It was upsetting for multiple reasons.
Not only was Bishop excited to tell Aeyrin all about Ri'zhassa offering him that deal – to brighten her time here in the temple with the ultimate opportunity to make that asshole pay for everything he had ever done to her and anyone else. He was so excited for that, only to have the news be sidelined by Brunwulf's chilling revelations.
Now it just seemed like Aeyrin got even more worried about the developments. It was a lot. All of it. Especially with what needed to be done now.
Aeyrin was half tempted not to tell Bishop anything about Brunwulf's plan. And on the other hand, she couldn't wait until she would tell him, just for that reassurance that he would help. It was conflicting. It was tormenting. When Free-Winter told her his plan, she knew that Bishop was the perfect person to take care of it. She wasn't sure if she would ever trust anyone else to pull off an insane stunt like this.
But sending him into such danger was heart-wrenching. How could she justify saving one of two people she cared about the most in the world by risking the other one?
It was a Thalmor outpost. Brunwulf said that it was small and mostly inconspicuous. It wasn't an official Thalmor prison and it needed to operate covertly against the law. But it was still full of Thalmor. Full of dangerous and terrifying Thalmor.
She couldn't really keep it a secret though. Bishop knew at a first glance at her that something was wrong and when she told him, he instantly asked about the plans for getting her mentor out. And of course, just as she had known he would, he volunteered immediately to take care of things.
It was both a relief and a horrible boulder placed on her chest.
She had no idea what else to do though. How long could Master Therien hold on in that place? He was one of the strongest people she ever knew, spiritually, but he was an old man. She had no idea the physical tolls that a stay at a place like this could have on him.
It was already painful enough to think of him being there for days, to think of all the torments he must have endured. The only comfort was Brunwulf's man on the inside, confirming that Master Therien was still alive.
Things seemed out of her control. Out of her depth. Especially after all she had learnt. There were others from the chapel involved. Apparently Master Therien had been more busy than it appeared. And so was Brunwulf. It was just unfortunate that most of the people connected to this endeavor were priests. There was no one to handle situations like these.
Not until now, supposedly. Bishop was all ready to meet with Brunwulf and discuss the plan in more detail.
None of this eased Aeyrin's mind even a little bit, but she could do nothing else. Nothing to help, nothing to save Master Therien herself. This was beyond her.
She and Brunwulf agreed to deal with the issue the next day for good, but for that, she still had to spend an entire night tossing and turning in worry while Bishop kept trying to reassure her. At least the other clerics were understanding about that. Apparently, all three of them were very helpful with Master Therien's endeavors, but they had no idea where he went. Nobody did.
At first, Aeyrin took Bishop to the undercroft where only the ghosts might hear them talk. She certainly didn't imagine showing him around that place under these circumstances. She always thought fondly of learning to play the lute there and singing to the ghost. She wanted to do that with Bishop around too, but instead, it was only about distressed conversation and anxious plans.
And once they had discussed everything and returned to the living quarters and snuck into the clerics' room, her fellow clerics had realized that something was going on anyway. She wasn't very good at hiding her desperation about the situation. At least she already knew from Brunwulf that the three clerics were involved as well, but telling them where Master Therien was was too hard, even with Bishop's help. They were very distressed by the news as well and a large part of the eve was spent in commiseration.
Eventually, the next day came at last and, right after breakfast, Bishop and Aeyrin headed to The Oak and Crosier. And it appeared that Free-Winter was expecting them just as anxiously. He was supposed to finalize the plans on his end and now the time had come at last to execute them.
"Welcome, please, have a seat. We have lots to discuss," he greeted them somberly when they arrived in his room at the lavish inn.
"Definitely. Let's go over this shit so that I can head out," Bishop nodded.
Aeyrin stayed silent through their exchange. She didn't know what to say. She still wanted to stop Bishop from doing this, but then again, she wanted nothing more than for him to do this. It was confusing and frustrating. So she opted to remain quiet and just go with this. She knew, after all, that Bishop was already determined and there was nothing she could say that would convince him not to do this for her sake.
"I appreciate you taking this on, young man," Brunwulf nodded with a relieved smile on his face. "I didn't know where to turn with this sort of thing. I even considered trying to do this myself, but my skillsets are limited. When lady Aeyrin said that you were here in Chorrol too, I knew we finally had a way to resolve this."
Aeyrin only squirmed at his words. It made her feel like she was throwing Bishop to the wolves.
"The sooner we do, the better," Bishop nodded, seeing Aeyrin's despondent expression. "You said you had some plan? Something with magic?"
"Yes. I've told lady Aeyrin that we have a man on the inside in the outpost," Brunwulf gestured towards the chairs in the room, urging Bishop and Aeyrin to sit down. He walked over to the same cupboard with the goblets and a bottle again while he continued speaking. "He will assist us in this. He has already given us a lot of useful information."
"You trust a Thalmor?" Bishop scoffed. That sounded like a stupid idea. Who was to say that this 'contact' wasn't feeding them false information?
"You've met Iranafire? She's been an initiate at the temple for years," Brunwulf asked, though Bishop only threw him a confused look.
"Yes," Aeyrin nodded. "She's the young Altmer girl," she explained to Bishop. Iranafire was a nice girl and very eager to learn and follow the temple's teachings.
"Apparently she herself showed some interest in Talos and she confided in Therien. She took interest in the cause. And the man on the inside, he's her brother. She trusts him. Therien trusts Iranafire. And the man has been nothing but forthcoming and helpful so far," Brunwulf explained. "I believe he only works with the Thalmor for the pay, not for any… ideologies he might hold. Especially not against his sister."
"Alright. Fine. Let's assume this Thalmor won't betray us," Bishop sighed. It didn't sound like reassurance enough, but then again, what would be? Nothing was ever certain. And this mission wasn't his first venture into trusting Dominion employees. It was actually a lot like that mission at the embassy in Skyrim. "What's the plan?"
"The plan, yes," Brunwulf nodded. "Carandil, Iranafire's brother, assures us that there is no way to get inside the outpost from the outside. But there is apparently a way to get out of the outpost from the inside. There is a way to free Therien, but it might get a little complicated. First and foremost, the only way Carandil can help us get anyone inside is by having them pose as a Thalmor. That's where the magic comes in."
"So you want to use illusion magic to make me look like an Altmer?" Bishop smirked. He had never heard of people illusioning themselves as another person, but he had heard about it disguising objects as something else, or animals and such.
"Precisely," Free-Winter smiled. "It won't last longer than several hours and we still need to do some touch-ups. It's not going to be easy to pull off. You will take on the identity of one of the smaller fish at the outpost whom Carandil has… disposed of earlier. You won't look exactly like him though. We will still have to hide you as best as we can."
"Yes. Try not to talk to anyone too much, please," Aeyrin looked at him pleadingly. The fewer risks were taken with this, the better.
"Hey, I can make it sound like I'm actually some Thalmor scum. How hard can that be?" Bishop smirked. "'Superior race and all that shit, humans can't be Gods, blah, blah, blah."
Aeyrin chuckled a little at his comment, but the nervousness still didn't leave the tone of her voice even for a second. Especially since Bishop's ability to improvise wasn't the concern here. "That's not it," she shook her head.
"What then?" he gave her a confused look.
"It's… the accent."
"What accent? Altmer accent? I can probably imitate that," he scowled in concentration before he noticed her shake her head subtly again. "What? My accent? I don't have an accent!"
"You do. A little bit," she chuckled slightly again. "It's not bad, I promise. I really like it." It wasn't the kind of accent she liked to make fun of when she was mocking Stormcloaks or some such. It certainly wasn't unpleasant. His voice did have a bit of the Nordic hardiness to it though. Which was actually very nice. It just wouldn't really pass for an Altmer voice.
"I can't have an accent. I grew up right here," Bishop scoffed and threw up his arms in exasperation. He was effectively from Cyrodiil. He didn't have a Nordic accent at all.
"Yeah, with Nord parents," Aeyrin shrugged. His whole clan was from Skyrim and Bishop surely didn't learn to speak from the people he was robbing instead.
"I…" Bishop remained gaping at her in shocked realization before he turned to see Brunwulf's reaction to all this. "Do I have an accent?"
"I can't really tell, my friend," the nobleman laughed. Granted, his own accent was much more prominent. "Maybe a little?"
"Fuck," Bishop mumbled under his breath. Aeyrin had a point. He would have to try to speak as little as he could.
"It's another thing to look out for," Brunwulf nodded. "This needs to be done as covertly as possible and our cause needs to remain a secret under all circumstances. You cannot be tied to it. We cannot have them follow the threads to us. This is why you need to rescue everyone from that place, not just Therien. You need to leave them fumbling for answers while we use the time to transport Therien and anyone else to the sanctuary chapel in Skyrim."
"Makes sense," Bishop nodded. The slower this could be traced back to Therien, the better. "So does the contact give me the access to the prison and shit like that?"
"In a way. But you will need to use your… skills to free them. There is no way for us to get the keys. Only the supervisor of the outpost has them and that would be… much more difficult for us. You can open the locks, can't you?" Brunwulf looked at him uncertainly. This was the main reason why they needed someone like Bishop. He mentioned that they needed someone sufficiently tall to pass for an Altmer, first and foremost, and then someone who could both be subtle and open locks.
"Shouldn't be a problem," Bishop smirked.
"Good. Good. Hopefully it will all go smoothly and you'll both be back at the temple by tonight," Free-Winter smiled again. "We still have a lot to go over, but I have confidence that this will go well. Carandil has laid a lot of promising ground work for us. It bodes well for us that this whole outpost is designed to extract the information that Thalmor don't have. They cannot take any legal action against those imprisoned there. They usually just hound them or threaten their loved ones until they come 'voluntarily' for questioning. Therien wanted to avoid that."
"Of course he did," Aeyrin let out a sigh. Maybe if he held on a bit, they could have just smuggled him to the secret chapel without having any of this happen. But it was possible that the Thalmor would just somehow manage to track him down there and compromise the chapel. She understood that. The best bet was to cause some chaos in their ranks so that they could use the distraction to have Therien safely in Stormcloak territory for now.
"Have heart, lady Aeyrin," Brunwulf stepped closer to her and squeezed her shoulder again reassuringly. "I'm sure things will work out now that we have the right man for the job."
…
"I can't get used to this," Aeyrin sighed as she slowly ran her fingers over Bishop's golden cheek.
He looked so odd. But he still looked like him. She wasn't sure what she had expected from the spell, but it was not this.
After she had nervously sat by while Bishop and Brunwulf went over the details, the nobleman had a trusted associate of his called in – a local mage. Aeyrin had no idea if they met through Master Therien or if Brunwulf had some connections in the city from before this whole endeavor, but that hardly mattered. The mage was there only to perform the spell on Bishop.
They took care of as many details as they could. Bishop was dressed in elven armor with black hues and golden accents. Aeyrin had no idea what metal it actually was but she had seen plenty of Thalmor wear this before. It must have been some special technique to make the elven moonstone metal this color.
That wasn't all. His metal boots were elevated subtly on the soles to make him even taller than he usually was. He would pass for an Altmer that way, although maybe a slightly shorter one, but well within the believable. He was also given a wig of long, light brown shiny hair which he was quite disgruntled about wearing, but it was a small help to make him look a bit more like the man he was supposed to look like.
There was also some fragrance involved and a few attempts to make Bishop at least try to sound like an Altmer if it absolutely came to that. And then, the last part was the spell.
His skin looked golden, his cheekbones seemed more pronounced and his ears were slightly pointed. His sclera were yellow as well, as with all the Altmer, but that was about it. He still looked like himself for the most part. He didn't look like an actual Altmer. Not even a half-Altmer really.
"It's a good thing you don't have to," the mage nodded at Aeyrin. She had almost forgotten what she had said before, the way she was absorbed in studying Bishop. "The spell will last ten hours at the most. And needless to say, stay away from any dispelling magic."
"I'm more worried about the fact that this won't fool anyone with half a brain," Bishop scowled. He didn't look right. He didn't look convincing.
"This is just a little precaution. Take every edge we have. But hopefully it won't need to be convincing. You'll be wearing this," Brunwulf approached Bishop with the last piece of equipment – a closed black elven helmet that would hide the vast majority of his face. That would work.
Bishop looked at the helmet critically for a second before he placed it onto his head, pinning the wig uncomfortably to his scalp even more. But when he looked at the result of it all in the full-length mirror in front of him, it did kind of work.
"Oof. Now you really look like a Thalmor," Aeyrin cringed a little as she looked him up and down. She couldn't help but let out a nervous laugh when she had to mentally remind herself that it was still him. "It's kind of intimidating."
"Really?" Bishop smirked as he stopped observing his own reflection critically and focused on her instead. Those uncertain glances of her were practically begging him to tease her. He promptly stepped closer to her and noted, with palpable satisfaction, that she almost instinctively leaned back from him – or rather the heavily armored Thalmor. "Good. You should be intimidated. You know what we do with disobedient heretics like you," he chuckled at her.
"Stop it," Aeyrin gritted her teeth in embarrassment. She was flustered enough seeing him like that. Gods, at least he wasn't doing that Altmer accent imitation now – that would make it worse. It was strange to hear that teasing voice with that image in front of her now. She didn't know whether she was more startled by how he looked or more tempted by that damn voice of his. Could he at least not do this to her in front of other people?
"Don't talk to me that way, heretic. Or I might have to conduct a thorough search and bring you in for an interrogation," Bishop continued to tease, but fortunately, he was promptly interrupted.
"Well, at least you're having fun with this, young man. But I assure you, it won't be nearly as amusing once you get inside," Brunwulf gave him a slightly concerned smile.
"Yeah, yeah," Bishop let out a disappointed sigh. This would be a much more fun game if he wasn't about to venture into a mountain lion's den. "I'll be careful. I'll try not to talk. As long as everything's set up on the other end."
"It is. We talked about the dead drop already. All you need to do is find it, get inside, and find Carandil," Free-Winter confirmed the plans long in the making but now finally possible to realize.
"Good. I'll head out then. We can't waste time," Bishop nodded with determination.
He was right, of course. He had only limited time for this. But before he could step out of that room, Aeyrin quickly threw herself at him, hugging him as much as she could in that armor. She couldn't kiss him properly with the helmet on and she couldn't even see his old self, couldn't even feel him through the armor, but at least the warmth radiating from him was familiar.
She wanted to beg him to be careful, no matter how redundant it was. He was going to be careful regardless, of course. But the lump in her throat prevented her from speaking.
Bishop's arms wrapped around her promptly and she felt a slight bump of metal on her head, as if he tried to kiss her there. He let her keep up the embrace for a while, but all too soon for her liking he dislodged from her. He did give her one more reassuring smile though.
"I'll be fine. I promise."
He better be.
She was going to hold him to that one.
…
Bishop looked over the documents he had retrieved one more time.
They identified him as one of the Thalmor – the one that Carandil had already disposed of, apparently. Bishop had no idea who that Thalmor was or why Carandil had already killed him, if it was only for this mission's sake, but he couldn't care less. One less Thalmor was never a bad thing.
Now he was to pose as this man, identify himself as him at the front entrance of the outpost. Carandil was in charge of records and correspondence in that place which gave him a unique position. He was able to make sure that Therien hadn't divulged anything yet in the interrogations. He was able to make sure that he wasn't about to be transferred to another outpost. And he was able to forge transcripts of the killed Thalmor about some sort of delivery to another station. It was a cover for his death and Bishop's subsequent return.
Everything was going according to plans so far. Not that he had done much. He only took the documents from the dead drop.
Now he just had to hope that they would get him through the door.
He straightened the uncomfortable helmet on his head, brushed a little through the hair cascading down his armor and he let out a sigh. It was time. Getting here at all and finding the dead drop had already taken him an hour at least. He needed to move it so that he would manage to free everyone in that outpost.
He approached the main entrance with resolute steps. He needed to appear as if he belonged there. The second the guards there spotted him, they tensed up. That wasn't a great sign, but hopefully it wouldn't hinder Bishop's progress.
"Credentials," one of them barked when Bishop approached close enough. It was to be expected. At least he didn't have to talk for now. They really got into his head with all that 'accent' shit.
He promptly pulled out those papers from the pouch on his belt where he had stashed them before. He couldn't help but wonder what happened to the real Sentinel Rumaar who he was impersonating now. Why did the contact choose to get rid of him? Especially before they even had anyone who would be able to take his place. Weird. Maybe there was some Thalmor in-fighting or ladder-climbing involved in that shit. But Bishop wanted nothing to do with that. All that mattered was that he now had a way in to free Therien.
The guard looked over the papers critically, then at Bishop. It was fortunate that not much but his hair and new eyes were seen. And it was fortunate that these Thalmor ranked as 'Sentinels' apparently just looked like that all the time – these guards wore those full-face helmets too.
"You're back. Good," the man nodded at Bishop. "You have the reports?"
Bishop nodded and pointed to the sealed cylinder at his hip as well. The 'reports'. They were not those that the guard expected, but that was fine. It was just for show and none of the Sentinels were allowed to see the contents anyway. Those were supposed to be for the head Justiciar and only handled by the records holder. Fortunately that was not Bishop's concern. The records holder was none other than Carandil. He had some fake reports ready to put into that cylinder. Bishop didn't care much for Carandil's cover, he was just doing what he needed to get the prisoners out.
The guard at the entrance nodded in turn and he finally opened the door for Bishop.
Good. That went smoothly. Now he only needed to get to the records office and see Carandil. He had to act like he knew where he was going, even though he had received only vague information. Carandil apparently couldn't send a fucking proper map of this place.
The outpost was just like Bishop would have imagined a Thalmor outpost in Cyrodiil to be. It was dark and dismal like any other Imperial fort, except for the countless black and gold banners all around. As if that would make it look any less like a prison.
But that was what it was, no matter what they called this place.
It was kind of nerve-wracking to be marching through the halls among all the Thalmor, all the heavily armored guards and all the menacing Justiciars. Though the complex was small, Bishop felt like they were swarming the place unpleasantly. But that was probably just the nerves making him feel like that. He knew that there weren't a lot of them here from the information he got.
Still, even a small amount of Thalmor was something to be concerned about.
Bishop couldn't let his nervousness be shown, of course. And for once, he was glad for the cover his new helmet provided.
But fortunately, nobody seemed to pay him much mind. Nobody seemed to pay much mind to any of the Sentinels. Why would they? They were guards with not much purpose than to watch and to carry out orders. And likely to torment the prisoners. Or maybe the Justiciars saved that treat for themselves.
It was also very uncomfortable for him to walk in the metal armor. He was very much used to being silent in his steps, but he was forced to remove his muffling ring not to be suspect among the other guards. And all that elven metal. He really didn't feel right in this.
At least he did get to keep that ring in his belt pouch though. For later. He would definitely need it for the last part of this mission.
He finally crossed several corridors before he reached the records room where he was 'delivering' the report. So far so good. Nobody seemed to look twice at him.
He closed the door behind him promptly before he turned on his heel and looked around the room. Among the countless cabinets and papers, there was a huge desk with one Thalmor behind it. A young man in the traditional black and gold robes with golden hair and bright blue eyes, just like a certain young teenager back at the temple. This was definitely Carandil. The family resemblance to the girl was there. Besides, he was the only one supposed to be here.
"Yes, Sentinel?" the Altmer looked at Bishop uncertainly. Thank the fucking Gods he was at least being careful.
"It's me," Bishop nodded at him. He wasn't exactly going to call out every little detail right now either – he was careful too.
"Ah. The Nord. Yes. I see," Carandil let out a slight sigh. "Don't talk much, alright?"
What? Fuck them all! What was up with everyone and this accent thing?! Bishop did not have an accent!
"Just tell me what to do now," Bishop growled. "I have that fake report shit for you." He took the cylinder from his belt and tossed it over to the young man. The Altmer caught it deftly and, as if Bishop would ever have any access to anything other than what he had received, he looked inside to check the contents. This was all just for show anyway. Carandil himself prepared this report and gave it to Bishop in the dead drop. It was just to make Sentinel Rumaar's absence credible.
"Good. Now you have a shift. I'll write you into the roster," Carandil nodded. "You will guard stuff first and then you'll act as an escort for the healer after lunch. He will take you into the cells. The escort then switches the shift with one of the jail guards for the afternoon once the healer's done. So you'll have your access. You'll be covert and you'll have to figure out yourself when and how to unlock the cells. There's gonna be another Sentinel there with you and they can't suspect a thing, got it?"
"Got it," Bishop grunted curtly. It was definitely going to be a challenge to unlock the cells with another guard present, but he had to take whatever opportunities he could. And fast. He still had limited time on this.
"Alright. You're gonna act just like the other Sentinels," the Altmer continued to go over the instructions. "You'll leave here, go to the mess hall and then check the roster when I post it. I'll assign you to the mess hall duty so that you don't get confused, but you have to act like you belong. And preferably don't talk to anyone."
"You have a building plan or something?" Bishop let out a sigh. He had no idea how he was supposed to 'act like he belonged' when he had no idea where to go from here.
"Sure. I was just about to say, if you wouldn't interrupt me. Didn't I tell you not to talk much?" Carandil smirked a little meanly. "Now come here. I'll show you the details."
Bishop approached the man's desk and peered at the papers he had been shuffling around. There were so many of them, and so many neat stacks of documents. They must have held a lot of secrets.
But that wasn't why Bishop was here.
He only hoped that his illusion wouldn't wane before he had the chance to free the prisoners.
…
Bishop was getting increasingly nervous by the minute.
This place was getting to him. He was the one who was supposed to be watching, but he felt watched constantly. He probably was.
And time was passing. He had already spent a few hours in this place, just standing about in the mess hall pointlessly, watching the Thalmor scurry around. He got why this was necessary. He knew that he had to act like an obedient Sentinel so that he could even get anywhere near the prison cells, but the inevitable extinguishing of his illusions were making him on edge, even if he still had hours to spare.
The longest part still awaited him.
After a couple of hours standing by and monitoring the mess hall, he went to meet the healer in front of the prison cells, just like Carandil had instructed him. Bishop didn't say a word the entire time, but that didn't seem to bother anyone. In fact, other than when they were on a break and chatting in the mess hall, none of the Sentinels seemed to speak. Ever. Like they were expected not to for being just rank and file instead of the almighty Justiciars and whatever other haughty titles the Thalmor had.
The prison wasn't very big, but it had at least ten cells from what Bishop could see. He never got to see inside them before he and the healer approached one and he could see through the bars and determine who was inside. Not that he knew anyone. His plan was to open all the cells anyway to provide some cover for Therien, but he was definitely going to free the old man first in case something went wrong.
It was unfortunate that he had no idea what the man looked like. Only now it occurred to him that he never thought to ask. And nobody told him because he was supposed to free everyone anyway.
He just had to guess as best as he could, probably.
At least nobody minded him looking into the cells. He was there to guard the healer after all and to watch out for any aggressive prisoners. The healer could probably take care of himself, but still. There were two other Sentinels in the prison, walking the halls. He would replace one of them eventually and then… then there was the rest of the plan.
But for now, he just needed to find Therien.
The prisoners all looked so… weak. So broken. Carandil had mentioned that they received healing every day just to be able to survive the tortures that awaited them the next day again. They were 'questioned' each morning extensively and then barely fed, then left just waiting alone in their cells for the process to start all over again. They all had their bodies torn in various places, burned by magic and some had their bones broken in ways that actually made it visible. It was definitely disturbing. As if the Sentinel was even needed there – the prisoners didn't have enough strength to attack anyone even if they had the will to do it.
But Bishop hoped that the healing would at least have them fit enough for their escape. It was all planned after all.
He watched as the healer enveloped an old Bosmer in a bright white light, followed by a sigh of half-anguish and half-relief. Could that be him? Aeyrin called Therien 'old' many times and it was an elven name, right? He must have been at least two hundred by the look of this man.
Bishop watched in silent contemplation before something distracted him from it. A nearly silent murmuring from the cell next to this one.
The next prisoner. He sounded distressed. Bishop would have thought that he was going to look forward to the healing, to the relief, but then again, every other prisoner up until now made the same sound. There was not just relief. There was pain too. What kind of healing was this Thalmor performing on them?
The murmuring continued and between the heavy pants of the Bosmer, Bishop tried to make out what the voice said. It was hard to hear, but then he caught something that he had many times before. A whispered prayer that he heard Aeyrin mutter under her breath here and there. She didn't do it very often anymore, the meditations in between the peaceful silence of their camps, but he still remembered them. A brief prayer to Stendarr for protection.
That gave him all the information he needed.
Bishop waited impatiently before the healer finally left the Bosmer's cell and stepped back into the prison hall. He locked the barred door behind him securely again, leaving the elf to his quiet sobs, before he moved on with Bishop at his heel, right towards the next cell.
There wasn't an elf, as Bishop had originally thought. An old Imperial sat on the ground there, leaning on the wall, with his chest covered in burns and cuts and his face obscured by cascading shoulder-length grey hair. That had to be him. The prayer was telling enough. At least Bishop thought as much.
Fuck, he looked bad. Not that Bishop had expected anything else, but still. It wasn't a pretty sight. He had to get him out of this place.
He wondered for a moment why the man hadn't healed himself instead of waiting for the Thalmor, but then he noticed the bracers on his hands. They were without a doubt used to suppress magic. And when the Thalmor's hand lit up and bright light enveloped Aeyrin's old mentor, the man let out the expected gasp of pain mixed with a strange relief.
What a fucked up way to heal. As if to remind them where they were, even though they were being kept alive by the spells.
But that would soon come to an end.
Bishop just had to bide his time some more.
…
Once the healer was done, he left Bishop behind without a word as one of the other Sentinels started to follow him. All according to plan. Now it was Bishop's job to walk the prison halls and keep an eye on the prisoners. With the other guard, of course. He just had to take his opportunities wherever he could.
Bishop walked the halls only for a brief moment before he leaned on the wall right next to Therien's cell as inconspicuously as he could.
He watched the second guard walk by for a moment, but the man wasn't going to keep that up for too long either. It didn't take too long before he chose his own spot to lean against tiredly. Bishop watched him for a while as the man looked idly around the hall, then towards the ceiling, watching a small spider crawl by the torchlight.
It was Bishop's chance for the first part. He quickly reached into one of the pouches on his belt and located one of the notes Carandil had given him. He dropped it onto the ground and looked back at the other guard again. When he was sure that the guard was still distracted by that spider, Bishop promptly covered the note with his boot and kicked back, letting it slide along the stone floor and below the bars into Therien's cell. His boot collided with the bars in the motion, creating a grating sound, but that didn't matter.
The other guard looked at Bishop in alarm, but he only shrugged and kicked the bars for emphasis once more. Nothing out of the ordinary – he was just idling and his leg collided with the metal. The guard soon lost interest in the commotion and Bishop was free to look over his shoulder into Therien's cell.
The accidental sound may have helped his plan along as well. The old man was properly alerted to the one bright white thing that suddenly appeared in his dark cell. The note.
Therien scurried silently, trying to stifle his groans because of the aches of his strained body, but he crawled closer to the bars and grabbed the note eagerly. When he opened it and read the contents in the dim light, he only gave Bishop a very startled look. It was no wonder. The note didn't say much, apart from the glimmer of hope it could give him. But Bishop himself wouldn't trust it. It was all that the notes said:
.
I'm here to help you all. I'll unlock your cell soon, but don't open them until I let you know that it's all clear. We'll get out of here then. If you can distract the other Sentinel, do it so that I can start unlocking. But be subtle. We can't get caught.
.
He had the same note for all the prisoners. He needed them all to behave and not rush out when he would open their locks. It would take some time and patience.
When that was done, Bishop started to walk through the hall again before he stopped by the cell at the other end of it. Now he just hoped that Therien would take a leap of faith. He would, wouldn't he? What was there to lose for him at this point?
Bishop waited for a while before he was sure and then he dropped another note and kicked it into the cell, this time without the additional noise. Still, after a few more moments, he heard shuffling behind himself as the prisoner noticed.
He still waited there for Therien to act, but if the old man wouldn't, someone surely would eventually.
But fortunately, he didn't have to wait for long. Only a minute or so later, a violent cough started to echo from Therien's cell. It actually fucking startled Bishop and, for a moment, he straightened up abruptly in panic that something was wrong with the old man. But he realized himself soon and the other guard was already rushing towards the cell to see what was happening.
Therien continued to cough and heave and Bishop instantly used the distraction to pull out his lockpicks and as covertly as possible tinker with the lock of the cell he was standing by. Hopefully the other prisoner would get cooperative soon. And keep it subtle enough and not just do the same thing as Therien did. Bishop needed to unlock the old man's cell. Then it would be the turn for the rest.
But this would all take a long time and a lot of tries.
The other Sentinel lost interest in Therien soon enough after the coughing stopped and he started to walk the halls again. Now the waiting game started all anew as Bishop moved back to Therien's cell.
It would work. They just needed to take their time.
Hopefully the prisoners wouldn't get too impatient and conspicuous.
But Bishop was really hopeful that this would all work out.
…
Everything was ready.
It was time.
All the cells were unlocked and then finally, the second shift change came and another Sentinel came to switch with the other one. Now was the time. Nobody would come into the prison wing anymore. It was time to act.
The prisoners watched Bishop's every move with anticipation. And was it any wonder? They were all nervous and anxious and rallied for action. They knew that they might all be free soon.
Now was the time to get rid of the new addition to the prison.
Bishop waited for the new Sentinel to start walking the hall again and once he passed the place where Bishop was leaning, he acted without hesitation. There was one thing to appreciate with all this metal on him – it packed a punch. Bishop grabbed the man's helmet suddenly and yanked it off. Before the guard could even realize what was happening, Bishop hit him at the back of his head with all his might.
The man went down instantly.
That was taken care of.
Now to cover his own tracks.
The Thalmor would be none the wiser.
It was very common for Imperial forts to have escape routes in the basements. It was also very common for the basements to hold prison cells and torture rooms. But this fort was a little different – mainly because the escape route was not all that obvious. It was fortunate that Free-Winter, or maybe Therien, or whichever one of their contacts, knew about this one from some old tales of ancient sieges. Carandil was sure that the Thalmor had no idea. At least it was not in their records. But that only made it perfect for this mission. And apparently for Carandil's opportune murder too.
Bishop marched across the hall again once the guard was down and he began pressing on the bricks on the back wall. One of them would be the one.
And surely enough, soon, one of the bricks got pushed back when he pressed it and a nearby wall started to open into a previously imperceptible passage. And there, right behind the wall, there was a body. The one that Carandil had left there.
At least the original Sentinel Rumaar was still dressed in his armor. Bishop had feared that the one he was wearing now was stolen from him and he would have to re-armor the man. But fortunately that wasn't the case. Carandil must have taken this from some storage or some shit.
Bishop promptly dragged the corpse back into the prison.
Now it would just look like the prisoners somehow overpowered the guards and nobody would be looking for the fake Sentinel Rumaar. Bishop would be completely safe.
The same wouldn't be true for the prisoners, of course, but that was already the case. They were already here. Now they would all have the chance to escape. And with all of them on the loose, Therien himself wouldn't be targeted so quickly. Especially since his persecution would be technically illegal. Though it's not like that would actually stop the Thalmor.
But those were concerns for after.
Right now, all the prisoners just gasped as he 'produced' the new corpse and arranged it on the floor.
It was time to make their escape.
"Alright, everyone out and into the passage," Bishop finally broke the tense silence of the prison. "It leads into the forests outside of the city."
The prisoners didn't need to be told twice.
They started to exit their cells tentatively, but once they were somewhat sure that Bishop wouldn't attack them, they ran off into the passage. Some were considerably slower, but Bishop counted on that. Once they were all out, he would close the passage behind them to buy them some extra time before the Thalmor could even find the passage. It was a shame that it could only be closed again by that same fucking brick. Who even designed that? Bishop had to stay behind and get out of the prison another way. Carandil was apparently arranging for that already. Bishop just had to get back to the records office.
When Therien carefully left his cell and stepped over the bodies in the hall with a palpable frown on his face, Bishop approached him. The old man surely knew where to go, but Bishop needed to make sure. And he needed to make sure that he wouldn't do anything stupidly self-sacrificing and help the others instead of just getting to the fucking temple.
"You alright to walk?" Bishop looked the old man over with some concern. He didn't look to be in the best shape. Bishop would be much more comfortable if he could take him to the temple himself, but that was not an option. "You need to go back to the chapel. They'll hide you in the undercroft until… you can get somewhere else."
Therien's frown didn't disappear, it only deepened.
"Take off the helmet, young man," he scowled as he tried to look at Bishop properly, attempting to discern who he was talking to without a doubt. "You're clearly no Altmer. I would like to see who I am addressing."
'Clearly' no Altmer? Really?
"Fucking accent," Bishop muttered under his breath, but when the suspicion didn't leave Therien's face for a moment, he let out a defeated sigh instead. "It's not gonna help you. Illusion magic. We took precautions. Besides, you don't know me anyway. Not… really."
Sure, he knew about Bishop, but this wasn't the time to make uncomfortable introductions. He just needed to go. The sooner the better. Anything could go wrong at any moment.
"'Not really'?" Therien raised his brow at Bishop curiously. For an old man barely recovered from torture and a hair's breadth from freedom, he sure as fuck was keen on wasting precious time.
And besides, Bishop really didn't want to tell him who he was. He was dreading this moment. And he kind of needed Aeyrin there to mitigate the inevitable disaster. But Therien was not moving on.
"Uhm… you… just… probably heard of me. It doesn't matter. You need to go," Bishop ushered him quickly. There was no time for this.
"Young man, do you enjoy leaving people after days of torture in equally torturous suspense? How do I know I should go where you tell me?" Therien scowled again.
Well… he had a point. Maybe it wouldn't be that bad? Bishop did just save him. That counted for something, right?
"I'm… Bishop," he uttered his name through gritted teeth. That certainly got the old man's attention. His brows shot up in shock and instant palpable panic.
"You are? Is Aeyrin here? Heavens, I hope she's not attempting some sort of…"
"She's safe," Bishop promptly interrupted the man before he began to imagine all sorts of crazy stunts that Aeyrin was currently doing to save him. Rightfully so. If she could, she would definitely be here. But it was too risky. "She's fine. She's with Free-Winter. I'm the only one who came here for you."
"I… I am relieved that she is safe," Therien let out a brief sigh, but the panic was still in his eyes. "But still, you're risking a lot by being here, young man. I told them not to look for me."
"Yeah, like anyone was gonna listen to that," Bishop snorted. Especially Aeyrin. But Free-Winter was definitely ready for action too.
Therien only sighed in defeat. He surely knew his allies all too well to know this too.
"Why didn't you at least tell me who you are then?" He asked. He seemed intent on learning whatever he could before he could actually fucking escape! Why? Even if there was time for this, it was not the place to discuss shit like this. Bishop was getting a bit frustrated.
"I don't know. I didn't wanna make things weird," he threw up his arms in exasperation.
"'Weird'?" Therien raised his brow again in confusion. Did he really need it spelled out?
"Yeah. What else would you call it? What father or mentor or whatever would like the guy who's doing stuff with his daughter?" Bishop scoffed. And that was even without the shit he had done to get her abducted and tortured, which Therien definitely knew about.
The old Imperial didn't have an answer or another question after this. He only blinked a few times in shock at Bishop's answer.
Fuck, that was probably not the right way to put it. Maybe he shouldn't have said that?
"I… I mean… not… I mean 'doing stuff' like… adventuring. And… uhm… holding hands? You know… that's it," Bishop chuckled nervously. He honestly wasn't sure the extent of what Aeyrin had told Therien about their relationship with all that repression that came with her upbringing. Fuck. He just made it weirder. And much more uncomfortable.
But much to his surprise, Therien actually laughed heartily at Bishop's nervous stammering, even if his voice was palpably raspy and exhausted after everything the man had been through.
"You have certainly prevented any 'weirdness', young man," Therien smirked.
Bishop could only groan in response. He definitely imagined this to be very uncomfortable, but this was even worse.
"Yeah, it's a talent," he grumbled under his breath. "Look, just go. We can go through uncomfortable weirdness when we're safe just as well."
"Thank you, young man," Therien nodded at him surprisingly graciously, given his condition. "I am fine to walk by myself. Come, let us go."
"You go. I need to close this shit behind you so that they can't follow," Bishop inclined his head towards the opened passage. The prison was now completely empty, save for the bodies and the two of them. It was time to finish this.
"But… how are you going to get out?" Therien narrowed his eyes at him in concern.
"There's a plan. Don't worry about me. Just go and get to…"
Bishop didn't get to finish the sentence when a noise startled him. A clear sound of armored footsteps behind the door leading out of the prison.
What the fuck?!
People were coming. This was bad. Really bad. He was fucked. They would see the bodies, the empty cells. There was no way out of this. And if he escaped with Therien, the Thalmor would just follow the passage instantly.
Fuck!
"Young man," Therien nudged him to come along, but that was not an option. There was no time to lose now. And there was only one way how they might all survive this.
Bishop grabbed Therien by his shoulders in turn and despite the man's trouble with moving quickly, he practically dragged him to the passage and pushed him in.
"Go. Get to the chapel. I'll make sure they won't follow." Bishop growled at him.
He could hear a protest coming from the man as he tried to catch his breath from the startled gasps he had been letting out. But there was no time for this. Bishop promptly pressed the correct tile and the passage started to close once more.
"I swear, I heard weird sounds from here."
He could hear the Thalmor talk as they approached the prison door.
This was it. No way out.
But at least he got the mission done right.
He would not fuck that up now, no matter what they were going to do to him.