Chapter 3

Plots within Plots

Castle Volkihar got quiet these days. Far too quiet. The quiet murmur of vampire scheming and debauchery had been gone for years now. The audience chamber had gone unused and the "human cattle" they used for feeding were released with some heavy spells of forgetfulness. Salazar sat in Harkon's plush lounge chair next to the fireplace, staring into the flames. It had been three days since he'd finally ended the Stormcloak Rebellion. He'd seen Glavor's fat head roll. A message to the others. This is over, it had said, Just try to start it up again.

The others would be here any minute. A motley collection of the leaders of the various factions in Skyrim. The Arch-Mage of the College of Winterhold, the head of the Riften Thieves' Guild, and the Harbinger of the Companions. All of them were united in the interest of destroying the Empire in Cyrodiil. He had been collecting these contacts since he killed Miraak. They were valuable allies in stabilizing Skyrim after the Civil War and very powerful people in their own right.

Serana came into the room and sat in the chair opposite his. She was a tall Nord, but a skinny one, and exceptionally pale. Salazar had gotten used to those odd eyes of hers over the years, but he still remembered breaking open her crypt and getting a shiver up his spine as those dark, glassy eyes peered into his very soul. Her father had those same eyes. Eyes that watched centuries pass as though they were moments. He found himself wondering if she was going to remember him in a hundred, thousand, or ten thousand years. He wondered if he was just going to be a footnote in her long life. A fly she kept in a jar and ogled at for a few weeks before it died.

"The others are here," She said, "They're waiting for you in the private dining area."

"Thank you, Serana." Salazar replied, standing. He made his way through the narrow hallways of the castle and opened the thick oak door to a small room with a round table with three people sitting around it engaging in small talk over wine. The Arch-Mage of the College of Winterhold, Boras Lavitius, was a short dark elf with piercing red eyes and expensive-looking enchanted robes. He was the first to address Salazar. "Ah, General! I came as soon as I got your message." Salazar raised an eyebrow, "You didn't attempt to teleport onto Castle Volkihar's grounds again, did you?"

Boras looked aghast. "Well, of course not! Gods-forsaken wards on this damned castle are more powerful than the ones that protect the College! I've already learned my lesson."

Salazar knew for a fact that was a lie. Boras had a way of looking at the world that was amusing. He saw everything magical as a puzzle to be pieced together, even if the act of piecing it together ended up shredding one or two of his students to ribbons. In fact, Boras had most likely tried to break the wards this morning just so he could have a suitably dramatic entrance.

J'tango cleared his throat. "This one thinks we should get down to business. You said this was urgent." J'tango was the leader of the Thieves' Guild in Riften and a Nightingale. He was tall and muscular for a Khajiit and looked like a tiger that had learned to walk upright.

Salazar grabbed a bottle of wine from the rack on the other side of the room. Vintage from the Third Era. Harkon was many things, but he was no slouch when it came to wine. "I've been invited to the Imperial City for a private audience with the Emperor. We have to accelerate our plans," Horzog Fra Galog, the Orc Harbinger of the Companions, choked on her own wine. "Activate your agents in Cyrodiil. Prepare for every eventuality. You know the contingencies."

J'tango grinned, an odd look on the otherwise intimidating cat. "Oh yes. You need not worry about the Thieves' Guild, I think. We have a foothold in the Imperial City again, finally. J'tango had quite the time attempting to bribe the City Watch, but they will let us do our work unmolested."

Horzog spoke up in her gravelly voice. "Dammit all, Salazar! You could've told us in your letters!" She sighed, "Oblivion's fires. I assume you will have some work for me in the very near future."

"I will, in due time. For now, stand by and expect communication," Salazar said, "And letters couldn't be trusted for these kinds of things. The Thalmor in Skyrim already hate me because I'm barring them from prosecuting Talos worshippers. The last thing we want is for them to find our correspondence and get their big noses into it."

Horzog nodded. She wasn't stupid, but she had the mind of a soldier with all the advantages and disadvantages that came with it. She followed orders, but had little initiative of her own.

Salazar opened the bottle of wine, pouring himself a glass before finally taking my seat. "What of the Synod, Boras?" Salazar said taking a sip of the wine. As usual, it was exquisite.

Boras scowled. "They're too comfortable. They refuse to see the truth about the Empire. It will take... drastic action to get them on our side."

Of course. Salazar had figured this would be the outcome, but he still wasn't pleased that the Synod had refused. One of the many disadvantages of the Empire lacking a unified mage's guild was the infighting among rival mage groups. Boras could unite them, given enough time, but Salazar wasn't entirely sure if he had that time anymore. The Synod was probably the worst of all of the disparate mage groups. Wizards in the business for political power and wealth were not to be trusted. Even those Telvanni bastards could be trusted, with their ideals keeping them in check. Synod mages would probably sell out their own mothers if it got them a higher station in their hierarchy. That meant more assassinations, even though his best were already stretched thin as it was.

"I'll take care of it, Boras. What of the Psijics?"

Boras scowled even further, throwing his hands up in the air. "Bah! Trying to contact them is like trying to grab smoke! Although, what my contact said when we last met still stands: the Psijics have no love for the Dominion. At the very least, we can count on their aid if the Dominion invades."

"These monks... they do not seem like the reliable sort to J'tango," J'tango said, "They seem the type to just sit back and watch, yes?"

"Indeed," Boras said, "They only get involved if something is going incredibly wrong in the magical world." Boras leaned forward, his expression darkening, "They seem incredibly interested in whatever the Dominion has planned. That simply cannot bode well. They're up to something down in Summerset and if they pull it off, it will have dire consequences."

There was a silence. Boras had explained this to Salazar already, but he hadn't said it in front of the entire group yet.

"Do we have an idea as to what they are planning to do?" Horzog said. Always straightforward.

"No. I have a few hypotheses, though, and none of them bode well." Boras said, pouring another glass of wine and taking a long drink.

J'tango fiddled with his whiskers, "This one will try to put out feelers. Contacts are sparse in the Dominion because of the recent purges, but Khajiit will pull what strings he has."

Salazar had hoped he'd say that. "I've been monitoring the situation in Summerset and Valenwood for some time. Even my double agents in the Thalmor have no idea what they're doing, but they know it's big. Apparently, a lot of their top wizards have been transferred to Alinor."

There was a sound of rock scraping on metal. Everyone looked up to see Horzog sharpening the sharp point of her warhammer with a whetstone. She seemed focused on the task. "Go on, guys. I'm just here to hit things and get paid for it. All this talk of spying and magic is making me queasy."

J'tango cleared his throat, speaking over the scraping, "Well, it would not hurt to have a little extra information on the Dominion. Besides, your realm is double agents and knives in the dark. Mine is with the beggars and servants. Those types overhear things you would not expect. We will cover more ground if we do this, yes?"

Point. Salazar nodded, drinking his wine.

The topics of conversation waned to more mundane topics. J'tango apparently had quite the score a while back with the house of Clan Shatter-Shield, having found a chest of gold and jewels under the house. Horzog told a story of how she defeated three frost trolls by herself; an obviously exaggerated story, to be sure, but an entertaining one nonetheless. As the wine began to disappear, even severe Boras chuckled at J'tango's story about the time he first tried skooma. It struck Salazar yet again how much he liked all of them. He had met these people four years ago expecting only shady business dealings and back alley meetups. Instead, they had become good friends, despite how different they all were. He smiled as he drank and listened to Horzog describe in great, agonizing detail how she cut the balls off a man in the middle of battle.

Salazar never really had friends before he came to Skyrim. The life he lived before prevented that. He thought of the last person he had called friend before Skyrim. Blood on the wooden floor. The senior Shadowscale sneering down at Salazar. Tears. A dagger in his hand painted crimson. The beating that followed. The numbness. He drained another glass of wine without even noticing it. What would you think of me now, Aful-shei? He thought. He would call him a murderer and a pushover. Some hound for other men to sick on their enemies. Not anymore, Shei. He thought, giving a half-hearted chuckle to some quip J'tango had made about Boras' greying hairs, I kill so shit like that will never happen to another person again. I won't even kill for the Night Mother if it goes against my interests. Never again will I be some bastard's lap dog.

A knock came at the door, shocking Salazar out of his revery. Salazar excused himself and opened the door to see open space. He was confused for a minute before he heard a loud sigh below him. He looked down to see Babette standing there, hands on her hips, looking exasperated. "I'm not that small, Listener," She scrunched up her nose, "You've been drinking, haven't you?"

"Not that much Babette. Just a glass or two." Salazar replied.

She looked him up and down with a disapproving look, "Right. Anyway, I've come to say our assassins are in position. They await further orders."

Salazar's sour mood lightened a little. A thorn in his side was about to be removed. Finally.

"Excellent work, Babette. Treat yourself to some of Serana's blood stores." She beamed at that.

"Ah, thank you Listener! The vampires of Castle Volkihar always had such discerning taste." It disturbed Salazar to see how happy she was at the prospect. That look on any other girl Babette's size would've indicated she'd been allowed an extra sweet at the general store.

"Meet me outside once you're done. We have a loose end to tie up."