The carriage rattled unpleasantly on the cobbled road. It proved to be rather ineffective for sleeping.
At least it was a nice carriage. Closed one, without cold wind slashing against their skin, and with comfortable cushioned seats. And Bishop and Aeyrin were fortunate enough that they were the only ones taking it at that time. After all, Cyrodiil was really somewhere else with the public transport. There were carriages leaving from outside of Weye every two hours to every other major city in Cyrodiil. At least that made it less likely to end up with co-passengers.
They did get some sleep, nestled together on one of the seats. It was enough for them to function properly and nurse their hangovers a bit more. They could have stayed in the City for a bit longer, but they could just as well buy a cheaper room in Cheydinhal and recover there. There was no point in waiting any longer. Besides, they shouldn't really go search for the old Bosmer today. They would only arrive at dusk.
They were still trying to get some shut-eye when the carriage pulled to a stop and the driver banged his fist on the back of it to alert them they'd arrived. So, with groggy yawns and tired movements, they grabbed their packs and moved out of the carriage.
The city stood before them, right past the picturesque stables.
Cheydinhal had always been the prettiest town in Cyrodiil. The old trees and the pointy purple roofs of the mansions peeking from behind its walls were only surpassed by the grand Castle on the hill and the cathedral built from dark stone dedicated to Arkay.
That only made Bishop think back on Kari. Once more, the clan had eluded him and he still wasn't even sure if he was mad or relieved. He wanted this to be over. But he also didn't want to deal with this at all.
But it was still his chance to actually enjoy Cheydinhal for now. The buildings looked just like some of those he had seen in Morrowind. He had pretty fond memories of that. Or maybe the buildings in Morrowind looked like these? That was probably it. The proper Dunmer places were more like stone dead bugs for some reason.
But the main part here was the 'culture'. He did enjoy any place where they served Dunmer drinks.
Oh shit. He shouldn't be thinking about hard liquor. That made his stomach turn.
Fine, maybe no Dunmer drinks tonight. He could always make up for it whenever they would return to Windhelm again. At least there he liked the people too. Here he didn't know anyone.
He stared at the banners by the gates as they passed through them. They always felt weird to him. Not like the rest of the cities here had some insightful symbols, but some of them did. Like the whole 'watchful hawk of Bruma' shit. And some cities just liked using the symbols that made them look good. Not Cheydinhal.
"So… why snakes?" Bishop scowled. Maybe Aeyrin would know. She'd been talking to other people than beggars and shady folks whenever she was here, surely.
"'Snakes'? What snakes?" She looked to the ground instinctively. "Are you still drunk?" She chuckled.
"The city banners and shit. The symbol of Cheydinhal. Why snakes?" He got the stags, the stallions, dragons and shit. Anvil made no sense either, but this one was just weird. Was it racist or something? People did sometimes say that the Dunmer were trying to usurp the city. Some Dark Elf was the Count for as long as Bishop knew, but maybe it wasn't always that way.
"Oh! Those aren't snakes," Aeyrin giggled while she stopped in her tracks, making Bishop stop as well and look at the banners again. "See? It's stems. With thorns. So… roses. Or… some kind of bramble. I always thought roses."
Huh. It looked like snakes. But now that he looked properly, he could see the thorns. "There's no flowers though. So it's just… thorns. Or vines? Not very flattering either," he smirked. That was practically the same metaphor as snakes, wasn't it?
"Well… maybe it was supposed to intimidate people," Aeyrin shrugged.
"This city? Really?" Bishop gestured to the sights ahead of them – the lush trees, picturesque buildings between them and a peaceful little creek in the middle of the town with small bridges over it. It wasn't some deadly fortress.
"Maybe. Maybe that's the point," Aeyrin pondered. "Looks can be deceiving. Like some pretty vegetation can hide thorns. Or… snakes hiding in tall grass."
"Now I feel weird about being here," he smirked. Maybe they were heading right into those thorns and snakes soon.
"I'm sure it will be fine. She's a family friend, right?" Aeyrin looked at him hopefully. "When you tell her you're their brother, she'll help."
"Yeah. Maybe. I have no idea who it is and who we're dealing with," Bishop sighed. "But there's no point in obsessing over it now. I'll see tomorrow."
He looked around the city again, taking in the tall grass by the creek in particular. He really wasn't looking forward to this. But for now, more rest would do them good.
There was still one thing to decide though – with the two competing inns right across the street from each other.
"You got a favorite?" He smirked at Aeyrin.
"Both are nice," Aeyrin nodded. "The Newlands Lodge always seemed more friendly though."
"Friendly's good," Bishop agreed. He never thought he would say that. "I need to ask the barkeep about Gandrehel."
Hopefully it would be easy to find her.
…
The Newlands Lodge did seem quite friendly. Or maybe it was just the impression Bishop got from seeing an inn filled with Orcs and Dunmer. That meant 'friendly' in Skyrim at least. Here it was probably more normal.
Aeyrin promptly got them a room and headed straight to the baths while he was tasked with ordering them dinner and some… water. Ugh, that felt wrong just thinking it. But at least water was cheap. Not that they still didn't have a lot of money left over, but who knew when that would come in handy?
He picked out a table in the common room and waited until finally the Dunmer proprietor approached.
"What'll it be?" The man nodded at him expectantly.
"Hmm… got some chicken or something?" It was for the best not to get anything too greasy or sinewy for today. "And… water." For a mild hangover, sure he'd get a big horker steak and a tankard of mead any day, but for this… they needed to dial it down.
"Hah! Rough night?" The Dunmer chuckled at him. "Sure, muthsera. Can do."
"Yeah… rough night," Bishop smirked. Fun night. But the aftermath… not so much. "Two of each. And… I have a question."
"Yeah?" The elf waited for him to continue.
"I'm looking for someone. An old Bosmer. Name's Gandrehel. Do you know her?"
"Sure, everyone does," the man nodded. Really? That was… easy. "She's the oldest one in town. Been here through the Oblivion Crisis, if you can believe that. I don't know where she lives or such, but she's always around. Usually wandering by the creek or by the noble district. Probably lives there, though she doesn't really look it."
"Thanks. I'll take a look there," Bishop gave the man a smile. That really was easy, but the man still didn't leave. He gave him an expectant look and when Bishop didn't react, he cleared his throat meaningfully.
What?
Oh!
Fucker.
Bishop promptly suppressed a grumble and reached out to his coin pouch to fish out five drakes. That better be enough – everyone knew the woman after all.
"Thank you, muthsera," the Dunmer smirked victoriously before he turned on his heel and left.
It didn't take long after that before the food and water arrived, and moment later so did Aeyrin. She let out a small sigh when she saw their dinner, but she knew it was for the best. She might actually throw up from anything heavier.
"So… did you ask?" She broached the subject idly as she started poking into her roast chicken breast with a fork.
"Yeah. Some ancient crone, apparently. Old enough to live through the Oblivion Crisis. She's usually walking around town. I'll probably be able to just… spot her." It did sound too easy, but maybe not everything needed to be accompanied by dire circumstances.
"That's… good," Aeyrin nodded. She remained silent for a while, definitely with something on her mind. After a while, she finally gave him a wry smile and spilled it. "Can I come?"
Ah, well… it was just an old woman. Still… this whole thing still bothered Bishop too much. He was worried about showing himself too much with Aeyrin around his family's contacts.
"How about you just stalk me again instead?" He suggested. That worked out pretty well last time. Really well, actually.
"Alright," she sighed in defeat. She didn't love this option, but at least she didn't have to wait here, worrying.
"It's an old woman. I think I'll be fine," Bishop chuckled.
"Yeah, I know," she smiled. Though with his family involved, one never knew. But hopefully this would really just be a quick stop and they would get another lead soon.
The chase had already been frustrating enough.
…
Aeyrin really had trouble with subtlety.
Bishop could feel her eyes on him all the time. As he walked through the streets, around the mansions in the noble district, and across the bridge on the creek.
Ah, well, it was cute. And he wasn't really that worried here. Hopefully that old woman wouldn't be as paranoid as the barkeep at the Bloated Float was.
He did not see her anywhere though. He had spent quite some time walking around already. Maybe she wasn't here in the mornings. He did leave right after breakfast after all.
But then again, walking around Cheydinhal was never a bad thing. The trees around made it almost like the wilderness. He liked that. Not to mention the fresh air and the soft sound of the sloshing water. The weather was nice too. Kind of cold. That was good. He missed the cold. Cyrodiil was way too hot for him.
He was kind of starting to miss Skyrim. Despite the assassins and dragons waiting there for them, he was starting to feel… homesick. He missed the less busy streets, the crisp cold in the air, the snow. He missed having to warm Aeyrin up constantly and he missed how fucking cute she was when she was freezing. And he really missed the Rift.
That wasn't all though. There was one thing he missed more than anything. And it only reminded him further when something ran towards him with an excited bark and a wagging tail. A dog. Probably someone's pet.
Fuck, he missed Karnwyr so much. He worried about him every day, always wondering whether the mutt got himself in trouble somewhere. Bishop knew that his friend could always take care of himself, but that didn't stop the concerns.
It was still encouraging to have seen him relatively recently, but nothing would compare to when he would be with them again. If Aeyrin was concerned about coming around on her transformations, she could be sure of one thing – Bishop would never break that promise and he would do anything to cure her. Both for the sake of her afterlife and for the sake of having Karnwyr back by their side. It wasn't the same without him.
Bishop squatted down onto the ground and reached out to the dog. He let him sniff his hand first before he affectionately ruffled his fur, eliciting another happy bark. Just like Karnwyr. Fuck.
He cuddled the dog for a while before the animal got bored and ran off towards another stranger. Heh, that was one thing Karnwyr wouldn't do. Well… maybe he would, if he found someone interesting. Bishop looked at where the dog ran off to instinctively and a jolt went through him when he saw.
A Bosmer woman. Somewhat old. She did have grey hair and wrinkles. That was definitely old for an elf. Maybe that was her.
Bishop approached the woman tentatively while she cuddled with the dog, just as he had before.
"He liked you too," she smiled when she saw Bishop approach. "They can tell, you know? When you like dogs. He can at least."
"He's not yours?" Bishop asked. He ran off to her with such determination.
"No. I used to have dogs… not anymore though," she sighed morosely. "You get too attached."
Yeah… Bishop kinda got that. Especially if she was this old – she may have lost so many furry friends already. He didn't even want to think about losing Karnwyr for good. That was too painful.
"I get that," he nodded somberly. "Well… at least this one's still friendly."
"True, I do miss it sometimes," she smiled with wistfulness in her voice.
"So… actually… I've been looking for you. I think," Bishop broached the subject at last.
"Oh? Me?" The woman's eyes went wide at him and she finally let the dog be, concentrating on Bishop fully instead.
"Are you Gandrehel?"
"Yes. Why are you looking for me?" The woman scowled, predictably wary.
"I'm… actually looking for my family. A clan… the Thrice-Banished. Apparently they stopped by here to talk to you before heading off somewhere else. I need to know where they went," he explained. Fuck, hopefully this would be easy.
"Hmm…" Gandrehel took a step closer to him, narrowing her eyes. She gazed into his promptly as if to search for something. He knew why she was doing that. "You really are… family. Are you Morgen?"
"What?" Bishop gave her a puzzled look. "Morgen's half-Dunmer. He looks… different. Why Morgen?"
"I hear he ran off," Gandrehel shrugged. "So which one are you?"
Fuck, he hoped she wouldn't ask. But there was a chance she knew nothing about him, right?
"Bishop. I'm… one of the older ones."
"I see," she nodded. "You know… I really shouldn't be talking about this here. You understand. Come. I live nearby. We can talk there safely."
Hmm, Aeyrin would not like that – she couldn't stalk him into someone's house. But he needed to talk to this woman.
He didn't have any other leads.
…
"Come, come, make yourself comfortable," Gandrehel urged him when they entered her… mansion. It was a huge house in the noble district, though it looked quite worn down. Time had certainly done a number on this place and the woman clearly didn't care for it.
It wasn't the strangest thing about the place though.
When he entered the room she had ushered him into, the first thing he noticed were… the snakes.
That was eerie. And fucking creepy. This woman had actual snakes in terrariums in that chamber. Like three of them. It was weird on its own, but even weirder with how they'd just talked about the hidden snakes in Cheydinhal last night.
But he was just getting overly paranoid. It was just a woman with snakes. That was… almost normal.
"After I lost my tenth dog, I decided to care for… a different kind of animal," Gandrehel smiled wistfully.
"Don't snakes live even shorter than dogs?" Bishop raised his brow at her as he sat down on the armchair she gestured at.
"Yes, but they're… less affectionate. You get less attached," she smirked.
Well, that was likely true. A weird attitude, but whatever.
"Would you care for some tea?" She asked, still with a kind smile on her face.
"Sure…" Bishop shrugged. He didn't really like tea, though he really only had it once. It just tasted like grass to him. What was the point? Maybe he had a shitty one though. It was very likely – he didn't remember where he had it anymore, but he was never in a place where he would get something of quality in Cyrodiil.
The woman disappeared into another room, leaving Bishop there. He looked into the terrarium for a while, watching the snakes. They were just sleeping. Really not very affectionate. They were big though. And each one had different patterns and colors. They were kind of interesting animals. He mostly liked all animals, but he was definitely partial to being able to ruffle something's fur. Dammit, he could not stop thinking about Karnwyr today.
At least Gandrehel was back soon with the tea. She placed two empty cups on the table beside Bishop's chair and a kettle which she promptly poured the tea from into the cups. She sat into the armchair opposite him and took a cup, sipping from it eagerly.
"Try it. It's a new one I have. I collect herbs from around Cheydinhal to make new combinations," she prompted him.
That was likely why she kept wandering the streets.
She did look pleased when she drank it. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad. He sipped on the tea, but it really just tasted like straw-water. What the fuck did people like about this shit? He did take a few gulps despite himself to placate her though.
"It's… good," he shrugged. What else was he going to do? Spit it back at her? "Anyway… about the clan?"
"Ah. The clan. Yes. See, I've been helping your brother Duful in the past few years with some… business. I make certain things that he's very interested in. He came to pick up a batch recently, before they all left again. They're… not welcome in Cheydinhal. Meeting with him has been quite an ordeal," she explained.
"Hmm… they're not welcome in a lot of places," Bishop scoffed, shuffling a bit in his chair. Had he been sitting too long? It didn't feel like it, but his legs were tingling. Maybe it was the chair.
"How true. But… we make do. How are you feeling?" She smiled warmly again.
"What?" Why would she ask that? And why did his legs still feel funny?
"The poison, dear. It must be working by now," she smirked.
What?!
Bishop's alarmed look was the only thing he could do. He recognized it soon after. His legs were getting paralyzed! Soon, he couldn't feel them at all. He still thrashed in the chair with his torso, but his legs were numb and he felt it spread upwards already.
"That's what I deal in. Poisons. It's a profitable business," she continued to talk casually. "Duful buys a lot from me. This one will paralyze your entire body soon. Among some other damage. But you'll be able to talk somewhat. See, I'm the one who has questions here. If Duful wanted you to find him, he would have mentioned it. So… what do you want with the clan?"
Fuck! Shit. Bishop had to act fast. But the poison was already spreading through his torso and arms. He could feel it. He could barely move his wrist anymore. He couldn't even move enough to toss anything at her. He missed his chance in his shock.
Shit!
Wait. There was still one thing he could do.
A shitty thing to waste this trinket on, but he had no idea what this woman was capable of or if the poison was lethal. How was it exactly not affecting her?! They drank from the same kettle!
But he would find out later. Now he had to act while his fingers still moved.
He moved his hand just enough to press his fist into the wooden arm of the chair, shattering the soul gem ring in the process. Aeyrin would notice – she would be checking her ring obsessively when he was out of sight. She would come – she saw him enter this house with the elf.
"Answer me," she insisted.
Not a fucking chance. This woman would get nothing out of him. She already knew too much. She knew his name and she might even tattle to Duful, if she knew how to reach him. Bishop hoped she didn't. After all – it was the barkeeper who had to contact her for their meeting, right?
"Why rn't you p'sned?" He let out the words through his gritted teeth. His mouth no longer moved, only his eyes and internal organs worked.
"I drank an antidote before serving the tea, of course," she scoffed.
Fuck. He didn't see that coming. The fact that she drank the same stuff as him was enough to reassure him. But at least there was an antidote. Possibly still some here in this house.
Come on, princess, where are you?
"Why are you looking for Duful?" she insisted. "If you don't cooperate, we'll see what more I can 'treat' you with. There are much more unpleasant poisons I could use." She stood up from her chair and approached him with a hateful expression on her face.
What the fuck was with her and protecting Duful this much?! Nobody protected the Thrice-Banished. They were just opportunistic scum and all their contacts would sell them out instantly. Like Ri'zhassa did.
"I miss 'im," Bishop growled at her through his paralyzed teeth.
"I'm supposed to believe that?" She scoffed. Granted, it was a stretch. Nobody would miss Duful. Except for her, maybe? What was it with her?
Fortunately though, a loud crash echoed through the house then.
Finally!
Gandrehel looked behind her shoulder in shock, but it was too late. Aeyrin rushed into the room with concern and anger in her eyes. Fuck, she looked really panicked. He knew that crushing the ring would make her assume the worst, but it was his only option.
Aeyrin didn't even say anything. She didn't even stop. She was in front of Gandrehel instantly and she delivered a swift punch into the old woman's face, sending her toppling on the ground in shock and pain.
"Get away from him!" She yelled, still not calming down. Only when she looked at Bishop and saw him looking back she breathed out a bit, trying to ease her frayed nerves. "Are you alright?"
"Yeah. Prlyzed," he tried to communicate. "Poisn."
"Ow… what in the Void…" the old woman groaned on the ground. She tried to move to get herself up on her feet, but Aeyrin promptly growled at her.
"Do not move an inch! Or you'll get another!"
"Annidote," Bishop tried to talk again. "She hazzit."
"Where's the antidote?" Aeyrin promptly screamed at the woman again. "And if you lie to me, I'll be able to tell. I know my antidotes. So you better be careful." She didn't know them too well, but she knew enough to tell if she had one in hand. They used them often at the temple. Antidotes always had an oily substance in them – one could tell by the circles on the liquid.
"Fuck… fine… that room," Gandrehel pointed towards the other room with a shaky hand, bloodied from clutching her broken nose or fat lip, or whatever she ended up with after the punch. "Small blue vial… on the counter."
Aeyrin rushed into the room and located the vial promptly. It was there – opened. That was… convenient, but she did see the oil circles. This couldn't be another poison. Those never had oil circles in them, as far as she knew. At least this was what her training taught her.
She rushed back and pressed the vial to Bishop's lips promptly, leaning it back to let him drink. The woman still didn't move, fortunately. She was clearly old and frail. Aeyrin did feel a little bad for punching her, but she poisoned Bishop!
"Will… take a while… to revert the… paralysis," the woman quickly said, likely worried about getting another punch.
"'Sk'er where's the… cln," Bishop muttered through his teeth. He still needed the information.
"Where did the clan go? And I swear, if you lie to us, I'll be back," Aeyrin barked at her. Damn, that felt odd, threatening an old woman like that. She had it coming though. Aeyrin had to remind herself of that.
"I… can't…" the old elf groaned.
"If you tell us, they won't find out where we got that information. But if you don't…" Aeyrin raised her voice threateningly. She hoped that she wouldn't have to finish that sentence.
"Gods… dammit, Duful," Gandrehel growled in anger. "Bravil. They… they went to Bravil. Please… don't tell him I… I said…"
It was starting to make more sense now. Gandrehel wasn't really protecting Duful. She was scared of him. Shit, now Bishop felt kind of bad. But she did poison him.
Before anyone could say anything more, however, loud armored footsteps began to echo through the house. Someone else was there.
And only when two guards barged into the room, Aeyrin realized that breaking down the door and charging into the house might not have been the best idea.
"You! Stop right there, criminal scum!" One of the guards brandished his sword, pointing it at her.
"I… I had to get in! She… she poisoned him!" Aeyrin tried to defend herself. She could not stay in another cell. Not after everything in Kvatch. Gods, this had to be explained. Bishop was still paralyzed!
"What? You just broke in and… what did you do to her?" The guard questioned her sternly.
"I… I punched her. But… she poisoned my fiancé!" How else was she supposed to say it?
"It's true," suddenly, Gandrehel of all people piped up. She was still on the ground, clutching her nose, but she finally dared to at least collect herself enough to sit up. "She's… she's right. I have… many poisons. There… in the kitchen," she inclined her head towards the other room. "From my snakes… and some herbs. I… invited him in and… poisoned him. I don't know how she found out… but she was just… protecting him."
"What. The. Fuck?" The guard looked at Gandrehel in disbelief. "Just… go in the kitchen to verify," he nodded at the other man who promptly rushed into the other room.
Aeyrin couldn't help but stare at Gandrehel incredulously. She just… confessed? Why?
"He… he can't get to me in prison," the old elf sighed in defeat.
Fuck. Bishop couldn't even concentrate on the fact that he could move his head enough to shake it. What the fuck was Duful doing to people to have her this afraid of him? That was disturbing.
"There's a lot of vials, captain!" A voice came from the kitchen.
"Alright," the guard sighed before he turned to Aeyrin. "You! You should have alerted the guard instead of taking things into your own hands. But… I understand that concerns were high. We'll need to hear the details. And you'll be fined, unless we learn any of you were lying. So we're all going to go to the garrison, understood?"
All three of them nodded at the guard obediently. That was probably the best outcome they could hope for from this.
"Poisoning though… shit, you're looking at hard time, Gandrehel. What the fuck has gotten into you?" The man shook his head at the old elf.
"Fear, my dear," she only let out another defeated sigh. "It does strange things to people."
It really did.
And now Bishop and Aeyrin couldn't help the guilt gnawing at them. Despite everything, the woman acted out of fear. But reassuring her that Duful would never learn of her betrayal might just make her reluctant to go to prison and make more trouble for them with the guard.
She was selling poison. Maybe some time behind bars wasn't the worst thing. Maybe she would even get some peace from the clan there at least, whether Duful knew or not.
One thing was for certain though.
Now Bishop really did want to finally find his family.
And deal with their bullshit once and for all.