Chapter 38: Don't you Know?

Everything was far too silent in the manor.

Portia walked into the kitchen to seek an explanation, and found an elderly servant sliding warm biscuits onto a plate. Her long, grey hair was twirled up into a bun, and her wrinkled face was creased in a sympathetic smile as she patted a boy on the head. Standing in the doorway, Portia watched as Pyrus gingerly took a biscuit from where he sat on a stool, hunkered over the large table at the kitchen's center, pots and pans hanging overhead.

"Did something happen?" she probingly asked.

"Portia!" Pyrus burst, head jerking upward and the biscuit forgotten as he launched off of the stool and into her arms. She was taken aback by his unexpected display of affection, his arms wrapped around her as she cast a questioning glance at the other servant.

"Someone left a message in the foyer today, my lady," she sighed. "It's got the whole house shaken up, but we've seen worse. It's mostly the newer staff that's upset. I suspect that it was a message for the master." Portia nodded and ran a hand through Pyrus's shaggy, brown hair. She desperately wanted to ask for details, but didn't wish to do so in front of a child as clearly agitated as Pyrus.

"Are you alright?" she asked him.

"Yes," he answered, stepping back from her with worried eyes. "I swear that I've been paying attention," he insisted. "I don't know who it was that got into the house, or how..." He bit his lip and shuffled backward, looking ashamed. "I apologize, my lady. I'll do better next time..." Portia fondly smiled and stood to her full height.

"Even the best of us miss things," she assured. "So you shouldn't feel badly."

"The lady knows what she's talking about," the other servant agreed. "Now come over here and finish your biscuit. I even opened some blackberry jam for you." Portia walked closer to the other woman as Pyrus resumed his seat and began spreading his jam, small face still downturned.

"What was the message?" Portia quietly asked.

"Someone left a heart in a box. Pyrus found it, and the poor child was so frightened that you'd been hurt that Arelius had to take him aside for a private talk. He seems okay now, but he's feeling guilty, what with Lucretia calling him your protector and whatnot. He's a dedicated boy." Portia glanced at Pyrus to find him watching them, but he quickly snapped his attention back to his food when he realized that he'd been caught.

"No one was hurt, were they?" Portia asked.

"No, and we don't know where the heart came from either. From the blood, it seemed like it was fresh, and...well, don't go telling the boy, but one of the young girls didn't show up for work today. She'd just started too—replacing her sister, who left to have a baby."

"And where's Arelius?" The servant began kneading a ball of dough as she commendably kept her calm. Portia had a feeling that the woman had been working here for a long time and had seen a lot. Maybe she even knew or suspected the depth of her employers' activities.

"He left, my lady. I'm assuming that it was to take care of this nasty business. Knowing how that man is, he'll have it cleaned up soon. Have a biscuit while you're here. I made them to cheer the house." Portia took the suggestion and grabbed one of the tempting treats while she studied Pyrus's mood. A child shouldn't have been exposed to such violence and terror at his age. She hadn't seen her first bloodshed until joining the Watch, and she'd been prepared for it by then.

"I heard that you found the...box," she commented.

"I was sweeping, and I saw it." Portia smiled encouragingly.

"So you did do your job. Imagine if no one saw it and something bad happened because of it. Now Arelius is out taking care of the problem, and all because of you." The boy blushed to his ears under the praise, shifting about on his seat.

"I suppose," he allowed. "But someone else would have seen it too."

"But someone else didn't. You did, and thank you for helping."

"You're welcome, my lady." He was too adorable by far, and Portia beamed as an idea popped into her head. She wouldn't have this child be scarred or troubled by what had happened, and her hands were tied until Arelius returned with news anyway.

"How about we go to the Market District for a while?" she asked. "I have some free time, and I heard that Jensine just got some crystals from Summerset Isle. Have you ever seen elfin crystals?"

"No," Pyrus excitedly smiled.

"Then let's go." He bounced toward the door, and the older servant chuckled.

"You're doing a wonderful thing, my lady," she approvingly commented.

"I know what it's like to live with fear and blood," Portia softly answered. "And I won't see a small heart crushed with that weight."

"Are you coming?" Pyrus called from the front door.

"Yes." Portia followed the boy out of the house, feeling for all the world like she was trailing a miniature Gilthan in the making.

********************

"That's the biggest tomato that I've ever seen!" Pyrus exclaimed, pointing toward the jumbo produce that a peddler was wheeling about. Portia waved to the peddler and ushered her charge along, the boy happily chatting as they looked over numerous goods. His unease over the day's events was slowly being erased, and Portia hoped that his worries were permanently dispelled, but she would ask Lucretia to keep an eye on the boy just in case.

"You shouldn't slow down, my lady," Pyrus suddenly stated, making Portia realize that she had indeed stopped walking while he kept plowing ahead. She'd been distracted by loud hawking for the Black Horse Currier, for a Khajiit was practically flapping the latest addition in her face while a shouting man ran by her. The market district was always active and chaotic on a Sundas afternoon, and she supposed that preparations for the upcoming Queen Mother's Day were partially to blame. The festival called for numerous candles and decorations as people lit displays in honor of each prominent family member or friend that had been lost. The entire city would literally be aglow with the results.

"If you're going to stop, you need to say something," Pyrus was saying, standing beside her with a frown. "I can't protect you if you disappear, and there are some suspicious looking people around here." Portia smiled at his protective streak and leaned closer.

"And who looks suspicious to you?" she asked. "I wouldn't want to go near anyone dangerous."

"Well..." Pyrus thoughtfully pursed his lips. "That man over there was staring at you." Portia swiveled to find a man leaning against a wall, an ale mug in one hand, and a half-smile on his face. Okay, so he was checking her out. That was nothing serious, but she wasn't going to explain to Pyrus that the man was a lecher. "And that man over there is 'a total bastard'." Portia nearly burst out laughing at his word choice, but kept a straight face for the boy's sake.

"And why would you say that?" she asked, trying to see whom he was pointing at, but a passing cluster of people obscured her view across the street.

"That's what the ladies over there were saying," Pyrus shrugged. "He's right..." Portia took a step sideways and craned her neck, unsure of the said bastard's identity. "There he is!" Someone walked out from behind one of the colonnades at the market's center, the pillars encircling a raised stone platform where stalls were erected by traveling merchants, and Portia instinctively tightened her hold on Pyrus's hand.

"Cassius," she breathed.

"Who?" Pyrus asked, and Portia wondered whether Cassius should be allowed near children at all. The man didn't exactly have the temperament to deal with young ones, and she had no idea what his mood would be like after his defeat. He'd claimed that he'd never let it go, and she didn't doubt his resolution. "My lady?" Pyrus questioned.

"Hmm?" she absently asked, distracted by watching Cassius stroll along a section of crates, his attention passing over displayed objects as he rudely ignored another man's greeting. She couldn't hear the words, but could read the affront on the the greeter's face, and she could imagine Cassius dismissing the man as a pointless nuisance. One would never guess that the dishonest diplomat had recently lost given his commanding presence, its force causing most people to notice him, and some to shy away from him. He didn't even appear to suffer lingering affects from his injury, for he looked in prime condition as he ran a hand through his black hair, tucking loose strands behind his ears, and exposing the handsome angles and planes of his face.

"Can we look at the charms over there?" Pyrus asked.

"Sure," Portia agreed, tearing her eyes away from Cassius and allowing Pyrus to lead her toward a man sporting a collection of necklaces strung with miniature carvings of the Nine Divines. She tried to focus on the peddler as he explained the protective qualities of each charm to her and the boy, but her gaze kept drifting sideways to catch snippets of Cassius between passing shoppers, carts, and patrolling guards. She could feel him getting closer, and she wondered how he'd known that she was using him last night, for he'd called her out on her need for a fight. How in Oblivion could he know that when she herself had barely formed the idea into a coherent thought? The damned man seemed to understand more about her than she thought possible, and he'd even approved of her assault on him, perhaps welcoming it.

"Whose that?" Pyrus asked, and Portia half-listened as the peddler's voice lowered.

"That's Dagon, but I don't sell daedric carvings in public, kid—not in this climate." Two men carrying a thick carpet over their shoulders momentarily blocked Portia's view of Cassius, and she almost rose onto her toes to look over them, but then mentally kicked herself for the control that she sometimes willingly handed the man. She allowed him to pull her into uncomfortable conversations and situations, discussing forbidden subjects, and reminding her that she found him very attractive and compelling. In many ways, he'd seen more of her mentally and physically than anyone else had, and what did it mean that he'd known of her duplicitous motivations last night and had still decided to feed her need? He was never condemning, only goading, which made sense given the lack of restriction that he exercised, and in Portia's mind, he was almost a wild, unstoppable force that prowled the city searching for conflict.

"He's the lord of destruction," the peddler's voice hoarsely drifted. "But he's also known to grant power to his followers, and some claim that he isn't evil but merely a force of change. He creates revolutions that push history forward and mark new eras—none of which is necessarily bad. It's part of life, and like most of the daedra, he's a representation of the darker side that exists in all of us."

"Pyrus," Portia interrupted, feeling heat pass down her spine as someone's attention landed on her. "Let's go see if anyone's selling fresh pies." Pyrus's eyes lit up in anticipation, and Portia breathed a sigh of relief as they abandoned the peddler. Glancing over her shoulder, she saw Cassius standing stock still, black eyes fixed on her with an intensity that banished everyone else in the market from existence.

"I think that she's selling pies," Pyrus pointed.

"Lead the way, fearless one," she tried to joke, pulling her eyes from Cassius, but she could still picture him moving closer, steps sleek like those of a hunting lion. She walked with a stiff back, knowing that she couldn't avoid the man, and not really wishing to avoid him either, despite her desire to keep Pyrus away from him. She should be the one acting like the victor, and when they spoke, she could subtly point that out to bolster her nerves, but as the sphere on her ear began to radiate, an urge to stop walking and wait for Cassius seized her.

No. Portia frowned, wondering from where such a powerful urge originated. She would make him come to her, and the thought sent a thrill down her back that was very similar to what she'd felt upon besting him yesterday. For a moment, she had held the power, and she'd imagined holding it over Mehrunes as well as Cassius. Sherkyn, she reflected. Perhaps she had earned that title, for both men had bestowed it upon her, and they had, oddly enough, spoken it with respect. Vaguely, she realized that she felt honored, for before, the title had been of their choosing, but when she'd rested her blade against Cassius stomach, she'd decided to embrace their words.

She risked a look to her right and noted that Cassius had moved to keep pace with her, walking parallel but at a distance. Stepping over a heap of rotten vegetables, she squeezed through a flock of women to follow Pyrus, hand going for her money bag as the scent of warm pies descended.

"Two pies," she told the woman, laying several coins on an overturned crate.

You're beautiful in flight, Sherkyn.

"I've got apple and cherry," the baker smiled. "Which would you like?" Portia didn't really care as the air around her grew thicker. For a second, she was sure that she smelled spice, and she closed her eyes, certain that if she opened them, Mehrunes would be grinning at her.

"I'll take apple," she stated. "Pyrus?"

"Cherry please." She took her pie but didn't eat as a voice invaded her head.

Losing your appetite, my lady? She gritted her teeth and refused to turn as she sensed someone stopping to stand beside her. Pyrus was already glaring at the newcomer, and he actually moved to stand between the man and Portia.

"Would you care for a pie, sir?" the baker asked.

"No," came Cassius's rich voice. "And how are you today, Lady Augustine?" Portia swung her head to meet his satisfied smile, and she deliberately took a bite of her pie.

"Fine," she answered. "Perhaps we should be going, Pyrus." Cassius shifted his eyes to the boy, eyebrows rising at the sight of the youngster's cross expression.

"Who is this?" he asked.

"Let's go home, my lady," Pyrus said, ignoring the man. For a second, Cassius's eyes darkened, and Portia protectively laid a hand on Pyrus's shoulder to guide him away from the dangerous man, but then a deep chuckle erupted across the scene.

"So you've found yourself a bodyguard," Cassius laughed. "Well, he looks quite effective. What's your name, boy?" Portia loosened her grip and allowed the servant to take a step forward, his head craned backward to look up at Cassius.

"Pyrus," he proudly stated.

"Cassius," Portia began. "The boy has chores to be do today, so I'm taking him home."

"And you?" Cassius taunted. "Do you also have chores, or could you spare a few moments for a friend? I will be leaving the city shortly, and I haven't had nearly enough time with you." His words surprised her, but Portia kept her reaction to a minimum by focusing on Pyrus, who was now looking very confused.

"He's your friend?" the boy asked, considering.

"We're quite close," Cassius smugly stated. "You could say that I fancy our lady very much." Portia couldn't look away from his eyes as their expressions met, and she absently realized that Pyrus had slipped one hand into hers.

"If he's your friend, I suppose that he's okay," the boy concluded, but not sounding very convinced as Cassius shot him a wicked smirk. Portia could hear giggling to her left, and saw that several young women were admiring Cassius, one even sending a wink her way. At least she wasn't the only one who found him so horribly attractive, but she hadn't thought so at first. It seemed to her that she should be more repelled the more that she got to know the man, but such was not the case.

"Sherkyn," Cassius soothed, sounding sly as he advanced another step. An urge to...Portia cleared her head, unsure of what the chaos within her was suggesting, but finding that she didn't like it. As if in a dream, she felt herself being smothered by her connection to Mehrunes, and her conclusions from last night began to disintegrate. "May I accompany you to this boy's home?" Cassius asked, but made it sound like a demand. "Once he's returned, we could take a walk."

"I have an errand to run," Portia honestly shared.

"Then I will keep you company. I can't think of anyone that I'd rather spend my day with, and you must admit that we always have an interesting time." True, she couldn't deny that.

"If you insist," she agreed. He offered her his arm, and for a second, she reached for it, but then Pyrus caught her attention, and with an innocent smile, she took his hand instead. Cassius scowled and glared at the back of the boy's head as they began walking, making Portia laugh lightly to herself.

"Something amusing?" Cassius whispered, walking on her free side.

"I hope that you're not jealous of a servant boy, sir," she returned, mischief swirling in her eyes as Cassius scoffed.

"Don't be ridiculous. Why would I be jealous?" Why would he be? Portia recounted his numerous attempts to corner her, to touch her, even to draw her away from others as he had done with...with Gilthan. Thinking of dinner that night, she suddenly saw quite clearly how she'd barely spoken to Gilthan, and why?--because Cassius was forever pulling her aside, and he was the one to trail her into the shadows—to push her into a wall of entwined flowers as lips pressed to hers. The laughter died as he slid his arm beneath hers, which would have been a gentlemanly gesture were his grip not so forceful.

"Yes, why would you be jealous?" she hollowly echoed, keeping her eyes on the street ahead. You are mine. How many times had she heard a version of that sentiment since stealing the sphere? She'd never been one to draw such possessive and hounding attentions from men, and yet, she knew for certain that forces were waiting to claim her. Had...had someone seen Gilthan as a target for reasons other than his involvement in helping her? The idea sent a shiver down her spine as they neared Arelius's home, and Pyrus released her hand, leaving her entirely in the care of Cassius.

"I'll have my eyes open," Pyrus promised. "Thanks for the pie."

"You're welcome," she said. "I'll be home later." The door closed behind the boy, and Portia turned to look at Cassius, the movement of a dark shadow behind him momentarily catching her eye.

"Is something wrong?" he asked, and she shook her head.

"I thought that I saw someone in the alley over there, but I must have been seeing things." She herself doubted it, and Cassius turned to look in that direction, his grip on her tightening. It was getting colder, and a shiver ran through her as a breeze played with the hem of her cloak.

"You might not have your bodyguard anymore," Cassius teased. "But I promise you one thing." He pulled her closer and brushed hair away from her face. "No harm will come to you while I am here." Portia found his body warmth appealing as they resumed walking, her feet leading as she took this man on her personal errand.

"You mean that no one except you will harm me," she corrected him, and he smiled appreciatively.

"If a warrior holds a beautiful sword, does he break it?" Cassius mused, and Portia watched his calm expression from the corner of her eyes.

"No," she agreed. "He either uses it like a tool or hangs it on his wall like a trophy."

"Now, now," Cassius tutted. "You know better, my lady. A true warrior doesn't hang a sword up, and it's never just a tool. He carries it with him, polishing it, sharpening it, treating it as an extension of himself, for he can own nothing else of equal value. When the sword is beautiful, it is that much more valuable." Portia wanted to growl at him for talking about ownership yet again, and she opened her mouth to do so, but the words forming on her tongue quickly died.

"Thank you," she softly said, only realizing how genuine the words were after they had left her mouth. No one had ever given her such a compliment in her life.

"You are most very welcome." They walked side-by-side, and he slowly pulled her closer until their shoulders were pressed together.

"Where are we going, Sherkyn?"

"Right over there." And he looked up to find her nodding toward a funeral parlor.

**********************

Portia looked over the bill and consented, signing her name at the bottom and writing Arelius's address beneath it. She had ordered a marble tombstone and bought a plot on Green Emperor Way, which had cost a decent sum, but she'd been conservative in spending since it wasn't her money that would pay for this. Still, she was pleased with the placement of Gilthan near a street where his marker would be seen, for she couldn't imagine the elf ever being consigned to some obscure corner. No, he would have wanted to be right out front for all to see.

"I'll have this mailed, ma'am," the shopkeeper was saying. "You said that there won't be a body to bury...?"

"No. This is merely symbolic, and there won't be a service. I'll have the temple priests stop by to bless his name later." The man nodded, professionally distant as he went about filing her order, and Portia glanced toward Cassius, who was leaning against the wall and watching her. She wanted to tell him to get the hell out of here, for what business did he have intruding on this private duty, especially when his involvement was highly suspect? But he didn't look mocking. In fact, he was quite mellow as she moved toward the door.

"Did you order an inscription?" Cassius quietly asked.

"Yes," Portia simply answered with a slight pause. Maybe Cassius would appreciate... "Gilthan Lorenlee: one of the truest companions and bravest mages of his day. He would like that." She opened the door and stepped outside, Cassius behind her as she looked upward at a dreary, Hearthfire sky. The month was almost gone.

"I take it that he died performing some act of bravery," Cassius commented.

"Yes." Like you don't know. "From what I've heard, he even managed to taunt his enemy while he died." Cassius made no response as he stepped beyond Portia, his eyes as stormy as the sky overhead. Such a majestic persona, she mused. "There is something else that I would like to do. You may accompany me if you like."

"Of course." He fell in step beside her, and Portia didn't take his arm this time as she walked. Her stride was slow and her eyes detached as a light drizzle began to fall, causing her to pull her cloak more closely about her neck. There was a chill in the air, and her back hurt from where Cassius had stepped on her. Damn, but the man certainly knew how to apply pressure and surprise in a fight.

She rolled her shoulders, and pulled a ring from her pocket, tiny droplets of rain sliding down its golden curves as she entered Green Emperor Way. Tombstones and monuments passed the two wanderers as the red caps of fly amanitas grew moist and the smell of damp earth rose into the air, the toes of treading boots uncomfortably wet. She read the names that were etched in stone all around her, until she stopped by a small, empty plot where unruly grass was matted flat. Cassius was behind her, but she hardly registered his presence.

"This is where they'll put him," she softly commented, feeling at peace over the loss. Part of her was pleased that Cassius was here to see the cost of the game to her, and she wanted him to know that Gilthan was revered as a hero. "He deserves a hero's burial, but as someone once told me, most heroes die in the gutter. I suppose that it doesn't matter. Those who care know—the gods know."

She cradled the ring, examining its design as the urge to wear it again assaulted her. Was it right to bring Cassius here? She could feel her subconscious opening the chaos sphere, and she admitted that part of her wanted Mehrunes Dagon here to see this—not her loss, but the martyr that he'd turned Gilthan into. If there were to be a proper funeral, the prince would be one of the few who would deserve to attend.

Why not wear the ring?

Portia slipped the tip of her finger into the golden loop as two arms wrapped around her from behind.

"What are you doing?" she asked.

"Keeping you warm, Sherkyn. I should think that was obvious." She allowed him to pull her against his chest, and she reminded herself that perhaps Mehrunes Dagon was here. It didn't matter if he'd bled like a human, for what other explanation was there for the sudden warmth infusing her? It wasn't his body temperature, but the chaos sphere, and it was reacting to her call on Mehrunes. Yet Mehrunes did not appear as he should have, and she didn't have far to reach for him. It already felt like he was directly behind her, and with a jolt of realization, she attempted to pull away from Cassius, but he held fast.

"You don't want to catch a cold," he taunted, and Portia again looked to the ring in her hand. Part of her screamed to get away from the man behind her, for by the Nine, she was standing before Gilthan's symbolic grave, and again, she doubted whether or not the elf had died with any regrets toward her. Move, run, her mind commanded, but the call of the ring muddled her thoughts as she slipped the rest of her finger through it, and suddenly a shock of magic coursed through her, making her awareness of Cassius all but disappear.

"My lovely Portia," a familiar voice sighed.

"Gilthan?" A lone tear slid down her face.

"I don't have much time left, and my ability to think clearly is woefully lacking right now." A weak, forced laugh sounded within her head, and Portia could have sworn that she heard the sputter of bloody lips within it. "We never did speak after dinner, and I'm sorry for that. Hopefully this finds you, and with it my last regards. Don't go feeling guilty or anything foolish like that, beautiful. It gives your face lines, and I was bound to go violently one way or another. At least I know that I've done something worthwhile."

His voice was growing weaker, and Portia felt another tear slide free, memories of their short time together crashing to the forefront of her mind.

"I leave you this message: keep my books, leave wine at my grave, and about Cassius...Cassius is Mehrunes Dagon, Portia, and he's obsessed with you. I don't think that he'll kill you, but...ah, Portia, Time is short. I'll miss you, fair lady. Get out of this alive...I..." The voice trailed off into the soft rhythm of the rain, and Portia gasped, throat constricted.

"Gilthan?" she pleadingly called. She wanted his voice to return, but it was gone, faded away to another plane, and all she was left with was his warning. She suddenly realized that Cassius had turned her around, and now she was facing him, looking into a face that was stern and contemplative. Mehrunes, her mind whispered, but it wasn't a surprise, only a confirmation. 'I don't think that he'll kill you...' Why would Gilthan think that? He had probably been paying closer attention to her relationship with 'Cassius' than she had been at that time, and she silently agreed with the elf's estimation. Whatever was in store for her, it wouldn't be nearly as easy as death.

"Is something wrong?" Cassius asked.

"Yes and no," Portia answered, trying to pull away, but he was still unwilling to release her, and her mind was busy. Gilthan hadn't resented her, even when she'd avoided his warning due to the attentions of the very man who'd caused the elf's death. He forgave me, she inwardly sighed. He hadn't demanded revenge or retribution or explanations. No, he'd only asked her to put wine at his grave, and she already knew that she'd buy the most expensive variety that she could find.

"Death is such an abstract concept for some of us," Cassius stated. "Some do not and cannot mourn like mortals. I have seen great warriors fall, but I'll tell you something, Portia. Among the dremora, only those who die from illness or accidents are lamented. Those who die in combat are honored forever and ever."

"If Arelius wanted to comfort me, he should have said that," Portia spoke lowly, and then Cassius's mouth was pressed against hers, one of his arms around her waist, and the other behind her neck, angling her mouth toward his. Portia's lips moved in response, reluctant but spurred along by his much hungrier force. She felt as if she was inside the chaos sphere as the rain seemed to disappear, her skin growing warmer as Cassius's hair fell against her cheeks.

He's Mehrunes, but she didn't withdraw as she was pressed tightly against his chest.

"Sherkyn," a voice purred in her mind, and Portia was again reminded of Gilthan's words. What exactly did the prince of destruction want from her? She nearly yelped in surprise when the chaos encircling them seemed to slip beneath the chest of the daedra kissing her, pulling her along with it so that she could feel his heartbeat as if it were her own. The intoxicating suffocation that threatened to overwhelm her made her inwardly recoil, but Mehrunes reached out for her spirit, the word 'Mine' screaming through her mind with such an intensity that she nearly cringed.

"Mine."

"No!" His grip tightened, and she tore her lips away from his, looking into his eyes and seeing a reflection of the Deadlands within them. It wasn't until then that the full realization of what she'd just done hit her, and she was hard pressed to recover from the blow as the taste of him lingered on her moist lips. He looked ready to take her right then and there, and she didn't think that she could stop him if he tried. Perhaps, if he thought that she was still ignorant...

"Cassius," she breathed, and he withdrew himself. "I...I should get back home."

"You still don't know, Sherkyn?" he asked, mocking, one hand reaching up to cup her face. It was a surprisingly gentle gesture on his part. "We don't have much time left, Portia. Meet me tomorrow evening."

"I can't make promises."

"If you don't come to me, I'll come looking for you, and that is a promise." Portia felt his hand drop, and she immediately left, walking in the opposite direction that he'd gone, wherever it would take her. It was back to the manor for her, and she rubbed the ring that fitted over one finger, wondering what was about to happen. She had a feeling that everything was about to change, and not for the better.

So, this is my favorite chapter thus far, and it was crazy enjoyable to write. Let me know what you think, and yes, I realize that the festival I mentioned is not cannon; however, I noticed a distinct lack of holidays in Oblivion and its lore, so I inserted one that I found fitting. I also spent lots of time today correcting slight inconsistencies in previous chapters, because sometimes, when your writing time is so spaced out in a story this large, small details or previous comments get forgotten. I know...shameful, but I fixed lore and whatnot that I muddled—nothing major.

Read and review, and enjoy!