Chapter 45

Loyalties

The journey back to Sancre Tor was deathly silent. No one wanted to consider the likely fate of Lipsand Tarn, especially those who had seen firsthand the damage that Pelinal's madness could cause. Of course, it wasn't as though anyone in the army felt any pity for the traitorous Ayleids, and there was a certain satisfaction in the knowledge that their fallen comrades were being avenged. However, those that knew the horrors of Pelinal's rampages had no desire to celebrate, and those that did not were at least wise enough to remain silent.

Telepe, for his part, stared at the road, avoiding eye contact with everyone else. His stomach was turning with nausea as guilt ate at his insides. He had failed as an emissary. His role was to negotiate, to reach peaceful, equitable solutions, yet when the princess had smugly informed him of her betrayal, he had let his fury overtake him. He had been the one who had encouraged Pelinal to sack Lipsand Tarn. Of course, their traitorous actions could not go unpunished, and he suspected that if he had let Edanu make the decision, he would have sacked the city anyways. Yet it was not Edanu who had loosed Pelinal on the city. It was him.

Telepe was already fearing the consequences of his decision. The other kingdoms would inevitably hear that Lipsand Tarn had been razed, and while some might agree that it was a just response to a city of traitors that had broken an alliance, their enemies would undoubtedly seize upon it and use it as propaganda. They would claim that it was a stark example of human brutality and savagery, conveniently omitting the fact that it was in retaliation for Lipsand Tarn's treason. The massacre would be used to rally neutral kingdoms to Umaril's cause, and Telepe had little doubt that some might indeed forge an alliance with the White-Gold City, out of fear of the human horde descending upon them. Telepe knew that if even one kingdom allied with Umaril, he was to blame.

He ceaselessly berated himself like this for hours, only stopping when Sancre Tor finally came into view, just as the twin moons were rising to their zenith in the night sky. Relief at enjoying some measure of safety finally overrode his guilt, and an exhausted smile spread across his face. As they trudged across the rocky plain towards the city, Telepe noticed that most of the bodies had been removed, save for a few corpses were still being carried off by Nedic and Nordic laborers to be cremated. The ashes of the men he expected to be scattered solemnly and with honor, but he wouldn't be surprised if the Ayleids' were unceremoniously cast to the wind and forgotten.

The gates to the city swung open for them as they approached, and Edanu led the way into the safety of the walls. There was no cheering crowd, no fanfare, as they entered the city. In hindsight, Telepe realized that was to be expected. It was the middle of the night, and most of the city was already asleep. Even those who were still awake were likely watching over friends and family members that had been injured, or grieving those that had been lost. What's more, the citizens probably did not expect the army to return until morning. Sieges were usually a lengthy affair, and even a direct assault on the walls would usually last at least a few hours. It was little wonder their arrival was unexpected.

Telepe slowly dismounted from Emero, wincing at the pain in his side. Tari immediately swept up to him and put her hands on his chest to steady him.

"Easy. It's been a long day," she murmured to him, tilting his chin down to make him look at her. "You need to rest."

Telepe hissed softly through his teeth as he straightened himself up, then smiled weakly down at her. "Not… not yet," he said. When Tari glared at him, he added, "Just allow me to collect any messages-"

"No. The city has not burned in your absence, has it? Any messages that have been sent can wait until morning," Tari said firmly. "If you refuse to sleep, I swear to Kyne that I'll summon every guard in this city and order them to drag you to your room if I must."

Telepe stared at her for a moment, considering whether she was serious or not. When she narrowed her eyes, he abruptly decided that he didn't want to test her ire. Meekly, he inclined his head, then held his hand out to her. "Would you care to join me?"

Tari stared at his hand for a moment, then narrowed her eyes at him suspiciously. "Very well. But we are sleeping," she warned him.

"Of course we are," Telepe replied airily, a sly grin spreading across his lips as he pulled her gently with him.

"No, do not smile like that…!" Tari protested, fuming as Telepe chuckled to himself and guided her down the hallway to their shared room.

The next morning, Telepe woke feeling refreshed. While he had suffered nightmares through the early part of the evening, Tari's comforting presence had helped a great deal, and he had eventually been able to drift off into a more peaceful slumber. He exhaled slowly, his breath misting slightly in the cool air, but he found that he didn't mind as much as he usually did, though he did pull the sleeping furs higher over his bare chest. There was something pleasant about being able to rise whenever he chose, rather than being forced to awaken when duty demanded it. He was so used to rousing himself to the sound of a war horn or an insistent knocking on the door that the quiet of the morning was almost foreign to him. He couldn't remember the last time he had been able to wake on his own.

Dark thoughts quickly began intruding on the serenity of the morning, however. Had Pelinal returned yet? What had become of Lipsand Tarn? Did it still stand? Of course, he was fully aware that he wouldn't know the answer for some time. Pelinal had ordered everyone away for their own safety before he had given himself to madness, and Edanu had not yet sent scouts to retrieve him. While he supposed that it was foolish of him to worry, since Pelinal had never failed to bring them victory even on his own, Telepe still did not fully trust in Pelinal's supposed invincibility. He feared that one day, Pelinal would encounter an enemy he could not best alone, or that he might finally rouse the ire of the Daedric Princes to the point where they chose to act against him directly. Telepe sighed and rubbed his eyes. If he had kept his emotions in check the day before, he might have at least thought to ask for a small guard to wait behind and escort Pelinal back to Sancre Tor once his madness had subsided. Now, he simply had to trust that Pelinal would eventually return on his own. That thought made him snort aloud. As if he could ever trust Pelinal.

Reluctantly, Telepe climbed out of the furs and began pulling on his tunic and breeches. Behind him, Tari rolled over and groaned into the pillow, her eyes still closed and her fingers twitching slightly as she wandered through a dream. Telepe watched her for a moment once he finished pulling on his tunic, then leaned over her and kissed her forehead gently. Tari's only response was to burrow deeper into the blankets, her arms clutching the pillow a bit more tightly. Telepe smiled fondly as he watched her, then turned and silently crept out the door. He'd cherished being able to wake on his own, and he was loath to rouse her from her own dreams.

After quietly closing the door behind him, Telepe gazed down the hallway as he pondered what to do. His first thought was to fetch some food, but quickly dismissed that idea, as he wasn't particularly hungry. He then considered discussing future plans with Edanu, but he realized that the legate might not be awake either – judging from the position of the sun, it was only an hour or so after dawn, and most of the city was likely still asleep, especially those that had just returned from Lipsand Tarn.

Telepe frowned to himself as he began to wander the quiet halls of the palace with his arms folded over his chest for warmth. He wasn't used to having time to himself, and he actually found himself at a loss about what he wanted to do. Idly, he tried to remember what his life had been like before he had come to Cyrod. How had he passed the days when he didn't have to concern himself with the endless problems of a state that now encompassed several kingdoms? Though it had not yet even been a full year, it felt like a lifetime ago. What had Atkynd done? That thought brought a wry smile to his face. By now, "Atkynd" truly was a wholly different person than "Telepe."

That thought suddenly brought to mind the message that he had received from his king. In the wake of all that had transpired over the last several days, Telepe had nearly forgotten the scroll he received from his sister. He still had it, of course – it was laying on his desk in the room with Tari, unopened. And yet….

A wave of anxiety washed over him as he began to wonder about the contents of the message. Until now, his king had always been content to send his missives by falcon. Why had he ordered Telepe's sibling to bring this message to him personally? Why was his king so certain that he and Varlalye would cross paths eventually… and what did it contain that was so vital that he only trusted Telepe's sister to deliver it?

Telepe's heart began to pound faster as he stood in place, fretting over the potential contents of the message. Finally, after several long moments, he realized that Tari was still sleeping in the room, and that if he opened the door again, he might disturb her. Clearly, it was kinder to let her rest, he decided.

However, he then recalled that the night before, he had wanted to see if any other messages had been delivered while they were away. With that thought in mind, he began making his way towards the rookery. Though it was still early, he knew that the caretakers of the falcons rose with the sun to care for the birds, so he expected at least one person to be awake. He could ask them if any messages had arrived in their absence.

After climbing the steep stone staircase into the rookery, Telepe pushed open the door to the small room and winced as the foul odor of the raptors washed over him. He gagged softly, attracting the attention of a young woman who was feeding one of the falcons a mouse. She smiled warmly at him as he exhaled slowly before approaching her.

"Good day," he said with a faint smile and a nod. "I was wondering if any scrolls arrived since we departed from Sancre Tor.

"I believe one or two did, yes!" the girl replied cheerfully. "Though as I recall, someone already retrieved them."

"Did they?" Telepe asked, his smile fading. "May I ask who?"

The girl dropped a mouse between the bronze bars of one of the cages before tilting her head thoughtfully. "I believe his name was… Sevri?" she replied after a moment.

Telepe's eyes widened with surprise, then narrowed with suspicion. The notion that his most troublesome student had been gathering the message scrolls…. "Has he been delivering them to someone, or are they still in his possession?" Telepe asked slowly.

"I'm uncertain. You'd have to ask him," the girl shrugged.

Telepe quirked his mouth, then nodded and thanked her before hurrying out of the rookery. He vaguely recalled that Sevri was staying in a small room in communal building shared by a score of other Nedes near the edge of town. It took him only a few short minutes to find the large wooden building near the western edge of town, hidden in the wall's shadow. As he stepped inside, he saw that the interior was divided into several small rooms, each of which seemed large enough for a bed, desk, and chest, based on what he saw when he peered into them. A single room could house only one or two people at most, but for some of the younger Nedes, that was more than enough.

Telepe walked past the communal kitchen, where the owner of the building was brewing a pot of porridge for the residents, and he paused to ask her where Sevri was staying. The woman appraised him cautiously for a moment, as if considering whether he could be trusted – much to Telepe's amusement – and then she informed him that Sevri was on the second floor, in the corner room on the far left. Telepe quickly thanked her and hurried up the stairs, then strode down the hall and knocked on Sevri's door.

There was a brief pause as Telepe could hear shuffling inside the room, before the door swung open. Sevri peered up at Telepe's face, and then he scowled. "Telepe," he said curtly.

"Good morning, Sevri," Telepe answered, trying to keep his tone pleasant. "I understand that you've been collecting the falconers' messages."

"Message," Sevri corrected him bluntly.

"Message," Telepe amended, before motioning at the door. "May I see it?"

Sevri hesitated, but when Telepe narrowed his eyes to show that he wasn't actually making a request, the young man reluctantly stepped aside let him in. Telepe strode into the room, which he noted had been decorated with a bearskin rug and a handmade tapestry. He paused in front of the latter, then asked, "Did your mother make this, perchance?"

"She did," Sevri said coldly as he walked over to the desk and picked up the scroll. "She demanded that I begin living on my own after you ejected me from your lessons, stating that it would spur me to find work, though she also didn't want me to live in a barren room."

"So I see," Telepe remarked, his eyes also falling on the handmade wool blanket resting on his bed. He then turned back to Sevri as the young man reluctantly handed him the scroll. "If I might ask, why did you go out of your way to collect this message?"

Sevri stared at him, then glanced away and muttered so softly that Telepe could barely hear him, "I wished to read it myself…."

"Indeed?" Telepe asked. He paused for a moment, then held the scroll out to him. "Then read it for me, if you would?"

Sevri turned back to him, narrowing his eyes suspiciously. "Why?" he snarled.

"I presume that you were using it to master reading, were you not?" Telepe asked calmly. Sevri blinked at him as a slight smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. "You took my dismissal of you as a challenge, yes?" Sevri snarled and glanced away as Telepe motioned to the scroll. "Then prove me wrong. Demonstrate that you're a better student than I am a teacher. Show me what you've learned."

Sevri hesitated, but when Telepe shook the scroll slightly, he snatched it from Telepe's hands and unfurled it. Telepe sidled over to peer over his shoulder, and though Sevri paused to glare at him briefly, he began reading aloud:

"Telepe, We have succ- su-"

"Successfully," Telepe said patiently.

Sevri glowered at him, then continued, "-Successfully taken Sedor. It was a short… siege, and Mor… i… huas led us to… to vic-tory with few losses. We now march weast- west to meet you. Please-" He paused for a moment, then glanced over his shoulder.

"Inform," Telepe offered.

"Inform E-danu that we wish for him to re… main where he is until we arr… arr… arrive," Sevri finished quickly before Telepe could correct him.

Telepe regarded Sevri quietly for a long moment as the youth rolled up the scroll and glowered up at him. "Impressive. You read all of that when you could barely write a single word not a month ago," Telepe remarked.

"I do not like being told that I cannot accomplish something," Sevri growled.

"So it seems," Telepe agreed. He then inclined his head. "It would also seem that I owe you an apology. You have improved tremendously in the short time since we last spoke. I was wrong to assume that you would not learn."

Sevri's eyes widened with surprise, and then he looked away. "Yes, well… I confess that I had little interest in learning this," he muttered. "And I still do. However… there is a certain satisfaction that comes with mastering a new word."

"There is," Telepe agreed. He then let out a soft chuckle. "I must also say that I am quite proud of you. You've more than exceeded my expectations." A brief silence lingered between them for a few moments, then he continued, "I have a proposition for you. I understand that you may not take joy in mastering the art of literacy, Sevri, and if you truly do not wish to pursue it, I shall not force you. However, I also believe that it would be a shame for you to abandon your studies now. With that said, I would like to offer you the opportunity to rejoin my lessons."

"No," Sevri snapped shortly, narrowing his eyes. Telepe blinked, then tilted his head up. "I have no desire to be humiliated again."

Telepe gazed down at him, then inclined his head, guilt welling up inside of him. "Very well. I understand," he said softly.

Sevri let his glare linger for a moment, and then his shoulders slackened. "However," he continued softly, looking away. "If you would be willing to teach me in private, then I would not be averse to learning more." When Telepe turned back to him, giving him a slightly surprised look, he explained, "I dislike being forced to learn with a score of other students, as I feel as though you are speaking to everyone else and ignoring me. I cannot ask questions, and I find that I'm constantly comparing myself to Tari and the others, who seem to learn more swiftly than I do. It leads me to wonder why I'm bothering at all. If you could instruct me in private, so that I might study at my own pace without the judgment of others… I would be willing to learn from you."

Telepe hesitated, his eyes lingering on the scroll in Sevri's hands. On the one hand, he wanted to say that he had more than enough to occupy him between his duties as an emissary and his tutelage of the others. He wondered if he would have any time to spare for Sevri. However, he also had to admit that he was rather impressed with the progress the boy had made on his own, with only the limited knowledge of the other students to rely on if he didn't understand something. Perhaps he would indeed learn swiftly if Telepe taught him personally. If Sevri was willing to put this much effort in to learning, should he not reciprocate with equal effort as a teacher?

"…Very well," Telepe concluded, holding his hand out to take the scroll from Sevri. "Since it seems you learn better alone, I shall begin assigning you scrolls that you can study at your leisure. If you have questions, you may approach me after sunset, since my duties as an emissary likely will have been completed for the day. Bear in mind, however, that I may also be occupied with the court of Sancre Tor, or with the Paravant."

"I… understand," Sevri said reluctantly as he handed the scroll back to Telepe.

Telepe smiled slightly and nodded. "Very good. Then tomorrow morning, I shall have a new scroll prepared for you to study. Until then, the day is yours. Once again, well done."

Sevri stared at Telepe for a moment longer, then inclined his head and muttered a reluctant thanks as Telepe walked out the door. As he shut it behind him, Telepe let out a slow sigh of delight. A soft smile spread across his lips as he decided to return to the palace. He now felt that he could face whatever his king had written.

It took Telepe only a few minutes to make his way back across the city and into his room. As he pushed open the door, he notice that Tari was awake. From the way she was clutching the furs to her body, he assumed that she had just woken up. She raised an eyebrow as he walked over to her and placed a light kiss on her forehead.

"I was wondering where you had run off to," she remarked, sounding a touch hurt by his absence.

"Simply reading the messages that we received while we were gone," Telepe replied airily as he took a seat at the desk and opened the wooden case holding his king's missive. "I decided it was prudent to prepare myself early for any tasks, now that we've returned."

"Has there been any news?" Tari asked as she crawled to the edge of the bed to peer over his shoulder at the scroll.

"For one, Perrif will be rejoining us soon," he replied easily as he unfurled the scroll. "And as for this…."

Telepe's faint smile instantly faded as he began reading his king's letter. His jovial mood evaporated, replaced by a cold, sinking sensation in the pit of his stomach. When he reached the end of the message, the papyrus fell from his numb fingers and fluttered to the floor. He stared, expressionless, at the wall, his heart pounding in his ears and his breath coming in short gasps.

"Telepe?" Tari asked softly, crawling up behind him and putting a hand on his shoulder. "What is it?"

"I…." Telepe croaked, his throat too dry to form a proper response. When Tari squeezed his shoulder, he glanced at her blankly over his shoulder, barely registering that she was there.

"Tell me," she murmured, worry evident in her expression.

Telepe inhaled a slow, shuddering breath, then reluctantly reached down and picked the scroll off the floor. The thin sheet of papyrus felt as though it was made of lead. He swallowed hard as heat prickled at the corners of his eyes, and then he read aloud to her:

To Our Emissary,

It is our great hope that this message finds you well. We received your last message and have taken your recommendation into account. Our position about the war in Cyrod remains unchanged – forming an alliance, or even a trading relationship, with the nascent human rebellion is untenable. There is too much risk involved, as it is too likely that the rebels shall yet be defeated.

What's more, we have recently received word that you have not been forthcoming in your previous messages. While you did relay that you have been attempting to forge a positive relationship with these rebels – against our express wishes, we might add – you neglected to mention the depth of your involvement with these Nedic rebels.

Word has recently reached us of the exploits of a particularly notable emissary of half-elven blood, who has been negotiating on behalf of the rebellion. These rumors claim that the rebel queen's envoy has negotiated the surrender of entire kingdoms and organized trade routes that span the entire realm. Imagine our surprise when we discovered that this mysterious emissary's description matched your own.

While we are personally impressed by your diplomatic talent, we must emphasize that it is impossible for one to serve two masters. It is also clear that you have a far more vested interest in the success of this rebellion than in carrying out our wishes. To that end, it is our duty to inform you that you shall no longer serve in the court of King Aluciel of the Kingdom of the Bjoulsae.

Should you formally renounce your allegiance to this uprising, we may reconsider your service in our name. If not, may the Divines watch over you in all of your endeavors.

-Aluciel, King of the Bjoulsae

Telepe set the scroll on the desk and sat back in the chair, staring blankly up at the ceiling. "I've been exiled from my homeland," he murmured in a dry voice. "I'm no longer an emissary for my king… I can no longer return…."

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Tari staring at him sympathetically before she quietly stepped a little closer. She wrapped her arms around him from behind, pressing her cheek against his.

"I'm sorry," she whispered in his ear. "The fault is mine. If I had never encouraged you to aid the rebellion…."

Telepe laughed drily, shaking his head and stroking her hair. "No. You are not to blame," he assured her, sitting up a bit in the chair and turning to face her. "You asked me to aid the rebellion, true, but it was my decision to remain here. What's more, my king is correct. I have not been serving his interests, but the Paravant's. All the fault lies with me. I am the one who acted, and thus, it is only fitting that I reap the consequences."

"But you did so to aid a just rebellion against a cruel realm!" Tari protested.

"From your perspective, yes," Telepe sighed. "From his perspective, I have betrayed him to aid an unlawful uprising against the very people that he sent me to negotiate with." As he spoke, he realized that his voice was becoming steadier. Strangely, explaining his king's rationale was helping to calm him, perhaps because it allowed him to view his circumstances from a neutral standpoint. "By all accounts, I have… committed treason against my king. In truth, simply exiling me is an extremely merciful punishment. He would be well within his rights to have me tortured and executed for betraying him."

Tari gave him an unsettled look, as though in disbelief at how calm his voice had become. "But you should be rewarded for aiding us, not punished! We are in the right!" she exclaimed.

Telepe shook his head and smiled gently at her. "It's not a matter of who is 'right' in your war. I swore an oath to my king, and he discovered that I broke it. No more, no less. What's… what's done is done," he stammered, his voice catching in his throat.

Tari stared at him silently for several long moments, then murmured, "Well, you have a home here, at least."

Telepe's weak smile faded as a cold look settled over his face. "Tari…." he warned her in a low voice.

"The Paravant values you!" Tari continued, her expression brightening. "As does Morihaus! Even if you've been exil-!"

"Tari!" Telepe barked. Tari flinched, her eyes widening with fright. Telepe winced with regret, then held up a hand as he took a deep, slow breath. "I know what you're trying to say, and I appreciate it. I also know that you're correct – I've no doubt that the Paravant will be happy to fully accept me as her emissary if I ask. However, this… this is not simply a matter of exchanging one homeland for another. I have been cast from the land where I was raised, where my parents reside, and where I built my entire life. My identity was, and is, tied to Malabal, and now all of that has been severed. I… though I value the friends that I have made here in Cyrod – and you most of all – I cannot blithely shrug and accept that I can no longer return. It's not that simple."

Tari blinked at him, then glanced away. "Forgive me," she murmured. "I… I always despised Ceya-Tar, and have never felt a particular connection to it. I spent as much time as I possibly could outside its walls, and I always dreamed of escaping. I suppose I cannot truly understand how you feel right now."

Telepe shook his head. "There's nothing to forgive, Tari. I… simply need some time to think. That's all."

Tari gazed at him sadly, then gently gripped his shoulder. "As you wish," she said quietly. "If you wish to speak with me, though, know that I shall always lend you an ear."

"Thank you," Telepe smiled, reaching up to give her hand a soft squeeze. Tari nodded, then turned and wandered out the door, shutting it softly behind her.

Now alone in the room, Telepe leaned back in the chair and stared up at the ceiling. His mind was simultaneously racing and blank. On the one hand, he knew what he should do next. Now that his king – his father, he mentally corrected himself, as Aluciel was no longer his king – had dismissed him, he should speak with the Paravant about what had happened and fully pledge himself to her cause. In theory, it was a straightforward solution, especially since he had no doubt that the Paravant would not refuse him. She'd be ecstatic to have him wholly at her disposal.

However, some part of him was still reluctant to fully commit to the rebellion. Why, though? he wondered as he laced his fingers together and stared at them. Was it because of his prior position as a king's emissary? Did he think serving as the rebels placed him in an inferior position? Did he perhaps think himself superior to the slaves? Certainly, in Malbal, he'd always enjoyed a privileged position, after all, and the caste hierarchy had always maintained a clear divide between those with elven blood and those without. Had that instilled arrogance in him, a reluctance to debase himself to the level of the common Nede?

After a moment's consideration, however, he rejected that thought. Indeed, his elven heritage had placed him above the Nedes in Malabal's hierarchy, but the full-blooded Altmer, in turn, had always loomed above him. If he'd ever forgotten himself, he would have been swiftly reminded of his place. He knew what it was like to be repressed, even if it had never been to the level of the full-blooded men in Malabal and Cyrod. Perhaps he was a bit condescending towards some Nedes, he reluctantly admitted to himself, but he felt that had more to do with his status and education than his racial identity. He'd been taught by royal tutors, which gave him a tremendous advantage over most commoners, regardless of race. However, when he had met Nedes who could match his intellect, he felt that he'd always treated them with courtesy and respect – the way he interacted with Perrif, Tari, and Edanu, for instance, was evidence enough of that. As such, he didn't think prejudice played a significant role in his reluctance to commit.

What, then, was the cause of his hesitation? He let out a low growl of frustration and pushed himself up from his chair, then folded his arms over his chest as he started to pace back and forth across the floor. He knew that it wasn't a fear of the battles to come. He'd fought alongside the Nedes almost since the beginning of the rebellion. He'd stood beside them in the Blackwood, ridden with them to Sancre Tor, even crossed the mountains into Skyrim with them. No… the war itself was not the problem.

Was it because of a lingering attachment to his homeland? That thought made him pause for a moment, and he tilted his head as he seriously considered it. Obviously, he was still deeply devoted to the Kingdom of the Bjoulsae. His father's pronouncement of his exile had shaken him to his core, and not simply because he was being forced to answer for his wavering loyalties. When had he last seen his homeland? When had he slept in his own bed, eaten food grown in the fertile soil of the Bjoulsae River? How long had it been since he had spoken with his mother, his friends, his cousins?

He suddenly realized just how much he missed his homeland. Varlalye was the first familiar soul from Malabal that he'd spoken with in months. He could barely remember the sweet scent of the trees that would just now be flowering. Now, all he could imagine were endless expanses of dank, rotting jungle, heavy with humidity and heat. Even the cold winds of Skyrim had been too harsh to remind him of his homeland.

He suddenly wondered, would he ever see his homeland again? Was he doomed to remain trapped in this savage realm, never again to set foot in Malabal? He quickly dismissed that thought, however, snorting derisively as he began pacing again. Perhaps he was no longer welcome in the Kingdom of the Bjoulsae, but his father was not the king of all Malabal. If he wished to return to the Iliac Bay, at least, he could do so. Of course, he had already been branded a traitor, so it was unlikely that he would ever be accepted into the service of any of the other Altmer kings, but at least he could return to the region… even if he could never truly return to what he called home.

A flash of realization hit him in that moment, and he abruptly stopped pacing. Perhaps that was why he was so shaken. He had been able to endure the trials he'd faced in Cyrod thus far because he'd always had somewhere to return to – to escape to – if the rebellion was defeated. Now, the safety of his homeland was gone. If the rebellion was vanquished, he had nowhere to return to. That, in turn, was why he was hesitating to fully declare himself an emissary of the rebellion. Some part of him was still clinging to the hope that if the rebels were defeated, he could escape to Malabal and be accepted back into his father's court. If he aligned himself with the rebellion, he would suffer the same fates that they did. So long as he did not openly declare his allegiance, perhaps….

Telepe chuckled bitterly and ran his hand down his face. He was a coward. Even now, after his king had officially exiled him, he still sought a means of escape. He had never fully invested himself in the people who called themselves his friends, he realized cynically. In truth, he didn't deserve their kindness. Tari, Dynar, Reili, Perrif, Morihaus… even Pelinal. All of them were wholly devoted to the cause of freeing Cyrod. Yet even just this morning he still called himself an emissary of the Kingdom of the Bjoulsae, and he would have continued to do so happily had he not opened his father's letter. All because he sought a means to flee if necessary.

Disgust welled up inside of him as he walked over to the window and pushed it open to stare out into the courtyard. A few children were playing in the slushy remnants of the snow, while their fathers were using wooden spades to clear the soft, white drifts from the stony streets and their mothers watched them intently to ensure they weren't making mischief. He recognized two of the men as hoplites who had fought in the battle for Sancre Tor. They'd had nothing to protect but their families, and yet they had shown more courage-

No, Telepe corrected himself. They had been able to fight so hard because they'd had nothing else to lose. These men had been slaves, likely subjected to tortures and brutality that he had personally witnessed but could hardly imagine bearing. Now that they had their freedom, they had no reason not to risk their lives to defend it, as if they failed, they would suffer in ways that made their previous captivity look like a child enduring an occasional beating from his parents.

He, on the other hand, had once had options. Now, like them, he had nothing left to lose. In truth, there was no reason for him to hesitate any longer. He was free to devote himself wholly to those that he called his friends, without guilt or restraint. The more he thought about it, the more he realized that it was liberating, in a strange way. He'd always had to balance his loyalties to his kingdom with his desire to aid the rebels. He wondered if that might have hindered him in his negotiations, if he could not have argued more forcefully on Perrif's behalf if he had been her emissary alone at the start. Yet, despite the potential of his loyalties to his kingdom conflicting with what was best for her rebellion, Perrif had continued to rely on him, trusting that he would not betray her, long after she had other diplomatic options at her disposal, including negotiating herself. He felt a sudden rush of gratitude towards her. He didn't deserve that much kindness and trust, he thought with a wan smile.

A comforting warmth settled over him as he made his decision. Now all that was left was to wait for Perrif to return. He stepped away from the window with a soft sigh, and his gaze drifted to his father's letter still laying on the table. Telepe took a moment to close the shutters before walking back to the table and picking it up. As his eyes roamed over the words again, however, the warmth in his chest turned cold again, and a heavy weight lodged itself in his throat.

Even though he was resolved about what he was going to do next, and even though he knew his father's rejection of him was justified, it didn't alleviate the ache in his chest. Even setting aside the fact that he could no longer find sanctuary if he needed it, the knowledge that he would never again walk the fields and forests of his homeland was agonizing. His mother, his siblings… even his father, who had been remarkably merciful in simply exiling him. He would never again see them.

A stinging pain pricked at the corners of his eyes as he set down the letter and sank into the wooden chair. Here in Cyrod, he had friends, companions, and a woman who loved him. He was not alone. He could make a new life for himself here, and he was certain that they would accept him and aid him however they could. However, all of that did not change the fact that he had lost his home, and that, at least, there was no shame in mourning, at least for a short while.

Telepe buried his face in his hands as hot tears trickled down his cheeks.

"You said that you would return the ox in three days! You had it for over a week, and when you returned it to me, it had a broken leg!" shouted the older of two men standing in front of Sancre Tor's throne.

"And I told you that the fact that it broke its leg was not my fault!" the younger man snapped back. "Seizing my field is unfair! Besides, the healers claimed that the ox's leg could be mended! Yet if I don't have a field to work, my family will starve!"

Out of the corner of his eye, Telepe could see Edanu slouching deeper onto his throne, rubbing his eyes with his thumb and forefinger, looking utterly exasperated. King Vrage stood beside him with his arms folded, observing the court proceedings with marked interest. He'd mentioned that he wanted to see how the nascent Nedic laws differed from the Nordic traditions, and so far, he'd seemed genuinely intrigued by the relatively common issues that had been brought to court. Telepe suspected that, as a king himself, he was interested in how his new allies mediated even simple issues. Or perhaps he genuinely enjoyed governing so much that this was almost a sport to him, Telepe thought wryly.

"Telepe?" Edanu asked in a low voice, snapping him out of his thoughts. "Would you be so kind as to deliberate on my behalf?"

Telepe smiled faintly and inclined his head, then held up his hand and snapped his fingers. As he did, he released a small spark of magic, and a loud cracking sound echoed through the hall, startling the two men into silence. As they turned their attention to him, Telepe folded his hands behind his back. "Averu," he said calmly. "Did the ox break its leg while it was in your possession?"

"It was not my fau-!" the young man began.

"It does not matter if you feel you were at fault or not," Telepe interrupted. "Was it in your possession?"

Averu closed his mouth sharply, then glanced away and muttered, "It was."

"Very well. Therefore, the injuries it sustained were your responsibility. As such, you must repay Merren for the damages to his property." He paused and glanced between the two men, then added, "Nevertheless, I also concur with you that an entire field is far too much compensation for the loss of one ox. You currently possess a sow, yes? And it is currently pregnant?"

"It is," Averu said slowly.

"Very good. Once it gives birth, you shall give the two largest piglets to Merren as compensation. Is that a fair compromise?" he added, glancing at the older man.

Merren shot Averu a glance, then tilted his head at Telepe. "It was the largest ox in my herd…." he began slowly. Telepe narrowed his eyes, and Merren added quickly, "But as Averu said, it shall likely recover! Yes, that shall do nicely."

"Very good. Then let us hear no more of this," Telepe stated firmly. He glanced at Edanu, who looked like he was trying to ward off a migraine, and he added, "We shall take a short break before we hear the next case. Guards, if you would escort the observers out?"

The hoplites immediately began ushering the crowd out of the room, and though a few muttered and grumbled about the fact that they had been waiting all morning to be heard, none forced the issue – particularly when the guards began nudging the stragglers along with the hafts of their spears. When the room was clear and the doors were closed, Telepe rolled up the scroll in his hands and shot Edanu an amused smirk.

"Missing the battlefield already, legate?" he asked cheerfully.

Edanu shot him a quick glare before sighing and pushing himself up on his throne. "While I shall perform any duty that the Paravant asks of me, I am a warrior, not a governor. I was not made to rule."

"Yet you are ruling admirably," Vrage praised him with a warm smile. "Though I would recommend not allowing your frustration to show quite so nakedly. Interim ruler or not, the people note their leaders' reactions, just as your warriors do when you are commanding them. If you are clearly growing frustrated, they shall either feel guilty that you are inconveniencing you, or become offended that you seem to consider their concerns beneath your notice."

"I… shall bear that in mind," Edanu said sheepishly, sitting up a bit straighter.

Vrage nodded, then turned to Telepe. "I find your law code intriguing," he remarked. "Did you draft it yourself?"

"Yes and no," Telepe admitted. "The core principle is not unfamiliar to any ruler – fair recompense for wrongs suffered. However, this particular set of laws was meant to provide alternative measures for recompense beyond simple the simple floggings and executions that other kingdoms favor. For instance, as you saw, allowing one to provide material compensation rather than simply whipping the offender."

"An intriguing idea," Vrage remarked, stroking his beard. "However, does that not favor the wealthy? If one can simply purchase their way out of crimes…."

"Yes, and that is a shortfall I've encountered as well," Telepe admitted. "Furthermore, at present, a great deal of leeway is given to the arbiter about how to render judgements, since there are few precedents from which to draw on, which could allow a more corrupt arbiter to twist the law as they please. However, it's an attempt to ensure that those who commit lighter crimes are not unduly punished, and it at least provides them with an alternative means of providing satisfaction to a wronged party, while still severely punishing more heinous crimes such as murder."

"Hm. Well, it is a clever idea, at least, and I applaud you for attempting to innovate," Vrage remarked. "If I might make a suggestion? If you lack precedents, perhaps you should consider noting the judgements you make on individual cases."

"A fair idea, and I would concur, if I could wholly devote my time to this," Telepe chuckled wearily. "Right now, we have more pressing matters that demand our attention." When Vrage raised an eyebrow, he paused, then added, "Though we have been training a few scribes who may be skilled enough to start recording verdicts."

"I would recommend it," Vrage agreed, nodding with approval. "Furthermore, if you lack precedents, you might draw from examples that are already recorded in Nordic law."

"Perhaps," Telepe agreed, before grinning wickedly at the king. "Elven law might also serve as a good basis for future rulings."

Vrage's smile faded slightly, until he realized that Telepe was intentionally needling him. The king let out a reluctant chuckle. "Perhaps," he conceded.

A loud knock came at the doors, interrupting their conversation, and one of the guards strode inside. He hurried up to Edanu and inclined his head as Edanu stood from his throne.

"What is it?" he asked.

"Legate, we've spotted an army on the horizon," the hoplite announced. When the three men traded wary looks, he quickly added, "Morihaus is at its head."

A smile slowly spread across Edanu's lips, and he asked quickly, "What news? Do they appear to be retreating?"

"I… don't believe so," the hoplite replied slowly.

"Excellent," Edanu said, turning to the two men. "Then shall we go and greet them?"

"Indeed. I'm rather eager to meet your Al-Esh," Vrage agreed.

The three men filed out of the room after the hoplite, who escorted them through the confused and irritated throng still awaiting judgements on their issues. Telepe could feel his heart starting to pound in his chest and his stomach beginning turning with anxiety. Over the past few days, he had been contemplating how he would tell Perrif about his exile and how he would ask to serve as her emissary. While he had little doubt that she would not turn him away, there was always the chance that she might. What if she was only interested in the connections he had with his kingdom? What if she regarded his dismissal as his failure as an emissary? Though he knew such thoughts were ridiculous, Telepe was unable to keep them from swirling in his mind as they made their way towards the front gates of Sancre Tor.

A crowd had already gathered in front of the main gates, held back by double rows of hoplites on either side of the entryway. The common Nedes nevertheless pushed as close as they could to the guards, their cries and cheers echoing through the city. Pelinal stood in front of the closed gates with his arms folded and his feet shoulder-width apart, gazing silently ahead, until he heard Edanu, Vrage, and Telepe approaching from behind. He spared them a brief glance over his shoulder and a curt nod before turning back around and staring unblinkingly at the gates. Telepe was reminded of Tari's hound, Sparicus, waiting at the door for her to return whenever she was out on an errand. He stifled an amused snort as the image of Pelinal with drooping ears and a black nose crept into his mind.

Telepe felt something brush against his side, and he glanced down to see Tari pressing into him, gently gripping his arm with both hands. He noticed that her fingers were covered in soil, and he surmised that she had been working with her herbs before coming to join them. With a smile, he squeezed her hand, then turned his attention back to the front gates as they swung open.

Morihaus entered at the head of a century of hoplites, and was greeted with raucous cheers as his heavy hooves echoed off of the cobblestone streets. Behind the first one hundred hoplites walked Perrif, who was surrounded on both sides by two more centuries, and in the back by a fourth. Telepe could tell from her strained expression that she was embarrassed by the additional protection, but she nevertheless smiled warmly and held her hand up to the Nedes screaming and struggling to catch a glimpse of her. Telepe wasn't sure whether to be more amused or concerned by the almost fanatical adoration she was receiving. While she still seemed uncomfortable with it, it appeared that Morihaus' additional protection was indeed warranted.

Morihaus strode up to Edanu, Vrage, and the others and inclined his head in a polite bow. He then stepped aside as Perrif slipped between the hoplites and approached the small group. To Telepe's mild surprise, the first person she approached was Pelinal, who straightened as she came within an arm's length of him.

"Pelinal," she said in a soft voice that was almost drowned out by the screaming Nedes around them. "I had a dream that you once more gave in to your madness."

"I did…." Pelinal said slowly, almost seeming embarrassed. "Though I assure you that it was necessary."

"I see. I know Kyne cooled your anger this time, but pray, do not indulge in your rage too often," she said quietly. "The Divines have only so much patience, and I cannot appeal to them eternally. If you wreak too much destruction, they may consider Nirn itself lost and unworthy of salvation."

"I shall endeavor to restrain myself, then," Pelinal muttered. Telepe half-expected the knight to glance over his shoulder accusingly at him for his part in encouraging his most recent bout of madness. Not that he had to. Guilt was already gnawing at Telepe's stomach again, even without an accusatory look.

Perrif, however, seemed content with Pelinal's response, as she nodded to him and moved past him to smile warmly at their new arrival. "King Vrage," she said, inclining her head in a polite bow. "I am honored by your presence. On behalf of all that strive for freedom, allow me to thank you for your assistance."

"You needn't thank me, Lady Al-Esh," Vrage replied, inclining his head in return and smiling warmly at her. "We have heard tales of your war against these savage mer, and we were moved by your desire to see your people freed. As your kin, we could not allow these injustices to continue any longer. We look forward to fighting at your side and establishing a friendship that shall hopefully last for centuries."

"Divines willing, that would be wonderful," Tari smiled in return, bowing her head again, before turning her attention to Edanu. "And legate, you have my thanks for seeing to our allies' safe passage from Skyrim."

"As is my duty, Paravant," Edanu replied modestly.

"A duty you carried out most admirably. Rest assured, you shall be rewarded, as shall all that accompanied you," Perrif smiled. She then turned to Tari and Telepe, adding, "I am pleased to see you two are unharmed as well. Telepe, do not think that I have overlooked your role in this either."

"I simply drafted your appeal," Telepe said with a shake of his head. "Nothing more."

Perrif's smile faded slightly, and she tilted her head as she took a step closer, trying to peer into Telepe's eyes. "There is… something troubling you, isn't there?" she asked, so softly that she was almost whispering to him, yet her voice was clearer to him than any of the hoarse screams around them.

Telepe felt his chest clench, but he shook his head. "I… have something I wish to discuss with you later," he replied softly. "But not here. Not now. There are more important matters to attend to first."

"Yes… I suppose there are," Perrif murmured in agreement, though the look in her eyes emphasized that she wasn't going to simply forget about this. She pulled away slightly, a smile once more settling over her face, and she motioned towards the palace. "Come. I suspect we all have tales to share, and then we must decide our next course of action. Let's be off, shall we?"

Despite Perrif's sudden arrival, the cooks in Sancre Tor were able to produce a sizable feast in her honor in just a matter of hours. A band of hunters had managed to fell a few deer that had wandered too close to the city, and there were still enough dried vegetables from the harvest to supplement the fresh meat. Perrif had protested that the ceremony was unnecessary, but Edanu insisted. Privately, Telepe worried that they were stretching their resources thin with the frequent feasts, but he was not going to raise a complaint this time. He'd simply suggest that in the future, they temper their celebrations.

Naturally, the first question both parties asked was what had happened during their campaigns. For Morihaus and Perrif's part, the siege of Sedor had concluded remarkably swiftly. With no hope of reinforcement from the cities to the south and Rielle unwilling to provide support due to their fears of a Nordic invasion – it seemed that Lipsand Tarn's spies had a much longer reach than Telepe had realized, much to his chagrin – the city had put up only a token resistance before surrendering after a couple of weeks. Perrif had been rather merciful when accepting their surrender, as she had restrained her men from sacking the city, though she did demand punishment for any that were still alive who had participated in the maiming of the Thousand-Strong slaves. Telepe knew – and he suspected that Perrif knew as well – that the elves that Sedor had offered to her were likely scapegoats from the lower classes, but public punishment of the "perpetrators" had been necessary to sate the vengeance that many of the Nedes sought.

From there, the army had marched west towards the kingdom of Anga, intending to lay siege to it as well. However, the scouts Morihaus had sent ahead returned with a warning that the city had been fortified with warriors from Sercen, and that they were being reinforced by scores of daedra. Morihaus had been unwilling to lose men in a prolonged siege, particularly with Sercen nearby and able to provide additional reinforcements both from its own city and the White-Gold City, so they had instead elected to leave Anga be for the moment and rejoin with the rest of the army in Sancre Tor.

Edanu, in turn, had regaled Perrif with tales of their adventures in Skyrim. Perrif had listened with rapt attention as he told of their crossing of the Jerall Mountains, their encounter and alliance with Nahfahlaar, and Pelinal's taking of Falkreath. Her interest had quickly been replaced with concern, however, when he also told of the brief siege of Sancre Tor and how they had been forced to face the combined armies of Lipsand Tarn and other western cities. A closer investigation of their shields had revealed that Lipsand Tarn had conspired with Wendir and Narfinsel, who had been joined by the remnants of the army from Lindai and a token force from Fanacasecul. Fortunately, it seemed that at least Hrotanda Vale had remained true to their alliance.

"Well, then it seems our next objective is clear," Perrif said grimly, folding her hands and resting her chin on them while wearing a scowl. She then glanced at Tari and added, "What of the Elder Scroll? Have you discerned any other prophecies?"

"I've not had the opportunity to read the Scroll lately, no," Tari admitted. "But if we are traveling south, we shall once again be passing the canticle grove, so I could attempt another reading, if you wish."

"If it's not too much trouble. I don't wish to strain you unduly," Perrif replied, her concern evident on her face. "Forgive me for saying so, but your eyes seem paler than when we last met."

Tari glanced away uncomfortably. "I confess, my vision is somewhat darker," she said evasively. "However, I can still read the Scroll. You needn't fret about me."

"If you're certain," Perrif murmured. She then smiled and held up her goblet. "In any case, despite the hardships we've faced, I'm pleased that we're all together once more. This has been a long and difficult war, and we've been unable to walk together for much of it. At last, our forces are once again whole, and bolstered by the strength of our Nordic friends. It seems that our foes, led by Umaril, have not been idle this winter, but I have little doubt that this paltry army of daedra that he has summoned shall pose no threat to us! For who could stand against the unbridled fury of men yearning for freedom?!"

Her question was met with shouts of agreement as the rest of the assembly held up their own drinks in response. Telepe took a sip from his own goblet, then noticed Perrif giving him a curious look out of the corner of her eye. She touched Vrage on the shoulder as she rose from her seat, begging his pardon to be excused, then motioned for Telepe to follow her.

Telepe blinked, then pushed himself up from his seat, shaking his head gently as Tari tilted her head at him. Perrif led him out of the dining hall and into an empty hallway a short walk away. When she turned back around, she had her hands folded in front of her and a concerned look on her face.

"I asked you this before – something is troubling you, isn't it?" she asked bluntly. "You mentioned before that you had something you wished to discuss with me when we had a moment. You've been rather quiet since then. What has happened?"

Telepe sighed softly as he looked down at the floor. "Forgive me," he murmured. He then relayed the contents of his father's message, explaining how he had been dismissed from his kingdom's court and was no longer in service to the Kingdom of the Bjoulsae. When he finished, he looked up again and added, "To that end, I owe you an apology."

"An apology? For what?" Perrif asked, confused.

"Even when you asked me to aid you as an emissary, I did not serve your interests. My loyalty was always first and foremost to the Kingdom of the Bjoulsae. That was unfair to both you and to my former king. An emissary cannot have divided loyalties."

Perrif gazed at him for a moment, then let out a soft chuckle. When Telepe frowned at her, she explained, "Telepe, I never once believed that you would turn on us. At worst, I expected that you would one day be recalled to your homeland and that you would be unable to aid us any further. I knew that you were sworn to your kingdom, and I did not resent you for it. In fact, I was always impressed that you were able to provide us with as much support as you did while also serving your king admirably." She turned away for a moment, glancing out the western window towards the setting sun. "It is always difficult to lose your home, regardless of how terrible or how wonderful it was. I know that you still consider Cyrod an alien, hostile land, and likely always will. I also know that we cannot replace what you have lost." She turned back around, smiling warmly at him. "However, if your king has no further need of your services, then let me say, in no uncertain terms, that I do. If you would continue to aid us, I would be eternally grateful."

Telepe's mouth fell open slightly, and he felt a lump forming in his throat. A moment later, his face split into a wide grin, and then he lowered his head. "Then allow me to make my own loyalties clear," he replied quietly. "I would be honored to serve as your emissary and envoy, and yours alone, for as long as you would have me."

Perrif's face flushed slightly, but she still smiled warmly as she stepped forward and took his face into her hands, tilting his chin up to look at her. "And I would be honored to have you, my friend."

Telepe nodded shortly as he raised his head again and briefly ran his fingers over his face. "Thank you," he said softly. He took a slow breath, and then he added, "And now?"

"Now?" Perrif replied, glancing out the window once again. "We turn our attention to the south and the west. Umaril awaits."