Chapter LIV – With Regrets and Apologies

The days in Swindler's Den passed surprisingly fast.

There was always so much to do, so much work. It was almost a relief. There wasn't that much time to indulge the curious and scared refugees who had hundreds of questions and concerns. Well, they still tried to approach both Bishop and Aeyrin, and sometimes Erik, prodding incessantly about Alduin and the prophecy, but the work provided them all with excuses to get out of conversations none of them had any idea how to navigate.

Aeyrin began to help the wounded immediately, though the majority of the injuries were major magical burns. And since neither she nor the priest of Arkay had any knowledge on how to properly deal with them, they spent most of the time applying cooling poultices on people and composing letters to the Temple of the Divines in Solitude asking for more help with the healing. But it was unlikely that any help would arrive. Not only did the priests there have their hands full with the war, but if anyone was going to convince them to send immediate help, it was Markarth, not a small village.

Markarth had certainly become a highly discussed topic in the cavern as well. It wasn't just that people asked Bishop and Aeyrin about what happened – guards from the rest of the Reach and Whiterun were there and they already heard the news too. There was no hiding the facts. No hiding the Forsworn, no hiding the dragons, nor the prophecy.

It was no wonder that people became convinced very easily that the world was ending.

In the meantime, Bishop was spending a lot of his time outside on hunts. It was a welcome reprieve from the curious crowds and Aeyrin was working anyway. He just missed having Karnwyr with him. But the refugees didn't have many capable hunters in their midst – apparently the one resident hunter in Rorikstead was killed in the attack – so they were very glad to have Bishop's assistance. And of course, after some time of Aeyrin's pouting that she missed his food, he cracked in that area as well and helped the few people working in the provisionary kitchen to make their decent food into great food. Erik wasn't wrong. It did seem good for morale. But Bishop mostly cared about the pleased looks that Aeyrin was giving him. And how eager she was to find some secluded alcove of the cavern with him after each meal. That was good for his morale.

Erik kept going out with the guards too, scouting the area and trying to locate more survivors. After a few days, apparently even Brelyna came to help, but she didn't want to join them in the cavern. Erik said that she didn't want to be around so many people who had just lost their loved ones. It was understandable that she chose to sleep over at Sky Haven Temple instead.

Several days had passed in relative peace. People were getting a little calmer and they weren't bugging Aeyrin so much with their concerns about the prophecy. She actually made it through all this without outright confirming that the prophecy was true. But everyone assumed that anyway since she never really refuted it either. Now, she was the only hope for them whether she liked it or not. But it did work on letting her get used to it a little. People would calm down after the initial shock, she knew that now.

Though that never stopped those stares of theirs, directed both at her and at Bishop.

Although it was mostly the guards that threw Bishop wary glances. The refugees usually concentrated on Aeyrin. He wasn't sure why. Did he still look that shady? People usually assumed that about him, but he had been hunting and cooking and helping in this place for days and they still looked at him like he was seconds away from robbing them all blind.

He was getting kind of sick of it.

So at some point, he started glaring back.

That didn't go over too well though.

"What's with the death-glare, bandit?" The first fucking guard he tried that retaliation on quickly barked at him.

What?

Wait…

Bishop didn't even realize with all that shit going on. He wasn't used to dealing with this anymore, especially since when Kari died, he got a kind of closure that he never even expected. And he definitely did not expect to deal with this right here and now. But it occurred to him that a lot of the guards here wore the Whiterun armor – those sent to help from the city. They all knew about the bounty. He didn't even think of that. It explained all those looks.

"You realize we're in Whiterun Hold, don't you?" The guard gave him a mean smirk and he took a step closer to him with a weirdly intimidating smile on his face.

Bishop did not realize this little fact either, unfortunately. Fuck. He completely spaced out on that. He didn't even think about it when Erik first mentioned Whiterun forces helping. How fucking stupid was he? He never stopped to consider this threat anymore. The avoidance of the Hold and the careful approaches in case they needed to visit Saadia and Lydia became so ingrained and automatic that he got used to not thinking about this issue beyond that. He had a working system for over a year now after all. Why would he have to obsess over it?

But apparently, he should have still been a little more wary.

Then again… nobody tried to drag him back to Whiterun yet. Why not?

"Yeah? So? You gonna do something about it?" Bishop asked, but he tried not to sound antagonistic. It was a genuine fucking question. He really wanted to know if he had anything to worry about from these people. It was a lot of money after all.

"Don't think so," the guard chuckled a little. "We don't get paid for bounties. It's our 'duty', you know? So the money isn't the pull here. You've been helping these folks. We watch you. Carefully. But it doesn't seem like you're doing anything shitty. Not yet anyway."

Huh. Alright. The fact that the money wasn't in play here relaxed Bishop a bit.

"And you help the Dragonborn. I mean, I guess she would need help, right? With this fucking bullshit going on. Me and the others sent from the city discussed this when we saw you, but… getting rid of helping hands is fucking stupid. And the cooking's good," the man grinned.

Seriously? The cooking was a factor? Well, not that Bishop would complain about being left alone, but it sounded a bit ridiculous for the vicious bandit that was wanted all over the city. But maybe it was more the nobles and those sucking up to them than the guards. Why would they give a shit?

"I'm not planning on being shitty to these people," Bishop scoffed. "As if the dragons aren't shitty enough without some assholes piling up on that."

"Right. I'm wondering though. Not robbing people who have nothing is one thing, but why would a fucking bandit actually help them? What's in it for you?" The man scowled at him, suspicion all over his face.

That was a… fair question.

"You can thank her for that," Bishop smirked. It must have been obvious who he meant. "She's so eager to help everyone everywhere and I guess it's kinda… not that bad," he shrugged. His primary motivation was always just staying with Aeyrin, whatever she was doing, but it didn't feel too bad to be helping people who'd just lost everything either. Definitely much better than what he used to do in the past. "Besides, I'm not a bandit, despite what everyone thinks."

"Yeah… it did feel fucking weird that the Dragonborn would be traveling with a bandit," the guard shook his head. "I mean, it wasn't at first, when everyone said she was some love-struck girl getting duped. Happens way too often. But… after that bounty was public and you're still here. Guess there's gotta be something to it."

"I was four years old when the bounty was issued. Can't help what kind of shit you're born into, right?" Bishop scoffed. The guard certainly didn't need to know how long Bishop had kept that 'shit' up.

"You know, we didn't even see the bounty," the guard sighed. "We weren't told this shit. Not about how old you were or anything. I don't think the people were told either."

"I don't think it would change anything," Bishop scowled. They still wanted some scape-goat in Whiterun, apparently. Or they just loved the juicy story.

"No… maybe not," the man nodded thoughtfully. "It does change shit here though. You're fine here. Nobody's gonna rat you out to the Jarl or the Companions. We've seen what you do for these folks. You're alright in our book."

That was… actually nice. Maybe what went around did come around and these 'good deeds' could bring some good onto his side for once. After all that shit in Solitude and Markarth, it was so fucking refreshing to be in a place where nobody went after them for once. Even if the place was somewhat depressing.

Bishop wasn't sure if ratting him out to the Companions would even do anything anymore, but maybe some of them would still be eager to claim the bounty for the money alone. And the junior members probably still didn't know what happened between Aeyrin and the Circle. But it was best that nobody knew he was actually present in Whiterun Hold now.

He seriously didn't even realize they crossed the Hold border. Someone should make some convenient signs out in the plains. Who could tell? It all looked the same.

"Hey, so you're scouting around, right?" The guard asked after a while of surprisingly companionable silence.

"Hunting, mostly. I guess there's scouting involved, but if you need a scout, Erik is definitely..." the better choice. But the guard interrupted him before Bishop could finish.

"No, no, I know about the boy. I just thought I'd tell you. See, we're keeping this a secret for now, because we worry that the locals might want to… organize some march in revenge. But you and the Dragonborn… well…"

"What?" Bishop had no idea what the man was blabbering about.

"We saw one of the dragons fly by, towards this nearby mountain. We think it's where it nests. I figured you'd be able to find the place and… deal with it before the people got it into their heads to do it," the man looked around with concern, as if he worried that these people might actually risk their lives again for revenge on the beast.

Well… it wasn't a stupid concern. They might.

"We can check it out," Bishop nodded. That fucking dragon made so much trouble already. Unless this was the second one that got called after Markarth. Both of them were shits though.

"Thanks. Everyone will appreciate that," the man smiled. "I mean, this bitch needs to die. Really die. First we see it do all this and then we find out it had the balls to attack Markarth too. I mean it's Markarth. It's all stone and metal. What the fuck did it expect?"

"One of them spewed acid that melted the metal roofs and almost got inside the buildings," Bishop scoffed. "I think it was pretty fucking confident it would kill everyone left in that city."

"Damn, I didn't hear that part," the guard just blinked in shock. "That's fucking scary. You shouldn't spread that around. People are freaked out enough as it is."

"I don't spread anything around. This shit gets out whether you want it to or not," Bishop grumbled. If it were up to him, nobody would know about any of this shit. But after the mess with the Vigilants and Cidhna Mine, he still hoped that some good may come from the prophecy being common knowledge. People were already nervous about harming Aeyrin. Now she became only more indispensable.

"Well… you did just tell me," the guard chuckled.

Bishop rolled his eyes in response, but it was a fair point. When did he get so talkative just because this guy wasn't eager to bring him back to Whiterun?

"Right. Well… I better go focus on the dragon," he mumbled. It was best to deal with it soon. The guy was right and Bishop knew how rumors worked in this cave by now. He was sure that soon, everyone would know that the guards located one of the dragons. And idiot villagers would brandish their pitchforks immediately.

Sometimes he still stopped and wondered why the fuck he even cared. But by now, he managed not to dwell on it or be as disturbed by it anymore.

And besides, that dragon pissed him off. It ruined all their plans for winding down from the mess in Markarth.

It was going to pay.

The next day was ripe with unexpected celebrations.

When Aeyrin, Bishop and Erik returned victorious from the peak near Rorikstead, the mood switched considerably. It seemed like a lot of people needed the dragon dead, even though the other one was still out there. And for that matter, any other dragon could endanger them at any point just as well. But it was clearly edifying.

Aeyrin had learned a new Word there as well. Fortunately for her, the peak was empty when they arrived and she could stare at that wall without interruptions. They had to wait there for the dragon to show. She learned the Word 'ZUN', which apparently meant 'weapon'. She had no idea what it was supposed to do.

It was a bit tough to convince Erik that she wasn't going to try out the new Shout just yet. She blamed it on how it might attract more dragons. But she actually tried it and nothing happened, frustratingly enough.

According to the description, the dragon they killed was the hale one. The one wounded by the ballistae was still somewhere out there, but apparently, it wasn't that big of a deal to the refugees. They were happy enough getting at least some semblance of revenge.

When most people were deep in the drinks, a couple of guards came into the cavern carrying a man.

The moment Erik spotted him, he ran over to them in panic. It took a while for Bishop and Aeyrin to recognize the man being carried. He was a big red-headed Nord, but he was completely filthy and had large burn marks on half of his exposed body. What remained of his clothes was mostly singed and tattered rags.

"Dad!" Erik gasped when he reached them. "Is he…?" The question was obvious. It wasn't apparent at first glance. Was he alive?

"We found him hidden in a small cave, lad," one of the guards nodded at him, but they didn't stop as they carried the man towards the cots in the provisionary infirmary. "He barricaded himself with some rocks, but the amulet your friend lent us helped us find him."

They were talking about Brelyna's amulet. Or more so Enthir's. Erik said she lent it to the guards for night searches when she was back at the temple to sleep, when she couldn't help by casting the spell on herself and searching with them.

"He was lying there like this, not moving. But he's breathing," the guard woman noted. By that time, they placed Erik's dad on one of the free cots gently.

Andurs, the priest of Arkay looked at them a little dazed. He had a lot to drink today. They didn't have anyone there with severe injuries anymore, so he probably figured he could afford that. Aeyrin promptly noticed his blank expression and she pushed past him to see to the man. She only had a couple of drinks. Nothing to impair her abilities.

"Fuck. Please tell me you can do something," Erik gave her a pleading look. He didn't even move an inch from the cot to give her space though. He promptly took hold of his dad's hand, the one that wasn't burned, and he squeezed it tightly.

She quickly checked his pulse and opened his eyelid to look at the pupils. He was alive, though his pulse was weak. He was definitely only passed out. Dry chapped lips. He probably hadn't had anything to drink in a while. And his stomach seemed a bit sunken too. Not too much though, but that made sense. If he had been without food, it was only for several days.

The burns were very widespread, but they looked mostly like surface burns. Like he was singed from a great heat rather than actually caught fully in some searing fire. The poultice would help there, but he would likely scar. That was probably not a big concern though. He needed to survive this first. They needed to wake him and get some sustenance and water into him.

"Sit him up, Erik, please," she promptly ordered him. They'd gathered quite the crowd by now. Everyone looked at the scene in concern. That was definitely distracting, but it was clear that the man was well loved in the village. Of course they would want to see him be alright.

Erik moved quickly. He seemed so alert for how drunk he himself had been just a moment ago. It was impressive. But distressing situations seemed to have a sobering effect on everyone.

He placed himself by his father's head and pushed on his shoulders to get him into a sitting position. In the meantime, Aeyrin grabbed one of the small taproots on the table nearby and returned towards the man. While Erik held him up, she snapped the small root right below his nose.

The strong leafy scent filled the man's senses and he let out a dry heave as his eyes snapped open in shock.

"Water," Aeyrin ordered. There wasn't even anyone in particular she said it to, but a moment later, she noticed Bishop's presence by her side with a jug of water. Fortunately those were everywhere in the infirmary.

She pushed the jug towards the man, pressing it to his lips and tilting it. He managed to get the hint and when the water began to trickle in slowly, he started to swallow. She let him take several gulps, but when she tried to pull back, his hand darted to grab her wrist and stop her with surprising strength.

"No. Breathe," she chastised him. The last thing they would need was him choking right now from drinking too much in one go.

The man obeyed and let go of her hand. He took a deep breath and he croaked with a very dry voice: "You?" He blinked a few times as he tried to concentrate on her.

"It's alright, dad. I'm here. You're safe. You'll be alright," Erik said soothingly, alerting him to his presence behind him as he squeezed his shoulders. The panic was still palpable in his voice though.

"Erik," the man croaked again, almost reverently and with palpable relief. But before he could say anything else, Aeyrin pressed the jug to his lips once more.

He drank greedily while she let him. A few more gulps and after she was done, there was an actual smile warily forming on his weary face.

His voice was no longer that strained when he spoke again, but there was still obvious effort in it. "Where… where am I?"

"A cave. Refugees from the village are gathered here. The guards were combing the area for more survivors and they just brought you in," Erik explained. "Dad, I'm so sorry I wasn't there." The pain in his tone was obvious. Was he really blaming himself for not being present during the attack? It could have ended up very badly for him if he were there, especially with the bravado with which he approached dragons by now.

"Boy… I'm glad… you weren't there. Glad you're safe," his dad tried to communicate as much as he could. "The inn… there was fire… I got burned. It burns. But I ran. Found a cave and…" he looked at his shaky hands. They were bloodied and dirty – likely from barricading himself with the rocks there. "I wasn't strong enough to… to get out then…"

"Take it easy," Aeyrin spoke to him in a hopefully comforting voice. "You're safe now. You'll be alright." Now that he snapped out of the unconsciousness, he just needed some time and potions and poultices to recover. The immediate danger was over. Aeyrin had just been worried that the root wouldn't wake him up. "Bish, could you get him some food?"

Bishop only nodded and disappeared promptly, weaving his way through the crowd. The people there started to talk, now that they were no longer waiting with bated breaths. The looks on their faces were… encouraging. Full of hope.

Fortunately they didn't start crowding the man. He needed to get his bearings first. Some more water, some food and to definitely not get overwhelmed right now.

"Here. Drink more," Aeyrin pushed the jug towards him again and this time, she tried to prompt him to take it himself to gouge his strength. It was significantly lighter now after all. But the moment she let him hold it, his hands dropped heavily and she had to strengthen her hold on it again. Alright, he was clearly too weak for that. She put the jug to his lips again. Maybe some stamina potion after that. And a healing one for the pain. He shouldn't go to sleep immediately again. He needed sustenance first.

"Erik. Stay here, please," the man spoke quietly again when he was done drinking more. He sounded so desperate just then. It must have been a horrible experience to be trapped in that cave, not knowing if he could ever see his son again.

Aeyrin could see how Erik squeezed his shoulders once more. His voice sounded all choked up.

"Don't worry, dad. I'm not going anywhere."

Erik's father's story was chilling. With how he attempted to claw his way out of the prison of his own making, desperately trying to see his son again.

But it all had a happy ending. As happy as anyone could hope for in this situation. He was going to recover with only some burn scars to show for it. He even had some broken bones in his fingers, but Aeyrin managed to fix those. They were just small fractures.

Now the man was already in the priest's care after everyone sobered up. Even though there was another reason to celebrate now, the priest was reluctant to indulge again, just in case.

Erik never left the cavern to scout and comb the area again. And he didn't look like he was planning on it. He made it clear that he would stay here as long as it took while Rorik attempted to find a stable and safe place for all the refugees by appealing with all the Jarls out there. They had no homes to return to after all and establishing a new village or rebuilding would take too much time. These people needed homes, at least temporary ones, before that could happen. They couldn't live in the cave too long. There were families who were clearly not thriving here with all the stress and the inconvenient supplies and conditions. Children even.

But that was fine. Erik found the most important thing he needed to find.

And he wasn't the only one. Not exactly.

Once Erik's dad got talkative, Aeyrin asked him about Dexion. She wasn't sure if she could call it luck. It was more distressing than anything, but apparently Dexion had arrived a week or so prior to the attack and he was put up at the inn to wait for Erik, as instructed. But Erik himself confirmed that he hadn't visited in a while.

That meant one thing – Dexion was there during the attack. He could have been among the unrecognizable corpses, but he could also be hiding somewhere like Erik's dad was.

There was still hope that he was somewhere out there. And Bishop and Aeyrin agreed to stay a while longer to see if the searches turned up anything more. The guards said they would call the searches off after a few days anyway. There was no harm in waiting until that happened.

The next day brought a different unexpected visitor though. A very familiar one.

"There you are," the courier nodded at Aeyrin when he rushed up to her as she was currently enjoying her lunch with Bishop in a more secluded part of the cavern. "You didn't dispel this time," he almost grinned.

"No, not this time," she shook her head. There was no reason to dispel his clairvoyance now. And barely any time – they'd seen each other not even two weeks ago.

"So… this is where the refugees stay right now?" The courier looked around the cave curiously. "I would have worried the spell would lead me to some bandit-infested dungeon, if it wasn't for that guard by the entrance." It was clear the news of Rorikstead reached him. It probably reached everyone by now.

"Would you actually do that? Run into a cave full of bandits to deliver letters?" Bishop laughed at him meanly. He would love to see that.

"Not on your life," the man smirked. "I would have continued on my route and tried again a day later. That's what you get for crawling into places like that."

"Smart," Bishop smirked too. "So what do you have for us?"

The man promptly produced the delivery. Not just one letter. It was an actual stack of them. What the fuck?

"What?" Aeyrin gaped at him as he handed the stack to her. There had never been so many letters before at one delivery. "What is this?" Why would she get so many letters at once?

"What do you think, oh chosen one?" The courier grinned at her mockingly.

Oh Gods.

This was bad. She could see the insignias on all the letters, various symbols of various Holds. And the courier knew too?! This was a nightmare.

"The Imperial Courier Service thanks you for the continued business you bring it," he smiled at her politely, but there was clear mockery behind his words. Like he was implying her sudden popularity alone was keeping the Service afloat, even though she was pretty sure they were paid from taxes.

The man turned on his heel and rushed away again without another word. Maybe he didn't want to hear any biting remarks in return.

"Ugh. Fucking Void," Bishop grumbled as he looked at the stack of letters. Now there would be all that fucking fake pandering from all the Jarls.

Aeyrin only let out a sigh, already resigned to her lunch being ruined. There was no use in postponing it anymore. But she could at least start with something more friendly. She untied the string holding the letters together and reached for the one bearing the insignia with the head of a wolf. The one from Solitude.

.

Dear Lady Aeyrin,

Has the news from Rorikstead reached you? This is very distressing. Not only is our territory ravaged by war and dragons both, but now there is an actual legend coming to life? I apologize for the familiarity with which I write this letter, but after everything we've been through and with the current state of affairs, I find it hard to keep up the decorum. I have pleaded with General Tullius to put a stop to this war, to try and reach an armistice agreement with Ulfric to spare the lives of our soldiers and concentrate on providing more protection to our cities and villages, but he is convinced that Ulfric will not listen to reason. And I have a feeling that he himself doesn't want to listen to it either.

Perhaps you could be more persuasive, I know not. But I also fear that this will only spur him to attempt to expedite the war with greater losses. I don't know what to do. People write to me constantly now that the news has spread, all the settlements ask for additional protection which I have no means to provide. I couldn't even send my men to help with the rescue missions in Rorikstead. Nobody will leave the city unprotected after the attack on Markarth. I hear you were there, thank the Divines. Did Lord Calcelmo really banish the Forsworn and the dragons by controlling automatons? I have no idea what to believe anymore. I feel like I've suddenly been brought into some kind of a fantastical tale. I used to enjoy reading those, but since my life had become filled with these events, I can no longer find the pleasure in it in fiction.

I'm sorry for rambling. But I am still trying to make sense of things. What I meant to say is that I will try my best to provide you with whatever help I can to defeat this horror. No matter how hopeless the situation seems, I will always fight for the safety of Skyrim, no matter their allegiance, this I swear.

Please be safe. And despite where things left off after your last visit, whenever you need shelter, I will make sure that Solitude welcomes you.

May the Divines watch over you.

High Queen Elisif the Fair

.

Poor Elisif. Aeyrin almost felt bad for keeping her out of the loop. But then again, she kind of wished she could still keep her out of the loop now. She was clearly beyond distressed, but who could blame her?

Bishop looked at Aeyrin curiously and she passed the letter to him. No use hiding it. In the meantime, she grabbed another one. This time with the Morthal symbol.

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Dear Dragonborn,

black and golden wings. It all makes sense now. They must be chained and clipped. They must be defeated.

Have faith. My visions never lie. There is hope.

And beware the darkness.

Hjaalmarch stands with you as much as it is able.

Jarl Idgrod Ravencrone

.

Well… that was… brief. And oddly optimistic from the woman. Aside from that damn darkness she kept bringing up lately. What was that about? It filled Aeyrin with unease.

Regardless, she passed the letter to Bishop and reached for the one with… wait… there was no insignia. This was not from an official source, but there was a symbol on the seal. Was that a… bee and some thorny vines?

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Dear Lady Aeyrin,

the news from Rorikstead is unfortunate. It has harmed business significantly, though I realize that the worst is yet to come if the rumors are to be believed. I have no idea if they are to believed, but as a courtesy of our association, I would appreciate a confirmation from you personally, if you have any more information on the matter. I need to make estimates on my losses in the coming years. Things are rarely quickly resolved.

Nevertheless, both for the sake of my business and for the sake of our mutual cooperation, if you need, my mercenaries and information are at your disposal. It would serve no one to have the dragons ravage even more than they already do.

Regards and well wishes

Maven Black-Briar

.

That was surprisingly nice. Though Aeyrin was uncomfortable about the confirmation, there was probably no more need to hide this. People believed it anyway, there was no stopping the panic and fear anymore.

Everyone was promising her help and cooperation, but she didn't even know what she needed. She knew that once the armies started gearing up against the dragons, Alduin would stop being covert about being back. And that would be the end of them all.

Well, she wouldn't figure it out now. She merely passed the letter along and reached for the next one. The one with the ram on it. She had just talked to Igmund, but she was quite interested in his take on this.

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Dear Dragonborn,

what a mess we sent Rorikstead's way. I would feel responsible were it not for all that my city had suffered. There were no men to chase after the dragon and the relief of its escape was understandable.

On the other hand, had it not happened, we would not have the recent information. My men assure me the accounts are accurate. Alduin. Who would have thought a thing from legends would attempt to bring doom upon us all? I don't know if you knew before. If you did, I commend you on keeping it to yourself. My people are very distressed, especially after all they've suffered. Keeping up hope and morale won't be easy.

On the other hand, the Dwemer creations need no hope to function. Calcelmo seems almost excited by the development, which is disturbing, but it's Calcelmo. It's expected. You know how he is. He is convinced that the only thing that can defeat the World-Eater is the wisdom of the Dwemer.

So of course, while he plays with his rod, which is unfortunately not a mere euphemism, I am proclaiming on his behalf that his army of automatons is ready to kill Alduin. Which I'm sure will be that simple.

Regardless, be safe and if there is anything my city can do for you, do not hesitate to ask.

Jarl Igmund

.

Aeyrin actually let out a chuckle at reading the Jarl's words and Bishop raised his brow at her in confusion. That was fair – the letters were far from funny. She knew the sarcasm and quick wit were mostly a result of exhaustion and desperation at Igmund's part, but it was still funny. Especially imagining Calcelmo already gearing up for a war against the dragons.

She eagerly passed the letter to Bishop. He would like it too, especially the joke about the rod. Now there were only three letters left. The top one had the dreaded insignia with a bear's head on it. Gods, she didn't want to hear from Ulfric.

But with any luck, it would merely be from his steward, as was his custom. But upon opening it, the handwriting made it clear. The lack of any sort of address too. She was surprised he didn't just call her 'elf' again.

.

Well, well, isn't this fun? Imagine if this happened sooner, there would be no need for that unpleasant discussion we had.

I am very glad to have had a head start on this information though to make plans accordingly. I suppose I should thank you for that.

In any case, I guess the truth is out now, but my word stands. The war takes precedence. Our freedom is at stake at both fronts and you can fight to keep one while I fight for the other. Look how well we work together this way.

Have fun with those simpering fools that are all surely licking your boots now.

High King Ulfric Stormcloak

.

Ugh.

Ugh that asshole. She could feel the vitriol seeping from each word. And the mockery.

And what in the Void did he mean by 'making plans accordingly'? What plans?

Gods, that just ruined her mood even more than those distressed letters promising help. Now she wanted to read Igmund's letter again to at least try and chuckle a bit.

Heh, 'playing with his rod'.

Alright, remembering it helped.

She practically tossed the letter at Bishop, though it was not him she was mad at, of course. And then she promptly reached for the second to last one, but her hand stopped before she could grab it.

The insignia. A stag's head.

Was this from Siddgeir?!

She was already bracing herself for the unpleasantness.

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My dearest Dragonborn,

I have received some distressing news lately. I hope we have an understanding in this matter.

We had a deal and the deal was honored. There is no need for bad blood, is there? Excuse the expression. Shall we not let bygones be bygones and concentrate on things that actually threaten the good people of Skyrim?

I hope that the little unpleasantness does not mean you would deny your protection to the people of Falkreath. After all, I did everything in my power to have your man freed from that awful bounty. And there is no need to think unkindly of it.

I hope we will meet again soon. You are always welcome in my cursed lands.

Long live the Empire

Jarl Siddgeir

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Aeyrin only stared at the letter slack-jawed.

What?!

The gall of that man! He was the worst monster threatening Falkreath right now! He was such an asshole. He was worse than Ulfric. Of course he worried she would leave Falkreath to its own devices if the dragons attacked it. And of course he worried she would blame her cold relationship with him. She was kind of tempted to do just that if it weren't for the fact that she wouldn't be able to leave those people to deal with even more monsters.

Not that she could do anything if dragons attacked the city, but she would never refuse to fight them if she was around.

But Siddgeir was a fucking snake! She hated him so much, she was boiling with rage. And the last part! He dared to say that damn sentence as a send-off?! 'Long live the Empire'?! That thing he made her say during her public condemnation of Dengeir.

This was just… ugh!

"What the fuck does it say?" Bishop raised his brow at her as he watched her reaction to the letter in her hand. He was done with Ulfric's. That guy was such a fucking dick. But when he wanted to complain about him, he saw Aeyrin even more upset by the letter she had now. He didn't see the insignia on it and she was almost crumpling it in her angry clutch now. Who could make her madder than Ulfric?

Aeyrin only let out a growl from between her teeth and she passed the letter to him. His eyes scanned the signature first.

Ah. This piece of shit.

In the meantime, Aeyrin reached for the last letter. She didn't want to read anymore but she wanted to get this over with.

That one had the insignia of a horse's head. Great. Was it naïve to hope that this would be Bishop's pardon?

.

Dear Dragonborn,

I am regretful that our contact had been limited for such a long time. Please be aware that I bear you no ill will and I hope the feeling is mutual. If not, apologies and regrets are the only things I can wield right now. I realize that your reception in my city was far from kind whenever you visited and I apologize for that profusely, but I unfortunately cannot control public opinion and rumors. There is nothing I can do in that regard.

I do hope that you keep in mind that, while people can be unpleasant, there is a very real enemy out there that threatens to destroy more than one's spirit with a few crass words.

Whiterun is ready to assist in whatever manner you need.

And I hope we will meet each other again soon and put those silly matters behind us.

May the Nine watch over you.

Jarl Balgruuf the Greater

.

Well this one was no less upsetting. Balgruuf wasn't wrong about the real enemy out there, but did he really have to diminish the harassment that she and her friends suffered because of him like this?

Even that asshole Siddgeir had the courtesy to keep the bounty a secret! But no, Balgruuf couldn't.

He just didn't want to.

He had his own vendetta against the Thrice-Banished and he was taking it out on Bishop.

She really had no desire to ever see this man again in her life.

She tossed the last letter at Bishop as he was still shaking his head at Siddgeir's bullshit words.

Why did she leave the worst ones for last?

This ruined her day entirely.

After the unpleasantness with the letters and after Aeyrin answered those she wanted to answer to – namely only Igmund, Elisif and Maven – a day later there was another commotion in the cavern.

Another survivor was brought in, though this time in a much better state.

He was a farmer from the village, but what was more intriguing was his story.

"We were both hiding in this cave," he reiterated his story. Apparently he managed to escape with none other than a Moth Priest named Dexion. "We were there for days and we went outside to get food and water regularly. It was pretty remote so we didn't see the soldiers. We didn't dare to go back to the village," he sighed somberly.

Bishop and Aeyrin were getting impatient about the news of Dexion, but they tried to curb themselves to prod the man.

"Today, we met a bunch of… people. Soldiers, I think. Or mercenaries, but they all wore the same armor. I didn't recognize it though. Those kinds of soldiers never visited the village before. Dexion didn't recognize them either. But… but they said they were looking for him. And he said some people would be looking for him."

What? The Blades? Was it them? Erik didn't say they were participating in the searches.

Aeyrin promptly gave Erik a questioning look, but he only shrugged his shoulders.

"I… I don't think so. They were staying… home," he purposefully avoided any specifics, but they both knew what he was saying. The Blades weren't going anywhere near the rescue parties. They were keeping hidden.

But if it was not the Blades, who else would be looking for Dexion? The only people who knew he would come were them, right?

"So… he said he was gonna be fine, that he was supposed to come with some people. They took him away and I wanted to travel with them a bit until I found other people, but they chased me off. That they were on some important mission. I mean… sure, someone fancy like a Moth Priest would be here for something important, right?"

Aeyrin felt people's gazes burning at the back of her head. She was sure that those who knew that she was waiting for the Moth Priest were beyond curious.

"Can you tell us where you met them?" She asked the man in concern. They had to go look for them. They could possibly still catch up to them. But they weren't even sure who to look for or what direction they took. Maybe Bishop could track a big group of soldiers, but with the guards combing the area everywhere, he could mistake their footprints easily.

"Yes. It was right at the crossroads towards Dragon Bridge," the farmer nodded. "They went east."

Alright. That was something.

Aeyrin gave Erik a concerned look, but he merely gave her a determined nod in turn.

"Go. Brelyna is still out there around Rorikstead helping the guards. Try to find her and have her help you."

That wasn't a bad idea – Brelyna's magic would help find a larger group of people. Aeyrin worried about the reception she would get from the apprentice, but those concerns had to be put aside.

Whatever happened to Dexion, it didn't sound good.

Who could be looking for him here?