want?" Will asked.
The woman nodded. "By any chance have you seen Jorundr?"
"Uh, yes. He was my cellmate," Will nodded.
The woman's eyes darted back and forth as if she was pondering something. She then added. "I see. And what did he tell you?"
"I don't see how that's any of your business," Will shrugged continuing to walk.
"My name is Arnora."
And at that Will stopped.
"I don't suppose he mentioned me at all did he?" She asked sweetly.
Will turned. "Lunatic said you were responsible for some big heist and he asked me to kill you."
"And if you did?" She asked, moving closer to him.
"Uh… he'd tell me where the gold is." Will sighed.
Arnora nodded. "Would you please come to my house for lunch? I'd like to ask a favor."
Will rubbed his head. "Look I've got to go apologize to the barman I slugged last night but then maybe I'll hear you out."
"That would be wonderful. Please don't forget," Arnora bowed and headed towards her house which happened to be only a few feet from where they were presently.
Will sighed. "I'm just a merchant people."
Back at Olav's, Will was faced with the consequences of his actions from the previous night.
"You've got some nerve coming back here," Olav grunted.
"I came to apologize," Will bowed.
Olav seemed impressed. "Well that's a first."
"I'm not normally a violent person, but I'd had too much to drink and," Will sighed. "I realize that's no excuse."
"Never mind, never mind," Olav said waving his hand in a dismissive fashion. "It happens all the time. Occupational hazard. I accept your apology."
Will nodded. "Thank you. It's not much, but I'd like you to take this as compensation."
And with that Will handed over a small pouch with 25 septims in it.
"I appreciate the gesture. I'll put this money to good use I assure you," Olav replied.
Will left and was about to head towards his cart when he'd remembered his promise to meet Arnora for lunch. He walked towards her house where he saw her waiting just outside.
"Oh good, you're here. I thought you'd forgotten," Arnora bowed.
She led him inside. Her house was frugally decorated and he could tell instantly she was destitute.
"Not all of what Jorundr told you was a lie," Arnora sighed. "We did commit several petty crimes, only stealing enough to survive. But it was Jorundr who planned the attack on the tax shipment and he who killed the guard."
"I had figured," Will nodded.
"Quite. Well what kind of proof did he ask for that you had killed me?" Arnora asked.
This seemed an odd question, but Will answered. "Um, your amulet."
"The fetcher! He knows this is my last heirloom from my family," she sighed. "But perhaps I could lend it to you. Then if you show it to him he'll tell you where the gold is hidden. And we could split it."
She was talking very fast now.
"Look I'm not going back there. I'm sorry, but I have no interest in helping either of you. I'm just a simple merchant," Will said flatly.
Arnora rubbed her hands together. "I see. Then I have no use of you."
And before he knew what was happening, she was on the attack. Will grabbed her arms and tried to pin her down but she blasted him with a bolt of magical lightning.
"Damn it!" Will shouted, falling back against the book case. He picked up a chair and threw it at her but she blasted it out the way with a firebolt.
Then, in an instant, opportunity struck. She charged up another blast of lightning and Will ducked under the table to grab his mace. He came up swinging, knocking her over the banister of the stairs to the lower level of her house. She landed with a sickening crack, her neck was broken.
Her amulet lay beside her, but Will did not bother to pick it up.
"I'm a merchant," he said rubbing his hair in a distracted way. "I earn my gold honestly, lady."
Whitmond Farm
30 Last Seed 3E433
Saryn had finally found a suitable place to sleep; a small farm just outside of Anvil. The matron of the farm, Maeva, had graciously offered her a place to sleep and a meal. During the course of dinner the two women got to talking about men.
"If you travel you must not have a husband?" Maeva asked.
"No," Saryn shook her head. "I've never even been in love."
"Love is overrated," Maeva sighed. "I'm married, I suppose even if he's gone our vows still remain don't they?"
Saryn tilted her head. Maeva explained. "My husband's name is Bjalfi the Contemptible. My father said I was a fool to marry him, but I didn't listen. At our wedding, my father gave him a gift as a dowry. Rockshatterr, a mace that's been in my family for many generations. Well Bjalfi took that mace from under our mantle and went off to 'find his fortune' with the local Marauder gang at Fort Strand. I want that mace back."
"I could collect it for you," Saryn said.
"I wouldn't ask you that," Maeva shook her head.
"You've given me dinner and a place to stay asking nothing in return. It would be my pleasure. It would be a shame for you to lose such a precious heirloom to a gang of thugs," Saryn said.
Maeva smiled. "You're right. Thank you so much."
Saryn picked up her bow and stood up. "I'll be back before midnight."
Fort Strand was a couple of miles to the east of Whitmond Farm. It was like any other fort, simply a ruin of days long past. A group of three Marauders sat outside, and one of them carried an ornate round mace.
"Who are you?" The man carrying Rockshatter asked.
"I'm here for Bjalfi," Saryn said.
"That's me," the man replied. "What do you want?"
"I've come to take Rockshatter back to its rightful owner," Saryn said.
"No way. I'm going to use this mace to win my fortune," Bjalfi smirked. "Get lost before I make you get lost."
"You're a Marauder camp, you must have plenty of weapons. Why not surrender the mace?" Saryn asked. "Unless you're scared about losing such a valuable treasure."
"I'm scared of nothing," Bjalfi cursed. "Come on gents, lets show this wench how we do things."
In a flash of iron two arrows shot straight through the heads of Bjalfi's rising henchmen. Her third arrow was already aimed at his forehead.
"You can take it back to her, but I know where Maeva is. I'll just go grab it and this time I'll kill her to make sure she doesn't-"
Saryn let the arrow fly and Bjalfi fell to the ground, dead.
"No," Saryn replied. "You won't."
Back at Whitmond Farm, Maeva was preparing for bed. One look at Saryn and her face lit up. "I'd already convinced myself I'd never see Rockshatter again, but I was wrong! What's become of Bjalfi?"
Saryn sighed. "I'm sorry, Maeva. He's dead."
Maeva sat down, a forlorn expression on her face. "He was a good man when I married him. But greed took a hold of his heart. While I'm not happy he's dead, I'm glad he's at peace. At least Rockshatter is back in my family again."
Saryn nodded. "What now?"
"Well I guess I'm available again. Maybe I should go find a better man," Maeva smiled.
Saryn smiled too. "Don't give up on love just yet, Maeva."
Imperial City, Garden of Dareloth
30 Last Seed 3E433
Armand Cristophe had been back at his usual spot, the very next night. R'darra sat against the wall watching the torchlight flicker as he took his place in the circle.
"You're late," she said dismissively.
"R'darra!" Armand smiled. "With your help we were able to uncover the informant."
R'darra hissed angrily. "I do not like being used, Armand."
Armand frowned. "I'm sorry. I could not be certain that you weren't working with Myvryna. As compensation, I promote you to the rank of Bandit, and will still give you the reward for the job, even though the bust is gone."
He handed her a small pouch with 100 gold septims inside.
R'darra sighed. "Alright. What else do you have lined up for me?"
"Actually, I have nothing else," Armand said, shaking his head. "I only work with the less experienced members of the guild. You should go see S'krivva in Bravil. You will take your jobs from her now."
And so R'darra had gone to Bravil, just as she had been instructed.