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Chapter 18 - Champions: Restoring the Artifacts

Wylandriah entered the armory of Mistveil Keep, looking her usual absent-minded self. "I need a dagger," she told the armorer on duty.

"Anything in particular?" he asked.

"A nice one - something sharp, with a scabbard, not enchanted. Oh, and an ebony sword, if you have one."

The armorer chuckled. "Neither one is a problem, ma'am. Some new experiments?"

Wylandriah nodded, though in truth, she wasn't sure why she did want the weapons. It was an urge she didn't understand. The dagger, perhaps, though she already had a perfectly good eating knife, but a sword she couldn't use and would never carry?

Still, she accepted the ebony dagger and sword, and took them back to her workshop. The door closed behind her and she put the weapons on the counter, then turned to see if someone had followed her in.

Someone? No. But something, yes, and she recognized it. "I thought you'd be larger, Lord." It was a mass of writhing tentacles with a large central eye and numerous smaller ones. But she'd always imagined it as huge, certainly not smaller than a human head.

Its voice was amused. "In a larger place, yes. Your search for knowledge is ... most impressive. You please me."

Wylandriah smiled. "Thank you, Lord. May I ask why you would come to me?"

"Certainly. You are not a formal devotee of mine, but all those who seek knowledge fall within my realm to a greater or lesser degree. I offer you the chance to serve me more directly, even to become my champion."

That was astonishing, and it puzzled her, but ... "Your champion, Lord? To serve you here now, and in Apocrypha later?"

The tentacle-mass gave the impression of nodding. "Precisely, mortal. And as my champion, you will be able to enter Apocrypha during your life as well, by using my Black Books."

"That is incredibly tempting, Lord," Wylandriah said. "What must I do to earn such an honor?"

It seemed to smile. "You have already begun, by obtaining the raw materials you did not already have, the ebony dagger and sword. The skull and unpurposed staff you already had."

Wylandriah nodded. "I believe I understand, my Lord. It's common knowledge the Dragonborn has been obtaining artifacts of several Daedric Princes and making them vanish. I would imagine the affected Princes want to replace their artifacts, and you want me to help."

"Very perceptive," Hermaeus Mora complimented her. "We are banned from manifesting physically, so we have to work through mortals. It is clumsy, but you will learn new spells as you are used to enchant and sanctify the replacements for the stolen artifacts."

"And your artifacts, my Lord?"

"Are the Black Books, which she used but did not steal, and the Oghma Infinium, which she earned honestly and returned to me when she had read it. No, her offense to me was her first insulting refusal to serve me, followed by her refusal, in my own realm, to replace Miraak as my champion when his usefulness to me was over."

Wylandriah could understand that; she didn't like having her own pride offended, and she was no Daedric Prince. She wasn't too thrilled at the idea of being what sounded like being possessed by three Princes, but the temptation of unlimited knowledge in return was irresistible. Still, the prospect was frightening.

"You are right to be apprehensive," Hermaeus Mora said. "Mantling a Daedric Prince, at least those whose artifacts were stolen, is unpleasant for a mortal. But I assure you that you will not be harmed. Those who serve us are rewarded, not the reverse."

"Very well, my Lord." Wylandriah's smile was nervous, but it was a smile nonetheless. "What do I have to do?"

"Simply try not to resist."

When Wylandriah came back to herself, she remembered nothing of what she'd done under the Princes' influence, but she knew she'd done something, because the dagger, sword, and skull-and-staff looked different, and seemed to radiate menace. Hermaeus Mora was still there, so she asked, "What are these?"

"The dagger is Mehrune's Razor, the sword is Mephala's Ebony Blade, and the staff is Vaermina's Skull of Corruption. You did very well, my champion, though for your sanity, I removed all memory except for how to do the spells on all three." A tentacle gestured, and a tome bound in elfskin appeared. "The first part of what you have earned from me. This is the Oghma Infinium. I would recommend, given your interests, that you choose the Path of Sorcery, but that is up to you. When you have read it, it will return to me."

"I understand, my Lord, and thank you for both." Wylandriah smiled. "What next?"

"When you have the opportunity to visit Solstheim, you will be led to the Black Books, which will give you temporary access to Apocrypha. Do not fear the Lurkers and Seekers you will find there; they are my creatures, and bound to serve my champion. They will obey you, as they obeyed Miraak before you."

"Thank you, my Lord - I will. But what am I supposed to do with the artifacts?"

"You? Nothing. They will find their proper wielders as they are bespelled to do."

Which was to kill, but then, that was true of any weapon, enchanted or not, so Wylandriah shrugged.

For some reason she didn't understand - not that she usually understood the reason for anything - Hefid the Deaf followed a pleasant voice out of the Ratway Warrens, carrying a dagger that felt strange, somehow. The voice was kind and soothing, so she followed it, even out of the Warrens and to the surface. For the first time in longer than she could remember, she saw moonlight, and it made her blink. She mumbled her comforting litany as she followed the voice through torch-lit streets. "nkpot. Stone. Bucket. Book. Knife.

"Bucket. Knife. Book. Inkpot. Stone."

It led her to an entrance to the right of the stairs up to Mistveil Keep. She went in, seeing a guard and three prisoners, one of whom attracted her attention, and she smiled. Her new knife wanted one of the prisoners, it did ... but the guard needed to be first, the voice said. So she slit his throat before he could react, a bit surprised that she could move so fast, then she took his keys and went to the cell that held the interesting one. "Yes, unlock it," the voice told her. "That key, yes."

She did as she was told, then killed the interesting one with barely a touch of her blade, and the voice praised her, thanking her for the soul. "Now clean up, then wait. I'll handle the noisy ones."

She hadn't noticed, until the other two got quiet. She found some water and cleaned herself off, then waited patiently, muttering her litany, until the voice urged her to move again. It was dark when she left the jail and went up the Mistveil Keep stairs. At the top, there were two guards, slumped on either side of the doors.

She entered a silent great hall with a couple of more slumped guards, and followed the voice upstairs, past guard barracks, to private sleeping rooms. She fed her blade whatever the voice guided her to. A mature woman, a man, a young woman ... a few others it didn't particularly care about, one of whom made her stomach churn, so she killed him.

Then the kindly voice bade her goodbye, and spoke to another. "Thanks for letting me borrow her, Sheo. But she's your problem again, I'm afraid."

"Problem? Not at all." The new voice seemed to be smiling at her. "You've been in my realm for several years now, Hefid, but you've been in exile. Would you like to come home now?"

"Daddy?" Hefid felt hope, for the first time in ... how long? "I can come home?"

"Of course, my dear. Just use brother Mehrunes' dagger, and I'll welcome you to the Shivering Isles personally."

As soon as Balgruuf heard about the murders in Riften, he sent for Yssha, and took her and Marcurio to his office for a private audience, where he showed them the report he'd gotten. When they'd had a chance to absorb it, he asked, "What do you think?"

"It would seem those murders were done with Mehrunes' Razor," she said, after some study. "Instant kills, all of them, despite most of the wounds being in areas that would not normally be life-threatening. But ... the pattern is not consistent."

"What do you mean?"

"There are survivors," Yssha said. "The only dead are the Black-Briar family, one guard, and a woman who appears to be from the Ratway Warrens. The housecarl and court mage, as well as most of the guards, are unharmed. At the orphanage in Markarth, everyone in or guarding the building was killed."

"Yes, that's true," Balgruuf conceded. "But Riften's in chaos, with its Jarl and all her heirs dead. I'm going to have to appoint a new Jarl as soon as I can find someone suitable. Given your familiarity with the city, do you have any suggestions?"

"Were it not for her attitude toward my Guild, I would strongly recommend Mjoll the Lioness. But to the best of my knowledge, she would gladly wipe us out, despite the good we do."

Marcurio chuckled. "You'd be surprised, then, love. While you were busy with mingling and the wedding, I talked to her and Andreius both. She's still not fond of the Guild, but she's come around to realizing you actually help keep thievery down, and help the Legion garrison."

"Ko vahzen?" That surprised her.

"Truly, indeed." Marcurio smiled. "You do have to give her credit for being both honest and a realist, love."

"Ah." Yssha smiled. "Thank you, beloved." She turned her attention to Balgruuf. "That being the case, I recommend her without reservation."

"She's it, then," Balgruuf said decisively. "Would you mind taking her the news? And ... will you tell her you're Guildmaster?"

"Of course, fahdoni. And ... perhaps. If she pledges to keep it to herself." Yssha sighed. "It is bad enough Stormcrown is known as promiscuous, thanks to the Thalmor. But it should not be widely known that she is also Master of the Thieves Guild."

"A good point. Use your own judgement, but please, try to remain Guildmaster throughout my reign. As I mentioned earlier, it's reassuring to have a Guildmaster I know and trust."

As they left Dragonsreach to rejoin Odahviing, Marcurio said, "You really think it was Mehrune's Razor?"

Yssha sighed heavily. "I am afraid so, given the instant kills from no more than a minor wound. It seems our efforts to remove such artifacts from Mundus were useless. At this point, I would not be surprised if the mace in Calcelmo's museum, the one that was used in the orphanage, was a new version of Molag Bal's."

"Which probably means the Ebony Blade and Skull of Corruption are back in circulation again, too." Marcurio snarled. "Is there nothing permanent we can do to protect people from the evil Princes?"

Yssha had no answer for that, and said so. "But at the moment, it does not matter. We must get to Riften and speak to Mjoll."

Her first stop was the Hall of the Dead, to see if the Jarl's circlet was there. It was, and the priestess, Alessandra, had no hesitation in giving it to her. The next order of business was finding Mjoll, which was more difficult, given the disorder in the streets. She found Legate Fasendil in the Mistveil Keep strategy room.

"It is good to see you again, Legate," Yssha said, "though I must regret the circumstances. I need to find Mjoll the Lioness, if you could ask your people to send her here if she is seen."

Fasendil nodded, calling a runner over. He passed the order along, and she left. "Are you here for any particular reason, Legate?" he asked.

Yssha nodded, showing him the circlet. "High King Balgruuf thought it important to replace the Jarl immediately, to try to restore order and calm. That will be Mjoll, if she accepts. Now, what can you tell me about what happened last night? The message you sent was rather sketchy."

"I know, and I'm working on a fuller version. Not that it'll be much fuller, I'm afraid. It seems everyone who was on duty - or even just awake - in the Keep was unconscious for some time. About an hour, as closely as we can tell. More than long enough for that beggar woman to do what she came for, anyway. She was Hefid the Deaf, from down in the Ratway Warrens, according to Guild-Second Brynjolf."

Yssha nodded. "I have known him since I first visited Riften. It was he, in fact, who pointed Marcurio out to me when I mentioned I was looking for a mercenary to hire."

Fasendil smiled. "That's pretty well known, yes. Then he brought the entire Thieves Guild to your wedding, with you in Guild armor yourself. Seems odd to think of the Dragonborn as a Guild member, though."

The runner returned then, with Mjoll and Aerin following her. "Yes, it does," Mjoll agreed as she joined Yssha, Fasendil, and Marcurio. "Why did you want to see me?"

Yssha shrugged. "First, I joined the Guild because my greats-grandmother, the Divine Crusader, strongly recommended it. You will find the same true of most adventurers from her Clan, purely as a practical matter."

Then she gave Mjoll her full attention. "His Highness, High King Balgruuf, wishes to name you Jarl of the Rift, if you are willing to accept the responsibility."

Mjoll looked stunned. "Me? Why me?"

Yssha smiled. "Remember all those discussions we had about Riften and its corruption?

When Mjoll nodded, Yssha smiled again. "I fear I am to blame. Between those, and learning that you have modified your opinions about getting rid of the Guild, I recommended you when he asked for my opinion."

Mjoll grimaced. "I had no choice, you know. I still dislike the Guild, but ... when they extort protection money now, they actually provide that protection, at least from free-lancers. A couple of months ago, the Pawned Prawn was robbed. Three days later, Bersi had his merchandise back, plus some extra gold, and the robbers were tied up on the steps of Mistveil Keep, in need of healers. That wasn't true under Mercer Frey. I think I could work with the new Guildmaster, but no one will tell me who he is."

"Would you let your name be spread, if you were in this Guildmaster's position? I would not."

Mjoll chuckled. "You have a point, Ysmir. I suppose Brynjolf can keep in touch with him, so that should do. I'd still like to meet him some day, though."

"Who can know what the Divines may will?" Yssha smiled. "So will you accept the position?"

Mjoll hesitated briefly, then nodded.

Yssha stood on tiptoes to put the circlet on Mjoll's head, then smiled. "Corgratulations, Jarl Mjoll. You will have to fly to Whiterun to swear fealty to the High King, but under the circumstances, you should have a week or two to do so."