A/N: Translation of what Alduin says to Vuljotnaak: 'Burn this world for your master.' Source: wiki/Lore:Dragon_Language
The sky is cast orange from the fires of the burning city beneath me. The people are screaming, and even the guards have given up the fight, fleeing alongside them. But I'm not done with them yet. Swooping down on my blood-red wings, I scoop up several of the children in my sharp teeth and break them all in half with one snap. As their bodies fall to the feet of their wailing parents, I give a roar of ecstasy – and land on the floor with a thump.
I've never had a dream quite as clear as that one before. I can still see the panicked look on the people's faces. Lydia is looking at me worriedly, so I force a smile and climb to my feet. Buckling on my armour, I climb down the stairs and wave at Hulda as I pass. Nothing to worry about!
Today is going to be a long day. It's going to take at least until noon to get to Solitude, but at least I have an early start. Jogging down the road and through the gate, I check my supplies – all good, and if I do run low I can pick up more at Rorikstead.
Things have soon gone back to normal at the Western Watchtower. The guards glance my way as I pass, then continue their patrol. Dodging a trio of Imperial soldiers, I stay on the left-hand side of the road as we pass an old fort built where the road twists south, with a northern road joining it. I ignore the north route – my map says that the road ends before it reaches the mountains. A little further on, an Orc is hanging around the corpses of two sabre cats. Yet another 'old' warrior wanting a good death, I suppose. I don't have the time, however, so pretending not to have seen him, I continue down the cobblestone road – and hear a distant roar. Damn, another dragon?
As I get closer to the source of the sound, I spot a familiar-looking shape hovering over an area just to the right of the road. Heading closer, the shadowed flyer resolves into that of the great black brute from Helgen – the one Sahloknir addressed as Alduin. Ducking behind a rock, I observe as the beast Shouts at the nearby dragon burial. This is just a repeat of Kynesgrove!
The mound explodes open; the skeleton climbs out, and praises Alduin, as Sahloknir had.
"Vuljotnaak, ag daar lein fah him in." With that order, the black dragon flies away, as Lydia and I draw our bows, readying for a fight with this Vuljotnaak. I leave the cover of the rock as the risen monster takes to the skies, and launch an arrow at him. It narrowly misses his flank, and the dragon follows its path to where we stand.
Swooping down, he sends a ball of frost flying towards us, which I almost dodge, then I Shout back.
"Fus Ro Dah!" I cry. Vuljotnaak flinches, and he lands behind us. I quickly swap my bow for a warhammer I'd picked up a while back. After a couple of whacks straight to the face, the angry beast takes to the sky again, only to twist painfully as Lydia's arrow tears through one of his great bat-like wings, and he comes crashing back to the earth, headed straight for me. I leap into the air and bring my hammer smashing right into his scaly snout and Vuljotnaak breathes his last as he skids to a halt.
As I tuck the loot from the dragon, and my warhammer back into my satchel, which I have nicknamed my 'bag of holding', the soul of the great beast comes rushing towards me, filling me with warmth, but this time it's different. There is only the promise of knowledge this time; if only I knew how to unlock it. Strange.
Re-joining the road, I continue on, past a wandering bard and, further on, a nobleman on a horse, reaching Rorikstead around mid-morning. I'm making good time, and I haven't used any of my supplies, so I jog straight past the inn and out the northern side of the town. Soon, we reach the top of a steep slope, down into a deep valley between the mountains of the Reach, the range that is the northern border of Whiterun hold and the craggy slopes of Haafingar, wherein lies my goal.
I take the slope slowly, not wanting to lose my footing and fall the long way to the bottom. Reaching a crossroads, we find a dead man lying next to a handcart with a chest in it. No sooner has this sight filled our eyes than a yell comes from the rocks behind us, and a small group of bandits emerge. An ambush!
Dragging my sword out of its scabbard at my waist, my counter-attack kills the first in one blow. Unfortunately, this has given time for one of his stronger comrades to dodge around behind me, where he raises his warhammer and prepares to deal a deadly blow. Ducking, the weapon merely makes a slight dent in my helmet, and I slash quickly at the man's legs, hamstringing him as he turns to perform a whirling attack on Lydia behind me. He falls with a yell, and I finish him off with a swift stab in the heart.
I stand up to find Lydia has already killed one of the archers, and is looking for the second, who I find cowering behind the rock they had sprung from. I am about to let him go when with a panicked cry, he lashes out at me with his little dagger. I slash my blade across to deflect his blow, but instead I decapitate him. Whoops.
Turns out that the other archer is wearing a pair of enchanted gauntlets. They aren't as good as mine, but I swap them out anyway, then, after looting the chest, I continue down the hill, stopping at the bridge that crosses the river at the bottom.
Ahead, there is a wooden bridge crossing the road, manned at either foot by a bandit archer. Crouching behind the wall of the bridge, I carefully calculate where I should aim, then loose my arrow, sending it driving into the chest of the bandit on the left hand side. The one on the right panicked, drawing his bow, but he is soon felled by my second shot. Over the bridge, I find the entrance to their camp – so I decide to rid Skyrim of this particular menace, at least until more move in. Sneaking up the short slope, I shoot at the man guarding the entrance – and miss. Damn! Drawing his great-sword, he starts down the slope towards us. My next arrow slams into his chest, causing him to stagger, and Lydia finishes him off swiftly.
Inside the palisade gate, there are a couple of bedrolls, sheltered from the elements with peaked covers. In one, a bandit wakes, and starts climbing to her feet, halted in her endeavour by the arrow I send flying into her thigh. The rest of the camp is fairly quiet – the only remaining enemy the bandit chief hiding in the wooden hut that occupies the higher ground. Lydia and I make short work of him though, and I find what I assume to be the key to the trapdoor in the corner on a nearby dresser.
Through the trapdoor, we find a cave, mostly filled with water; the small area above the water level houses an empty chest and a table covered with everyday junk and a journal, describing the bandit chief's thoughts over the past few days. The last entry is the most interesting.
28th First Seed, 4E 201. Brodir's getting suspicious – I caught him poking around in the cove this afternoon. I don't think he found my stash, but it's not safe here. I took the boat out tonight and stowed it on the island to the south, by the old tree stump. Had a good haul this week. Another caravan or two and I can finally get out of here, and not a moment too soon. Deciding to follow the directions in the journal, I jump into the water and swim out the crack through which the water is entering the cave.
I can see the island where I paddle, so, fighting the strong current, I swim over and haul myself onto the dirt. The chest is half buried next to a rotten tree stump; after unlocking it with the same key as I used on the trapdoor, I find the contents aren't that much of a treasure – about one hundred gold pieces, a couple of potions and a war-axe. Huh.
There is a shallow part of the river spanning from the island to the riverbank, so I use that to get back to the road and continue along. I rummage through the stuff I looted from the bandit camp, digging out the two spell books I found. 'Frostbite' and 'Fury'. After reading them, learning the spells, I pull out some bread and cheese and an apple which I munch on as we walk.
A little further on down the road, just before reaching a bridge across a river, we find a cart surrounded by the corpses of its owners, accompanied by the body of the horse and several strange arrows. There isn't much left intact, except for a satchel containing a book, some jewellery and a potion, and a journal on the body of the woman.
I begged my husband not to go, but he just wouldn't listen. He said if he delayed the shipment even another week, the Legion would find someone else to take it south. Let them keep their blasted money. The road to Whiterun is dangerous these days, everyone knows it. So many caravans have been attacked; so many travellers vanished into thin air. Some say it's only bandits, but there are rumours of worse. Goblins. Ghosts. Witches. Twenty years we've been married now, and I can't bear the thought of losing him. I'm not letting him go alone, not this time. We live or die together. Mara preserve us.
I hope one day to find someone who feels the same about me.
Across the bridge, I can see the road leads to another bridge across a deep ravine. But this bridge is different – older. It is made of dark grey stone, and it is huge; the middle is decorated with great carved dragon's heads. Across this bridge is the town it names – Dragon Bridge. It's not quite midday when, just before we pass the inn, I'm hailed by a courier.
"I've been looking for you." He says. "Got something I'm supposed to deliver – your hands only. Let's see here… ah! A letter from a Jarl. Moving up in the world, eh? Looks like that's it." He hands over the small slip of paper. "Got to go." Walking slowly along, I prise open the wax seal and read the note.
Lethandhrel One-Eye, it begins. As a mark of the high esteem in which you are held by me and my people, I would like to offer you an opportunity to become a landowner in Falkreath Hold. A choice piece of undeveloped land in the hold has just become available. Please contact me if you are interested in purchasing it. I remain, Jarl Siddgeir of Falkreath. Well, that is a surprise! I've never been to Falkreath, but obviously my fame as Dragonborn has spread. I tuck the note into my bag and return to the steady, ground-eating jog I have been using.
A little further along, we meet a black-robed Dunmer striding purposefully. I greet him, curious as to what would bring him to this part of the world.
"I'm on a pilgrimage to the Shrine of Azura, the goddess of twilight. If you will excuse me." He moves to continue his journey, but I stop him again.
"Where is this Shrine?" I ask.
"In the mountains to the north-east. I'll mark it on your map." After doing so, he leaves. Looking at my map, I notice he is very much on the wrong path – the Shrine is closer to Winterhold than it is to Solitude. Oh well, no matter.
Soon, we reach the foot of the hill that leads to the great gates of Solitude. Passing through, I encounter a crowd gathered around a trio of people standing on a raised platform. This doesn't bode well.
"They can't hurt Uncle Roggvir! Tell them he didn't do it!" Cries a small voice. Looking over, I spot a small girl tugging on a burly man's sleeve.
"Positions." Orders the guardsman on the platform.
"Svari, you need to go home. Go home and stay there until your mother comes." The man tells the child, who then runs off deeper into the city.
"You should tell her that her uncle is scum that betrayed his High King." Says a woman scornfully as she joins the heckling townsfolk. "Best she know now, Addvar."
"You're all heart, Vivienne." Replies the man sarcastically.
"Roggvir." The soldier on the platform says to the ragged man next to him. I think I see where this is going. "You helped Ulfric Stormcloak escape this city after he murdered High King Torygg. By opening that gate for Ulfric, you betrayed the people of Solitude."
As the bound man – Roggvir – steps closer to the block at his feet, the crowd heckles louder, the general consensus being that he should not be allowed to speak.
"There was no murder!" He shouts over their cries. "Ulfric challenged Torygg – he beat the High King in fair combat! Such is our way. Such is the ancient custom of Skyrim, and all Nords!"
The crowd boos his speech as the guard pushes him onto the block. Then, they fall silent as the headsman raises his axe.
"On this day, I go to Solitude." I hear Roggvir mutter, then with a sickening crunch, his head rolls into the basket and his body slumps sideways to the floor.
"Some gate guard you were!" Yells one of the people as she walks away.
"Good riddance to bad rubbish, I say." Says the one addressed as Vivienne, also leaving.
"I think I expected more." Murmurs another. The crowd is dispersing, returning to daily life. Soon, the only ones left are a woman and a beggar.
It shouldn't have been like this!" She sobs. Must have been a relative of his.
I turn away, and head toward one of the shops that line the entrance square. 'Bits and Pieces'.
Inside, it is a rather small place, the main room at the end of a short corridor. The proprietor is a kind-looking Redguard woman, who weighs up the items I have to sell, then gives me a good amount of gold for it.
I then go to the inn, the 'Winking Skeever', and find a Bosmer sat in a dark corner. That must be Malborn. I turn and talk to Lydia.
"Time for us to split up for the time being." I say. It sounds like I'm breaking up with a lover!
"Sure thing. I'll be back home if you need me." She turns and leaves. I sit down at the table opposite Malborn.
"Our mutual friend sent me." I mutter.
"Really? You're who she picked?" What's that supposed to mean? "I hope she knows what she's doing. Here's the deal – I can smuggle some equipment into the Embassy for you. Don't plan on bringing anything else in with you. The Thalmor take security very seriously. Give me what you can't live without and I'll make sure to get it into the Embassy. The rest is up to you."
"I'm ready." I respond. "Here's what I'll need." I hand him a dagger, some healing potions and my lockpicks.
"Ok, I'll get this inside the Embassy for you." Malborn stands, looking around at the other patrons, who are all ignoring us. "I've got to go – I'll find you at the party, don't worry." With that, he hurries out the door.
I'm not entirely sure I am ready for this, actually. I haven't much experience in playing spies. What if they see right through my act? There's not much time for sitting and worrying, however. Malborn should have enough of a head start. Time to find Delphine.
Out the door, and through the gate, down to the stables, which are just around a corner at the bottom of the slope. It seems to be coupled with a small farm – as well as the two horses, which gaze at me with their beautiful chocolate eyes, there are a couple of rows of leeks pushing their way through the dirt. Delphine sits in the shadow of a windmill, next to a carriage pulled by a sturdy bay.
"Have you given Malborn the gear you want to smuggle into the Embassy?" She asks as I approach.
"Yes – Malborn's all set." I answer.
"Good. I have your invitation to the party. But the only way you're going to get past the guards is if they really believe you are an invited guest; which means you need to look the part, and not be armed to the teeth. Here – put this on. When you're ready, I'll keep the rest of your gear safe until you get back." I assume Delphine means back to the Sleeping Giant. "You'll only have what Malborn smuggled in for you, plus whatever you can pick up inside."
I enter the shadowed interior of the windmill to change into the thick clothes she handed me – I don't really enjoy the ogling eyes of the carriage driver, or the cold wind. Soon, all my armour and weaponry is tucked into my satchel, which I have swapped for the one that Delphine gave me with the clothes. I feel naked without my armour on. It is a strange feeling.
Stepping out, Delphine glances at me, assessing how well I scrub up. "Hmm. I guess that will have to do. You should pass for a real guest, at least until you open your mouth. Ready to board the carriage to the Embassy?"
I suppose. "I'm ready. Keep the rest of my things safe for me."
"Don't worry; it will all be waiting for you when you get back. Just make sure you get back out of there alive with the information we need. Good luck." With that, she takes my bag and heads off up the road.
Taking a deep breath, I climb into the waiting carriage, and the driver clicks to the horse. With a whicker, it heaves, and the cart begins to move. While the driver navigates the tight turn onto the road, I open the invitation and have a look.
Elenwen, First Emissary of the Aldmeri Dominion to the Kingdom of Skyrim Requests the Pleasure of the Company of Lethandhrel One-Eye at a Reception on 26th Last Seed 4E 201 at the Ambassador's Residence. Regrets Only. Formal Attire Requested. Very formal – I can tell from all the un-necessary capitalisations! How fortunate, though, that this party should fall on the very next day that is was decided to get me in – how fast are the couriers in this country?
I take the chance to doze – it may be cold, but I am more tired! I'm woken by the clatter of gates closing behind us, and I sit up to realise that we have reached our destination – the Thalmor Embassy. The sun is setting, casting the snowy exterior in a warm orange light. The building is in the style of Solitude, the roof tall and peaked, the walls made of rough grey stone.
"Ah, a fellow latecomer to Elenwen's little soirée!" Calls a voice as I jump down from the carriage. I turn and find it belongs to a tired-looking Redguard. "And arriving by carriage, no less! I salute you, my good lady. My lateness is due more to getting lost on the way up this gods-forsaken mountain than to any desire to actually arrive late. I prefer to arrive early, often the day before the party, so as not to miss out on any of the drinking." That explains the bloodshot cast to his eyes then. I approach the guard at the foot of the few steps up to the door.
"Welcome to the Thalmor Embassy." The Altmer says. "Your invitation, please."
"Here you go." I show her the slip of paper, fumbling a little with the ribbon tying it shut.
"Thank-you ma'am. Go right in." Returning the invitation, she gestures towards the blue-painted door. As I climb the steps, I can hear the drunkard approaching the elf behind me.
"Now then. Here's my invitation. I don't have a poisoned dagger strapped to my thigh, et cetera, et cetera."
"I'm just doing my duty, sir." The guard sighs. "Everything's in order. Welcome back, sir."
"Yes, yes. Now to find myself a drink!" Anything else the man says is cut off by the door clicking shut behind me.
Inside, the room is filled with flute music and quiet chatter. Before I have got very far into the room, I am approached by a tall robed woman, with yellowish skin and dark blush smeared across her cheeks.
"Welcome." She says, in the tone typical of High Elves. "I don't believe we've met. I am Elenwen, the Thalmor Ambassador to Skyrim. And, you are..?"
"My name is Lethandhrel One-Eye." Shouldn't hurt to tell them my real name. "Pleased to meet you."
"Ah, yes. I remember your name from the guest list. Please, tell me more about yourself. What brings you to this – to Skyrim?" Before I can answer, Malborn calls out from behind a counter.
"Madame Ambassador, I'm so sorry to interrupt…"
"What is it, Malborn?" Snaps the Altmer.
"It's just that we've run out of the Alto Wine." He explains. "Do I have your permission to uncork the Arenthia Red?"
"Of course. I've told you before not to bother me with such trifles."
"Yes, Madame Ambassador." Malborn glances at me.
"My apologies." Says Elenwen. "We'll have to get better acquainted later. Please, enjoy yourself."
When she has walked off to join a conversation elsewhere, I approach Malborn's counter.
"What can I get for you?" He asks, then lowers his voice. "You made it in, good. As soon as you distract the guards, I'll open this door and we can get you on your way. Let's hope we both live through this day."
I nod, then turn to survey the rest of the party. Spotting the drunkard Redguard from earlier, I sidle over.
"What does a fellow need to do to get a drink around here?" He mutters grumpily, then looks up when my shadow falls on his face. "Ah, pardon me, friend. I didn't see you standing there. Allow me to introduce myself – Razelan. Imports and exports by trade, observer of human nature by avocation." He half bows from where he sits.
"You look thirsty." I observe.
"My friend, you are very perceptive!" I'm unsure whether he's being serious or not. "I have a powerful thirst that cannot be slaked! And none of the waiters will bring me a drink! Elenwen must have told them to cut me off, the frigid bitch." Luckily, no-one is listening. "Afraid I'll cause another scene, I suppose." With that, he seemingly dismisses me and my lack of drinks.
I walk up to a waitress standing in a corner, another Bosmer roped into working here.
"I hope you're enjoying yourself, ma'am." She says when she sees me.
"I'd like a drink." I ask.
"Here you go, miss. Colovian Brandy." Wow – that's some strong stuff! I take the bottle, smile my thanks and head back over to Razelan.
"Here – I brought you a drink." I proffer the green bottle, which is eagerly taken.
"Ah, the one generous soul amongst a gathering of pinch-pennies and lick-spittles!" What an odd choice of slurs! He downs the alcohol in one gulp – an impressive feat, considering the size of the bottle. "If there's anything I can ever do for you," the drunkard continues. "do not hesitate to call upon me!" This gives me an idea.
"Actually, there is something you can do for me."
"Wonderful!" He cries. "I can begin to repay your generosity immediately! Say on, friend!"
"I need you to cause a scene; get everyone's attention for a few minutes."
He doesn't ask why. "Is that all? My friend, you've come to the right person! You could say that causing a scene is somewhat of a specialty of mine. Stand back and behold my handiwork!" He pushes himself up off of the bench, staggers a little, and makes his way into the centre of the room. I slip around Malborn's counter while Razelan begins a tirade against Elenwen. I don't want to be there when he sobers up!
"Let's go, let's go! Before anyone notices us!" He murmurs as he unlocks the door behind the counter. We slip through while everyone – even the guards – are watching Razelan's slurred speech. Malborn locks the door behind us and sighs tensely.
"So far so good." He says. "Let's hope nobody saw us slip out. We need to pass through the kitchen. Your gear is hidden in the larder. Just stay close and let me do any talking, got it? Follow me." With that, he pushes open the other door and begins walking through, with me close on his heels.
"Who comes, Malborn?" Growls a Khajiit over the other end of the warm room. "You know I don't like strange smells in my kitchen."
"A guest, feeling ill. Leave the poor wretch be." Malborn replies as he reaches a door behind one of the food-covered tables.
"A guest, in the kitchen? You know this is against the rules." The cat complains.
"Rules, is it, Tsavani? I didn't realise that eating Moon Sugar was permitted. Perhaps I should ask the Ambassador -"
Tsavani hisses. "Get out of here! I saw nothing." She returns to skinning one of the many potatoes at her bare hind paws.
I follow Malborn into the larder.
"Your gear is in that chest. I'll lock the door behind you. Don't screw this up!" I head over to the chest and extract my smuggled gear. "Hurry it up!" Malborn chivvies. "I've got to get back before I'm missed." I give him what I hope to be a withering glare, then dodge through the door at the back of the small room into a short corridor.
"Good luck." Malborn mutters over the click of him locking the door. "You're on your own now."
I approach an open door leading into a room on the left of the corridor – and duck quickly out of sight when I almost run straight into two elven guards.
"Did you see those Robes march in this morning?" One is saying. "Who're they with? More of the Emissary's treaty enforcers?"
"No, they're High Mages, just in from Alinor." Replies his companion. They both sound much the same as each other. "I guess Herself is finally getting worried about all the dragon attacks." This doesn't bode well for Delphine's 'Thalmor Dragons' theory.
"Ah, good. I've been wondering how we were supposed to defend this place from a dragon."
"If a dragon does show up, maybe we'll get lucky and it will eat the mages first." I'm starting to lose track of who is talking; both of the guards sound the same! "Might give us enough time to kill it!"
"Ha! I'd like to see those arrogant bastards taken down a notch. Always looking down their noses at us lowly footsloggers." This makes both of the guards laugh.
"Well, we'd better get back to our rounds." To give them enough time to move away from the door, I enter the room off the right of the corridor. Inside, there are some unused Thalmor robes and some sacks of food. I decide I'm going to empty this place of all valuable objects – including food!
Back in the corridor, I pick up the potion sat on a table under a window at the end, then loot the cupboards of gold. Now for the dangerous bit. I sneak into the main room, taking the bread and the cheese off of the counter the guards were leaning on to talk, then run right into one of them. How smart of me!
He twists around, then yells for his companion as he draws his weapon and slashes at my head. Straightening, I draw the dagger – how I wish I'd chosen my sword instead! – and counter-attack as best I can. I think I'm winning – but then I'm hit by lightning! A mage! He must have been upstairs and come down to investigate the racket.
The first guard finally falls dead at my feet, so quickly chugging a healing potion, I turn and attack the mage. He casts a ward to protect himself, but since wards only protect against magic it doesn't work against my little blade. I'm still taking quite a bit of damage though, from his efforts and the other guard's attacks, so I'm lashing out with my dagger in one hand, downing potions with the other. I am queen of multi-tasking!
After what feels like a year, I'm the only one left standing. I am amazed that no-one at the party in the next room has even noticed the noise we must have been making – there is only one locked door between this room and the main room. Right – this place is going to look unused by the time I'm finished here!
I clear the downstairs areas of all gold and other sellables, then move on upstairs and do the same with the rooms there. Then, bracing myself, I push open a door and step outside.
The sun has completely set now, the stars shining brightly on the walkway I am standing on that forms the wall of a courtyard between the main Embassy building and a separate office. I can see several Thalmor guards, including a couple of mages, from where I crouch at a corner. I'm not going to make it into the other building without being seen; so, switching to the steel war-axe I picked up from one of the guards inside, I straighten and charge straight at the nearest guard, taking him by surprise.
I manage to kill him in just a couple of swings, but only because he didn't have time to defend himself, and not before he has time to alert the others. They swarm at me, so I make sure my potions are close at hand and charge into the fray. Oh, if only Lydia could've come with me.
One down, three more to go. I focus on the mages first – they seem to be the stronger of the Thalmor causing me trouble out here in the cold. There goes another. As I fight, I'm chucking potions down my throat like I've never tasted anything better than the bitter liquid. One left. I hate all this killing, yet I enjoy it too - the red haze that falls every time danger threatens my life; fighting back is almost instinctual. I swing a couple of times before I realise there's nothing left alive. Rummaging through their pockets, I take all the gold and potions I find, then head towards the building opposite me.
Inside, it is reasonably warm, and the one solitary guard that I can see hasn't spotted me yet. As the armoured figure heads up the stairs opposite me, I hear voices coming from a room somewhere to the left.
"But I need that money! I earned it!" complains one. "I have my own expenses you know."
"Silence!" cries the unmistakable tones of another Altmer. "Do not presume, Gissur. You are most useful, but do not presume. We have other informants who are less…offensive."
"But no-one else has brought you such valuable information, have they?" The weak-sounding man replies. "Etienne, he's talked, hasn't he? He knows where that old man is you're looking for, he told me himself."
"You'll get the rest of your money when we confirm his story. As agreed." Reminds the elf.
"So he has talked. I knew it!"
"Everyone talks in the end. Now, I have work to do. Leave me to it, if you ever want to see the rest of your payment." The Thalmor dismisses him.
"Can I… I could help you. He'll talk to me. He trusts me."
"You'd like to come downstairs with me, is that it, Gissur? Shall we loose his bonds and put you in a cell together? You can ask him anything you like, and see how he answers."
"No, no; I'll – I'll wait outside." Gissur, cowed, responds.
"That would probably be best. Now get out!"
"They're scared of the dragons too, aren't they?" Mutters the spy as he comes closer to the door. Time to move! "Paying too well. They don't know anything."
I don't seem to be very good at this sneaking around thing yet – as I move behind a pillar, Gissur spots me, and raising the expected hue-and-cry, draws the axe at his belt and takes a swing at my head. He has misjudged the distance, however; the blade of his weapon barely misses scratching my nose.
I straighten to fight back, staying behind the pillar to dodge the Thalmor's lightning attacks. Gissur's unarmoured body falls to my feet just as the guard finally reaches the bottom of the stairs and crosses the short distance to where I stand. Spinning, I kick her in the stomach before lashing out with my own formidable axe, smashing a great dent in the elven-made helmet she wears. She falls to the ground, groaning, and I put her out of her misery with a quick slash across her throat. Now for the mage.
He is weaving in and out of view through the doorway, casting when he thinks he can, and missing most of the time as he doesn't take the time to aim. Soon, though, he's within range of my weapon arm, and I manage to almost sever his hand. Clutching his wrist, he screams; I finish him off as quickly as I can. I may hate all this killing, but no-one should die in slow agony.
I decide to clear out the upstairs before doing the same with the rooms down here. There isn't much to find; after taking all the books off of the bookshelves – I can sell them, or read them while waiting, if I have to – and taking all the gold, potions and ingredients I find, the building is clean. In a chest behind a desk, however, I find some very interesting documents. Very interesting indeed – especially to Delphine! I read through them so I don't find myself left in the dark.
I look through the little note first. First Emissary Elenwen, it begins. We anticipate a breakthrough in our efforts to uncover the party or power behind the dragon resurrection phenomenon. An informant has identified a possible lead, whom we have brought back to the Embassy for a full interrogation. The subject is obstinate, but by all indications is holding back the information we seek. I have authorised Intermediate Manual Uncoiling – I don't think I want to know what that means – I do not expect more will be necessary, unless you feel time presses. I know you prefer to be present for the final questioning; I will inform you immediately when the subject is fully receptive. Two days should tell the tale. In the meantime, if you wish to audit our technique, your expertise is welcome, as always. I have placed the prisoner in the cell closest to your office stairs, for your convenience. – Rulindil, 3rd Em. So – the Thalmor really do know nothing.
I switch to one of the notebooks – uh-oh. Delphine. Written in big bold letters on the first page. Status: Active (Capture or Kill) High Priority, Emissary Level Approval. Curious, I read on. Description: Female, Breton, mid 50s. Background: Delphine was a high-priority target during the First War, – that suggests they want another! – for both operational and political reasons. She was directly involved in several of the most damaging operations carried out by the Blades within the Dominion. She had been identified and was slated for the initial purge, but by bad luck was recalled to Cyrodiil just before the outbreak of hostilities. During the war, she evaded three attempts on her life, in one case killing an entire assassination team. Wow. Since then, we have only indirect evidence of her movements, as she has proven extremely alert to our surveillance. She should be considered very dangerous and no move against her should be made without overwhelming force and the most careful preparation. It continues: Operational Notes: She is believed to still be working actively against us within Skyrim, although we have no location on her. Assumed to be working alone, as no other Blades are known to be active in Skyrim, and she has in the past avoided contact with other fugitive Blades for her own security (one of the reasons she has so far evaded elimination). Her continued existence is an affront to all of us. Any information on her whereabouts or activities should be immediately forwarded to the Third Emissary. OK, never make Delphine angry. I save the other one for bedtime reading – it doesn't seem related to my current mission, though the front page does have Ulfric Stormcloak written on it in a similar font.
None of this looks good.
One of the items I picked up from the mage, whom I am assuming to be this Rulindil, was a spell book for Firebolt. Opening the little book, the spell burrows its way into my mind, leaving an empty wedge of paper in my hand, which fades away as I let it drop. Glancing around quickly to make sure no-one has entered, I descend the stairs and go through the door into a dungeon area.
There isn't much in here – three cells, a table with a chest next to it, and a lone patrolling guard. I sneak up behind the fellow – at last, I'm not seen! – and slash across the back of his knees before he can turn around and spot me. With a cry of pain, the guard stumbles around and draws his axe, but I slit his throat open before he can do anything else. The man in the nearest cell doesn't even raise his head – has he even noticed?
I empty the guard's coinpurse, then cross the room to the chest against the wall next to the table. The man in the cell can wait just a little longer. Inside, there is only another little notebook, this one with Esbern written on the fore-page.
Status: Fugitive (Capture Only), Highest Priority, Emissary Level Approval. Description: Male, Nord, Late 70s. Background: Esbern was one of the Blades' loremasters prior to the First War Against the Empire. He was not a field agent, but is now believed to have been behind some of the most damaging operations carried out by the Blades during the pre-war years, including the Falinesti Incident and the breach of the Blue River Prison. His file had remained dormant for many years, an inexcusable error on the part of my predecessor (who has been recalled to Alinor for punishment and re-education), in the erroneous belief that he was unlikely to pose a threat due to his advanced age and lack of field experience. A salutary reminder to all operational levels that no Blades agent should be considered low priority for any reason. All are to be found and justice exacted upon them. Operational Notes: As we are still in the dark as to the cause and meaning of the return of the dragons, I have made capturing Esbern our top priority, as he is known to be one of the experts in the dragonlore of the Blades. Regrettably, we have yet to match their expertise on the subject of dragons, which was derived from their Akaviri origins and is still far superior to our own (which remains largely theoretical). The archives of Cloud Ruler Temple, which is believed to have been the primary repository of the oldest Blades lore, were largely destroyed during the siege, and although great effort has been made to reconstruct what was lost, it now appears that most of the records related to dragons were either removed or destroyed prior to our attack. Thus Esbern remains our best opportunity to learn how and why the dragons have returned. It cannot be ruled out that the Blades themselves are somehow connected to the dragons' return. We have recently obtained solid information that Esbern is still alive and hiding somewhere in Riften. Interrogation of a possible eyewitness is on-going. We must proceed carefully to avoid Esbern becoming alerted to his danger. If he is indeed in Riften, he must not be given an opportunity to flee.
Well, that was most informative. Looks like this Esbern is the one to be looking for then.
I turn and open the cell in which the stricken man, who must be the man Gissur referred to as Etienne, hangs from the manacles attaching his wrists to the wall.
"I told you, I know nothing else about it." He says, not even looking up. Not that he could, at the angle he's hanging at.
"I'm not here to torture you." I respond.
"What? Who – what do you want then?" He struggles to raise his head.
"No time to explain. Let's get out of here." I use my dagger to prise the manacles open, and he drops to the floor, massaging his sore wrists.
"Yeah, sure; ok." Etienne wobbles to his feet. "Come on, this way. I've seen the guards use it to get rid of bodies. It must lead somewhere."
"Hold on," I grab his arm. "You may know something important."
"I damn well hope so. If it helps you twist them up, I'm glad to help." The flaxen-haired man squats against the cell wall. "They're after some old guy named Esbern. Something to do with dragons; I gathered it from listening to them talk when they thought I was out. I've seen a guy in Riften who they seem to think is him. Not much to go on – I don't even know where he lives, or even his name. But they seemed pretty excited about it. That's it – now, let's get out of here!"
"Sounds good. I'll follow you." I gesture out the door.
"Whatever you want; but let's go now." Etienne stumbles towards a trapdoor hidden under bloodstains in a corner. Before I can follow, however, a voice calls out from one of the balconies along the walls.
"Listen up, spy! You're trapped in here, and we have your accomplice. Surrender immediately or you both die." Looking up, I see two Thalmor guards, flanking Malborn. I start towards the stairs, making sure I look as unthreatening as possible. I plan to take them by surprise when they think they have me, but Malborn hasn't caught on.
"Never mind." He murmurs. "I'm dead already." The soldiers draw their weapons. Damn. I draw my own as I start hurrying up the stairs.
"Silence, traitor! Move; slowly." The soldiers begin to hit Malborn, but I charge in and slay the both of them before they can do too much damage to the poor orphan elf.
"Now the Thalmor will be hunting me for the rest of my life!" He complains. "I hope it was worth it."
Taking the soldiers' pay, and a key to the trapdoor, I lead the auburn Bosmer to the trapdoor and hop down, followed by the two fugitives. At the bottom of the ladder, the tunnel leads to a cave, occupied by a corpse, an interesting and unusual gem, and a troll.
"Fus Ro Dah!" I make the troll stumble as I jump down from the ledge, and I attack it as it rights itself, giving my companions time to dodge past and through the exit. The beast finally finds its feet, but I keep hitting it, not really giving it much of a chance to fight back, and soon its great furry body lies bleeding and oozing at my feet.
After picking up the gem and flicking through the book, I loot the body of the unfortunate wizard – the troll's previous victim, I suppose, judging by the maul-marks – then follow the two men out of the cave into the frozen night. I can see Malborn disappearing down the road to my right, so I do the same, eating some baked potatoes I'd picked up in the Embassy as I go.
It's very late now, past midnight, and I am exhausted! I don't really know where I am – it's too foggy to see very far. Past the snowline, however, I reach a crossroads and recognise the road between Solitude and Dragon Bridge. I soon reach the small town, passing a couple of Vigilants of Stendarr as I go, and I duck into the Four Shields inn.
Renting a room, I don't bother undressing. At least this time I'm not sleeping in heavy armour.