Alessia Ottus was a gods-fearing woman, perhaps to the point where she feared little else. She did not fear the heathen gods of the Dunmer, the primitive superstition of the Argonians or the Bosmer. She did not fear the barbarous orcs, the conniving beastfolk, and least of all the brutish Nords surrounding her in Whiterun

She ate her food – a safe meal of bread and cheese – and analyzed her surroundings. Unlike Falkreath, Whiterun was acceptable. It was the trade city of Skyrim, and for as unimpressive as it was compared to any city in Cyrodiil, its markets seemed sufficient to support that claim. During her austere dinner, she wrote down notes in her parchment bundles.

"Tree: Blessed by Kynareth?" She murmured out loud. "Inquire more from the temple. Strong worship of Talos – very good sign as is present across Skyrim. Houses are threadbare as always but better than-"

"Are you havin' any more with those rations, lass?" The barmaid said, looking at Alessia's meal with a tinge of pity. Typical Nord woman: Blonde, tall, odd accent.

Alessia turned her nose up. "Tamika Vintage, if you have it, I suppose."

"Tamika? We specialize more in beers, ales, meads, drinks more in those lines." Seeing Alessia's scrunched up face, she bowed lightly. "Though… I'll see if we have any wines, miss."

Alessia sighed. Skyrim was a cold and hostile land, and she was only halfway to her destination. She'd have to stock up on winter clothing. The warmth of the central firepit in the tavern seemed so weak compared to the warmth of her home city. If any good was to come out of her trip here, she'd have purified Tamriel a bit further, and she'd have written enough guides to dissuade the good people of Cyrodiil to avoid Skyrim.

Seeing the barmaid return, she decided to put away her research for the night. She'd need a good rest before her trip on the road north. Sipping the wine – not of high quality in a glass that indicated that wine wasn't served often here – she heard the barmaid talk.

"Winterhold?"

Alessia looked at her pack. It was half-opened as she packed away everything, revealing the symbol of a tri-spired castle on a book. The insignia of Skyrim's Northmost city.

"Yes? What of it?"

"Well… I suppose I shouldn't be surprised." The barmaid sighed, smiling. "Lots of Imperial folk headin' up to Skyrim to learn magic."

"L-learn magic?!"

"Mages Guild politics, you know. I don't know much but ever since Necromancy was banned, and especially after that business with the Gates, Winterhold's been pretty popular."

"…Learn magic?!" Alessia Ottus coughed. "I… er… Hmph. Frankly, I'm rather insulted you'd believe me to be a mage. Well, as long as you're here, what else can you tell me about Winterhold?"

"E-er.. It's famous for the College. Magic institution, mostly free from politics bein' in such a remote city. Magic's far beyond my reach, miss. The Jarl's court wizard can tell you more."

Alessia thought for a moment. She'd known Winterhold had a big conglomerate of magefolk, but if they were outside the usual regulations of the Mages Guild, and if people flocked there after Necromancy was banned…

"Um... Miss Nord? Where might I find this... Court Wizard?"


"We left from Seyda Neen a day ago," Quill-Weave said, poring over a map. "By tomorrow night we're getting off at their supply stop in Blacklight, before they sail off to Solstheim."

Jobasha paced back and forth in the hold, his tail wrapped around his legs. There was not much room to do so, seeing as their current residence was a sequestered space in between crates and barrels in the lowest level of the ship. "Jobasha wonders why we are sleeping in the ship's hold. The Hlaalu are probably the richest of the Dunmer Houses. Surely, the perverted one could have arranged finer transport…"

Jobasha's cheeks suddenly puffed up, his claw to his mouth. Quill-Weave raised an eyebrow.

"Urgh... Jobasha also wonders why we must travel by nauseating boat. Can we not teleport there from the mage's guild?"

"To my knowledge, the Mages Guild doesn't have teleports." Quill-Weave replied. "To be fair, I don't have much friends to do with the Mages Guild, aside from this Khajiit I knew."

"Hmph. If these two traveled by small canoe - across a river, I might add - there would be no issues with seasickness and... urgh..."

"I wouldn't question Crassius Curio's logic." Quill-Weave smiled. Suddenly, she smacked her head. "Gah, Xhuth! I knew I forgot something!"

"What? Was it something important?"

"His autograph." Seeing Jobasha's puzzled face and tilted ear, she coughed. "Casta's a big fan of his works."

"You speak of this Casta a lot. Are you… Are her works good?"

"I suppose, if you're into that sort of stuff." Quill-Weave sighed, smiling. "I'd read Casta's works over Curio's any day…"

"Perhaps I can finally find your books in Winterhold?"

"O-Oh no, I highly doubt that! We're not the most well-known, especially in other provinces…" Quill-Weave thought for a while. "…Why are we going to Winterhold? Surely, there are other libraries and booksellers in Skyrim."

"You'd be surprised!" A voice bellowed from behind them. Quill-Weave's heart stopped for a moment and Jobasha found himself clinging to a ceiling post at the new arrival.

"Rahjin Kodesh!" Jobasha exclaimed.

"Ah ah ah, this one had a hunch we had another Khajiit on board!" The newcomer smiled. He, too, was a Khajiit, dressed in more rugged clothing meant for the seas. His fur was matted and tousled by a lifetime of seabreeze. "This one is S'virr…" He said, rolling his tongue. "Captain of the Omenwedur Jr! At your service."

"W-well…" Quill-Weave coughed. "It's a pleasure to meet the captain. Another House-member of Hlaalu?"

"Ah, no… no… A friend, yes! An associate of House Hlaalu, their contact in Solstheim, and sometimes the Northeast of Skyrim, but not a member." S'virr smiled as Jobasha unclenched himself from the post, back onto his cot. "The Nords of Skyrim are not a culture of readers. Institutions of such nature are rare in the snowy land."

"Hmph. A shame." Jobasha murmured. "Most unfortunate. I had hoped to make a bit of profit."

"Not to say they are illiterate, of course. Many in Skyrim are fond of the written word. Their culture has simply branched to the ways of oral storytelling. Just like those in Black Marsh and Elsweyr, my beast brethren."

"Makes sense." Quill-Weave said. "So, you wouldn't happen to be able to shine some light on our mission here, would you? Crassius Curio isn't one for specific elaboration."

"Uh… S'virr vaguely remembers. Drop you off in Blacklight is S'vrr's biggest grasp. You two are fetching a book from Winterhold for him, S'virr believes. Seems simple enough, no?"

"Yes. And that is all Curio has told Quill-Weave and Jobasha."

"Well, maybe you two can mull over specifics over dinner. S'virr came to tell you that a meal has been prepared – freshly-caught slaughterfish!" Looking at the queasy Jobasha, he smiled. "Don't worry. A Khajiit gets used to it after a few years."


The crew of the Omenwedur Jr. was a lively, if small bunch of sailors. Discounting captain S'virr, it was mostly comprised of Imperials, Dunmer, and Nords. Quill-Weave couldn't find much of an interesting story here: S'virr simply purchased a bigger boat and named it after his first after his business transporting people and goods to and from Solstheim blew up, right around when Raven Rock was formed. She'd made a mental note to visit Solstheim one day.

Tearing into their Slaughterfish Steak (Jobasha's specially-requested to be a little raw), Quill-Weave found the atmosphere relaxing. The rocking of the waves on the boat and seabreeze on her scales couldn't quite compare to the feeling of being in the water herself, but she could understand how men and mer enjoyed seafaring.

Jobasha, on the other hand, curled up into a ball as he nibbled on his fish.

"Um… Jobasha, you feeling better?"

"Khajiit are meant for desert sands and moist lands. The sea is neither." He pointed a claw at the Khajiit captain, currently laughing with a drink in hand with his crew. "How does this one do it…" he hissed.

Quill-Weave chuckled. "You know, there's a thing hatchlings do when they're afraid to swim, just when they're starting."

"Argonian hatchlings fearing the water? Jobasha would like to see that!" He guffawed. "Was Quill-Weave one of said hatchlings?"

"Would you rather I toss you into the water to get you unafraid of it?" Smiling at Jobasha's pursed lips, she laid down on the deck of the ship with him, moving his head upwards.

"A nap?"

"Stargazing." Quill-Weave said. "Hatchlings would backstroke or even just float in the water, focusing on the stars. Sometimes the trees around them if it was a river, or the clouds if it was daytime. But my favorite was the night sky."

Jobasha unfurled his body flat, staring above. He squinted, and his eyes glimmered. "So… Any specific stars you see?"

"I see the Tower Sign." Quill-Weave murmured. "I remember I would get scared every time I swam until I did this with the Thief Sign over me."

"Interesting… Jobasha presumes you are a Thief?" He snickered. "Of course, the sign, not the profession."

"Maybe a bit of both. Field research can get dangerous, you know."

The two laid down in silence, watching the stars pass by, all surrounding the one visible moon. The waves brushed the boat in a therapeutic manner, the sounds of it hitting against the hull like music. Jobasha slowly felt his anxieties wash away, watching mostly the resplendence of Secunda in her crescent form, the stars dancing around her. He had no particular pull towards the stars as Quill-Weave obviously did, but with Secunda there, Jobasha could see how one could enjoy this.

Before Jobasha's eyelids grew too heavy, Quill-Weave spoke. "…So… what did Crassius say to get you to take the job?"

"Ah. Nothing much, just some extra persuasion. Promise of an adventure, time outside of Vivec, boring words." Too tired to dig deeper into his words, Quill-Weave looked at him as he asked, "What was the perverted one's angle on you? Jobasha can only assume the worst…"

Quill-Weave took a moment to figure out what she said, and after a few seconds, had to stifle a laughter. "Hah… no, no. I doubt I'm his type of… Argonian? Anyways, he didn't offer much. Just…" She smiled. "Just painted the mission is a better frame. Boring life as a writer, all these talents as an acrobat wasted, so on and so forth."

Jobasha opened his mouth to inquire more, but opted to look back at the night sky. His eyes fixated on a particular star, twinkling warmly and brightly. It was as if it was growing, with how radiant it was, as it slowly overtook Secunda, and…

It was coming their way.

"Look out!" A voice bellowed.

Quill-Weave flipped backwards, while Jobasha scampered in the other way, narrowly dodging the smoldering wooden beam. The two took a cursory glance, both on the ship and off into the sea.

The crew was in an uproar, bellowing orders and grabbing their weapons. S'virr himself pointed knelt behind the railing of the ship and pointed a crossbow off into the distance, where Jobasha's keen eyes saw another ship.

"W-what is happening?!" Jobasha asked S'virr, his fur standing on end.

S'virr clicked his tongue. "Reavers."

"Reavers?!" Quill-Weave exclaimed.

"Bandits. Ruthless ones as well. S'virr recommends these two hide."

Quill-Weave and Jobasha didn't need to be told twice. The two dashed their way past a burning flag now falling off the mast, barely getting singed by an incoming fireball. Jobasha put out the flame that sparked on his fur quickly as he and Quill-Weave broke into the captain's quarters.

They heard the boats colliding, and the yelling of the reavers growing louder.

"They've made it on the boat!" Quill-Weave hissed. "Where can we hide?!"

A scan of the quarters revealed not many good spots. All the chests that the flexible Khajiit could curl inside of were locked, and there was nowhere Quill-Weave's natural camouflage could help in the gaudy, orange-painted room. They heard the footsteps of a person grow closer to the door.

"I'll be checking in here! Make sure none of those Outlander N'wahs jump ship!" A sea-worn Dunmer walked in, bonemold-clad, axe in hand, and scar readily visible on his bald head. "Or at least, not without getting filled with arrows!"

He scanned the room, looking for any signs of life. "C'mon out now… I can hear you breathing." He murmured.

Jobasha took a deep breath and held it in, watching the Dunmer walk inside and close the doors behind him. The ceiling was hard to cling to; mold forming in the ceiling boards made it very slippery to hold on to. He'd have fallen straight on the reaver's head if he wasn't blessed with sharp-digging claws and a tail now wrapped around 3 ceiling boards.

Quill-Weave's hiding spot wasn't as lucky. She watched as the Dunmer's boots approached the bed. She held in her breath out of fear, and nearly made an "Eep!" sound as the mattress above her sunk and brushed her scales. Don't look under the bed, she silently thought, as the reaver took a deep sigh.

"Hmm… Nice room. Good furniture. Might take this chair for myself…"

Quill-Weave peeked out of the opposite end of the bed from where the reaver sat. Distracted by the bits of jewelry in the box now in his lap, he didn't notice Jobasha stirring from the ceiling corner.

"What do I do?!" Quill-Weave mouthed. It was hard to make out the words coming from a lipless Argonian.

"Just stay still!" He mouthed back. "Wait until he leaves!" It was equally hard to decipher the words mouthed from a Khajiit's feline mouth.

"What?!"

"Stay still! When he leaves, these two will get out!"

"When skeevers get what?!"

"No, not weavils!" Jobasha sighed, and opened his mouth again. He stopped when he saw the incredulous look of the reaver, more confused than hostile at the two. "E-er…"

The three were quiet in the room, and then there was a sudden jolt. The reaver grabbed his axe and leapt onto the bed, bouncing himself close to Jobasha. His axe would have barely hit him if Jobasha hadn't dropped to the floor, dashing to the corner of the room where a cutlass was on display on the way. The reaver made his way, slowly, to Jobasha. Getting ready to charge, Quill-Weave saw her chance when he stepped on the rug. With a deft movement, the reaver was on the floor as Quill-Weave dashed out from under the bed, yanking the rug with her.

"G-gah! A sap-licker and a fur-licker?!" The reaver's scowl twisted into a crooked smile as he stood himself up. "Today's my lucky day! Both of your tails will make good trophies!"

Jobasha had never held much weapons in his life before. He had to fight for his life sometimes, yes, working with the Twin Lamps on occasion. Those battles were usually tooth and claw, and fights to retreat out in the open. The cutlass did little for him in this tight space. Quill-Weave's acrobatic skills were at a loss here too. She struggled to find any way to escape. The door was blocked by the reaver, daring any of the two to run for it. There was no ready trap door she could see, and it wasn't like she had the time to search for one proper.

There was always the window, but that was probably a bad idea.

"Let's start with you first, lizard!"

The reaver leapt towards Quill-Weave, raising his axe above his head ready to cleave her in two. Quill-Weave quickly sidestepped, dodging a horizontal slash with a leap onto the bed. Jobasha managed to sneak behind the Reaver and just when the reaver lodged his axe into the headboard, Quill-Weave barely ducking under it. A pained cry erupted from the reaver, and when Quill-Weave slunk behind him to rejoin Jobasha, she saw why; Jobasha's cutlass had found its way through a slot of the armor, straight into his back.

"Y-you fe-fetchers!" He stammered, losing his rage slowly. "Boethiah… whew… Boethia take you…"

His breathing grew labored. He focused more on trying to stay alive, rather than give empty threats.

"E-er…" Jobasha stared, wide-eyed at the reaver. "Perhaps… Jobasha got carried away."

"We can't worry about that now! We can escape!" Quill-Weave took Jobasha by the claw. The two started out the door, but there was a knock on it just as soon as Jobasha nearly grasped the doorknob.

"Valyn!" A muffled voice said. "Are you doing okay?! You've been in here for a while!"

"E-er…" Looking at the reaver, nearly passed out on the bed, Quill-Weave coughed. "Um… Yes!"

"Quill-Weave!" Jobasha whispered. "What are you doing?"

Quill-Weave's dunmer impression was a little shaky. She had the benefit of having the gravelly voice of an Argonian, but the mishap of being used to the light Cyrodiilic Dunmer accents, rather than the raw voice of Dunmer native to Morrowind.

"Are you alright, Valyn? You sound off…"

"Y-yes! Just found some bad brandy!"

"There's drink in there?!" The other voice sounded excited. "Well, bring it on out! We haven't had a good drink since we had port in Gnisis! Worst Greef ever there, I say…"

Jobasha and Quill-Weave looked at eachother, troubled. Quill-Weave's eyes glanced over to the window. Jobasha tensed when he saw where she was looking at.

"Oh no. Oh no, no, no, no…"

"It's either the window or the reavers!" Quill-Weave whisper-yelled.

"Valyn, are you sure you're alright in there?! We're coming in, just hang in there, whatever's going on!"

Three reavers barged into the room seconds later, using a smoldering piece of mast as a battering ram. "…Valyn? What happened to you?!"

The head reaver ran up to the impaled reaver, stammering. He opened his mouth, as if to explain, and then blacked out.

The yell sounded so muffled, so distant to the submerged beastfolk. That reaver must've been a good captain, as far as reavers go, because he took the injury of his fellow reavers quite well. Quill-Weave watched, cold appraisal of the situation masking her absolute panic.

She was content to stay under the water until the reavers left, but Jobasha wasn't. Jobasha squirmed and wriggled, finally opening his mouth in a scream. Quill-Weave dashed upwards, grabbing Jobasha with her, until they broke the surface of the water, just close to the hull of the ship.

Jobasha breathed heavily, looking outwards at sea rather than the half-burning ship. His breath turned into growing screams as it dawned on him that he was out in the water.

"…Huff… Agh! AGH!" Quill-Weave struggled to hold the Khajiit in her arms, as he was clawing up the side of the boat trying to climb aboard. "Help! We are going to sink!"

"Job- agh! Jobasha! Settle down, they'll hear you!"

Jobasha's clawing slowed down, his yelling coming back to deep breaths. "One… day… One day outside of Vivec, and we are attacked by pirates… And now we are lost in the water!"

"O-okay, settle down…" Quill-Weave coughed. "We're alive. That's good! That's… good…"

"Quill-Weave?"

"…Our stuff is on the boat, isn't it…?"

"Yes."

Quill-Weave sighed. "We can always get new stuff in Blacklight. Take a deep breath."

"What? Oh, no no no n-"

Quill-Weave plunged into the water, the sounds of Jobasha mid-scream cut off by the muffling waters.


"There's more north than here?! How much more north can you bloody go in Skyrim?!"

"I'm afraid directions aren't Candlehearth Hall's business. We're an inn," the innkeeper said. "You're either gonna haf'ta buy something if you're gonna stay."

"Hmph. It's dark anyways. The only thing worse than going farther north than here is going when I can't see." Alessia Ottus saw the inn in Whiterun as a haven now, compared to Candlehearth hall. Honestly, it was a wonder anyone could stand to live in Skyrim. The inside of the room was draftier than a perforated house in Bravil, and the ugly stone walls did no favor either.

After handing the innkeeper 10 septims, she hoped that her night would go undisturbed, the most distractions coming from the bard through the annoyingly echoing halls. Her bed was passable, but she exaggeratedly huddled while scowling at the cold.

"It's all going to be worth it, Alessia…" She muttered to herself as she nodded off to sleep. The bard wasn't too bad, come to think of it. The song was about one of the Nords' superstitions, something about a dragon, but the melody was quite soothing.

Alessia Caro fell fast asleep, unaware that a figure was watching her from outside the foggy window.