Chapter 33: Before the Trap Snaps

The night had fallen over Whiterun, the shimmering starry mantle covering the dark skies, its edges glowing in bright colors of the aurora spreading along the horizon. There were a few places from where these colors could be seen despite the torches and lanterns lighting the streets, and Jon was standing in one of them, a watchtower looming just by the Battle-Born residence. He watched the still land, the plains rippled by an occasional bush or rock which ascended into the hill the city of Whiterun was built on. There was one particular place not too far from the watchtower he was occupying that could prove a weak spot if there was to be a battle, a slight bulge in the ground which rose up to almost three quarters of the city walls' height. There were guards constantly observing this place, but the elven menace was expected to come from the other side, where the river passed the city and the soil was fertile and maintained.

Jon leaned against the massive wall made in huge boulders held together by a special kind of mortar which earned itself a befitting nickname. The Nords of Skyrim called it Dragon Saliva, for it was the kind that would resist the fiercest fire and could carry countless dragons without crumbling down beneath them. And so, in spite of all the concern he was burdened with, he still had to chuckle, thinking that Whiterun would not give up without a fight, and it would be a good one, worthy of songs and legends to arise. He patted the grey matter with almost motherly love, watched a firefly pass it in its endless roaming through the dark and turned around, heading to the Drunken Huntsman where Lydia was sure to be waiting for him.

He did not meet anyone on his way, save for a few guards with torches, each of them greeting him with respect. When he entered the Huntsman, a cloud of smoke and the pleasant smell of pumpkin soup and deer stew welcomed him. The inn was livelier than he knew it, a number of refugees seated all around, the stairs and the stone edge of the hearth in the center included. A few tables were spared however, by the order of Elrindir, its Bosmer owner who, despite the hard times, wanted to keep the business running. One of them was currently occupied by Lydia while the other ones remained empty.

Jon's eyes drifted to the beautiful young woman serving dinner to the refugees, with her silver hair tied up in a tight ponytail and a Skyforge steel sword attached to her waist as though she was ready for battle. Olfina Gray-Mane, a woman who never missed an opportunity to show that she was just as capable as any man around, and who had recently adopted the responsibility of tending to the refugees while supervising them. Consequently, she had been running back and forth between the Drunken Huntsman and the Bannered Mare, always ready to help whenever it was needed. Jon raised his hand and waved at her inconspicuously, but she pretended not to see it, as she always did. He sighed and ordered a mug of Honningbrew mead – the Black-Briar version – before making for Lydia's table.

"Lydia," he greeted the housecarl nonchalantly. "So good to see you here!"

"You too, Jon," she said with a smile and nodded to the chair on the opposite side of the table. He sat down and placed his mug on the table, the sound of glaze touching the wood drowned by the voices of the people around. They exchanged a few polite phrases to avoid suspicion, and then Jon leaned over the table to close the distance between the two of them.

"Any news so far?" he asked silently.

"None," the woman replied with a shake of her head. "It has just been a little over two hours. I've been sitting here most of the time, listening to local chitchat, but nothing seemed suspicious, maybe except for one thing. Belethor obviously sides up with the refugees and provides them with all sorts of things for free."

"For free?"

"Exactly."

"That Belethor."

"Yes."

"Well, he certainly doesn't behave like his usual self, that's for sure," Jon stated thoughtfully. "Better keep an eye on him."

"I do suspect that there is some kind of hidden profit behind it," Lydia mused. "Either way, he can't be the only one involved in this. So where do we start?"

"I'm afraid my hands are tied here," he sighed in apology. "I have duties to the court and I'm afraid I would raise suspicion, sneaking around in attempt to get to the root of this. But someone should interrogate the local merchants. If someone holds a clue to this, I believe it's them."

"I guess it's up to me then. Any idea whom I should ask first?"

"Anyone, really. I suppose Ulfberth and Eorlund are above suspicion, but you can try them just in case. Maybe they will have some valuable information. The ones from the central market, though, they seem to know a lot. They're always in the middle of everything, after all."

"And if that fails?"

Jon exhaled deeply and rubbed his temples with his fingers. "A tough question. I guess we'll have to watch out for things to come. The works on the plumbing and the palisade should start tomorrow morning, which means the city will be vulnerable. We should have someone reliable over here as well."

"I think I can cover that for the time being," Lydia offered. "And Vilkas can take care of the construction site. He's sending his men there anyway."

"Good. Then it's decided. I'm usually off duty around noon so let's meet before Jorrvaskr then."

"All right. I'll be going then. You'd rather stay a while and pretend you came to have a drink. But don't get drunk. The risk is too high."

"Nah," Jon waved his hand with a snort, "drinking alone isn't fun at all."

Lydia chuckled and rose from her seat, stretching her arms. Her joints gave out a loud crack which made Jon's hair stand on end, but he reminded himself that, despite being clothed in light grey and gold linen robe, she was still a warmaiden whose bones and muscles were probably harder than the ones of most of the men around here. She left with a slight nod and Jon watched contemplatively as the door closed behind her. Then his gaze drifted to Olfina who had finished distributing the food and was now tending to the hearth, her hands full of kindling and small logs.

"Shall I help you with that, puss?" a sturdy Nord with ginger hair and a thick curly beard called to her affectedly. Jon tensed and squeezed the edge of the table, ready to jump up at the first sign of aggression, but Olfina just smiled and turned to the man.

"I'm good, thank you for asking," she said politely. "But if you insist, you can help Elrindir with the dishes. He's a little short-handed there."

The man grunted disconcertedly, but stood up as his companions encouraged him in a not overly friendly manner, making for the counter where the Bosmer owner of the inn was occupying himself with the dishes. Elrindir smiled at him humorlessly and handed him a towel to dry the clean ones, and the Nord took it with equal amount of kindliness in his eyes. Jon sighed and turned his attention to the unfinished mug of mead which lay on the table. He downed it in an instant, scowling bitterly. The taste was really not that great when he had no one to share it with. He waited for a short while, hypnotizing the warm flame in the hearth, and then left the inn, nodding curtly to both Olfina and Elrindir.

He inhaled deeply when he stepped outside, drawing the fresh air deep into his lungs. He made for his house, hoping to get a good night's sleep this time, but stopped the moment he heard his name being called. He turned around to see Olfina hurrying toward him, her face full of concern.

"Jon," she breathed in an urgent tone. His eyes widened in surprise.

"Olfina. I weren't expecting you to…"

"Oh, Jon," she repeated. "Please, tell me you're not up to something dangerous."

"Why… why do you think that?"

"I'm not blind. I saw how you talked to Lydia. You're both working for my uncle… and I know something is up, I just know it! He's been so anxious recently. And your father… I heard you two had a fight. Are you all right?"

Jon retreated to a nearby torch, purposely driving Olfina closer so he could take a better look at her. She seemed exhausted, with dark circles under her eyes and weary look in her face, her back slightly bent which was not something he was used to seeing. He thought about how much effort it must have taken her to conceal it in front of all those ingratiating men who kept staring at her and making comments about her very feminine appearance which contrasted her demeanor.

"Quite so," he told her softly, "but you don't seem to be all that well yourself. Don't strain yourself too much."

"Everyone is straining themselves these days," she sighed, "and I can't afford to stay behind. Jon, I'm worried about you. Your father, you know… I took the liberty to sneak up on him several times. I must admit he's being very secretive about everything he's doing, but I'm certain that he and Belethor are planning something together. The two of them have been meeting a lot. I suppose it doesn't surprise you that much, but I thought you might want to know."

"I do," he nodded. "Thank you for telling me."

"Please, be careful, Jon," she urged him, putting her hands on his shoulders. "He… your father… he seems… different. I'm worried about what he might do."

"On the bright side, it seems that the two of us won't have to keep this up for much longer," he said in a comforting voice. She laughed bitterly at that.

"It would have been better if we didn't have to concern ourselves with our stupid family matters at all. It's such a disgrace."

"Let's hope it's all over soon," Jon uttered with a trace of resignation in his voice. "In the end, everyone will have to pick a side if we are to end this war."

"True," Olfina concurred with a slight smile. "Hopefully we will all pick the right one."

They stared at each other in silence for a few moments, before Jon spoke, and a touch of loneliness crept its way into his voice. "I must go. Take care of yourself, Olfina."

"You too, Jon. Don't do anything rash."

"I'll try," he said and could not help an impish smile. Olfina frowned and gave him a scolding look.

"Seriously, don't," she pointed sharply. Then her expression softened and she gave him a gentle kiss on the forehead before walking away, back to the Huntsman and the chores that awaited her there. Jon looked after her with a yearning look in his eyes and then turned around helplessly, heading back to the Battle-Born residence. Olfina only reminded him of how much he wanted the war to end, and if there was something he could do for it, he would do it. Then again, despite acting brave and courageous in front of her, great fear burdened his heart like a giant rock, and its cause was probably sleeping in his own house. He took a deep breath and opened the door.

A loud knock on the door woke Lydia up. For once, she had decided to bed down on the wooden panels of the ground floor in Breezehome, next to the crackling fire in the middle of the room, so she would hear when the guard came and let her know it was time. She sat up and rubbed the sleep from her eyes, listening to the silent footsteps outside. She had chosen this particular guard because she trusted him, and he had done his job perfectly, keeping low profile and walking away after five knocks. Just as planned.

She took a few bites of an apple lying on a nearby cupboard before squeezing herself into her ebony armor and attaching Chillrend to her waist. She watched the icy blade for a short time, reminiscing about the times she had spent with her Thane with nostalgia, and then made for the entrance, attaching a small pouch to her waist on the way.

It was still dark outside, and a light veil of clouds had hidden the stars from her sight. The city was as tranquil as before, only the occasional chirp of a lark broke the silence from time to time, announcing the forthcoming sunrise. She crept through the streets silently, heading for the marketplace, and thanked Aislinn in her thoughts, as she had many times before, for the wonderful magical armor which muffled her footsteps and concealed her presence from prying eyes. It was time to test one of the tricks that her Thane had taught her. She pulled a lockpick out of her pouch and quietly approached the entrance to Belethor's house. After making sure that no one was watching her, she inserted it into the keyhole, as well as a thin wooden stake. Carefully, she pushed the lockpick deeper and deeper along the notches until it stabilized, and turned it slowly. A silent click informed her that the door was now unlocked and the road was clear. She disappeared behind it like a ghost and it closed behind her soundlessly.

She groped for the pouch again and took out a tiny candle and a piece of tinder. Lighting her path, she crawled to the counter and to the small room beneath it, searching for any suspicious material she could find. She found several barrels with commonly available ingredients, a box full of ingots, a few pieces of fabric and some other uninteresting articles. Nothing in the accounting book indicated anything unusual, except for significant lack of clients which was understandable at a time like this. Next to the book lay a pile of papers which included a few letters from Eorlund, Ulfberth and Arcadia, and a list of things necessary for the upcoming plumbing construction. Then there was an almost empty diary, and finally the schedule for the next few days. She scanned it quickly and sighed when she did not find anything useful. She stretched out her hand to put the schedule back in its place when a folded corner caught her attention. And there, beneath one page, a piece of paper was carefully glued to it by its edge so it would appear as a single sheet of paper instead of two. She unfolded it and read the note on the other side. It stated:

6th Frostfall, 11 o'clock in the morning, Ysolda's house – Khajiit

Lydia took a deep breath and placed the paper back where it belonged. 6th Frostfall was yesterday, the day when the supplies from the Khajiit caravan had been stolen, and she believed it was no mere coincidence that a while after that, the suspicious Whiterun merchant was meeting with Ysolda to discuss something concerning the Khajiit. But of course, why had it not occurred to her before. Ysolda had always been bragging about her deals with the cat people and how she would one day join their caravans. But to be implicated in the incident that could as well destroy the whole city? That did not sound like Ysolda at all.

Lydia mentally prepared herself to interrogate her new suspect when she heard footsteps on the upper floor. She felt the urge to freeze in place, but resisted it, aware that she must escape as soon as possible. She put out the candlelight and wrapped the candle in a thin layer of leather, placing it back in the pouch, and crept to the front door as fast as she could. She could have escaped through the side door right from the smaller room beneath the counter, but that would mean she would have to leave the main entrance unlocked which would certainly raise suspicion. Thanking her Thane for the armor yet again, she quietly opened the door ajar and sneaked beneath it. Luckily, no guards were present and so she locked the door again and moved away from it without a sound. Then she relaxed her muscles, sat down on the edge of the well at the center of the square and watched as the sun slowly made its way above the eastern horizon, listening to the roosters announcing the new day.

She watched as the streets filled with people busy with preparations for the construction of the palisade and the plumbing. Smiths, merchants and their assistants were carrying materials up to the Skyforge, the biggest forge in Whiterun and probably in all of Skyrim, where they would be turned into pipes, pegs, joints and shaping tools. Strong men were gathered at the square and then sent outside the walls to the construction site. Several women were instructed to prepare their meals and tend to them. Arcadia, the local alchemist, rushed from her shop with two baskets full of potions, herbs and bandages, ready to serve as a healer in case there were casualties.

"Lydia, got a spare moment?" a voice called to her and she turned to face Sigurd, Belethor's assistant. "There is so much to do that I'm rushed off my feet. Would you mind bringing this up to the Skyforge?" He was handing her a pile of papers with various sketches, charts and tables, their edges overflowing with scribbled notes.

"Sure," she nodded and took them from the weary man. "Don't overdo it right from the start. We will need every hand possible if we are to live through this."

Sigurd bowed to her slightly and scurried to the lower parts of the city. Lydia quickly scanned the papers, making sure that no piece of information escaped her, and when she found nothing of use there, she delivered them to Eorlund who was awaiting her impatiently, shaping a piece of steel into a round hammer. She spread them around and weighted them down with boulders at his request, and then made her way back to the square, watching Vilkas issue orders to the Companions as she passed him.

Ysolda's short red hair shone among the countless shades of black, brown and occasional blonde, so Lydia's eyes had no problem spotting her from afar. She hurried to the woman, apologizing here and there to the people who quickly jumped out of her way, not willing to collide with the sturdy armored warmaiden she was. She caught her at Carlotta Valentia's stand, assisting its owner with counting the supplies needed for today's meals.

"Good day to you, ladies," Lydia greeted the two of them politely. "Ysolda, can I have a word with you?"

"I'm a little busy at the moment…"

"So I see. How about I help you with this?"

"That would be much appreciated."

Lydia nodded and looked at the list pinned to one of the wooden pillars supporting the stand's roof. The work was harder than she had expected and the three of them had to triple check all of the prepared ingredients after separating them, count them all again and make certain that they had selected the right ones. Then they had to record everything on a separate sheet of paper and make a list of the remaining supplies. The sun was high up on the sky when they had finished and Lydia exhaled deeply, looking at the prepared baskets of food with exhausted look.

"This is worse than slaying a horde of trolls," she remarked wearily. Her two companions gave an amused laugh.

"So, you wanted to talk to me?" Ysolda asked her then. Lydia gestured to the Breezehome, earning herself a curious look.

"In private if possible."

She led the way and entered the house, holding the door for Ysolda who quickly followed. The red-hair raised her eyebrows at the sleeping bag on the floor and Lydia picked it up immediately, smiling in apology. After a short while, the two of them were seated by the kitchen table, looking at each other through the cloudlets of steam coming from the two cups of tea in their hands.

"This looks so serious," Ysolda commented and a trace of anxiety was apparent in her tone. "What is it, Lydia?"

Lydia took a sip from her cup and inhaled deeply. "I'm going to be frank with you, Ysolda. This may seem a bit sudden, but I need to know what you discussed with Belethor yesterday."

The merchant gave her an alarmed look. "I… what… how do you know?"

"It doesn't matter. Please, tell me the truth."

"No, Lydia, this is a trade secret, I can't divulge it."

"What if I tell you that Whiterun is currently in grave danger and you might be able to save us?"

Ysolda widened her eyes and stared at Lydia disconcertedly. "I… no… what are you talking about?"

Lydia rubbed her temples and tried to think of a way to persuade Ysolda without having to reveal the secret behind Whiterun's supplies. This was a difficult task and she was a warrior, not a diplomat or interrogator. Her Thane seemed to have a way with words, but that did not apply for her humble housecarl who only served as her sword and shield.

"Look," she started tentatively, "in this war, the Khajiit may be the only ones able to roam the land freely. It is essential that we keep track of their movement so we can look for them when it's necessary."

"There is something you're not telling me," Ysolda said with a frown and crossed her arms over her chest. "If you want me to cooperate, you've got to be honest with me. In return, I can assure you that I am more than capable of keeping a secret."

Lydia sighed and stared into her cup, creating ripples with a shake of her hand. "All right," she uttered in resignation. "The Khajiit are providing Whiterun with supplies every now and then. Without them, we would be close to starving to death by now. But the recent ration has been found ravaged and looted and I have no idea what happened to the caravan itself."

Ysolda stared at her and put her elbows on the table for support. "Are you… are you serious?"

"Listen, this is an absolute secret. The order came from Jarl Balgruuf himself and no one knows what – or who – is behind this all. I only know about it because Vignar sent me to investigate."

"I… I know that the Khajiit have a leader of some sort. The caravans are organized and they move based on certain pattern, but I don't know the details."

"That said, this particular caravan arrived three days ahead of the schedule – on the same day that you met with Belethor."

"Oh no," Ysolda breathed. "So… you're suspecting me of some kind of… no, you got it all wrong."

"So will you tell me now?"

"Look, Belethor only had a message from Eimar. He said that the Khajiit were closing down the business temporarily. I had a lot of deals with them and Eimar sometimes acted as a go-between."

"And that's what you were so secretive about?"

"Well… they are trying to conceal their movement, so yes. Ah," Ysolda sighed when Lydia regarded her with a look full of doubt and suspicion, "there is… there was this guy called Ri'saad. He was something like their leader. Their body can function without him, so they probably have some kind of backup, but it takes some time to adapt and not everything goes smoothly when the person in charge dies. It has become their weakness and they certainly don't want the elves to know."

Lydia nodded in slow motion, rubbing her chin pensively. "So you really have no clue about what happened."

"No, I don't," the red-hair replied with an apologetic expression.

"Just to be sure, what do you think of Belethor?"

"Well, we were never friends or anything like that, but he does speak a lot to Mallus Maccius, Eimar's employer, who works down at the meadery, and since we have some common business, we sometimes discuss it. I don't really like Belethor and he sits too much on his own profit, but I think we merchants should stick together."

"Wait. Doesn't Maccius sell mead?"

"He's getting a lot of merchandise from other sources, mostly the Khajiit. Although I don't know what he's doing now that the business is suspended."

"Thank you, Ysolda," Lydia said at last. "You've helped me a lot. Can I have a small request?"

"Go ahead."

"I'm going to pay Mallus Maccius a visit, but I need someone to look after the city. If you see anything suspicious, anything at all that you think might put the Whiterun in danger, can you send for me or Jon Battle-Born?"

"I will," Ysolda promised. "Good luck, Lydia."

The housecarl stood up and smiled. "Good luck to you too."

The two of them left the house, splitting ways at its threshold. Ysolda headed back to the marketplace while Lydia made for the city gate, greeting the guards on her way. She joined the crowd of people hurrying down the hill and to the farms, most of them carrying axes to chop wood or tools for construction like hammers, spanners, tongs, pincers, nails, rivets, hinges and other material. Lydia took a box full of nuts and buckles from one of them and reduced the man's burden until they reached the crossroad ahead. She then turned right and took a short walk across the small bridge over the arm of the White River and down to the meadery. Its sign welcomed her with the inscription stating "Black-Briar Meadery" in neat ornate letters, although Lydia still remembered the times when it had belonged to the Honningbrew family whose name it had also borne. Personally, she had not noticed much difference in the quality and the taste of the local mead ever since the meadery had changed its owner, but she had never been a fan of Maven Black-Briar and could not help regarding the change with slight distaste.

Lydia stepped into the small courtyard and looked around attentively. The area around the meadery was deserted save for two butterflies flapping their wings playfully as they chased each other in a wild game of tag. The entrance door was closed and apparently locked, so she gave three knocks to announce her arrival. There was no response from inside, and so she repeated the process twice before pulling out her lockpick again. After a short while, she was standing at the doorstep and peeking inside, but the place seemed barren and quiet. She entered the house and studied every corner of its first room, the counter, the tables standing by the walls, the barrels full of mead and two cupboards at the back, and felt a slight tickle in her stomach. Something was not right.

To her right opened a vast room filled with barrels and other containers. She jinked past them and ascended the stairs to the upper floor, circling the room along its perimeter to enter the bedroom. She cursed the person who had designed the place, whoever it was, thinking that its occupants would be doomed to die the moment a fire broke out, since the only way to escape would be jumping out of the window. Upon opening the bedroom door, she gasped and all the color retreated from her face.

Mallus Maccius lay by his bed in a pool of his own blood, devoid of life, with empty eyes and his throat cut wide open. Judging by the color of the blood and his skin, he could not have died more than a few hours before she had come.

"Sheogorath's mad eyes and bloody troll heads," Lydia cussed aloud. She quickly scanned the room and entered the one beneath it, only to find it plundered and covered in splinters and shattered glass. All the drawers at the far side of the room were open, and a small casket lay broken on the floor, its contents apparently stolen. Lydia stormed out of the room and jumped down on one of the barrels, not quite bothering with taking the proper way out. She spotted a door to the cellar and entered it quickly, hoping to find at least Mallus's assistant alive.

The cellar was small and filled with even more barrels, and Lydia had to crouch so her head would not hit the ceiling. There was a hidden passage on the opposite side, leading to a long, narrow tunnel, and she took it without the slightest trace of hesitation, only stopping to check if there weren't any traps blocking the way. She encountered a few frostbite spiders and slew them at once, taking them down in a few composed swings of Chillrend.

"Show me some real challenge," she muttered at their corpses as she proceeded further, down and deeper under the surface.

At last, she entered a bigger cave with a few piles of hay gathered along one of its walls. One of them was strangely ruffled, as though something had entered it, and she approached it cautiously, putting the hay away layer by layer. A muffled voice came from inside, shaky and hoarse.

"No, no! Please, don't kill me! I haven't done anything!"

Finally, Lydia's hands took away the last layer and revealed a thin young man with hair of the same color as the hay he was hiding in, plaited in two thin braids, his fringe glued together by sweat and blood. His face and arms were cut at several places and covered in dirt, and he looked at Lydia with wide eyes, his expression frantic with fear.

"No… don't…!"

"Calm down, Eimar," Lydia whispered in a soothing voice. "It's just me, Lydia. The Dragonborn's housecarl."

He blinked at her and exhaled deeply, falling to his knees and covering his face with his hands.

"Nine preserve us," he breathed. "Please, tell me you're here to save me."

"I'll get you out of here," she said softly, squatting down so she could take a better look at him, "but I need to know what happened here."

"I… I really don't know. I was downstairs at the meadery, preparing for the new day. Mallus had told me to get some food ready and deliver it to the construction… we… we had discussed it with Belethor, you know. But then three men just ran into the house. I noticed them before they could spot me and hid, but they went upstairs and… I think they killed Mallus. I just ran away when I had the chance."

"Do you have any idea who they were?"

"They wore the Thieves Guild armor, but I can't believe the Guild would actually do something like this." Eimar finally raised his head "They… oh, I think it doesn't matter anymore if I tell other people about it. Mallus… he had some deals with them. The Khajiit usually served as their middlemen. We traded with them and sometimes did business with Ysolda from the city…"

"The city was supposed to get supplies from the Khajiit yesterday, but they were stolen before we got there. Do you know anything about it?"

"No, I didn't even know that the city was in contact with them. But I guess Olfrid Battle-Born doesn't miss a chance."

"Wait," Lydia frowned. "What does Olfrid Battle-Born have to do with this?"

"Why everything!" Eimar threw up his hands. "He is the Guild's main contact in the city… you mean to tell me you didn't know that despite knowing about the caravans?"

"Oh gods," Lydia gasped. "He's been lying to us all along. Of course nobody knew when Balgruuf had left Whiterun, but I bet the Jarl wasn't expecting this kind of treachery… Quickly," she added with sudden urgency in her voice. "We have to get back to the city. Can you walk?"

"I'm fine, I just have a few scratches from the skeevers and spiders I met here. But there are no weapons I could use…"

"The way out should be clear, but stick close to me just in case."

He nodded and the two of them rose at once, hurrying back to the meadery and out. They hurried along the stream and across the bridge, ignoring the curious glances the newly appointed builders gave them. Lydia knew that time was against them, for Olfrid was bound to find out about her little investigation any minute. The road to the city seemed endless, dragging as the two of them were pacing up the slope which slowed them down mercilessly. The housecarl looked up at the sun and realized it was well past the meeting time with Jon, which did not improve her mood either.

At last, they entered the city and the murmur of the thickening crowd grew louder. They fought their way through the mass of people in the lower part of the city and made for the marketplace. Just before entering it, a voice called to Lydia and she stopped to find its source. Jon was rushing toward her in breathtaking speed, his face pale in the afternoon sun and his expression grave. She frowned and waited.

"Lydia," he panted as he stopped before her, bending down and propping his hands against his upper thighs to gain support. "I was… looking for you. We need to talk."

"Indeed we do. Breezehome?" she asked briefly.

The bard shot a glance at Eimar but Lydia just waved her hand.

"He's okay," she said. "We can trust him."

"Let's get going then."

All three of them darted back toward Aislinn's house. After seating her two guests at the kitchen table in Breezehome, Lydia prepared some tea and joined them.

"So," she began, taking a deep breath, "what's the word, Jon?"

"We're in big trouble," he sighed helplessly, resting his head in his hands.

"Figures. What sort of trouble?"

"I found a letter in my father's room. Its contents are of no importance, really, except one small fact."

"And that is?"

"It's from Jarl Siddgeir and it's from two days ago."

"Siddgeir?" Lydia repeated incredulously. "The jarl of Falkreath?"

"Yes."

Lydia stared into one of the corners and tried to discern the threads of a spider web which was spread over it, contemplating the newly acquired information. Siddgeir, the overly confident and ambitious jarl who was not afraid to sell his own people for the promise of gold and glory. The jarl of the hold which lay in the exact opposite direction from the elven camp she had discovered. For once, she had decided to put aside her manners and relieve her stress directly.

"Oh shit," she said simply.

Sooooo. Uhm. I hope you liked this chapter, because, personally, I think it's one of my best. That said, I really like the Whiterun arc, because I think I thought it up well. Except for one thing that I discovered today and I facepalmed like crazy when I did. The thing is, I made the city feel threatened because they could lose access to water, but then I launched the game and found out that Whiterun was sitting on a stream. Oh darn. So I apologize for this mistake. I might try to reason it out somehow, because the stream is really tiny and it probably wouldn't suffice for a city full of refugees, but it doesn't excuse the fact that it's not even mentioned in the story. Truth be told, I relied on a map that I found on the internet and the stream was not included there. Faiiil!

Moving on. Some of you wrote me some wonderful reviews after last chapter had been published, and I was really surprised to see that none of you were mad at me for my rant at its end. So I am infinitely grateful to you and thank you so much for encouraging me! :3

scrandle: Thank you very much for your review. To be honest, I was thinking about how I could include Runa in the story, but there are so many characters already that I'm afraid that it would just seem like forcefully pushing it, and that's not really what I want. It's enough that I'm trying to include every major location in the story. :D
Badass Khajiit? What are you talking about? Farkhali is the epitome of innocence, after all. O:)

Pietersielie: As always, I am happy to read your reviews. Thank you so much for your kind words, you almost made me cry with joy. It feels great to have such a devoted fan. :)

Twillin: The Altmer is actually pretty badass. You'll see. :D

Jakeice10: Thanks a lot for the awesome review! You don't have to apologize at all, my words were primarily targeted at those who just read the story and don't even follow – basically those invisible readers who just pretend not to exist. Nevertheless, your review made me really happy and I will always be thrilled to hear from you. Thank you so much for the compliment and for your support. :)

As always, many thanks to dart0808 for the beta. :)

So that should be all. The next chapter will be called "Riding the Storm" and Aislinn will finally make an appearance again, so look forward to it. (That's actually the first time that I have thought up a name in advance. :D)

Stay tuned!

Mirwen