Chapter 17: For Your Hands Only

Castorius burped. The sour aftertaste of last night came up with it, and threatened to bring along a mouthful of the ale and mead he'd been all but forced to ingest. Had he had some of their wine too? The little throbbing in the back of his head seemed to testify to this.

All in all, the whole evening had been a low he'd not hit in a good, long while. Perhaps ever.

Sighing, trying in vain to breathe out all of the foul fumes mulling his insides, he eyed the Solitude docks. He was leaning on the railing at the top part of the dock complex where you could get a good view of the scene.

Around him people whipped past right and left, busy as beavers. It was probably just minutes before ten A.M., and the place was bustling with action, with the last of the cargo being loaded onto the waiting ships. By noon, new shipments would be coming in, so it was about time to start getting the old ones going. People scurried back and forth, yelling, and carrying, and pushing, and hauling, and Castorius—not the world's hardest working man by his own admission—was getting out of breath just by looking at it. And probably most of these people had had more to drink last night than he had!

Solitude was about as peculiarly planned of a city as they came. Built largely on top of a massive arc of stone stretching over the channel where the Karth River flowed into the Sea of Ghosts, it was definitely not something you could have built in an area prone to earthquakes. It did make an undeniably imposing sight when first sailing underneath it, arriving at the harbor.

The day was overcast. A mild but chill wind flapped lazily at the flags and pennons on the ship's masts and the loose ends of their hoisted sails. There was a continuous snapping sound from the ropes beating against the masts, accompanied by the clinking of ship bells.

The wind might have felt refreshing blowing in his face, ruffling his overgrown whiskers, if it hadn't been for the strong odor of ocean it carried. It was a bit like spoiled fish, Castorius thought, and not something his unsteady stomach was greeting happily. The modest bobbing of the ships sitting at the peer wasn't really much doing it for him, either. He hadn't had anything to eat, and, despite his growing hunger, wasn't quite feeling like it yet.

He'd had an unpleasant awakening that morning. To say the least. It had taken him several disoriented minutes to figure out where he even was. Then he'd remembered—still at the Inn, alone in the room he'd rented for the night. He'd had way more to drink than he'd intended to, and way more than he'd ever wanted to. Despite hardly being falling-down drunk the way most of the other customers had been, he'd still needed to get to bed as soon as possible.

Luckily, he'd finally been able to convince his companion of this, and to let him go. The companion in question had been in that exact falling-down condition, probably worse than anyone else there, yet, like by some supernatural power, managed to stay on his feet. In fact, Sam—

Sam? No, not Sam. Sanguine. A real, living and breathing Daedric Prince.

Castorius had to shake his head just remembering it now. Had it really happened? All he had to do was to put his hand in his satchel, to feel the immense jewel therein, to convince himself that it had all been real. He'd personally talked with—drunk with—an entity he a mere twenty-four hours before might have written off as nothing more than superstitious mumbo-jumbo for the gullible.

And he was going to do the creature a favor?

"Good morning, friend. Enjoying the view?"

Castorius started. The speaker was Radd the Adventurer, who had suddenly appeared beside him. He rested his hands on the railing, closed his eyes, and took a deep breath with an enchanted expression on his face.

He exhaled. "Ah! I love the sea air, don't you?"

"Mmm," muttered Castorius.

Radd turned his perpetually satisfied mug to Castorius, and said, "You have a bit of a grouchy way about you, you know? Anybody ever tell you that?"

Castorius was just about to share with this smirking buffoon his idea of a good place the man could place his characterizations, when Roggie showed up behind them.

"Well, well," he said. "Nice to see associates show up in time! Having a bit of a heart-to-heart before the job?"

Castorius, not taking his eyes off the oblivious simpleton, mumbled, "Something like that."

"Good, good. Well, I hope you're well rested, for—" Roggie took a look at Castorius' attire, put on an amused frown. "What are you wearing?"

Right. That.

It had been a close call that Castorius, in a hurry as he was, had almost showed up wearing a Stormcloack outfit. That would obviously have drawn unsolicited attention. So, it having been too late to go back to the Stormcloak camp to fetch his own clothes, he'd had to purchase some from the Inn.

What he was wearing now could be pigeonholed as "tavern clothes", which consisted of a brown vest with golden yellow trims on top of a green tunic, green breeches down to his knees, and a pair of brown slippers. It was not the most dignified costume for someone used to wearing military uniforms for the good part of his life.

"It's . . . nothing," he replied.

Roggie shrugged."Oh well, it hardly matters. You're going to have to change soon anyway."

Sounds promising. "Mmm."

"And what about me?" asked Radd the Adventurer.

"You are fine as you are," Roggie told him, and the damn fool looked to take it as some sort of compliment.

Though, Castorius reflected, being told his breath stank like he ate a bag of shit for breakfast would have likely had the same effect.

"Shall we get this over with?" he huffed.

"Aren't we up on the antsy foot—" Roggie started. He took a couple sniffs at Castorius, and scrunched up his nose. "Have you been drinking?"

Oh, of course! "It's a long, and deeply unconvincing story."

Roggie regarded him for a few seconds, a somewhat incredulous look in his narrowed eyes, then grunted softly. "I'm sure it is." he said.

He didn't, however, press it, which Castorius was very thankful for, as he honestly had no idea what lie he would have come up with at this point.

Castorius leaned over the railing, swept his hand over the view of the ships waiting to depart. "So, which one are we taking?"

Roggie pointed at one farther away, a large, heavy one sitting right under the stone arch.

An Imperial war ship. Uh huh. "That figures."

"Doesn't it?" replied Roggie. "Captain Malaney scarcely seemed like a man in need of a fishing boat. Plus, from where I sat it looked like he had the grub part of the operation down pretty good."

"Right."

Radd the Adventurer slapped his hands together. "Sounds good! What's the plan?"

Roggie waved at them to follow. "Come on. There's some people we need to meet up with."

They trailed him up the stairs, and onto a steeply arched stone bridge which ran over the entrance to the East Empire Trading Company's warehouse. Two people awaited them up there. They were leaning on the railing with such purported non-suspiciousness, Castorius wondered if he'd ever lain his eyes on a more suspicious sight. They were dressed in gray robes, heads hidden within cowls, which certainly did not help the impression.

Roggie wasn't exactly playing the subterfuge, either. He raised his hand in a blithe wave. "Won't you look at this! Everyone where they're supposed to be, when they're supposed to be. Is this a good omen, or what?"

Castorius couldn't help cringing. Yes, just go begging for trouble, why don't you?

The two people took down their hoods. The other one was a rather nondescript Nord female with close-cropped gray-brown hair, but the other one, a tall male, caught Castorius' attention. He was Argonian, which in itself should not have been a surprise. All but shunned by mainstream Nord civilization, the reptilian people were often forced to make their living on the fringes of society. So piracy certainly seemed a logical solution.

The reason why Castorius was initially taken aback upon seeing the Argonian was that he only now put together two and two. This must have been that Jaree-Ra fellow Sam . . . Sanguine had mentioned. But of course—it was a textbook example of an Argonian name, he'd simply not given the matter any reflection.

But . . . he got intimate with the sister of this . . . lizard?

On the other hand, the entity Castorius had taken for Sam, an obnoxious loud mouth, was in fact not human at all. So he supposed it made sense in the end. Still, Castorius could not help but feel a touch off-put by the image.

"I'm always on time, Roggvir," the Argonian hissed. With his kind it was always a bit challenging to decipher if they were mad at you or simply stating a fact.

"I know you are, Jaree-Ra" said Roggie with an air of joviality, confirming Castorius' guess. "That doesn't mean I can't express my contentment, now does it?"

"You do as you wish," Jaree-Ra replied with no evident investment in the matter. "To the heart of the matter: who is it you've brought with you today?" He gave Castorius and Radd a sweep of a cold eye.

"This here is Radd."

"Well met," the blond Nord said.

"Yes," replied the Argonian. "And the other?"

"This," Roggie said, clapping a hand over Castorius' shoulder. "is none other than Janus Castorius. He will be our, er, bait for tonight."

A what, now?

"Yes," said the Argonian slowly. Either something like a smile appeared on his discerning features, or then he was trying to look intimidating. Maybe both. "Yes, I can see that."

Castorius opened his mouth, but Roggie was quicker. He gestured toward the figure behind Jaree-Ra, saying, "And I believe this to be the main player for tonight's show?"

The woman made no gesture to respond in any way, and Jaree-Ra answered for her. "She is. There will be no uncertainties on our part." His eyes flicked to Castorius. "As long as you people don't fail to perform."

Roggie chuckled. "Oh, no fear of that! Right, Castor?"

Castorius grunted.

Jaree-Ra nodded curtly. Then his green serpentine eyes narrowed. "And the payment?"

Roggie produced a large bag from his satchel. "Half now, half later. As usual."

"As usual," replied the Argonian, snatching the pouch.

"Alright," Castorius said finally. "Is someone finally going to explain this to me, or what? What are we doing here?"

Roggie shared a brief look with Jaree-Ra. They both seemed somewhat entertained, and Castorius felt his blood surge. If there's something he hated, it was to be played for a fool. And that had been going on for a good day and a half now. "What is it?" he demanded.

Jaree-Ra pointed his hand towards the sturdy ship waiting at the peer behind them. "This here beauty is Alessia's Trial. One of the finest battleships in his Imperial Navy to sail all the way to the north."

Castorius nodded. "The one we're going to steal." To say it out loud did not make it feel any more likely.

"Precisely," replied the Argonian, with enough confidence to seem it was only a matter of formality,

"And you, my friend, have a key role in all this." Roggie said.

"I see. It's up to me to overthrow the entire crew, I take it?"

Roggie grinned. "After a fashion."

Castorius rolled his eyes, and sighed. "Out with it, already!"

"The ship is commanded by one Captain Caro," Jaree-Ra said. "A harsh and unrelenting character, or so they say."

"Indeed," Roggie chimed in. "Though we have it by reliable sources, our good Captain has one weakness—"

"What is this, a children's tale now?" Castorius said.

Roggie ignored him. "And that weakness is that he has a soft spot for young, strapping lads. You're youngish, so should suffice. You'll just—"

"Hey, whoa!" Castorius interrupted, throwing up his hands. "Just whoa! I'm sure this Captain Caro is a right swell gentleman, but you know I don't swing that way! He can—"

"It's a she, Castorius."

"Oh." Well, that might change things a little. "Is she, uh . . .?"

Roggie shook his head. "No, 'fraid not. A bit older lass, in fact, and perhaps indeed a bit rough on the edges. But I hear what she may lack in salience, she makes well up in skill and vigor!"

"I see," intoned Castorius. I can't believe my ears! he thought. But the truth was, in the end he wasn't the least bit surprised. After all, what else could Roggie have wanted him for? Indeed, what else was he good for?

But what he actually almost couldn't believe was that he himself was seriously considering it. Why not? He'd come this far, pretty much knowing it wasn't going to be anything good, but at least with something like this he felt competent. Not to mention that if they were right about this captain, and she was someone who would fall for him—after all, not many wouldn't—then this might actually turn out to be the easiest mission he'd yet been given. And the reward just might be better than anything so far. Much better!

"I can see you have a few qualms about this," commented Radd the Adventurer at his side, smirking as usual. Castorius contemplated for a split second pushing the man over the railing, but figured they might still need him. Though for what, he could not even begin to guess.

Castorius gave both Roggie and Jaree-Ra a level look. "I'm no harlot," he said. He held a serious pause. There was a suggestion of a frown on the Argonian's face, as far as Castorius could tell. He then breathed out a long, grave breath, just a touch exaggerated. "But I am a man of my word. I said I'd help where I can, and I will." He ground his teeth seeing Roggie's grin. "I will do this."

"I knew you would, Castor," said Roggie. "I wouldn't have brought you otherwise."

You, what, knew me for a whore? How very flattering! "I see."

"Might it have made things easier to have briefed him beforehand, Roggvir," Jaree-Ra said. He had a point, of course, but Castorius could see now how Roggie had played his cards just right. He truly was a clever bastard! Castorius actually felt something akin to envy.

"In other circumstances, yes," Roggie replied. "But now's as good a time as any. At least this way he'll have less time to start balking."

"So what do I actually do?" Castorius asked.

Roggie arched a brow. "Well, now, I didn't think you needed my advice in that!"

"What I mean—"

"I jest! I know what you mean."

Castorius did not feel like so much as cracking a smile.

"Here's the plan." Roggie fished something out of his pocket. "You go to her, get her to go to bed with you. And, here's the tricky part: you have to stall her. Make it last."

"Uh huh. And for how long?"

"That would be," Roggie said, looking like he was counting. "At least until six P. M"

"Starting from?"

"As soon as you can. She's doing paperwork in her cabin as we speak."

"For over six hours! Divines, Roggie. What do you take me for?"

Roggie chuckled. "Relax. She will likely have to attend to her duties in the meanwhile. Just make yourself comfortable, show her some of that famed Janus Castorius charm. Make it worth her while. Then, come evening, as soon as you can, give her this." He produced the small, red vial he'd taken out of his pocket.

"What is it?"

"A powerful potion. It will knock her right out, and keep her out. Just find a way to give it to her; slip it into her drink, drop some on the tip of your prick—whatever you can think of."

"Very classy, Roggie."

"When you're done, we will be waiting. Just open the window to her cabin, and give us a sign."

"What will happen then?"

"Then," said Jaree-Ra "your job will be done, and my people will take over."

"I see. As simple as that, huh?"

"As simple as that," confirmed Roggie genially.

What could go wrong! "So, what, I just march right into her cabin and get down to it?"

"You'll need a cover-up, of course. Initially. I have that covered. In fact, if you're ready, we can go right on and have you changed."

Castorius frowned. "Changed? Into what?"

Roggie smiled. "One more surprise?"

Should have known, I suppose.

Some minutes since they'd left the Blackbloods, and, thankfully, Radd the Adventurer with them, Castorius stepped out of the watchtower in front of which he'd met Sam Guevenne. When Roggie got a look at him, he clearly had to suppress a smirk.

Castorius regarded him with hands on his hips. "Well?" he demanded. "See anything you like?"

"Oh, it's great," Roggie said. "Suits you perfectly!"

"Uh huh."

To be perfectly honest, the outfit in itself was actually an improvement on the attire he'd been wearing earlier. It was just your basic farm clothes, brown tunic and pants, plus a pair of leather boots. Only the green cap covering his head made him feel a bit silly. And the fact he was supposed to pass for a courier—generally not the sort of occupation a man his age would have. It was a young man's gig: running to and fro across the land, delivering personal notes, inheritance letters, adds for new businesses, what have you.

And now, apparently, classified military orders.

Who's going to believe that?

Roggie reviewed the outfit, looked Castorius up and down, and nodded. "Yes, perfect. Takes at least ten years off of you." He snorted softly.

Castorius rolled his eyes. "Yes. We'll just see if anyone is foolish enough to buy into your hare-brained scheme."

"Oh, just worry about your own part, old friend. 'Cause that's really what it'll all be . . . hanging upon, if you will."

Castorius shook his head. "Alright. Let's get to it, then."

"After you," said Roggie.

They walked back down towards the docks. As they arrived at the bridge, Roggie came to a halt. "You're going to take it from here, lover-boy," he said. "I don't want to risk being seen with you, and raising any unwanted questions."

Castorius nodded. "Fair enough. Think I've got it" Oh, you do, do you?

"Just remember the lines we went over. Don't try go and try to improvise unnecessarily, lest you accidentally say something stupid."

"The trust," said Castorius, pressing his palm on his chest. "It's really touching."

Roggie shook his finger at him. "You save those touches, now!" He gave a laugh, and started walking off. "See you on the other side, friend!" he called over his shoulder.

"I'll see you in Oblivion," Castorius muttered after the Nord. Though, recalling his dealings with a Daedra Prince just last evening, he quickly drew back his words.

Upon crossing the bridge, he found the others right where he'd left them. Castorius avoided meeting anyone's eye, though as far as he could see, only Radd was looking his way. He would not get the satisfaction. Passing Jaree-Ra, Castorius briefly thought about how he'd still have to deal with the unbecoming Argonian, and did not much revel in the thought.

The ship was waiting for him underneath the massive stone arch carrying Solitude. With the heavy shadow of the city cast upon it, complete with its own imposing size seen up close, made the vessel seem about as unappealing a destination as one could imagine. A floating death-trap. It was similar, though much larger, to the boat Castorius had arrived at Skyrim on. They'd had to sail for close to seven nauseating days, all around Black Marsh and Morrowind, to get there. Just thinking about it, he was not looking forward to returning home.

Perhaps he wouldn't need to.

Castorius pushed aside the discomfiture the sight of the ship was giving him, and took a deep breath. This is what I do best.

Two imperial guards stood guard at the bottom of the gangplank. They bristled upon Castorius' approach. As he sought to pass, one of them stepped up to cut off his way. "Halt! This is a restricted area; imperial personnel only. State your business!"

Castoirus assumed an innocent smile. "Oh, excuse me. I have an important message to deliver." He pretended to squint at a piece of paper. "For one . . . Captain Cara."

"Caro," the guard corrected, and stuck out his hand. "Hand it over here, and we'll make sure it gets to her."

Castorius shook his head. "Sorry, can't do that," he said. "For her hands only."

The guard frowned, regarded Castorius with his eyes narrowed. "Aren't you a little old to be a messenger-boy?"

Castorius feigned indignation. "I'll have you know that I'm twenty-one years old!"

The guard looked him up and down. "Yes," he muttered. "Yes, now that I look at you, I see I was led astray by your worn-out aspect. I see now you're actually quite callow."

Castorius swallowed his indignation, genuine this time.

The guard stepped out of his way. "Alright, get on with it then. Cosma! Show the boy to Captain's cabin."

A young soldier waiting at the door waved at Castorius impatiently, routinely patted him down for any weapons, and then herded him forwards, deeper into the ship's confines.

After a few turns in the narrow passageways, and up a couple flights of stairs, they arrived at a large oaken door. The soldier gave the door his fist. "Captain! A courier here for you!"

After a second or two, a gruff female voice barked an answer. "Door's open. Let him in!"

The soldier opened the door, and Castorius stepped in. A female figure in an Imperial navy uniform stood hunched over a desk full of papers, her back turned toward the door. She waved a hand over her shoulder, said, "you're dismissed," in a somewhat distracted tone.

The soldier's heels clicked together. "Yes, Madam!"

"Close the door behind you."

"Ma'am."

The door slamming shut behind him, Castorius swallowed. The Captain remained immersed in her papers, and did nothing to acknowledge him. As the uncomfortable silence threatened to stretch, Castorius could feel his gall starting to wane, leaving in its place a sense of trepidation. What was he doing? This is madness!

He knew he had to do something before his mind started balking any worse, so he cleared his throat. "Um, madam?"

The Captain's head shot up, as if she'd forgotten there was someone else in the room with her. She looked over her shoulder, squinted at Castorius. "Yes, of course. Pardon me."

As she strode by Castorius, he was instantly taken by the woman's imposing presence. Strikingly tall, almost on level with him, and with a strong build and a respectable posture, it was easy to see how she'd ended up in her position. And while she likely had not fit the definition of "pretty" even in the days of her youth, the strong jaw and prominent nose, complete with the intense gray-blue eyes, inexorably brought the word "handsome" to mind.

It took a while for Castorius to correctly read the expectant frown on the woman's face as she regarded him, holding out her hand. "Oh, of course," he stirred. "Sorry." He fumbled for the piece of paper in his satchel, a letter penned by Roggie but signed—supposedly—by one General Mercius.

As he handed it over, he found his hand shaking.

The Captain did not appear to take notice of his nervousness. She hurriedly broke the seal, and frowned over the letter. She walked slowly back to her desk, seeming to forget all about the messenger's presence.

So, what now? Castorius thought, as he watched Caro read the letter. She looked perplexed. Castorius had not idea as to the content of it, but it seemed as if Roggie had slipped some confounding prose therein.

"What?" the Captain muttered at the paper.

Castorius' resolve wavered. It was now or never. He didn't know what the proper course of action was, so he decided to play it by ear. He swiftly undid the buckle of his belt, the laces of his tunic, and tore the undershirt off his back, let them all drop at his feet.

He was just in the process of kicking off his boots, when the Captain turned to him. "Who gave you this—" She trailed off, blinked at the sight of Castorius there, butt-naked as he was. "What . . . oh."

Castorius hesitated, feeling a bit like a schoolboy caught playing with himself. He assumed a smile groping for playful but which he knew for uncertain. He fanned out his arms. "A special delivery?"

"Oh?" replied Captain Caro. Then the perplexed crease of her forehead smoothened—like the full significance of the spectacle in front her eyes just struck home. "Oh." She reached behind her, trying to get the letter on the desk. She missed it by inches, and the paper went wafting down onto the floor. She started to walk slowly towards Castorius.

With every step—each taking about an hour in Castorius' mind—the expression on Caro's face traded more and more of its uncertainty for intrigue. A playful glint lit in her eyes previously so severe. She even looked to shed some of her years as she drew near.

And, to be completely honest, the nervousness within Castorius was also giving way to something else, like . . . excitement, maybe?

Captain Caro stopped in front of him, a woman at least a good decade his senior. Castorius was still smiling, and it was starting to feel more genuine by the minute. Caro smiled back somewhat shyly. Slowly she reached her hand at him. Ever so slightly, she caressed the few hairs that grew on his chest, then started to follow the faint trail of it leading down to his bellybutton. As her hand traveled south, his breath picked up pace—though prompted by what exact emotion, he could not surely tell.

The light in the Captain's eyes got brighter, and the heat in their gaze warmer as her hand continued on its way. It brushed at the golden bush of Castorius' pubes, then took a gentle hold on LittleCastorius, gave it a caress.

The skin of her hand was perhaps a bit rough, but—maybe at least partly due to his alcohol-induced heightened sensitivity—he certainly did respond.

He caught his breath.

Captain Caro, tightening her hold, smiled. She reached with her other hand, locked the door, and started to tenderly but determinedly tow Castorius after her.

"Well, come on then, big boy," she cooed. "Let's see what you can do."