"Jobasha has… mixed feelings on the Black Shalk Cornerclub." Jobasha said, his voice echoing lightly in his cup of bitter Greef. "Good drink, okay food, bad people. A friend of Jobasha's encountered trouble with thugs here, years ago."

"Did they now?" Quill-Weave said, displaying caution in the new place she was in. Jobasha had ordered some Mazte for her – a sweet drink easy for anyone to get accustomed to before the hard stuff. "And this is made with rice?"

"Saltrice. Fermented saltrice, to be exact. The berries of Morrowind are bitter," he swirled his cup of comberry greef, "yet the simple wheats of Morrowind can be made into the sweetest things."

"Hah. Nice line. I might steal that."

"For your books, Jobasha assumes? This one would love to read your works. Perhaps sell them, if Jobasha enjoys what he reads, yes?"

Their laughter wasn't out of place in the Cornerclub. Several other patrons far drunker laughed at things similarly as small as their teasing.

Quill-Weave took another sip. She could get used to this stuff, she thought. "Depends what you like, I suppose. How interested are you in crime works?"

Jobasha's tail flickered for a moment, yet his face seemed its usual passive expression. No fooling Quill-Weave, she thought. She knew an interested reader when she saw one. "Go ooooon…?" The Khajiit purred.

"My works are no mere fantasy," Quill-Weave said with mock-poise, a motion aided by unfamiliar alcohol, "for they spill the stories of those who suffer in the underground of society! Daring criminals, thrilling heists, misunderstood lowlifes, dark secrets, and sometimes a tinge of forbidden love! Though… the last bit may be one of my author friend's influence."

"Hah! You need not tell Jobasha about lowlifes and secrets. A Khajiit living in Morrowind often becomes acquainted with both."

Jobasha returned to his drink, interrupted by Quill-Weave asking, "Is it… fine, if you tell me some more sometime? A work set in Morrowind would be a fun little exercise."

"Perhaps," He replied, "If we meet again."

There was a silence between the two as they sipped their respective poisons. Jobasha was momentarily distracted by the ambience of the cornerclub. The new bartender working the bar after Raril left Vivec, the smells of comberry stews and houndmeat, the laughs and jeers between conversations, and the unmistakeable presence of criminals. The silence was broken by Quill-Weave, after downing her drink.

"Why do you think Crassius chose us to go to Skyrim? I'm certain none of us are acquainted with the cold, and I'm sure beastfolk like us aren't going to get a warmer welcome there than in Morrowind."

"Unless I see a Nord with Khajiiti slaves, Jobasha highly doubts that," He chuckled. "Something to do with books. Even still, these two only sell and write books. If Crassius is offering a small fortune in septims, then Jobasha thinks the job is too dangerous for his skills."

"True, true." Quill-Weave murmured. "Though he doesn't seem to have the soundest of mind, if we're going by his books and… well, him in general. His works are pretty…"

Seeing Quill-Weave struggle to find words, Jobasha coughed. "Yes, many are familiar with his works here. It is much too uncomfortable for Jobasha to sell them to fine customers."

"It's not as if we need the money, right? I mean, authors have an unpredictable pay, and I do some side training."

"Exactly. Jobasha's store does very well. It holds many precious books." Jobasha took a sip of his drink, muttering in the cup. "And business from prophesized heroes pays many coins…"

"Hmm?"

"Ah, nothing." He chuckled. "So these two have no reason to venture to Skyrim then."

The two made lighter conversation the rest of their time, discussing mostly favorite books and authors. Discussion came up about the beastfolk situation in Morrowind, and as appalled as Quill-Weave was, she made it a point to study it further for writing research. She could picture the story now. Escaped slaves, fighting with tooth and nail (Literally) for their way out of the plantations of a crooked Dunmer slaver. She was about to set on a name for the main character when Jobasha stood up.

"This one is done with drinks. He must admit, this was not a complete waste of a day off." He gave a smile, revealing his pointed teeth. "Where is Quill-Weave staying for the night, if it is okay for Jobasha to ask?"

"Well… Mr. Curio's letter said he would provide lodging should I accept his offer. If I turned it down, I was planning to take a boat to Ebonheart and stay there. I didn't anticipate staying so long in Vivec, so I'm afraid my scheduled boat is long gone by now." She smiled. "I suppose I'm sleeping at the Black Shalk tonight!"

"Aha… no." Jobasha put some coins on the counter, sliding them to the bartender. "Tonight, you stay at Jobasha's. He insists."

"I-I'm flattered, Jobasha, but-" Before she could finish, the bookseller had pushed her out the door of the Black Shalk.


Quill-Weave sat on cushions on the floor of Jobasha's store, surrounded by furniture and bookshelves and by a low table with Jobasha and another Argonian. Huleeya, she thinks Jobasha called him. Sipping a tea with a flavor unlike any in Cyrodiil, she listened intently on Huleeya's current story.

"…I don't remember using transportation, but there I was. Alone." Huleeya stared at both Jobasha and Quill-Weave, an intense look in his eyes. "Naked."

Quill-Weave was spellbound, but Jobasha brushed it off. "Jobasha is sure it was the High Elf from Huleeya's last story. Never get on a mage's bad side. So… Quill-Weave, Jobasha hopes this place is suitable for a night's rest, at least until you return to Cyrodiil. It is comfy, no?"

"Yes, very! Though," Quill-Weave peeped out the corner of her eye at the bonemold-armored figure, staring straight ahead. "Are guards in stores common?"

"They are. It is awkward, having your place of business and place of residence be one. Jobasha could not sleep for a month properly with guard there." He smiled. "Of course, this guard is dutiful, and is a friend to Jobasha and Huleeya. He is stalwart now only because stranger is in his home."

"Makes sense, I guess. Hey, what's in this tea?" Quill-Weave held up her teacup, eyeing the liquid. "It's very... different."

Huleeya picked up the teapot, beaming proudly. "Roobrush, from the Western Gash region of Vvardenfell! Good for bolstering the body against poisons."

"Not that we'd need any protection.", Huleeya chuckled in Jel. Jobasha raised his eyebrow at the two snickering Argonians.

"Well, Jobasha likes to be safe. Who knows if one slips poison into his drink at the Black Shalk. Khajiit and Argonians make many enemies in Vvarden- are you writing this down?"

"Yes, this is brilliant!" Quill-Weave quickly wrote a sentence in her notepad, using a quill she'd seemingly gotten from no where.

"It is… brilliant if Jobasha is poisoned?"

"Hm? Oh, no, not that! This is just a good idea. Perfect for a book, drinking poison retardant tea."

"Ah." Jobasha smiled. "So any ideas on that book set in Morrowind yet?"

Quill-Weave yawned, or whatever Jobasha could equate to the Argonian equivalent. "Not yet. Perhaps it'll come to me later. Maybe I'll come back to Morrowind to do some research. Right now, I'm pretty tired. Where am I-"

"Ah! Of course! Let Jobasha show you your bed for the night!"


"Mr. Curio." The Dunmer woman said, entering Crassius Curio's private chambers.

Crassius smiled, turning to her with a twinkle in his eye. "Ah, Bronosa! Have the two reconsidered?"

"I… um…" Bronosa Nedalor, in her time spent at Curio manor, learned that whatever shenanigans Crassius did, it was best to take it in stride. Ignoring the naked orc model, she faced Crassius' paint-stained face with her usual cold demeanor. "I've recently exchanged letters with Phintias. He-"

"How's our contact in the Imperial City doing? Did he and Jensine finally get together?"

"What? E-er… He did mention a Jensine, yes, but-"

"Excellent! We should send them a gift basket!"

"Mr. Curio, please." Bronosa cleared her throat. "Phintias found this in his new inventory."

Bronosa handed Crassius a book. Obviously of higher quality make, it was a sterile mix of blue and gray. On the front were simple, map-like illustrations of pine forests. Curio smirked when he read the spine of the book.

"Guide to Falkreath" He chuckled, looking upwards at no one in particular. "By Alessia Ottus. So they're already in Skyrim…"

"Sir?"

"Bronosa, dear? Find our two lovely friends," Crassius put down the book and paintbrush, and picked up a quill and parchment. "Check that sweet tiger's home first, down in the Foreign Quarter. This time, tell them that time is of the essence, and that my improved offer is only going to last until the day after tomorrow."

He handed his letter to Bronosa. "But sir, if they don't accept-"

"They will. They won't be interested in gold, so I'm gonna offer something more... personal. Off you go, dear."

Bronosa nodded her head, setting out to leave the manor. Crassius took a deep breath, leaning back on his painting stool. He stroked his beard as his smile dropped into a contemplative face.

Before his silence reached the 3 minute mark, the orc woman spoke. "C-can I use the bathroom now?"

"Ah! I almost forgot. Not quite yet, my little kiwi! Now, I have your upper portion down. Would you like to be riding a horse, or a guar?"


Huleeya made breakfast the next morning. Traditional Dunmer cuisine mixed with familiar recipes from black marsh. An Argonian soup, many vegetables replaced with local vegetables like ash yams and canis root.

The raw goose egg was still there, thankfully.

"So, this one knows her way to Ebonheart?"

"I'll book another ride there," Quill-Weave said to Jobasha, who eschewed Huleeya's breakfast entirely for some more palatable cheese. "From there I'm sailing to mainland Morrowind, and then I'm booking a carriage back to Anvil."

"Why not use a Guild Guide?"

"Argh! I tried, but they don't do that in Cyrodiil, so there's no way to get from here to the Anvil Mages Guild! Imagine if I could though. I could make that visit I had to cancel…"

"Visit?"

"E-er… A friend of mine. Casta Scribonia. Another author. I suppose we're like a miniature book club." Quill-Weave sighed. "I'm not normally fond of her genre, but her works are divine! I'll bring some copies of both of our books next time I visit."

Jobasha's eyes widened, and his heart lifted. "Next time? This one plans to return?"

"Well, of course!" Quill-Weave smiled. "I wasn't joking about writing a book set in Morrowind. And besides, I wouldn't say hi to you once and dash off forever, now, would I?"

Jobasha tried to hide his lips curling into a feline smile. "Yes, Jobasha always has his home open for you!"

"But buy another bed, or at least a sleeping roll." Huleeya yelled from the fire, where he was boiling some tea. "You're like sleeping next to a fire atronach!"

"S-shut up Huleeya! Ziss, you'll put ideas into our guest's head!"

"Given what Casta writes and who we talked to yesterday, I already have a few ideas." Quill-Weave snorted. "Well, I'll take a quick look around the canton for a moment. I want so see if I can get a souvenir before I head back to Anvil."

After warnings not to go too deep in the canton, Quill-Weave set out. Septims were used in Morrowind, which was good, though she was quite confused when some merchants asked for payment in drakes. Another thing she'd have to learn if she was going to write about escaped slaves of the Telvanni. Dunmeri language. After a good 30 minutes, alternating between the waistworks and the plaza above, Quill-Weave had herself some new toys. A chitinous dagger, made from bits of Morrowind's insects she could just imagine her main character making for himself. She'd gotten a helmet; one of funny-looking yet slightly unnerving boiled netch leather, with tinted goggles and a semblance of a respirator at the front. Unnerving enough for her antagonist to wear. A set of Dunmer clothing that complimented her scales later, and she headed back to Jobasha's Rare Books. Stopping short of knocking, she noticed an envelope tucked in between the door and the frame. Quality paper with a seal of… House Hlaalu.

"Oh Xhuth…"


"So you'll agree to my new terms then?" Crassius beamed. The bookseller and the author beastfolk were rather distracted by the painting of a naked Orc riding a guar, but Crassius was focused solely on them. Crassius seemed pretty upset when he heard Bronosa just wedged the letter against the door when Quill-Weave told him how they'd got it.

"These two came to… discuss your terms." Jobasha said, folding his arms against his chest.

"Well, double pay to start. One favor from House Hlaalu, which is always good to have at your back. Some of my more exclusive works – not for sale mind you! They are meant to be shared with friends!"

"U-um… We can skip by that for now, thank you. What about what you mentioned in your letter?"

"Ah, that." Crassius cleared his throat with some Cyrodiilic Brandy. "House Hlaalu has been observing Cyrodiil with equal attention as Morrowind quite recently, ever since the event with the Nerevarine – the reason we chose you two, really."

Crassius continued as he handed two goblets to the beastfolk, Jobasha's left ear tilted and Quill-Weave squinting. "You've helped the Nerevarine out quite a bit, really. Sure, being a bookseller's boring, but imagine having the esoteric tomes the Neravarine needs to save Morrowind. Progress of Truth, was it?"

"I-It was." Jobasha coughed, seeing Quill-Weave's astounded face.

"And our dear Argonian, you've had an encounter with the Hero of Kvatch on one point, yes?"

"Y-yes, but… it wasn't impressive." Seeing Jobasha stare in curiosity, she started to blush. "They… They caught me trying to poison a neighbour's rat horde. I'm not sure if that's adventurer material, really."

"Well, if not what you've done for the Hero of Kvatch, then your skills? Field research is your game, no? Not to mention your many contacts. Some powerful, many dangerous."

"I am a c-crime writer! Consorting with minor criminals helps be get into their mindset! More to the point, you were spying on us?!"

"Well… Not spying. More like… peeping."

"By the moons, that sounds even worse!"

"Aside from that, you're a skilled acrobat and you know your way around the underground, and you're familiar with conspiracy yourself, tiger. Tie in the fact that you're both well acquainted with books, and I'd say you two are perfect for this little job of mine."

"Hmph… Jobasha is still not entirely convinced."

"Alright then, let's put it this way." Crassius chuckled. He stood up and went over to Jobasha, whispering in his ear. While Jobasha was clearly uncomfortable, the smell of Crassius' perfume offending his keen nose, his ear slowly perked up as his eyes glistened. Then, Crassius went over to Quill-Weave, and finding some difficulty with her ear holes, he whispered something that even Jobasha's feline ears could not detect. Quill-Weave's eyes glistened, and she licked her lips in contentment.

"So, I'm sure Skyrim doesn't sound so bad now, does it?"


The next day, the two set were sailing to the mainland. Jobasha had left the store – including the watering of Charles the Plant – to Huleeya. Quill-Weave was dressed in her normal, earth-toned Colovian clothing, and Jobasha had donned his usual blue Dunmeri shirt and brown slacks. Their winter clothing was packed in their packs, along with Quill-Weave's blank journals and Jobasha's books for sale. Together, the two waited until the ship reached the shore. They waited with reluctance, but also excitement.