Chapter VII: The Mysterium Xarxes
Frostcrag Spire…
24 Frost Fall 4E21
"Commentaries on the Mysterium Xarxes?" The Bosmer asked. "But I've read that book. Well only a volume of it."
Aywin nodded. "Ever since the murder of Uriel Septim the books began to spread about the Imperium. People were interested in reading what madness brought about the death of a legacy such as his."
"These things always happen," the Khajitt hissed. "Some tragedy happens and people want to know more about the person who did it than the lives of the victims."
"Villains have always been more interesting," Aywin said casually.
The Nord rubbed his head. "Uh, milady?"
"Even among Daedric Princes, the more vicious ones seem to attract more followers. Take Mehrunes Dagon, whose worshippers attacked the Emperor. Or perhaps those who worship Sheogorath," Aywin smiled. "I must confess myself to be… not exactly a worshipper, but perhaps an avid fan of Sheogorath's work."
"That is an interesting proclamation," the Bosmer said, trying to hide his growing discomfort. "Drives people mad, doesn't he?"
"Yes, but Sheogorath is mad," Aywin said. "And as the ruler of Madness he believes that his ideals are those which should be the norm. Well perhaps calling them the norm would be offensive to him, but anybody who chooses to converse with him ought to at least be slightly mad."
"Are you saying you have been to the Shivering Isles?" the Khajitt asked.
Aywin shrugged. "We are nearing the point where I shall come into the story, but first let us get back on topic."
The Bosmer and Nord looked at each other warily and the Khajitt folded his arms.
"The Commentaries on the Mysterium Xarxes, known colloquially as the Mythic Dawn Commentaries, are a set of four volumes. While they act as a sort of worship tome for the members of the Mythic Dawn, it is rumored that possessing all four volumes will reveal secrets about the Mythic Dawn, to a person with the proper… temperament," Aywin continued. "It is this reason that obtaining Volume 3 is very difficult and Volume 4 is almost impossible."
"And yet Baurus and Ignin found a way?" The Bosmer asked.
Aywin smiled. "It wasn't easy."
Imperial City, Arcane University
5 Hearthfire 3E433
Tar-Meena was an older Argonian woman. With Argonians it was admittedly sometimes hard to tell age to members of other races, but her hair was frayed and weakened, her voice was hoarser than usual and she seem frail, which belied a powerful magical force behind her.
Borin felt spectacularly out of place and a mite underdressed given that everybody wore long blue robes or else the green and tan robes of an apprentice. Ignin handed Tar-Meena the book that he had found from the undercover agent that had attacked them in Luther Broad's Boarding House.
"So, you want to know about the Mythic Dawn?" Tar-Meena asked, getting right to the point without bothering to question Ignin about where he had obtained the text.
"The Mythic Dawn attacked the Emperor. We need to know all there is to know about them," Ignin said.
"As far as shadowy organizations that one can know, I know the most," Tar-Meena nodded. "They follow the teacher Mankar Camoran, whom they call the Master. A shadowy figure in his own right. This is 'Commentaries on the Mysterium Xarxes', or rather the first volume of a set of four. It is useful for those with a scholarly interest in daedric cults."
"And the Mythic Dawn?" Ignin asked.
Tar-Meena smirked. "Trying to find them? Well I won't poke my nose in any further then." She handed the book back to him. "In any case, finding them won't be easy. I've studied Mankar Camoran's writings a bit myself, at least those that I could find. I've only been able to find the first two volumes, you see. I believe as a whole the books provide clues as to where to find the hidden shrine of Mehrunes Dagon. So you see, deciphering the path and finding the shrine is, in actuality, the first test. Those who succeed prove themselves worthy of joining the Mythic Dawn."
"Where can I find these books?" Ignin asked.
Tar-Meena shrugged. "Well, I can give you my copy of the second volume. Just treat it gently, if you please. I've never even seen Volumes 3 or 4. You might try First Edition down in the Market District. Phintias, the proprietor, caters to specialist collectors, so he might have an idea of where to go to find them."
Ignin bowed in appreciation and he and Borin left the Arcane University.
"The Mythic Dawn is responsible for the attacks on the Emperor. Do you think this bookkeeper is really gonna carry stuff that belongs to them?" Borin asked.
"Knowledge has no morality," Ignin said. "It is only how people use knowledge that determines whether something is good or evil."
"That's true enough," Borin nodded. "But not many people appreciate that."
"Do you know where First Edition is?" Ignin asked.
"Sure. I've been here a while now. I'll take you there. You know there's a great shop that just opened up right next to it that I've been meaning to check out," Borin said.
"Oh really?" Ignin asked.
"Yes. It's called the Copious Coinpurse. Apparently the owner has a great selection and low prices. Might be worth checking out."
"Well I can't imagine I'll need a bodyguard for something so dangerous as visiting a bookstore. Why don't you go check it out? If I need you I'm sure I'll be able to find you. The city isn't that large," Ignin said.
"Tryin' to get rid of me, huh?" Borin chuckled.
"Oh no, I didn't mean it like that," Ignin said, apologetically.
"I'm teasing you, kid. I'll tell you what. Let's meet at Luther Broad's Boarding House this evening to discuss what we've found," Borin said.
"Sounds fair enough," Ignin nodded.
In the Market District, Borin pointed out a small cozy looking shop on the corner, near the gate to the Imperial Palace. Right across the street was The Copious Coinpurse, and that is where Borin entered.
"Alright," Ignin said to himself. "Let's see what this man has for us."
Phintias was a proud and haughty looking Redguard. Ignin could tell right away that this was a man who was more brains than brawn, if it hadn't been given away by him owning a book store. For one, he wore fine clothing with not the slimmest trace of armor. Second, though the Redguards were a fairly dark-skinned race, he was very fair, as though he rarely saw the sun. And third, he just gave off the air of somebody who, while not being unpleasant, felt that he was vaguely superior to those around him.
"Welcome to the First Edition!" Phintias cried jovially. "Take a look around. If I don't have it, I can probably get it."
"I'm inquiring into the Mysterium Xarxes, Volume 3 and 4. Do you perhaps have these books?" Ignin asked.
"You must be referring to Commentaries on the Mysterium Xarxes, by Mankar Camoran. A common mistake. The first two volumes are rare enough, but the third and fourth volume are impossible to find," Phintias explained.
"You've no idea where I can acquire the other two volumes?" Ignin asked.
"Well," Phintias sighed. "I do happen to have a copy of Volume Three on hand. But I'm afraid it's a special order. Already paid for by another customer, you see."
"Who has placed the order?" Ignin demanded.
Phintias looked aghast at Ignin's audacity. "Not that it's any of your business, sir, but it was a man by the name of Gwinas."
"And he is paying?"
"50 gold septims for the cost of the book, and that is a bargain price considering he is a long-time customer," Phintias explained.
"I can offer you 100 gold septims," Ignin said. "And you'd be doing a service to the Blades."
Phintias looked Ignin over. "I really can't do it. My word is my bond and Gwinas is a good customer. I'm sorry. I have copies of Volumes One and Two if you like. I'll sell them to you for 15 gold septims a piece, bargain to help cope with your disappointment."
"I already own Volumes One and Two," Ignin replied. "Thank you for trying to help."
Ignin turned and walked out of the First Edition.
Imperial City, The Copious Coinpurse
5 Hearthfire, 3E433
The owner of the Copious Coinpurse was a small Bosmer fellow with long blond hair. He introduced himself as Thoronir, and greeted Borin gro-Kromlock with the pitch: "What kind of deal can I make for you today?"
Borin looked over his wares. It was true, he did offer what appeared to be the finest goods and lowest prices in all of Cyrodiil.
He took this time to purchase some new clothing, as being in the Arcane University had called to his attention that his Arena armor and bouncer clothing might not be the only clothes he would need in this city. A quick purchase of light brown linen pants and a olive vest, along with a pair of matching moccasins and he felt like a new man.
"They do suit you sir. Perhaps you need some food or books? Maybe some weaponry, I sell the lot!" Thoronir smiled.
Borin had to admit, he was quite the salesman. However he wasn't hungry, and the Arena gave him all the weaponry that he needed so he politely declined further purchases.
"Ah it's just as well. Don't want to spend too much in one day, even with my low prices!" Thoronir replied tactfully. "Feel free to visit anytime and be sure to tell your friends!"
Borin smirked. "You are very good you know that. I've seen a lot of salesmen back in Leyawin and they can sell dirt to a mudcrab, but you are a cut above even them."
Thoronir seemed genuinely pleased. "Thank you. It's my pleasure. From Leyawin, you say? I've a cousin that lives down that way, or he did until he started worshipping Sheogorath. Spends most of his days running around in only a loin cloth in the Jerall Mountains, if you can believe it!"
Borin burst out laughing. This man truly had an infectious personality.
"So tell me something. Your wares. They're the finest in all of Cyrodiil," Borin said.
"Oh really?" Thoronir asked. And Borin noticed that for a fraction of a second Thoronir seemed distinctly uneasy about proceeding.
"How do you do it?" Borin asked. "I have an old Nord friend who runs a shop in Anvil and he breaks his back every year working with other merchants and suppliers. Used to come visit me towards the end of his journey and tell me how rough it was."
Thoronir smiled and replied calmly. "Well, let's just say that you and I are very alike. We know the right people, we get the best deals."
This was an odd way to answer the question, but Borin left it at that and left the Copious Coinpurse. He wandered down the Market when he noticed a young woman cleaning her door and fussing about something. That's when he heard the name Thoronir.
"I'm sorry, milady, but did you say something about Thoronir?" Borin asked.
The woman seemed slightly embarrassed. "Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to disturb you."
"No no, I was just curious. I was just at his shop. Are you an upset customer?"
The woman frowned. "I'm a merchant. It's my name on the sign," and she pointed above her. Borin read the sign: Jensine's "Good As New" Merchandise.
"Pleased to meet you Miss Jensine," Borin said. "I'm Borin gro-Kromlock."
"I've seen you. Won 25 septims on your fight the other day. You sure look different in regular clothes," Jensine said.
"Well I can't always wear armor," Borin chuckled. "So what's the deal with Thoronir?"
"I'm the head of a group called the Society of Concerned Merchants. We set up this group a while back to keep a nice fair economic balance in town. Not every store is a member, but we're slowly trying to convince them to join. Everything was fine until Thoronir opened his shop nearby. He sells all sorts of stuff and undercuts prices like you wouldn't believe. He doesn't always sell what we sell, but it is still a problem. People who buy tend to want to spend their money there, leaving none for us. It's getting so bad, a few of us may even have to close up shop. He outright refuses to join the Society or even discuss the matter. We're convinced he's up to no good."
"Do you have any proof of that?" Borin asked, now starting to feel guilty about his purchases.
"Well… no. We don't. If we did, we'd notify the Guard straight away, of course," Jensine replied.
"Oh come on, Lady. Business isn't fair. Maybe he's just good at what he does," Borin replied skeptically.
"How can he afford to cut prices for all of the things he has to sell. I know what suppliers are charging for half of the items he sells. I'm telling you there's something dirty about him," Jensine insisted.
"So what do you want me to do, case the joint and find out where his stuff is coming from?" Borin asked.
Jensine folded her arms. "As a matter of fact yes, that would be ideal. And if you can bring him to justice we could pay you a bounty of gold."
Borin sighed. "I'll… consider it."
Imperial City Sewers
5 Hearthfire 3E433
Azeg-Rael crept through the sewers of the Imperial City, his Blade of Woe in hand. Vicente had given him his new contract; to murder a man who was set to be released from prison named Valen Dreth. His orders were simple, murder him without alerting or harming any of the guards- at least to get his bonus.
For some reason, Azeg-Rael felt quite at ease in the sewers. It was very easy to sneak around without being seen, even by those who called this place their home. After combing through a few tunnels, he finally found the door he was looking for. It led to one of the sewers many filter chambers, and from there up to an old escape route used by Emperor's of the past.
Including the recently deceased Uriel Septim.
The door was, predictably, locked. Azeg-Rael had brought with him three lockpicks, but to his dismay the lock proved more difficult than any he had attempted to crack before. The first pick broke almost instantly.
"Unfortunate," Azeg-Rael shrugged. He put the second pick in and slowly went about his work. The door pried open but he could tell that his second pick was severely weakened by the work. He would have to proceed carefully.
He walked over the large cylindrical chamber that was used to filter impurities and animals out of the towns water supply. He saw a Slaughterfish trapped on the grate, beating its fin furiously trying to get back into water.
"Suffocation isn't pretty is it friend," Azeg-Rael said, stabbing it with his knife. "This way is better. Quick and painless."
And with a loud shriek, the fish stopped squirming.
"Soon," Azeg-Rael said, cleaning the blade, "you will help me fulfill another murder in the name of Sithis."
The door leading up into the Sanctum was next. He found that it, too was locked. As he inserted the second lock pick it broke. He only had one pick left. He worked carefully on the lock, dreading each tumbler, knowing that the slightest mistake now would break the pick and he would have to turn around for more. But fortune was on his side, and the last tumbler slid into place and the door opened.
The Sanctum was filled with guards. How in Sithis' name was he supposed to sneak his way through this lot.
If I were a Shadowscale, this would be simple. But as I cannot turn myself invisible…
Azeg-Rael ran into plain sight of the guards and ducked down a small side passage. "Hello gentlemen! Catch me if you can!"
The Guards all took chase after him, running down the side passage and on into the interconnecting corridors beyond. What they did not see was that Azeg-Rael had hid in a small dark corner, concealed by shadow and his dark clothing, as they ran past. He turned back onto the main path and took care to lock the gate to that passageway behind him.
"And now on with the show," Azeg-Rael said.
Sitting near the exit of the Sanctum, which happened to be in an adjacent cell, was a guard who was conversing with Valen.
"So you leave here tomorrow, eh Valen? I'm sure gonna miss you. All the late night beatings, the pelting during meals, oh it's been fun. But you'll be back in here soon enough I'm sure. Scum like you don't get very far," the guard said.
"Once I'm out of here I intend to leave this wretched county. You'll never see me again, you can be sure of that," Valen cursed.
"Well then. Here's one for the road."
Azeg-Rael heard a loud punch which by the sound of it cracked a rib or two of Valen's. The guard left, leaving only Azeg-Rael and Valen. He walked up to Valen's cell. "Good evening Valen Dreth."
"Who are you?!" Valen demanded.
"The Night Mother sends her regards," Azeg-Rael said simply. With that he jammed his lockpick into the cell and it broke.
Valen smirked. "Not a very impressive assassin are you? Oh, guard!"
Azeg-Rael looked over and saw a barrel full of lantern oil. He walked over to it.
"Where are you going?" Valen asked, walking towards the edge of his cell to see Azeg-Rael at work.
Azeg-Rael dragged the barrel over towards the cell. "My blade is very disappointed that it won't be able to slit your throat. And when it is disappointed, I am disappointed."
"What are you doing?" Valen asked, looking at the barrel.
"But," Azeg-Rael said, ignoring Valen, "we shall have to find some way to control our grief."
Azeg-Rael kicked the barrel over, flooding Valen's cell with oil that reached up to Valen's ankles.
"No! Don't do it! Guards! Guards come quick, please!" Valen screamed.
Azeg-Rael smiled darkly. "What are the lines from that song about Morrowind? Sing along with me, Valen. You're a Dunmer aren't you?"
"Guards!" Valen shrieked, trying to claw his way to an slight gap in his cell, but his blistered fingers unable to grasp the harsh rock. "Guards come quick!"
In these parts far more pernicious,
From the Ashlanders to the wettest fishes, sang Azeg-Rael.
"Guards!" Valen cried. "Somebody please help me!"
You'll find pleasure and pain quite delicious
In Morrowind.
"Help me!"
Azeg-Rael dropped the torch onto the oil and the entire cell lit up, ablaze with the burning oil. Valen shrieked so loud, but the thick rock drowned out all sounds to the outside world. After almost three minutes of unbearable suffering, Valen Dreth collapsed to the ground, dead. Azeg-Rael smirked and turned to leave the way he'd come.
Shrine of Sheogorath
5 Hearthfire 3E433
Cierra had reached the Shrine of Sheogorath around the mid-afternoon. She had been fortunate enough to get a ride from a caravan heading towards Leyawin and hopped off near the Shrine. The caravan owner had warned her that the people who approached Sheogorath's Shrine usually did not fair well.
They were not like her, however.
She saw Sheogorath's likeness. He was a tall man with a thick beard and a regal stature about him. Most Daedric princes were monstrous in appearance, but Sheogorath looked almost human.
The statue called out to her:
Another mortal dares to summon me, and already I am bored. But enough about me. Let's talk about you. I could turn you into a goat. Or a puddle. Or a bad idea. I could make you eat your own fingers. Or fall in love with a cloud. Perhaps I could make you into something useful. Let's find out.
There's a little settlement called Border Watch. It's a nice, peaceful place... and dull, dull, dull. You're going to make their lives interesting. They're a superstitious bunch. Everything is an omen or a portent. Let's make one come true. Find their shaman and ask about the K'Sharra prophecy. You are to find a way to make the first two parts of the prophecy come true. I'll take care of the rest, because it's the most fun. Now, run along.
With her orders from Sheogorath, she had made her way to the small settlement of Border Watch. It was a Khajitt village on the border between Elswyr and Cyrodiil, undoubtedly the reason for the name. There were three houses each on either side of a large set of stairs. 6 steps, a landing, leading to the second tier of houses and then another set of 6 steps. This was noteworthy because the last set of stairs really should have gone one step more, but they had chosen not to, forcing people at the top of the stairs to hop a bit to get to the highest landing.
They're a superstitious lot, Cierra thought.
"You are a new face," said a kindly looking Khajitt commoner. "We don't often have visitors, but all are welcome in Border Watch. Perhaps you have come to see our prize collection of cheeses?"
Cierra rubbed the back of her head. "Oh, just passing through."
The man seemed slightly upset. "Ah well. But do please enjoy your stay while you are here. Perhaps you should see our Shaman, Ri'Bassa. He can arrange a place for you to spend the night. It is getting late."
He pointed out a man wearing a dark cloak leaning on a stool near a large pot at the top of the stairs.
Superstitious and friendly, an odd combination, Cierra thought as she walked up the flight of stairs, hopping at the last one to reach the top level.
"Welcome newcomer," said Ri'Bassa. "What brings you to Border Watch? Come to stay at the Border Watch Inn, perhaps to see our collection of cheese? Or maybe to see our herd of sheep?"
"Actually, I'm a traveling scholar," Cierra invented wildly. "I'm just passing through Border Watch, but since I'm here I was wondering if you could fill me in about your town?"
"Certainly," Ri'Bassa smiled. "What would you like to know?"
"I specialize in mythology and religions, as well as Daedric worship. I heard tell of something called the K'Sharra Prophecy. Do you know anything about that?" Cierra asked.
Ri'Bassa began to fiddle with his hands nervously. "Well… that is an unusual request. Not many people outside of Border Watch know about the K'Sharra Prophecy."
"What does it entail?" Cierra pressed.
"I… I don't really think I should tell. It's too awful. Get's people nervous just mentioning it," Ri'Bassa replied.
Cierra shrugged. "I understand. Well I suppose I'll be getting on then. The sun isn't down just yet. I can still make it to Leyawin if I hurry."
"Wait!" Ri'Bassa called back, his voice cracking as though he only half wanted her to stay. Cierra turned and saw the cogs at work in his brain by the expression on his face. Even for a Khajitt, he was very easy to read right now.
"I… could tell you a bit about it. Just so you have a better understanding."
"Well that would be interesting," Cierra replied, taking a seat by the large cooking pot. "So what's this about?"
Ri'Bassa continued to bend and flex his hands nervously as he spoke. "An old Shaman of Border Watch, my great grandfather, in fact, once predicted the end of the world. He said that there would be three signs to indicate that the end was near."
"And what are those three signs?" Cierra asked.
Ri'Bassa rubbed his arms. "Well… you see we don't often speak of it. It's too horrible to imagine you see. I know many people have predicted the end of the world before but for the people of Border Watch this is something very close to home for us."
Cierra watched him, but said nothing. When Ri'Bassa could stall no longer he sighed.
"Well… the first sign is the plague of Vermin. A horde of rats will infest the town," Ri'Bassa stopped, as though hoping he could leave it at that, but Cierra's continued staring pressed him on. "The second sign is the plague of Pestilence. Our herd will die from some mysterious illness."
"And the third?" Cierra asked.
"The plague of Fear… but I cannot tell you. Really that is the most horrible and it makes me uncomfortable to even think of it," Ri'Bassa said. "Come now, the sun has practically set. Let me get you a room at our Inn."
Cierra nodded. After all, Sheogorath had merely said she needed to accomplish the first two tasks. The third, he would commence himself.
West Weald, Fallen Rock Cave…
5 Hearthfire 3E433
All things considered Davion had had worse experiences in the Fighters Guild. Fighting goblins, mountain lions and bandits. So far with this task, the worst he'd had to deal with was Maglir.
Maglir was a drunken, cowardly little Bosmer. He sat at a bench drinking his ale and cursing anything that moved. When Davion had walked up to him, the Bosmer had the nerve to take one look at him and scoff, "So you're my replacement are you?"
"You must be Maglir," Davion replied.
"That I am. And who are you?" Maglir asked, testily.
"I'm the guy they sent to find out why you defaulted on your contract," Davion replied sharply. Patience with rudeness was never his strong suit.
"I was sent to go to Fallen Rock Cave and retrieve Brenus Astis' journal. Well no sir, no thank you, it's not for me. The reward is nowhere near worth the risk. I don't know about you, but I have a family to take care of," Maglir replied.
"So, you won't do it?" Davion asked.
"Find somebody else. You can do it if you like. I'm sure a pompous Redguard like yourself would love a little more glory on the battlefield," Maglir hissed. "We Bosmer are a more practical and sensible race."
Davion shoved Maglir against the bar. The bartender turned, offended, but didn't dare utter a word against two armed members of the Fighters Guild.
"A Bosmer helped me fight Daedra in the battle of Kvatch. Admit it, Maglir. You're just a coward!" Davion shouted.
Maglir looked insulted more than frightened, but there was still some fear there. "Unhand me at once you barbarian!"
Davion let go of Maglir and unsheathed his Claymore. "I'm going to go to Fallen Rock Cave, get this journal and return it to the person who signed the contract. Then I'm dragging you back to Chorrol with me."
Though that had been the plan, Davion was finding the trek through Fallen Rock Cave to be more difficult than he had imagined. The main chamber was blocked off by a massive cave-in, which looked recent, as some of the stones were still shifting and settling. Perhaps this was what had scared off Maglir.
Davion looked around and noticed a small side-chamber. Pointing his Claymore in front of him as he made his way through, he felt through the chamber. His torch was almost useless in this low light, and Claymores were two handed weapons, meaning if he was caught in an attack he'd be defenseless for a moment while he adjusted his grip.
He didn't want to think about what would happen if that situation arose.
The chamber ended on the other side of the fallen rocks. Torches lined the walls of this new chamber, so Davion set his torch down beside the side path. He would use that to find his way back out, as this chamber broke off into several side passages.
"By Talos," Davion cursed. "I hope I don't have to go down all of these chambers."
He did, however, have to start somewhere. The first chamber led him to a small room with another cave-in and a hole leading out into a field. The second chamber was a small camp that was until recently occupied. The third was a dead end.
By the fourth chamber he was starting to lose patience. This continually tracking and backtracking was driving him made. He hated these old cavern systems for this reason. While forts and ruins had, at least, some rhyme or reason, mother nature was a far more cruel labyrinth creator.
However, on the fourth attempt he finally found what he was looking for, laying in the arms of a skeleton. A small book which was undoubtedly the journal the contract called for.
He picked up the book and started to make his way out of the cave.
"Impertinent Wood Elf," came a voice. "Trying to steal from the dead again are we?"
Davion turned around and lifted his Claymore just in time to block a heavy-handed swing from a battleaxe. The Skeleton had started to move!
"It is a Redguard this time. Why do you mortals not let the dead rest in peace?" The ghost of Brenus Astis asked.
"You've no more use for this journal. I'm taking it back to Skingrad. I'm not scared of any spook or Drougr," Davion called. "We can fight for this journal if you want!"
The skeleton slashed at Davion again, but he leapt back, barely dodging the swing. He thrust into the ribcage of the skeleton, but all it managed to do was get his sword stuck in the beast. The skeleton swung again, landing a crushing blow against his shoulder. Davion dropped the grip of his sword and fell back against the cave wall. He ducked as the skeleton swung again, crashing the wall beside him and causing shards of rock to fall on his head.
Davion leapt to his feet and forced his Claymore out of the chest of the skeleton. After rolling out of the way of the skeleton he struck again, and this time his aim was true, shattering several of the skeletons ribs and cleaving its spine. The useless puppet fell over and the battle axe clamored to the ground.
"I can see why you got scared Maglir," Davion said. "But you never leave a job unfinished."
He once again picked up the journal and made his way back towards Skingrad.
Anvil, Anvil Mages Guild
5 Hearthfire 3E433
Alessia's journey to Anvil had been sped up by a caravan of refugees from K'vatch who were heading in the same direction. They welcomed her aboard and she rode the caravan into town with them, reaching the Anvil Mages Guild by the late afternoon.
The chapter head of this Guild, Carahil, however seemed just as agitated and harsh as the previous one. In fact she didn't particularly seem to care for Alessia at all.
"You want a recommendation?" She asked, scowling at Alessia's bedraggled appearance. "You look like a scullery maid, not a Sorceress."
"Regardless, I only require your Recommendation and that of Chorrol," Alessia retorted. She was amazed by her own daring. At the start of her journey she would certainly not have spoken back to a superior.
Carahil, however, seemed reasonably more confident in Alessia by this outburst. "All right. I suppose there is something you can assist us with. We will require, however, you to be willing to put your life on the line. This is no simple task, but a true test of your skill."
Alessia nodded. "I understand."
"Head to the Brina Cross Inn. There have been several attacks on the road lately. Merchants being killed and robbed by some rogue mage. We are plotting to apprehend the highwayman," Carahil said. "Don't worry, you won't be going alone. You will be assisted by some undercover Battlemages from the Arcane University."
"Very well. I passed the inn on my way here. I know where it is," Alessia replied.
"Good," Carahil nodded. "Get there before nightfall. You'll be filled in when you get there."
Skingrad, Alleyway
5 Hearthfire 3E433
Saryn was wandering through the town of Skingrad. She'd decided she would stay in this part of the Imperium for the time being as Skingrad truly did seem like an interesting place. Lots of interesting people usually meant lots of work.
"You there!" Came a voice from around a corner.
Saryn stopped and looked around. She saw a tiny Bosmer man poking his head around the corner of the nearest building. She looked behind her and without uttering a word pointed at herself, cocking her head to the side.
"Yes, you! Come here! Quickly!" the Bosmer cried.
Saryn grabbed her dagger and cautiously approached Glarthir. "What is it?"
"You. You've got to help me! You're not from around here, so I know I can trust you," Glarthir explained.
"What is this you're babbling?" Saryn asked.
"There's a plot. A terrible plot in this town. The people are in it. The guards are in it! You must help me. But now is not the time to talk. Meet me behind the chapel precisely at midnight and I will tell you more!" The man said.
"The chapel at midnight?" Saryn asked.
"Come alone!" He hissed, and then ran away.
Saryn strolled out of the alley the way she had come. She didn't exactly like the sounds of this man, but he said he needed her help and he might have some gold. Couldn't be the worst thing in the world to just talk to him.
As she wandered towards the inn she was stopped by a soldier and two of his guards.
"You there, Bosmer."
Saryn stopped. "Yes?"
"You're new in town aren't you?" The guard said.
"Yes, I'm a traveler. Name's Saryn," she said. "Bow for hire."
"I figured. You must be new, or else you wouldn't be talking to Glarthir."
"Glarthir?" Saryn asked.
"Glarthir is insane," the soldier said simply. "That other Wood Elf you were talking to. He's certifiable. I would ignore him completely if I were you, and if he does ask you to do something that you shouldn't I want you to contact the Guard straight away."
"Does he pose a threat to the town?" Saryn asked.
The soldier sighed. "Well usually it's just harmless paranoia. But lately he's been acting weirder, jumpier. More secretive. It's almost like he's plotting something. Just please keep an eye out for him."
The soldiers walked off. Saryn wasn't sure what to do with this information. She was rapidly wishing she had head back on the road with Alessia or Cierra when she had the chance.
Cheydinhal, Count's Castle…
5 Hearthfire 3E433
Will had tried to reason with Ulrich Leland, the new Captain of the Guard. He had been fined 50 septims just for "disturbing an officer of the peace!" When Will tried to bring this matter to the Count, the Count dismissed the claims saying that he wasn't bothered by such things and would not accept anything less than solid proof of corruption.
Shortly after that encounter, he'd run into Llevana. Llevana was rather fair for a Dunmer woman, but had dark eyes and that strangely common look of distrust.
"I understand you're looking into the matter of Ulrich Leland?" She asked him.
"Uh," Will rubbed his head. "Yes. Do you know something?"
"His lieutenant Garrus would be your best bet. He knows that Ulrich is up to no good. I think he is out with him on patrol now… oh look!"
Llevana pointed over to the river where Garrus, Ulrich and a drunken dark elf were having a conversation.
"That's my friend Othran. He's always getting too drunk and getting into trouble with the guards," Llevana cried. "He doesn't know what's good for him."
Suddenly without warning, Ulrich let out a bellow and plunged his blade straight through Othran's heart.
"No!" Llevana shouted, rushing out towards them. Will ran behind her.
"Stand back citizens!" Ulrich ordered, waving his sword threateningly towards them.
"You killed that man in cold blood!" Will said. "We saw it!"
"Oh, that will be another 75 septims for falsely accusing a guard, and I think another 150 for interfering with the course of justice," Ulrich said.
"They'll pay no such fine!" Garrus said firmly. "You hold your tongue or I'll stand by them in their defense."
Ulrich scoffed. "The Count trusts me more than you, Garrus. I'd like to see you try. But very well, I think I've proven my point here anyways. Arguing with the Guard is hazardous to your health. Pity. The poor man shouldn't have resisted arrest."
Ulrich let out a derisive cackle and Llevana seemed ready to rush at him, her eyes burning with tears, but Will held her back. Ulrich smirked and then turned around heading back towards the castle.
"The only way we'll get him removed from office is with proof," Garrus said. "Even this the Count would agree with Ulrich and say it must have been self defense."
"So what can we do?" Will asked.
"There might be some incriminating evidence in his private quarters. Something that will prove corruption," Garrus said. "You think you're up for the task?"
"Why me?" Will asked.
"Ulrich knows me and Llevana too well. He'll be watching for us. You blend in fairly well, especially as a merchant," Garrus replied.
Will sighed. "All right. Just tell me what to do."
Imperial City Talos Plaza District, Residence of Dynari Amnis…
5 Hearthfire 3E433
"R'darra, good to see you again!" Methredel said as R'darra arrived on the doorstep. "Close the door."
R'darra shut the door behind her and sat down at the table next to Methredel. She had been riding all day ever since the word had arrived to her in Bravil. The Waterfront was once again under attack, Armand Cristophe was under house arrest and this time, Hieronymus Lex was so determined that he had actually taken guards from every other area of the city to invade the Waterfront.
"Do we have a plan of attack?" R'darra asked.
"In a matter of speaking, yes," Methredel replied. "Our best effort to counter this onslaught is a series of well-timed robberies around the Imperial City. We'll make them pay for their short-sightedness."
"The Thieve's Guild using burglary as a weapon. We certainly won't win points for originality," R'darra smirked.
Methredel returned the smirk. "Would it help if I told you that we were entrusting you with the most difficult job?"
"Oh?"
Methredel unraveled a parchment on which was displayed a somewhat crude drawing of a staff.
"Hroromir's Ice Staff, favorite of the Arch-Mage himself," Methredel said handing R'darra the scroll.
"You want me to steal this?" R'darra asked.
"Of course," Methredel replied.
"I see what you mean. This could be fun," R'darra replied. "There will be other robberies aside from mine you said?"
"Yes. A coordinated attack is the best course of action. The sun will be setting any moment now. I need your commitment to this," Methredel said.
R'darra nodded. "That Staff is as good as yours."
"Great!" Methredel said, clapping her hands. "Okay thieves. We're on. Everybody get to your positions! "
R'darra left first and headed down the alley towards the Arcane University. As she passed through the Market District she saw a large Imperial in Blade's armor arguing with an Altmer.
"Look Gwinas!" Ignin shouted. "That book you have is a mark of the Mythic Dawn."
"I am aware of that. Daedric worship may be unpopular, but it is not illegal," Gwinas hissed angrily. "You have no claim to this book."
"You damn fool!" Ignin shouted. "They killed the Emperor!"
Gwinas seemed truly shocked now. "The… Emperor? By Azura, I had no idea."
"So you'll give me that book?" Ignin demanded.
"Of course. I don't want anybody to think I had anything to do with that. If you need the last volume, just head to the meeting place in that note. The sponsor who was going to give me that copy will be waiting there with the last volume," Gwinas said. "I'm terribly sorry!"
R'darra made a mental note to try and find that Imperial later and ask him about that book. If it meant so much to him, it was probably worth a lot of money. Heading through the Green Emperor Way she also heard the sounds of a scuffle nearby. She looked over and saw a massive Orc fighting with three men.
"So nice to see where Thoronir gets his stuff from!" Borin shouted. "Robbing graves. Class act you thugs!"
"But he didn't know where we got it from. We'll finish you off and then deal with Thoronir!" The thug leader shouted.
"You damn punks just don't get it. I literally eat you weaklings for breakfast!" Borin called, ramming all three of them with one powerful whirl of his warhammer.
R'darra heard each cracked head and could tell that they had to be dead. No way they were standing up after a hit like that. She rushed on. She was getting distracted too easily.
The Arcane University was all but barren. She had no problem at all sneaking into the main tower. By this time, the sun had set and the torches in the tower were flickering gently. She knew the Arch-Mage resided at the top of the tower, but her first problem came at the site of the main foyer. There were no stairs.
She looked around and saw a small portal on the ground next to her. The runes embedded on it would likely prevent unauthorized entry. So what was she supposed to do now? Try and take a mage hostage?
No, R'darra thought to herself. That would be disastrous. However, an idea had come to her, and one that would easily be manageable. She went back outside and looked at the tower. There were no external torches, but she could barely make out a battlement near the top, near a balcony where the Arch-Mage could look out upon the University.
She uncoiled her rope and tied the end to her dagger. She then spun the rope and hurled it up over the edge of the balcony. The dagger caught against the stone and it seemed to lock into place. She slowly climbed up the side of the tower. This was far harder work than she had initially thought. The rope was coarse against her hands and the side of the tower was very old. Bits of rock crumbled underfoot as she slowly ascended.
Even climbing like this took its toll naturally. By the time she was halfway up, she already felt like she could bear it no longer. She climbed higher and higher, every few steps losing a bit of ground to a broken brick or her sliding foot on a patch of moss. She could not tell what would happen first. Would she pass out and tumble to her death? Would the rope hold? Would she make it to the top only to be ambushed?
Higher and higher she went, dizzied by the height and climb, her fur weeping with sweat. With an enormous effort she reached her hand up to the balcony ledge and rolled over onto it. She pulled the rope up quickly and lay back for a moment to catch her breath. How in the world had she survived that?
She quickly grabbed the Staff which was laying just at the end of the Arch-Mage's bed. She tied the rope to the balcony properly, resheathed her dagger and slid down the rope before retreating back to town.
She couldn't wait to see what would happen in the morning.
Niben Bay, Border Watch…
5 Hearthfire 3E433
So far the first two tasks had gone swimmingly for Cierra. The inn did, in fact, have a wide collection of cheese. There was one especially pungent brand which Cierra had no trouble pilfering and placing in the cooking pot outside the inn. Within hours that had brought about the rats.
That alone did not seem to truly unnerve anybody. Rats were, afterall, common in the area. And the smell of cheese could hardly be a deterrent. One of the locals began setting out rat poison in large clumps around town to get rid of them. That was Cierra's next big break.
Feeling slightly guilty, she took the rat poison and slid it into the food troughs of the sheep. Within another few hours, all the sheep fell over, dead.
Absolute panic reigned. The people began shrieking and wailing. Calls of calamity from here and there echoed through the streets. And Sheogorath must have heard.
Good work, friend. Now watch a master at work.
The clouds over them darkened and then turned red. And suddenly several large objects began to fall from the sky. It took almost a full minute before they hit the ground, and only a few seconds before they landed did Cierra realize what they were. They were all perfectly ordinary wolf dogs… on fire.
"The K'Sharra Prophecy!" Ri'Bassa cried. "No!"
"Burning dogs?" Cierra asked. "Really?"
Yes, amusing little prophecy that one. They'll whine for a while but I think eventually they'll realize the world hasn't ended. Oh, and take this for your collection.
A large wooden staff appeared in front of Cierra.
It's called the Wabbajack. And I'm sure you'll have a lot of fun with it soon enough.
Imperial City, The Sewers…
5 Hearthfire 3E433
Baurus, Borin and Ignin were waiting just outside the meeting spot. The note inside the book had mentioned this particular lonely junction in the Imperial City Sewers.
"Okay. I'll go meet the Sponsor," Ignin said. "You two stay hidden and back me up if there is any trouble, understood?"
Baurus and Borin nodded. Baurus hid on the upper level of the room and Borin hid at the back. Ignin sat down at a small table which had been set up expectantly. After a few moments a man in a dark red hood and robe came in.
"You have an interest in our arts. You have done well to see the signs so far, but for this final volume your mind must be truly prepared," The Sponsor began. He then looked at Ignin's face.
"What is this?" He demanded. "Why do you need a copy of this book?!"
"What are you talking about?" Ignin asked.
"Oh I see. You've chosen to side with them! It will make for you poorest decision to date!" And with a great bellow he threw the table at Ignin who leapt out of the way.
Two other Mythic Dawn agents dropped down from the walkway above them, but Baurus was right behind them, tackling one of the two. Borin rushed up from the back, taking the other one, leaving Ignin to deal with the Sponsor. The Sponsor blasted the rocks just behind Ignin's head with a bolt of lightning. Ignin retaliated by lunging in with his Iron Sword. Baurus finished off his target with a simple stab in the back from his short sword and Borin rung the neck of the third.
Ignin rifled through the pockets of the sponsor until he found the fourth volume of the book.
"You got it?" Baurus asked.
"It's right here," Ignin nodded.
"Excellent. Now let's find out what exactly these Mythic Dawn are up to," Baurus grinned.