Chapter XLVIII – Something Extraordinary

The horns echoing through the city were an ominous call.

A call neither Bishop nor Aeyrin wanted to hear. It was even preferable to be stuck in the treasury with the dead Silver-Bloods while the Forsworn looted the place happily. Some even continued to stab into Thonar and Thongvor's limp bodies.

Bishop had half a mind to do that too for all the shit these assholes had caused.

For all this.

He just wanted to survive this with Aeyrin. That should have been enough. Their survival was supposed to be the only important thing in the world. And it was. It was the most important thing.

But not the only one.

Somewhere along the line, he got a little attached to that idiot mage. That guy was great. He kept gulping up their stories, he was like a little excited kid when they brought him loot and he always gave them a great price. He was a good guy and these assholes just wanted to butcher him. He probably didn't even care about this stupid war. He just cared about the Dwemer. And his nephew.

Oh, right, the Forsworn attacked his nephew before. And now they were going to finish them all off. Great. Just fucking great.

And it was not just that bugging him. He couldn't imagine what would happen in this city afterwards. Would it still be possible to come here, to only as much as resupply here?

It was fucking annoying what the Forsworn were doing. Did they even want to live in this place?

But no matter how much Bishop hated this, there was no escaping it.

Eventually, the horns blew outside the treasury and the time had come.

Cael left some of his people in that place and rallied others to follow him. It was apparently not going to be an all-in assault. It made sense. Some of the Forsworn probably needed to still keep the streets and ramparts secure. And finish taking the riches from the treasury.

And in the meantime, Cael led the rest across the streets towards the Keep.

Others were already gathered there. For one, there were two other Forsworn with headdresses on them – clearly two other chieftains. Were these only three clans? There were so many of them all around the city. Or maybe some people from other clans joined, but not their chieftains. Or maybe it was just these three that went to take Keep itself.

But that was hardly important right now.

"We don't know what awaits us there. Everyone, follow my lead," a woman in a headdress bellowed.

Well, this was it. There were at least forty Forsworn ready to assault the Keep. Along with Bishop and Aeyrin who kept sticking to Cael, Robin and Anu, just so they wouldn't get stabbed by someone who got different ideas. They weren't the only ones there who weren't Forsworn though, upon closer inspection. There were still some guards from the prison among them. Maybe that was another reason nobody was attacking them. But some people did have suspicion written on their faces whenever their eyes rested on the two of them, dressed in Forsworn getup and looking really out of place.

The streets were empty of the fighting by now, at least from what they could see. But Forsworn were still running around. Most of them were finishing off the fallen, but some were trying to get inside the boarded up buildings.

There was no time to watch the scene though. Soon, the woman chieftain let out a hollering cry and she rushed inside the Keep. Everyone followed her promptly. With so much enthusiasm that Bishop and Aeyrin almost lost Cael in the crowd.

When they reached inside, it was eerily quiet. Staggeringly so.

There was no army of guards waiting there to protect the Jarl. In fact, the woman chieftain ran up the stairs to check immediately. There was no Jarl. Nobody was there. There were no servants, no nobles, no guards. Just… nobody.

"Fuckers are hiding out somewhere. All of them," the woman snarled hatefully.

"What's that?" Cael suddenly inclined his head towards the side of the great chamber. There was something faintly visible beyond the stairs and the archways. A soft blue light.

Aeyrin and Bishop knew exactly where it was coming from.

Calcelmo's workstation.

"Come on. Let's go," the woman nodded. She seemed to be in charge. The third chief, another woman, stayed very stoic and quiet throughout. Maybe she was not as energetic about the assault as this one was.

Nevertheless, all the Forsworn and their 'allies' followed the chieftain as she quickly ran up the stairs and towards the mage's workspace.

"Cael, please don't hurt him," Aeyrin whispered to the chieftain as they rushed forth.

"Who, my sparrow? The mage?" Cael raised his brow at her, never stopping in his hurried strides. "He's dangerous."

"You're dangerous," she couldn't help the spite permeating through her words. Cael's brows remained raised in surprise, but he didn't respond anymore. There was no time to respond anyway.

They reached the chamber at last. The grand open space had a huge blue barrier raised right in front of Calcelmo's workstation. There was nobody else. Nothing else. Just the mage, standing there, determined. The barrier was held up by several soul gems placed at the sides of it. It surely couldn't withstand the Forsworn horde though.

"Hah! You think this will keep you safe, mage?" The eager chieftain scoffed at him, her voice booming through the room.

"We'll see," Calcelmo smiled calmly. He seemed so calm, it was disturbing. Surely he wasn't the only mage here. Surely he wasn't more powerful than a horde of Forsworn. Why was he so calm? Why didn't he hide? "It does look like you ran into a hurdle," he smirked at the woman, then his eyes ran over the assault force just waiting to take his head off.

His eyes stopped at Bishop and Aeyrin with palpable shock. They had no idea what they should do, so they just squirmed in place in discomfort. How could they explain this to him, that they were part of this group of maniacs that currently wanted to kill him?

"Where's the Jarl?" The chieftain barked at the mage promptly, brandishing her dual swords in a menacing gesture. Nobody actually approached the barrier so far. Maybe it wasn't just a 'hurdle'. Maybe it would hurt those that got close. Neither Aeyrin nor Bishop understood enough about magic for them to know for sure.

"Safe," Calcelmo answered, still calm and composed. "I sent everyone to hide while I hold the line."

The Forsworn started to laugh at that, clearly mocking him. But Calcelmo was not disturbed by that in the slightest. Instead, he looked at Aeyrin and Bishop with a concerned frown on his face.

"My friends, what are you doing with them?"

"'Friends'? Who the fuck did you drag into this, Cael?" The woman snarled at the young chieftain promptly, but Aeyrin and Bishop were only concerned about talking to Calcelmo.

"I don't even know," Aeyrin sighed quietly. She could feel Cael's eyes on her and she had no idea whether he looked at her with sympathy, concern or wariness. She didn't want to look back at him to find out.

"We're trying not to get killed," Bishop scoffed. What else could they do in this mess?

"Ah. Understandable," the court wizard nodded. He was… saying that joining an assault on the city and on him was 'understandable'? How was he so calm? His barrier wouldn't last long, would it? It was disturbing. "But in that case, dears, you might want to come here, by my side instead."

Bishop and Aeyrin exchanged a startled look. Why was he so confident? And more importantly… could they?

"One old mage thinks he can stand against us," the Forsworn chieftain in charge laughed at him promptly. "We're nothing like the Nords. You won't scare us with your little cantrips. We have mages too." She gestured resolutely and, in a matter of a second, three Forsworn stepped forward and cast some spells on the barrier. White ones. They looked like dispel magic – Aeyrin and Bishop were very familiar with dispel magic by now.

Calcelmo raised his hand and cast a blue spell of his own, likely to reinforce the barrier. The mages did not let up though, not on either side, and Calcelmo quickly called out.

"Friends, please, step away!"

He wasn't looking at them, but Bishop and Aeyrin knew he was addressing them.

That was it. She couldn't take this anymore. Aeyrin made a wavering step towards the barrier and then another.

"Sparrow! What are you doing? Are you… are you going to Shout the thing down?" Cael's voice echoed through the chamber. There was a little panic in it, especially when Aeyrin took another step forth. Only then she turned to face the chieftain. She knew the Forsworn were watching her carefully, some even whispering amongst themselves, probably confused about the Shouting thing. Some knew though. She could see it on their faces that they knew who she was.

But it hardly mattered.

"No! I'm not," she shook her head at Cael resolutely.

"You're siding with the Nords?!" Anu scoffed at her incredulously. Why was it so hard for them to understand the position they put her in?

"No!" Aeyrin answered again. "I'm… I'm not siding with anyone!" She had no idea who was in the right here, who committed more atrocities, whose side actually deserved Markarth, but it didn't matter. She wanted no part of this. "I don't want him to die!" She gestured to Calcelmo. "He's done nothing but help people. He's not an enemy, he's not oppressing anyone or stealing anyone's land. He's a scholar. A brilliant man. He… he's protected us so many times before. I won't stand against him, no matter how suicidal that is."

Bishop took a deep breath and walked the few steps towards Aeyrin. He kind of felt the same, even though he really had his qualms about risking their lives like this. Even if Cael wanted to spare Aeyrin, the others clearly didn't care about the dragons enough to do that. And nobody here would care enough to spare him.

Cael did suddenly look much less eager in his assault. Even hesitant. He gave Aeyrin a worried and regretful look, but it wouldn't do much good. Soon, the Forsworn would attack them anyway.

"This city belongs to the Reach and the proud Reachmen, as it always had. Anyone standing against us is volunteering to be slaughtered," the woman chieftain snarled at them, clenching her brandished swords tightly in her hands. Things were getting tenser by the second, but Bishop and Aeyrin did not move away from the barrier.

"History is… a funny thing, my Reachman friend," Calcelmo still kept up his spell, as did the Forsworn mages. His voice remained calm, but there was a strain of exertion in it. He wouldn't be able to keep it up for too long. But he still talked adamantly. "It's not always as clear-cut… as your predecessors claim it to be. You are wrong."

"This city does not belong to the Nords!" The chieftain yelled at the mage angrily, clearly riled by his insinuation.

"Correct, actually," Calcelmo smiled a bit – as much as he could. The exertion of keeping up the spell was becoming more and more apparent on his face and the Forsworn mages still continued. But so did he. And so did he continue to speak. And he even seemed to speak with more resolve now. "Markarth belongs neither to the Nords, nor the Forsworn, nor me. It will always belong to the Dwemer. It is their creation. Can any of us lay any real claim on it now?"

Leave it to Calcelmo to bring the Dwemer into this. In the middle of a tense situation, with mages attempting to destroy the last protection he had before he would be subjected to their weapons.

"The fuck's he babbling about?" Robin murmured, but her voice carried in the chamber. There were only the soft whooshing sounds of magic around. Nobody else spoke in the tense atmosphere.

"It will always belong to them because they knew how to make sure that it will," Calcelmo continued to speak through his gritted teeth. "You cannot ever hope to comprehend the complexity of Markarth." He let out a sigh. It almost sounded wistful, but it was probably just the strain of the magic. He kept up his hand, still casting the spell on his barrier, but he reached out with his other arm towards something on his workstation. It was a… scepter. A rod. Of Dwemer design.

"I've had enough of this shit," the woman chieftain snarled. "Let's at least kill them while he rambles on," she pointed to Bishop and Aeyrin.

"No! Kiel, wait," Cael gave her an uncertain look. Almost a disturbed one. The crowd of Forsworn all waited for their chieftains to work this out, ready with their weapons drawn, but before Cael could explain why he stopped her, Calcelmo continued in his speech loudly.

"You will never comprehend it! I, on the other hand, can at least claim to come a little close."

Suddenly, his hand went down. And the barrier was gone within a second.

"Hide, friends. This will not be pretty," he calmly gestured towards his workstation. What? Were they supposed to… hide below his desk?

Bishop and Aeyrin didn't wait for more instructions though. They didn't care. They were fucked. So they just ran towards the workstation and slid down below the large desk. That was weird and pathetic, but they had no idea what was happening, why was Calcelmo so calm, or what else should they do.

"Char-!" The woman, Kiel, bellowed, but she didn't even get to finish that one word.

A disturbingly loud and resounding noise suddenly echoed through the entire chamber. Metallic and booming. They saw Calcelmo smash the rod in his hand against the ground and for some inexplicable reason, it made the whole place shake. Literally shake. Some pebbles fell from the cavernous ceiling and Bishop and Aeyrin actually had the urge to grip the legs of the man's desk as if everything around was about to collapse.

What was happening? Did that rod just cause a small earthquake?

But that was not the only shocking thing to happen. Calcelmo banged the rod against the ground once more, creating another tremor, then he twirled it in his hand to have the end with a shiny crystal point at the crowd of Forsworn in front of him.

"What the fuck is that?" Bishop growled. The ground suddenly felt so unstable.

Calcelmo, on the other hand, only looked reverent as the sounds resonated through the room. They were promptly followed by swift metallic sounds, almost drowning out Calcelmo's next words.

"Something extraordinary."

Before anyone could make sense of any of it, the source of the metallic sounds became apparent. Bolts shot from behind Calcelmo. In fact, they shot from holes in the giant Dwemer structures at his back past the bridge – they shot from the entrance to Nchuand-Zel.

And in an instant, several of the Forsworn in the back lines fell dead on the spot, pierced by powerful bolts in their heads.

And while the horde wavered and panicked, more noises entered the scene. This time, it was stomping and whirling, all distinctly metallic. All distinctly familiar.

The door to the Dwemer Ruins at Calcelmo's back suddenly shot open. It was actually torn off its strong hinges. And soon, it was clear what did that and where those sounds came from.

Five enormous automatons marched out of the ruins, followed by a score of spheres and a few spiderlings. They were all marching towards Calcelmo, but he didn't seem to startle in the slightest. Why didn't these things attack him just then?

Two more bangs into the ground, followed by another twirl and a swish. It looked like he was making some patterns with that rod. And the purpose became clear soon. The automatons got their targets. They charged the Forsworn instantly.

"Retreat!" Chieftain Kiel screamed, but right after her voice carried through the room, a large automaton locked swords with her. It attempted to overpower her at first, but a moment later, it used its other arm, equipped with a spiked mace, to smash against her head.

That was their cue to panic.

Some Forsworn tried to fight from a distance, but most of them actually ran. They all turned on their heels and ran quickly to escape the automatons, quickly so that more bolts wouldn't catch them off guard.

Calcelmo wasn't kidding.

This was… extraordinary.

Some of the automatons engaged in battle and followed, but some just stayed by Calcelmo's side. They remained in place calmly. They never attacked him, nor did they target Bishop and Aeyrin.

And so, very uncertainly, the two of them began to crawl from under the table.

"Did you see?" Calcelmo suddenly beamed at them like an excited child. It was a wonder he didn't start to clap his hands in excitement. "Aaah, I'm so glad that someone saw. I wanted to show my boy the full scope of the defenses, but I was worried for his life. The barbarians are too dangerous, even if he's capable. And after what happened to him at their hands already," he sighed.

"What the fuck did you do? Why aren't those things attacking us?" Bishop gaped at him in confusion. Why was the guy just brushing off these insane events?

"I uncovered something we thought was long lost in Nchuand-Zel," he sighed wistfully. "It is… a smidge of the power that tonal architects used to hold. But it is something."

What? What did he just say?

"You… you did tonal magic?" Aeyrin's jaw practically dropped at his words. What? How was that even possible? That magic was lost to the ages, right?

"Not me, not exactly," Calcelmo shook his head. "The rod did. Much like a staff would make a fireball in your hands, despite you not knowing how to make one. Tonal magic commands stone and metal and apparently, this one commands the security automatons in Nchuand-Zel." He shrugged. As if he had just said a completely normal thing. This was not normal. He just sent huge automatons to hunt down Forsworn attackers.

"Now, why don't you two go into my museum to get the people in there out?" He gave them a kind, encouraging smile. "I… suspect Markarth still needs to defend itself."

Another loud bang of the rod resonated through the room, making both Bishop and Aeyrin flinch at the start, and Calcelmo began to walk. All the automatons in the room promptly followed, like obedient pets, following their new master.

Bishop and Aeyrin were left standing there, in absolute shock and confusion, staring at his back as he disappeared from sight, along with his new metal friends.

Did that really just happen?

"I… I think I'm still dehydrated. I think I was just delirious," Aeyrin stammered a bit.

"In that case, that makes two of us," Bishop shook his head, but he couldn't help the smile making its way on his face soon. They were alive. Calcelmo was alive. And what was more, he was going to actually chase off the barbarians. There was really no doubt about that now. Were there more automatons that would follow him in the ruins?

Bishop's gaze went back to the large structure behind them. It was unbelievable that this just happened. But it was kind of… funny? He couldn't help but think about all those grand plans everyone always had for Markarth and an incredulous laugh made its way out of his lips.

"Holy shit," he chuckled. "Ulfric can take as many fucking forts he wants, he's never taking Markarth. Not with that insane mage around."

Aeyrin giggled a little. It was more out of fear and desperation. Or maybe relief. "I don't know why we're even surprised that he would find a staff that does tonal magic."

Bishop smirked at her. It was true. If anyone would be insane enough to find such a thing and actually use it so shamelessly, it was good old Calcelmo.

"Well, come on, let's go free those poor saps while Calcelmo wraps this city around his little finger. Looks like this fucked up assault is as good as over," Bishop wrapped his arm around Aeyrin's back, careful not to aggravate her whiplash. She couldn't reach that with her healing hands before after all.

Their suicidal act of siding with Calcelmo ended up saving their lives.

And now all that was left was to take scope of the aftermath.

…

"Forsworn!"

A loud voice yelled behind the door to the museum. Someone must have heard them approach. Someone must have seen them through the keyhole or something.

And all they could see properly were the borrowed armors, of course.

"We're not Forsworn!" Aeyrin called out promptly. "Jarl Igmund, please open the door."

She wasn't sure if the Jarl was the one who had called out, but he was surely the one who would recognize her voice, right? And the one to make the decisions.

There was some murmuring behind the door before it finally opened. There was a Redguard woman in Dwemer armor – Aeyrin recognized her as the Jarl's housecarl – and she practically dragged Aeyrin into the room. Bishop merely followed.

There were a lot of people there. Servants, the steward, the housecarl, the Jarl, some nobles, clearly, even two Thalmor. And many guards.

The Jarl promptly approached Bishop and Aeyrin. The whole room was eerily silent as he looked them up and down with palpable concern on his face at their choice of attire. And probably their presence here.

"What… happened?" The man let out a sigh. Almost an exasperated one. He looked so tired.

"It's… a long story," Aeyrin gave him a nervous smile. "I know we were arrested, but…"

"Please, that doesn't matter," he raised his hand at her, stopping the direction the conversation was taking. "Just tell me what's happening in my city."

"Your mage is dominating it with his metal toys," Bishop smirked.

"We felt the tremors. He really used the rod?" Aicantar promptly stepped forth to join the conversation. He looked quite astonished.

"Yes… his… tonal magic staff," Aeyrin nodded, still confused about this. "He sent us here and went outside the Keep to… deal with the rest of the city."

"Thank the Divines for that insane bastard," Igmund let out a relieved sigh. "I… thought we wouldn't need it. It's... we still don't know much about that rod. But then the guards outside…" he shook his head somberly. "There were more Forsworn than we expected. The city was about to fall. Calcelmo assured me he would handle things, but he assures me of that a lot. Last time he did, he disappeared for days underground and came back on the verge of death."

"He also came back with that rod that just saved the entire city," Aicantar smirked at Igmund.

"True. True," Igmund nodded. "Men, go outside and help Calcelmo. We're… we're safe for now," he ordered his guards.

Everyone in the room seemed confused, but they obeyed. It looked like they'd been there a while, actually. Scared out of their minds, likely.

"Now… let's go back to the throne room. I want to know exactly what happened."

This was going to be a lot to explain. Even Bishop and Aeyrin hadn't shared their versions of the story with each other. And there were things each of them wondered if it was best to keep them to themselves. But this whole mess was so complicated. Would it be easier to lie or would it just dig them deeper?

They'd been set up and thrust into an impossible situation.

Maybe without the Silver-Bloods around, Jarl Igmund would actually be a reasonable man.

…

"So, let me get this straight," the Jarl sighed. He looked so exhausted. He had been listening to their stories for over an hour while someone rushed in the throne room, from time to time, to let him know how things progressed with clearing off the Forsworn from the streets.

A lot of the barbarians fled. Most of them, actually, when they heard of the army of automatons marching on them.

And for now, Igmund and Bishop and Aeyrin were mostly alone in the throne room, going over the events.

"You were both set up by the Silver-Bloods, blackmailed into killing the King in Rags, and then dragged into the prison revolt," he pinched the bridge of his nose in exasperation.

"What were we supposed to do?" Bishop scowled at him. "Was I supposed to stay trapped there when I knew Madanach's people were on the other side, trying to kill me? Was she supposed to let herself be a casualty in the revolt?"

"No, of course not. Don't misinterpret my exhaustion," Igmund shook his head. "Inadvertently, you caused this assault. Or… at least rushed it without us having a chance to prepare and ask for reinforcements."

Both Bishop and Aeyrin promptly gave him a deep scowl and they prepared to protest. But he quickly stopped them by raising his hand.

"But… inadvertently, I did the same by letting myself be ordered around by the Silver-Bloods. They told me nothing specific, but they said they need you two arrested. At least for a time. They promised the Dragonborn would be let out. And… I guess I don't have to pretend I wasn't in their hands. Everyone knew who ran this city," Igmund sighed.

"Where does that leave us?" Bishop scowled at him.

"Wherever you wish. You were arrested for a crime you did not commit. That's… all, really. You are absolved of that crime. And we can't really hold anyone responsible for this mess. This is my decision, now that the Silver-Bloods are gone. It's going to be a mess to decide what happens to their holdings now, but as for their schemes, I am determined to undo as much damage as possible. You two are free."

That was a relief. Truth be told, after all this, they kind of expected the Jarl to be lenient. And he often seemed like he wanted to be lenient. Or maybe he just wanted to be free of the Silver-Bloods.

Was it possible that, no matter how troubled he seemed, that this was the best thing that could have happened to him?

Then again, it wasn't just the Silver-Bloods who died. It was the vast majority of his men too. Markarth's invincibility was put to question and all its forces were decimated. Well… not all. Not the automatons.

This whole mess was confusing and upsetting.

And in the end, Bishop and Aeyrin really didn't care anymore.

They were alive, they were free and they didn't have to help slaughter Calcelmo and other innocent citizens. And what was more, the Silver-Bloods were actually dead.

If there was someone for whom this mess really worked out, surprisingly enough, it was them.

That didn't happen a lot – that they came out of everything in a more favorable position than they had entered in.

"What happened in the city while we were imprisoned?" Aeyrin asked curiously.

"The Silver-Bloods had some… contacts among the Forsworn prisoners. They were notified when Madanach died, but… a day later, they got a message about the revolt taking place. Along with the possibility of some clan trying to breach our walls," Igmund sighed. "We were being careful. We ordered everyone to stay inside and the soldiers boarded up the houses, just in case. But we were not expecting this. Not on this scale. I… I still can't believe they managed to rally like this."

"I think they were kinda pissing themselves over Madanach," Bishop sighed. Even Cael's clan seemed to be thrown by the man's death. Why? Nobody had ever spoken of a Forsworn king before.

"Yes. He was… an important symbol for them. He was a self-proclaimed king, really, a chieftain of a tribe. But once he was arrested as a prisoner of war, he began… scheming. With the Silver-Bloods and with the Forsworn both. He was playing both sides, it seems. He was making sure the Forsworn were treated well in the prison, relatively at least. He eventually made sure that they had actual power in their hands there, power to communicate with the outside, to get what they needed, that sort of thing. He was the connection to their lost brethren, to those on the outside. And with every tale, he became grander. He stood for their revolt. For dignity even in captivity. Many admired him for being imprisoned for so long and still standing strong and surviving in that place. Still helping," Igmund explained.

"But he was double-crossing them too," Bishop scowled. Wasn't he? He was working with the Silver-Bloods and feeding them information.

"True. It kept balance. The Forsworn didn't know, but Madanach told the Silver-Bloods just what was needed to keep the Forsworn placated and curbed. Working for those they despised. It was a fragile system from the start. The Silver-Bloods knew well why they sent you to deal with the man," Igmund nodded at Bishop. "But they miscalculated. His death was supposed to silence their rebellion, but he became their martyr."

"Did you ask for help?" Aeyrin cocked her head at him curiously. She hoped the Legion wasn't going to march in here soon.

"As fast as we could. I doubt the answer even made it back yet, and I know what it will say anyway. 'No, there's a war going on'," Igmund sighed. "Ordinarily, we would have received reinforcements from Fort Sungard right away, but… well… Fort Sungard is no longer ours. Markarth was doomed. I don't know what would have happened without Calcelmo."

"Where did he get that thing anyway?" Bishop shook his head incredulously. He didn't even know a tonal magic rod like that existed.

"You remember that he wanted to send you off to Nchuand-Zel and I forbade it?" Igmund asked and Bishop and Aeyrin promptly nodded. "He sent off people before and none came back. I forbade him to send any more expeditions after that. So… one day, he decided to go himself. He came back a few days later with that rod and nearly dead. But he was so excited."

"Who wouldn't be? He discovered magic that had been lost for Eras," Aeyrin sighed wistfully. It was beyond impressive.

"Very true. And I don't even think I can ever repay him for this," Igmund smiled.

"Repay whom for what, Igmund?" A familiar voice echoed through the throne room and they all turned towards the source. Calcelmo was back with a satisfied smile on his face.

"You, of course, you smug bastard," Igmund chuckled a little. "You're back."

"I am. I sent the automatons back into the ruins. People were starting to get nervous about the tremors, they kept peeking behind their boarded windows, and most of the Forsworn are gone," Calcelmo reported.

"What about casualties?" Igmund scowled with concern.

"All your men that were outside," the mage shook his head regretfully. "Twelve civilians. Some of those barbarians got inside the houses before I could interfere."

"Unfortunate," the Jarl sighed. "But… for the horror we just faced… those are very minimal losses."

"True. And there's no need for more. I hope you are being nice to my friends," Calcelmo gave the man a pointed look.

"I am. They are free. For good. In more ways than one, I suspect," he nodded at Bishop and Aeyrin with understanding. He was clearly referring to them being free of the machinations of the Silver-Bloods. He was finally free of those too.

"Cheer up, you old dolt," Calcelmo smiled at him. "We've survived and we can at last be from under the Silver-Bloods' bootheel. And we are currently in hold of a practically invincible army. Do you have any idea how many automatons are in there? Friends, how many at once have you been able to disable?"

"At once? I don't know, three, four, if we're lucky," Bishop shrugged.

"See? Invincible!" Calcelmo clapped his hands together excitedly. He was really like a child when it came to his toys.

"As long as you don't lose the rod," Igmund smirked. "Alright. Are my men cleaning the streets?"

"Yes. Once that's done, they'll remove the boards from the houses and the citizens will go back to normal again. Though, they might be a bit wary. Our city will look far from protected on the outside with so few guards," Calcelmo explained.

"Understandable. We'll see how everyone takes the news," Igmund nodded. "I have to take care of the mines first. Make sure the guards in there are safe, as well as the rest of the prisoners. And then I need to take care of all the holdings of the Silver-Bloods. They belong to the city now that all the heirs are dead." It looked like the man was getting a headache just thinking about this, the way he was rubbing his head.

"I know this isn't your priority or anything, but… will we be able to get our things back from the prison?" Aeyrin piped up after a while. She was really worrying about this, even though there were more important things to worry about for everyone else. She wanted her rings back. And her clothes.

"Oh… ah… sure, I think?" Igmund nodded. He probably didn't even concern himself with stuff like this.

"I'll have Aicantar handle it, friends," Calcelmo chuckled a little. "Igmund's head will explode if we stuff more responsibilities in there right now."

That was actually very likely. The man had to keep his hands off most of the dealings in the city for so long because of the Silver-Bloods, and now he had… everything. He had the whole city to run.

And the city was currently a mess.

But at least they could all say one thing.

None of them were chained anymore.

Author's Note:

If you ever wanted the definition of Deus Ex Machina, this chapter is it :D Usually I don't rely on that particular technique, but it's just so fitting for someone like Calcelmo.

In case you are confused about what just happened, be sure to check out the side story released a while ago in Third Book Extras. The story is called Resonance – a two chapter adventure where you can follow Calcelmo in his explorations and discovery of the nifty little rod.

I hope you enjoyed the prison stint and the near-desolation of Markarth.

We'll see how the city recovers soon :)