-And here I am again, back with another chapter of my story! Not much to say for now other than this picking up right where the previous chapter left off. Still, hope you all enjoy! -
"Steady Frost, let's go."
With a flick of the reins, Galadriel's steed proceeded to clop down along the stone pathway to the right. The light from the nearby lit braziers only reached so far, only about towards the very point where the dip in the road was at its lowest with little to be seen any further. Aside from the small glowing lantern that hung loosely from Frost's neck, there was little else in the way of illumination. It wouldn't bother the Bosmer however; she preferred the darkness anyway.
"To the west of Windhelm..." she said to herself as Frost trotted along the path. Looking to her right all that could be seen and heard was the rushing icy river. Unless there was a pathway leading across the river to the other side, it was likely as ever that her destination would be on her current side of the river.
She and Frost made their way down along the dip in the road where the sound of rushing water could be heard at its strongest before ascending back up again. By now the light from the Windhelm stables had just about faded completely from view, leaving her cloaked in the dark of the night. Whatever light would've been provided by either moons was obscured by a set of thick clouds concealing them at this time.
Despite there being low visibility however, the sheer cold could not be denied. The cold of the air around her practically enveloped her with sensations of howling wind and freezing cold. One hand held onto the reins while the other one rubbed the side of her sleeve-covered arm. The meager clothing did little to ward off the sheer cold that was Skyrim weather, but it would have to do for now.
Frost on the other hand gave a whinny of her own. Bless this horse and her constant tolerance; Galadriel wasn't sure how she could put up with this cold, but was glad she was able to all the same.
"Good Frost..." she said as she rubbed a hand on the side of the horse's head. Her steed made a throaty sound that almost sounded affectionate. The Wood Elf always liked it when she made that sound.
Turning her gaze back upwards towards the dark path before her, Galadriel was reminded of what her task was specifically. Following after someone who'd stolen something that she herself was tasked with 'retrieving'.
'So, Dwarven ruins aside, why would he choose to hide out there, at all?' she thought to herself as she attempted to put her anxiety aside as best she could to think, 'It could be... no one in their right mind would ever chase him out to such a place, neither guardsman nor respectable person. At the same time, Vanryth mentioned that he was meeting with others there as well. That would suggest that he might be part of a larger group. And that he'd stolen something valuable from a rich family... He could either be wanting to sell it off, ransom it for a sum of coins, or maybe even keep it for himself... What's really keeping those others loyal to him anyway...?'
As she continued to trot along the stone path, the sound of rushing water grew with intensity on her right side. Her eyes glanced to the side to see the point of the river where the rushing water was falling over the side into a small waterfall. For some reason the sound of natural water was sounding more and more soothing for her to listen to. With a shake of her head, she reluctantly turned her gaze back forward and focused on the road again.
The heavily darkened pathway greeted her and her steed with only the light from the small lantern giving any sort of illumination. As far as what she could see on her left side, only large snow-covered rocks could be seen. Galadriel held a hand over her squinted eyes to view the side as best she could. But no matter how far she and Frost kept walking, more of the same rock wall was all there was to see.
That is, until she caught sight of the first step.
"Whoa, girl!" Galadriel pulled the reins back quickly. Frost grunted at the sudden action but came to a slow halt. Now completely stopped, the Bosmer swiftly dismounted and looked down to view what had caught her attention.
Underneath the gentle glow of the lantern, she could just barely see it. On the left side of the path, a stone could be seen, drastically different in appearance from the natural rock that comprised the surrounding wall of rock. For one thing this step was perfectly carved, as well as the fact that there were more steps atop this one leading upwards along a slight slope in the rock wall.
'This stonework...' she thought to herself as she ran a hand along the upper surface of the lowermost step, 'I'd recognize it anywhere... it's Dwarven, no doubt.' Pulling her head up she could see a number of ascending steps leading upward along the slope of the rock face before disappearing around a slight curve to the right. Some of these steps appeared to be buried under the thicker blankets of snow.
Memories once again krept up from the back of her mind; the last Dwarven ruin she had dared to enter, along with Brynjolf and Karliah. Irkingthand she remembered was relatively flatter to the ground, with a large stone wall surrounding an inner courtyard and entrance. The appearance of these steps appearing like this however seem to dispel any notion that she might've happened upon those same ruins again, albeit from a different angle.
"And I don't see any large walls from here..." she said to herself as she squinted her eyes. Under the dark of night, it was a little hard to see out in the distance, but not silhouettes of large walls could be identified. If ever there was a time for luck to be with her, it had to be now.
"Come on, Frost, this way..."
She took hold of the reins and gently led her horse along. With the light of Frost's neck-lantern illuminating the way, Galadriel and the horse made their slow but steady ascension up along the slanted pathway. The Wood Elf scanned the ground as carefully as she could to assure that she was in fact stepping on the stone steps themselves. There was lots of snow and ice covering most of them which would make for an unpleasant slip.
Aside from carefully watching where the steps were during their ascension, the dark of night and the light howling of wind were the only things Galadriel could register. The snowflake filled air whipped at the parts of her skin exposed to the night air. While she felt the icy air sting her skin on the outside, she was faintly aware of the slight burn in her calves as she walked upwards.
Finally, after walking a minute or two up along the thankfully intact Dwarven stairs, a thick silhouette of something solid began to stand out against the night sky. Galadriel's eyes squinted as she attempted to focus in on what stood before her. As she and Frost drew closer, the large... structure, grew larger in size as well. What's more, the stairs that the two of them walked up along were leading straight towards this large structure.
The two finally came to a halt directly before the structure; this large 'wall', with two sets of steps leading both left and right towards its very top.
"I don't think... no, this isn't Irkingthand..." the Bosmer said to herself as she visually scanned the structure. The former ruins in question held walls just slightly higher than these before her. What's more at no point did she (nor Brynjolf or Karliah for that matter) ever have to ascend 'up' a natural landmass to enter Irkingthand before. With such a radically different method of entry yet shared with similar stone structure, Galadriel concluded that this was in fact a 'different' Dwarven ruin.
One that Alain Dufont would supposedly be hiding within, along with that hammer.
"Alright then, time to get to work..."
With that, Galadriel gently led Frost by the reins and secured them to a nearby low-hanging tree branch. The horse gave a small grunting noise but otherwise gave little objection. The Bosmer then moved to the side of the beast and the saddle where she kept certain cargo items mounted. There she unpacked her backpack she'd held secured on the saddle, then took out her twin sword blades she kept mounted as well.
Night's embrace surrounded her, yet the flat of the blades she held in her hands seemed to glimmer just as strongly as ever. Her Nightingale blade in one hand and Chillrend in the other; two blades that she could always count on to get her out of a tight situation. She carefully angled the two blades to slide them into sheathes of their own within her backpack.
"Wait here, Frost, hopefully I'll not be too long..." the Bosmer said to the horse. With that she began to make her way towards the twin stairs, opting to take the right side steps. As she ascended she deliberately took her time with her climb. Her footsteps were carefully placed, barely making a sound, while she herself remained slightly crouched and lowered in her stance.
Upon reaching the top she peered over the edge of the large 'wall' at what lay beyond. What she could see brought forth memories from within. The first thing she glanced was a large, ornately detailed door of golden bronze. It was framed on all sides by stone, carved similarly in style to that of the very stone steps she walked up. She had seen Dwemer architecture before, both from Irkingthand as well as from her time in Markarth, and seeing it again filled her with just as much unease as before. She could practically hear the deep thumps of the steam pistons from inside pumping away.
Of course the door itself wasn't the only thing Galadriel caught sight of. There, at the very base of the door, a body could be seen. Her narrowed eyes widened slightly at the sight. While she was hopeful to find 'some' evidence of her target here, she wasn't expecting it to be found so soon as to literally be on the doorstep. In fact... could that have been Dufont himself?
Galadriel maintained her lowered crouched stance while slowly reaching behind her to draw forth her blades. She then took careful steps forward towards the large door and the body itself. Each step taken the body itself did not move; the Bosmer could see that this was definitely a dead body, through and through. There was even a small puddle of dark crimson blood having pooled underneath the corpse as well to confirm that fact.
"Hm, no hammer on you..." she muttered to herself, "Wonder what happened to you though?"
The puddle itself also contained a small streak stretching out from it, coincidentally pointing directly towards the doors of the Dwemer ruin. Judging from the specific blood splatters, it seemed likely as anything else that this poor soul might've been killed before entering the ruins. Maybe even by someone, or something, that had entered the ruins in their stead?
Whatever the case may be... unfortunately it seemed as if her goal lay 'inside' of the Dwemer ruins... For as much as Galadriel wanted so desperately to deny it, there simply was no other way to interpret it.
"Fine; get in, find Dufont and the hammer, get out. I'll make this simple..."
With that Galadriel approached the large, looming brass doors. After applying a gentle push to one of them, it seemed that just like the Windhelm doors she'd have to apply a little more pressure to them. She let out a small grunt as she pushed hard, her feet struggling to maintain traction on the ice-covered ground beneath her. Eventually, the door managed to open by just a crack, allowing the Bosmer to nimbly slip through.
Galadriel's ears were immediately assaulted by the sound of pumping. The heavy sound of pistons pumping could be heard practically all around her. This was accompanied by her nostrils smelling the faint scent of oil on the air. Of course, neither of those two things compared to what she could 'see', much less directly in front of her.
In a small, open entry hall within the doorway a couple more bodies could be seen. Bodies of different types could be seen sprawled out along the stone floor before her, both dressed in garb typically seen worn by bandits. One of them was even a Nord with what looked like iron armor on him.
"Nords are hard to take down," Galadriel noted.
Just like the body outside, this one held a small pool of blood all around, staining the stone floor beneath it. A nearby war-axe lay on the ground away from the outstretched hand too. This poor soul definitely went down fighting... whatever may have killed him.
Glancing over at the other body, a similar story could be deduced. The body of what Galadriel could see was a Bosmer lay propped up against the nearby wall, his entire front stained with crimson blood. Pieces of a bow cracked in two lay across his lap and a number of arrows spilled out around him.
This entire display was more than enough for Galadriel to be put on alert. Well, in addition to the sounds of pistons pumping practically all around her. She wasted no time in reaching behind her and unsheathing her twin blades and scanning the room all around her. Aside from the two corpses, the only thing to be seen in this small room was a small, makeshift campsite with a campfire and three bedrolls.
"Three bedrolls, but three dead bandits..." Galadriel said to herself as she quickly glanced behind her at the door and the body on the other side, "None of them could've been Dufont though, could they?"
"He's not even here."
Galadriel's blood froze in an instant. With widened eyes she spun back around at the campsite. However, all she was met with was the sight of the two dead bandits and the camp itself. That was... strange. She was certain she'd heard a voice just now.
Worse still; it sounded like 'his' voice...!
"Drgh! Get a grip, Galadriel!" the Bosmer shook her head, "This is no time to be hearing things! Stay focused!"
"Urgh..."
Galadriel was put on alert yet again. Between the sound of heavy machinery she heard another sound on the air. It sounded rather distant, as if it were in a different room from where she was, yet not too far away.
She turned her head to the only other way to proceed from the entry room she stood in. A large, gold-colored gate of bronze stood to cordon off an adjoining section of hallway. However, on the ground directly at its base lay the large gate itself; it was as if it had been torn off of its hinges and thrown to the ground. Focusing her attention and senses forward, she became acutely aware of a number of other sounds coming from this direction.
Namely, she saw the flames.
Stepping through the threshold of the gate, bright flames immediately met her eyes. She squinted at the intial sight of flames that somehow were shooting horizontally from a nearby pipe. Even from this distance she could feel the slight burn from the heat of the flames.
"Urgh!"
There it was again! That sound! It definitely sounded like a person! Turning away from the flames, Galadriel turned her head towards the more darkened sections of the room she stood in.
In the shadows the faint outline of a figure could be seen laying against the stone wall. This person wore brown-colored garb that looked strangely good looking. In fact, it looked like clothing that would typically be worn by the rich types, not at all by anyone that would even consider dungeon-delving.
His head was slumped to the left so that only the right side of his face was barely visible. He held a hand over the side of his body where a large stain of red blood could be seen. The subtle rises in the chest told the Wood Elf what she needed to know: not only was this man alive, but those grunts of pain were most certainly coming from him.
And with a turn of her head to the side, she could see exactly why. Galadriel saw them: two small spider-like machines pecking away at the stone wall opposite herself and the man with their tiny front legs. The Dwemer Spiders were doing... something; clawing away at the stone wall as if they were digging, or even cleaning it. All the while not even regarding the presence of either herself or the man. A quick squint forward revealed that one of these Dwemer Spiders was missing one of its side legs as well. That was strange; why would one of its legs be missing?
Galadriel glanced back at the man still laying at the base of the opposing stone wall. Judging from the large wound on his person, it was likely easy to see that these machines had scored a deadly blow on him. The man in question still had not moved far from his current spot, much less moved at all. He remained slumped over with his hand clutching his bloodied side. Aside from his rather formal choice in clothing, one striking item did stand out: a large hammer lay just out out of reach from one of his feet. A hammer bearing a very strange yet peculiar emblem on one side of the blunt head.
The symbol of Clan Shatter-shield!
"The hammer-!" Galadriel nearly blurted out before catching herself. First thing first though; those Spiders had to be dealt with!
The metal constructs meanwhile had suddenly ceased their pecking away at the stone in front of them before slowly spinning their torsos around. They were now in a sense 'turning to face' the Bosmer, despite them not really having faces. That was plenty reason enough for them to have noticed her however; she needed to act, now!
One of the Spiders wasted no time in suddenly leaping itself forward towards her. Galadriel barely had enough time to duck down and roll her body forward. She could practically hear the Dwemer Spider flying through the air above her. She quickly reoriented herself onto her feet as she came out of her roll.
The other Dwemer Spider still remained in place before her, but she was already moving. She swung her blades horizontally with all her strength, a 'clunk' felt through her arms and a clanging filling the air as she had struck true. In no time at all the Dwemer Spider had been completely cleaved in half with its top having been severed from its bottom legs. It quickly and literally fell to pieces of bronze and scattered about the floor.
Galadriel felt a burst of pride well up within. These metal machines were notorious for the sort of damage they could do to the average person, and she'd just destroyed one! However, that pride had to be tempered real quick as she remembered the second Spider.
Spinning around, she had just enough time to catch sight of the other machine having turn its own attention back to her. It brought its body down before pushing itself up to jump an impressive length in the air towards her! Galadriel barely had enough time to bring her blade in her left hand up to catch the attacker. While she was successful, the could still feel the sheer force of the Spider's body crashing into her blade through her arm.
Gritting her teeth, she swung Chillrend in her other arm to the side as hard as she could. Just as before the blade bit right through the Spider's body to cleave it in two. Its multiple legs and large torso piece both clattered to the ground with loud clangs.
Scanning the room around her showed no more movement, which was good enough for the Bosmer to finally take a breath. Unbelievable though it may have been, she'd survived yet another brush of death from within a Dwarven ruin.
"Well well... must have those annoying 'gods' on your side to still be alive... whoever you are...'
Turning her head to the side, she could see the source of who was addressing her. The fatally wounded man laying against the stone wall was looking back up at her still clutching his bloodied side. His entire side was drenched in the red liquid, yet his face itself didn't betray any overwhelming sense of pain. He was still looking up at her with a strange sneer on his face.
As Galadriel regarded the man, she found her breath hitching yet again. The tone that he was addressing her with carried a harshness, yet with a hint of reservation. And that sneer that he was giving her... His entire display, if not almost everything about him only bred a growing sense of unease within her; a completely different kind from being inside a Dwemer ruin. This was because there was one simple reasoning for it:
It was yet another reminder of 'him'.
"Even I have to admit... it's pretty impressive," the man added before coughing into his hand. Setting his hand back down Galadriel caught glimpses of blood-splotches upon his fist. In the process she caught sight of the large, familiar hammer still there at the base of his feet.
"You... are you... Alain Dufont?" she carefully spoke. Her question earned her a narrowed look from the man below.
"Wait... you're not one of the bandits I hired," he said, "And I only told my name to certain people... How do you know me?"
'It's him! I found him!' she thought to herself, 'It actually is Dufont, and not... 'him', at all...'
"I came here for this," Galadriel reached out with a foot to slide the war-hammer closer towards her. Alain Dufont attempted to lurch forward to stop her, but only succeeded in coughing blood even harder from the effort.
"Tch, that hammer... Shouldn't have caused me 'this' much trouble..." he said, "Still, that could only mean... Shatter-shield sent you, didn't he?" Galadriel nearly opened her mouth to affirm, but held her tongue at the last minute.
"Maybe I should've expected that, since I killed one of his girls..." he continued musing, "Real shame... I'd have liked to have gotten further with that... but she just had to bring up talking to the wrong people..."
"So you killed her?" the Bosmer asked, a sharp edge filling her voice suddenly.
"What do you care? You don't even know her...!" Alain Dufont argued, "You don't even know me neither... In fact, why don't you just... put me out of my misery already?" The man then took a few moments to slowly remove his hand from his side. His features scrunched up as his hissed in pain. Both the palm of his hand and his entire right side were coated with blood, with even more blood pooling around and underneath him, "Damn Spiders already got me but good earlier, and a lotta help those bandits were..." Galadriel found herself staring at the man on the ground almost in disbelief at what he was essentially telling her to do.
"You... you can't be serious..." she said, "Wouldn't you rather be, you know-" Her questioning was cut off rather abruptly as Alain suddenly burst into a harsh coughing fit. She took a couple steps back away from him as he hacked his lungs incredibly hard. Despite his hand covering most of his mouth small droplets of blood managed to dot the stone floor before him and on the hammer's hilt. After a few seconds his coughing finally subsided.
"Well... that answer your question...?" he asked her while still managing to maintain his sneer, "It look like I can do anything, even if I could...? Hurry up already...!"
The Bosmer continued to stare at the dying man before her. Even now she continued to be strangely transfixed by his gaze. In truth there was little that she would find interesting, much less appealing about this man even without his mortal injury, yet she still found herself at somewhat of a loss.
On the one hand he was giving her plenty of reason to 'end his suffering' as it were; he was rude, condescending, and seemingly unrepentant for having admitted to killing an innocent girl. He had also wrongfully stolen the Shatter-shield family heirloom, which as a reminder to herself was her primary reason for seeking him out in the first place. In fact, there was even that 'additional bonus' if his request were granted and reported to Torbjorn...
Yet as the Wood Elf stood in place, looking down at the blades she held in her hands before the man... something within her gave her strong hesitation from performing the deed. Something she couldn't quite place her finger on.
She was a thief at heart, but just how much of a cold-hearted killer could she claim to be?
"I... I think that-" she said to herself as she lifted her gaze from her blades back down to the man. She could see his head was slumped to the side again, and his eye that she could see was closed. There was a strange stillness to this man in contrast from before; his chest was not even swelling up and down with breathing anymore.
"Hey... Dufont? Alain Dufont...?" she gently called out to him. The man remained still, unmoving. The Bosmer took a single step forward to gently nudge his foot with hers. There was again no response at all. A few more seconds of staring, Galadriel lightly gasped at the realization. Alain Dufont had in fact succumbed to his wounds, but she had not even done anything herself.
"Well, I guess what matters is that he's dead, right?" she tried to reason with herself. What really would it have mattered 'how' he died in the end, anyway? The man was dead, the hammer was right here to be returned, and she could leave anytime she wished. That is until Galadriel remembered words that Torbjorn had spoken previously.
She looked back down upon Dufont's body, searching for something, anything, on his person. Aside from the blood staining the side of his clothes, they really were nice clothes overall. She had to wonder if he had in fact lifted them from anyone else in the past, or if they actually did belong to him.
Her eyes then came to rest upon his hand; the same hand that had been clutching the bloody side of his body. Upon one of his fingers she could see a ring, silver in color with a dark green gemstone in its center. Despite resting directly upon the bloody stain, only a few small droplets of blood could be seen marring the pristine image of silver of the band. There was little else of such value she could see on him; this would have to do.
Galadriel sheathed one of her blades and reached down with her free hand. With some effort she managed to loose the ring from his finger and slip it straight off. As she held it up closer to her face the nearby light of the burning flames nearby illuminated the shine of the silver and the emerald. The green gemstone seemed to glow all the more fiercely with its green shade in the bright light. This was a nice ring the Bosmer had to admit; if only this weren't what she'd have to use as proof of the deed for Torbjorn...
She slipped the ring into one of her pockets. As that was done, now for the primary reason she had come here in the first place. The hammer of Clan Shatter-shield, Aegisbane, still lay on the stone floor directly before her.
As she started to lean down to pick the hammer up, her gaze drifted back over to Dufont's corpse once again. He really was a despicable man, she had to admit, in every sense of the word. And yet, after all he had done, why was she not feeling nearly as much contempt for him as she feel she should be having?
"Maybe... maybe it's because he's not 'him'," she attempted to reason with herself, "Yeah, that's gotta be it. No one could be as bad as him-"
"Still disappointing."
A mix of both terror and anger coursed through her veins yet again. There was no denying that she'd definitely heard someone speaking this time.
Galadriel spun around to the source of the voice, desperate not to find whom she feared to find. However, what she did see caused the dread she'd felt to return in full force. An actual creature of Oblivion could appear before her and completely pale in comparison to who exactly stood before her right now.
A man stood a few feet away from her, arms crossed and leaning against a nearby vertical bronze pipe rising from the floor. His attire was essentially leather with numerous belts and pockets stitched into various locations. His clothing was also very dark in color, almost black, which was often reserved for only the most high-ranking of thieves. And in spite of herself, Galadriel could not deny for a moment that what she saw before her was one of the most notorious thieves she'd ever known; the most infamous in fact.
Mercer Frey's eyes were staring straight forward in front of him. It was almost as if even now the Wood Elf was not worth his consideration. His stance was easily relaxed while leaning against the massive pipe. The entire setting of a decrepit, collapsing Dwemer ruin might as well have been far more important for him to observe than to simply look at her. And had this been anyone else Galadriel might have felt offended at such blatant disregard. However, her feeling of pride was easily overridden by her dread as she stared at the seemingly disinterested man.
The man who should've been dead.
"No... no no no," she said as she clenched her eyes shut and rubbed her head with both hands, "This... This isn't real! You're not real!"
"Hmph, so you claim..." Mercer said, "And yet, I'm often on your mind, aren't I?"
"You're not here...!" Galadriel shook her head, "You're nothing but a... a bad memory...!" Tentatively she opened her eyes in the hopes that her tormentor was in fact not before her. Unfortunately, Mercer's relaxed form could still be seen leaning against the pipe, without at care in the world.
"A memory nonetheless," Mercer pulled forth a small dagger from his side and held it before him, "A memory that will never leave you. A memory to serve as a reminder of who you are, Galadriel; a poor excuse for a thief." As he tossed the dagger up before him to catch it in his hand, his head slowly turned to face her for the first time. Even now that same sneering expression that Galadriel remembered all too well was leveled directly at her, "A 'thief' who fails to seize potential..."
"None of what you say matters..." Galadriel pressed, "Because you're dead! I killed you!"
"And I bet it gave you great joy, didn't it? Just like I myself ran you through at Snow Veil Sanctum, you got to return the favor..." Mercer smiled smugly while holding dagger up and pointed its blade at the Wood Elf. His comment only served to infuriate her further in addition to his displayed attitude.
"Oh wait- you never actually did get to do that, did you?"
"Shut up... shut up!" the Wood Elf shook her head. For the first time Mercer stepped away from the pipe to stand and face Galadriel completely. He held his arms out to his side to display the entire front of his person before her.
"You never did kill me in the end," he further taunted her.
"You're dead and gone!" Galadriel protested, "You're buried under a rockfall and water! Not even you can survive that!"
"Did you ever confirm my corpse?"
The woman's lips were practically quivering uncontrollably at this point. Her heart pounded in her chest at each word leveled at her by this... truly spiteful man. Why was her own mind doing this to her?! She'd had doubts before, sure, on things that she frankly could've done better, but why did it have to be HIM pointing them out to her?!
Mercer himself took a few steps forward in Galadriel's direction, making the Wood Elf flinch at the sudden action. The man cast his gaze down upon the body of Alain, frowning in disgust.
"Even now you continue to fail, not even doing him in yourself..." he said, "What was it Torbjorn said? 'Extra bonus to send him to Oblivion'? What an extra reward like that could do for your Guild...!" Galadriel shook her head as her eyes began to sting slightly by this point. "He killed his daughter too, didn't he? He deserved to die! And you didn't even have the nerve to give him the death that he wanted either..." Mercer pressed.
"But, that's to be expected from you, isn't it Galadriel? A sad little girl... who couldn't even keep her parents alive...?" The Wood Elf clenched her eyes shut as tightly as she possibly could and spun her head away. While she could at least not look upon him with her own eyes, she sadly could do nothing to block out what she could hear from him.
"Y-you don't know that... you don't know that...!" she muttered through clenched teeth, "I never told you... anything...!"
"Perhaps I found out? Through that parchment you still hang on to...?" Galadriel didn't even need to open her eyes again to know that Mercer had to be sneering smugly at her, even as he continued to torment her, "And you call yourself a Nightingale? When you don't even utilize all that is just dropped to her right in your hands? You had the Skeleton Key, just as I had. The whole world could've opened up to you, not a single barrier could've stopped you. Such wasted opportunities..."
"I did... I did..." the woman whimpered. Her hand slowly reached down to pull forth her blade from its sheath. As she did so however, her blood turned to ice as she practically felt Mercer's very presence directly behind her, his mouth practically right next to her ear.
"It wasn't good enough."
Finally, Galadriel could hold her anguish in no longer. She opened her mouth to unleash a roaring scream from the very pit of her stomach. She spun around to slash her blade directly into the man's body. While she hoped her blade would cleave him completely in two, she also hoped for her blade becoming embedded into his body which would force her to twist and work the blade around in his wounds. She would slash him as many times as needed-
Her blade arm sailed straight through the air without meeting any resistance. Her eyes opened up completely to find that Mercer was not standing behind her anymore. In fact, he wasn't anywhere to be seen. Almost as if he were never there.
Because he was never there...
Galadriel's blade slipped from her fingers and clattered upon the stone floor. She was painfully aware of the nervous and uncontrollable twitching of her fingers as well as the shivering of her own jaw. Her breathing became labored, forced, shallow even, and her heart was threatening to beat itself out of her chest completely. Her tormentor was not there, not that he ever was, and yet she felt no more at ease now than a mere few minutes ago. If anything she was feeling so much worse right now. As a result this entire ordeal left her shivering harder than any freezing cold of this province.
How long had it even been since that whole event in Irkingthand? Weeks? A month even? So much had happened since then, mostly on the upturn for the Guild, ever since Mercer was removed from the picture. And then something like this has to happen, filling her head with doubts and insecurities...
"No!" Galadriel harshly shook her head, "I won't let you get me down, Mercer! I won't! You're dead and I'm alive!"
Her vocal protests could be heard as reverberating echoes off the stone and metal walls of the ruin around her. This further served as a reminder of where she was and what she was doing. The hammer still lay on the ground before her; she still had a job to do.
First she reached down to retrieve her blade she'd dropped and sheathed it behind her again. She then used both hands to reach down and take hold of the hammer's long shaft before giving an experimental lift. The weapon felt unbelievably heavy in her hands and she found herself struggling slightly to lift it up.
"Grgh! Come on...!" she grunted. How in Oblivion do Nords carry these things around, much less swing with them?!
She could feel the muscles in her arms straining to maintain her hold on the weapon, but otherwise she held a steady grip. Her first instinct was to hoist the weapon over her shoulder, but she forced it back. There was just no way should could possibly lift it that high and keep it there. The best she could hope to do was to hold it weapon in her current grip and make her way back outside.
With that she turned her body around and made her way through the passageway she'd came through before. The door to the ruins lay just before her, along with the small campsite with the previously dead bandits. She also glimpsed the barely burning embers of the small campfire and the bedrolls placed around it. Those rolls looked cozy enough, and if she were to dispose of those bodies, she might even be able to...
She was once again reminded of where she stood and shook her head hard yet again.
"Not in here of all places! Absolutely not!" she reprimanded herself, "Rather sleep out in the wilderness than a Dwemer ruin...!"
She instead walked past the campsite completely and moved closer to the massive bronze doors. She recalled how heavy these doors also were when opening them; no doubt she'd have a harder time doing so again while holding a heavy hammer like this in her hands.
With a grunt she set the hammer down to lean against the stone wall, freeing her arms. The feeling of relief was felt immediately, but Galadriel was already in motion to open one of the doors again. The door felt just as heavy and groaned a little as she attempted to pull, but it did manage to crack open ever so slightly. She was met with the harsh sting of snowy air once again from the crack opened in the door.
"Finally! Time to leave this place..." she said to herself. She reached back over and lifted the hammer up with as much effort as she could. The hammer back in the grip of her two hands again, she nimbly slipped through the crack of the large bronze doors and back out into the cold of the Skyrim night.
Galadriel thankfully hadn't run into any complications when it came to her return trip to Windhelm. She had managed to secure the hammer onto the side-straps of Frost's saddle; the steed herself not complaining nearly as much of it being heavy at all. Once that was done it was little trouble in mounting the horse and making her way back.
The ride back to the nearby city afforded her plenty of time to think. Or rather... every moment that she started to think she only ended up thinking back to having seen 'him' again. That was absolute insanity! Why would she ever have conjured up his memory in such a brutal fashion? Was it because her last place she'd seen him in real life was Irkingthand, which in itself was also a Dwemer ruin? That might've seemed likely as anything, but still did not fill her with any more comfort. Was this what was to happen now every time she even dared to venture near such ruins in the future? It wasn't like more reason was needed to avoid them...
The ride through the dark and cold Skyrim air felt almost welcome in comparison. The stinging snowflakes on her skin, the howling wind filling her ears as she rode on her horse. Harsh as this land was, at least this was all natural. Not a single thing about those kinds of ruins she was just in was natural to say the least. At least she could say she was done, and could now return to relative safety and familiarity.
It had been relatively easy to find the rushing river again. From there she this time took the road east along an almost concealed pathway. The light from the lantern hanging from the horse's neck thankfully illuminated the way well enough. Frost whinneyed occasionally during the ride but otherwise did not complain too much. Hardly a moment went by where the Bosmer was not thankful for the horse's patience, as well as resilience.
Windhelm itself was easy to spot again from the distance; the faint lights from within the city's frozen stone walls just barely visible to her eyes. She'd arrived at the stables within the next few minutes, as well as spend an additional few minutes unpacking the hammer and carrying it... on her person...
Why did Windhelm have to have such a huge stone bridge?!
Step after step, burn after burn in her calves and arms, she finally reached the main gate. Unlike before however, there were no guardsmen to be seen in their usual patrol spots on either side. Figures that the one time she would've preferred some help, they wouldn't be present.
Or wait, maybe it was better if there were no guardsmen here during this time? After all, from what she'd seen of this city's denizens, could she really expect 'warm' hospitality, much less understanding, from guardsmen at the sight of an elf like her carrying a peculiar war-hammer on her person?
'They'd probably think that someone like me stole it in the first place...' she thought to herself.
With that she set the hammer down against one of the doors to free her hands again. Just like before she took hold of the other side door and pulled hard. Her muscles didn't ache nearly as hard this time as she pulled with what strength she could muster. With a small groan the door pulled outward slightly. Once a small crack had opened up in between them Galadriel reached down to pick the hammer back up and slip herself through.
"Alright, hard part of getting here is done," she said to herself, "Now then, for the next hard part of actually finding- huh? Oh, wait a minute! There he is!"
Upon stepping through the massive door and into the courtyard of the city, Galadriel cast her gaze forward into the darkened area to find the man in question. Torbjorn Shatter-shield was walking towards the left side, apparently having just left the massive tavern in the center of the courtyard. There was a slightly wobble and stagger in his steps; the man potentially having drunk quite a bit since the last time she'd seen him.
'Oh, what luck!' she thought to herself, 'Thank you, Nocturnal!' She quickly advanced towards the Nord as swiftly as she could.
She didn't even need to call out to get his attention either. Torbjorn apparently had heard her footsteps on the ice-covered dirt ground and slowly turned his head.
"Huh, what-?" he could be heard muttering aloud.
"Torbjorn!" Galadriel said as she came to a halt before him, "I'm here, I'm back!" The slight swagger and sway in his stance persisted, even as he remained standing in place.
"Huh? Who're you again? An elf...?" Torbjorn slurred his words slightly. Galadriel's brow creased into a frown at the way he spoke; this man better not be too drunk as to have forgotten her completely. She couldn't tell exactly from any smell of ale on his breath either, not that she'd want to get close to him to find out anyway.
"It- it's me. We spoke earlier, in that tavern?" The Bosmer said before shaking her head, "A-anyway! I've brought it back to you...!" She mustered her strength to lift her arms up as best she could. The hammer remained just as heavy as before, if not more so with her having to maintain poise as well as strength when holding this thing.
Torbjorn looked down at the weapon in her hands, studied it for a handful of seconds, then eyes slowly began to widen. Galadriel was almost certain just seeing this hammer must have a complete sobering effect on the man itself.
"By the Gods! My hammer!" he reached out to take hold of the hammer's shaft in one hand and out of her hands. Galadriel watched in mild envy as the man was able to hold the weapon with seemingly little to no effort on his part.
"Aegisbane... yes!" he said to himself. After a moment's study of his weapon he turned his gaze to look back up at her, "Wait, weren't you the... Or was it the ale on my-"
"Yes, that was me," Galadriel said with a wave of her hand, "You tasked me with retrieving your hammer in exchange for your support of our Guild? Well, there it is."
"Huh, you actually did it..." he spoke, "Never did I think I would ever see this back in my... But wait," The look on his face turned sour again before apparently realizing something, "So, this mean you did track down that bastard who stole it... who also killed my daughter?"
"Indeed; turns he had tried to retreat off into a Dwemer ruin not far from here with a small group of hired bandits," Galadriel explained, "My guess was they were planning to sell off this hammer for a sum of coins."
"Dwemer ruin? Hmph, thought he'd be so slick, did he? Running off and hiding in a place he probably knew I'd never be able to reach him..." Pausing for a moment his look turned back up to Galadriel again. It was then that the girl saw it: that look in his eyes from before, "Tell me... did that gutless animal get what he deserved...?"
Galadriel resisted the urge to take a step back away from his rather piercing gaze. She knew it wasn't at all directed at her, but the feeling was no less intense. More importantly, there was the possibility that he wanted her to tell him something specific. Something that she knew she wouldn't be able to say in full honesty.
'Maybe not... but, I do have proof.'
She then reached into her pocket and pulled out Alain's ring.
"This ring was on his finger when he... when he died," she said before quickly following up with, "And he is dead; died inside the ruins."
Torbjorn reached out to take the ring from her hand. Holding it in between his fingers he held it up close to squint at it.
"A ring? How do I know it- Oh, wait..." His eyes widened ever so slightly as if he'd noticed something, "Yes... I'd recognize this ring. That very first day he came to this city... he was wearing a ring with a dark green emerald just like this one... And these blood drops," Very slowly he lowered his hand with the ring to look back at the Bosmer directly, "So that's it then? You killed him?"
"I... He is dead..." she said, "I pulled that off of his corpse after all."
"Huh..." Torbjorn looked back at the ring again, "So he is dead... You know, I thought I'd feel a little better with his death. But now... I can't help but feel... worse than before? All I can see now is my Friga... oh Friga..." Galadriel caught a glimpse at the man's teeth gritting ever so slightly, before he quickly shook his head. A thought crossed her mind; was now the best time to bring this up? Well, she needed to remain professional on her end.
"Well anyway, as I recall you did promise a 'reward' if proof of his death were given?"
"What?" Torbjorn shot her a look before softening with realization again, "Oh, that's right, I did say that..." With that he lowered his hand down to first deposit the ring into his pocket before reaching for his belt. He took hold of one of two coin-purses that could be seen hanging off of the belt and taking it loose. During this entire display Galadriel had to keep her eyes from widening too much at the sight, if only this man with 'that' amount of money were her mark in the first place!
"Here you go; that extra bonus, well-earned," he said as he dropped the purse into Galadriel's waiting hand. Even the sheer feel of the coins in this coin-purse impressed the Wood Elf a great deal; this purse alone had to have at least one hundred coins within it! "And with that, you can let your Guild know that they can count on my support here in Windhelm. I'll send word of the specifics to that Mallory fellow myself." Pride practically welled up in Galadriel's being upon hearing those words. And just like before she was forced to maintain her image of 'stoic professional' in front of him, difficult as it was.
"That's... very good to hear. Thank you," she said with a simple nod, "Then in that case, I'll be off."
"Now to return you to where you belong..." Torbjorn spoke directly to his hammer as he turned to walk away himself, completely having disregarded the Wood Elf's presence entirely. Again, pride would have her feel insulted at this disrespect, until she remembered that she never liked this man anyway.
She herself proceeded to turn back towards the gates, intent on leaving as soon as possible. The feeling of looseness in her arms was felt rather immediately, no longer being burdened with the weight of that damn hammer! She felt like she could easily take hold of those heavy doors and rip them-
"Drgh! Come on...!"
Or rather she struggled once again with being forced to pull one of them open herself. The one time guardsmen standing nearby would've been helpful and there weren't any to be seen. She slipped through the crack in the doors and back into the harsh cold outside.
Many hours had passed when Galadriel finally arrived back in Riften and the Ratway. The night was at its darkest by this point, but she and Frost remained completely undeterred. In fact, the elf's mind at this time was a mix of not only tired but also of deep reflection. The long ride back to Riften gave her plenty of time to contemplate all that had happened. Her trips to Windhelm, the errand she'd been forced to run, the additional trips that in itself had put her on, not to mention that rather... grueling ordeal, in the Dwemer ruin...
She was almost completely caught unaware by the sound of battle. Thankfully the battle itself was distant, but still enough to put her on alert. While she and Frost had maintained the course on the road itself, she could see off in the distance various bodies at that nearby fort in the Rift. Fort Greenwall she'd once heard it be called. She couldn't see exactly who was over at that crumbling fort and frankly, she had no care to. Thus she maintained her course towards Riften.
She closed the door to the Ratway behind her, the familiar scent of the sewer's water filling her nostrils once again. Disgusting though it should've been, she welcomed it for familiarity's sake. She would rather take damp and warm over deep frozen any day.
As she rounded the small walkway towards the Ragged Flagon, she could once again hear the sound of people talking. Most of them sounded familiar too, but there was one voice that she didn't quite place right away.
To her mild surprise, Dirge remained standing in his usual place over the intial wooden boardwalk, yet his gaze was turned looking towards the tavern area. Only when Galadriel approached close enough did he turn his head towards her.
"No, Dirge, I was not followed, before you even ask," she spoke plainly to him. The bouncer leveled his usual look at her.
"Little too late for 'following', huh?" he said, "There better be a damn good reason for this." Galadriel flashed a look of confusion of her own. Before she could inquire further what he meant, Dirge raised his arm to direct her attention towards the Ragged Flagon. He had also stepped to the side to allow her to pass, which only added to her confusion. Usually it'd have taken far more effort to get this man to yield to something as simple as allowing someone entry here.
Nevertheless, Galadriel swiftly moved past him and closer towards the Tavern. She could see everyone had gathered there already: Vex, Delvin, Brynjolf, Vekel standing behind the counter. But in addition another person could be seen among the group.
"Is this really necessary?" the person spoke; a Dunmer by the sounds of it. She could see the back of his head as he was sitting down at one of the tables with his back facing her.
"She isn't here, so she can't exactly vouch for you, can she?" Brynjolf could be heard speaking directly to the Dunmer. He remained standing with his arms crossed with his own gaze fixed on him.
"But, I know her by name! Galadriel! Isn't that enough?!"
Someone that knows her name? And a Dunmer at that? A brief wave of panic washed over her body at the prospect of carelessness. Could she have slipped up and have been recognized by- Wait a minute... There was in fact a Dunmer that she'd met within the last twenty four hours now. That person being...
"Vanryth?"
The Dark Elf's head snapped around to face her, as did everyone else's faces soon after. While they themselves smiled at her return, Vanryth's own smile was absolutely one of relief.
"There! It's you!" he wasted no time in leaping from his seat and approaching her. She nearly panicked again at this sudden action, only to find that the man instead had reached forth to take her hand in a vigorous handshake, "Galadriel! It's good to see you again! Y-you remember me, I hope?"
"Ah- Vanryth? Y-yes, I remember you, from Windhelm," Galadriel managed to speak, "Um, but why- how are you here, now?" Thankfully the Dunmer must have heard the slight stutter in her voice and released her hand from his handshaking.
"Oh! Forgive me! Nerves must be acting up," he spoke, "It's just that, well..."
"Gal! Made it back did you?" Vex said, "And with good news, I trust? Maybe even provide some insight for this guy just randomly appearing?"
"This 'kindly' Dunmer has come offering his services for our Guild," Delvin elaborated, "Even claimed that someone could vouch for him...?"
Just like that, Galadriel's look of surprise returned in full. Her mind rushed to recall her earliest (as well as only) interaction with this Dunmer. All she'd ever done was inquire information from him, as well as hand him off that coin-purse she had lifted- Oh, wait...
"Vanryth?" she spoke carefully, "How... did you know?"
"Please, it really wasn't that hard to figure out," he said with a wave of his hand, "Someone like you just happening to show up right after two drunk Nords were harassing me? And presenting coin that was definitely hard to come by for anyone that wasn't a Nord? I figured that you must have gotten that coin from one of them somehow..."
"And, through all that, you somehow figured out about all this as well?" Galadriel skeptically asked as she indicated to the Ragged Flagon itself.
"Word does travel far, even to such a place as Windhelm," he replied. He then turned his attention back towards the other three members of the Guild, "And, I meant what I said; I would be more than happy to... extend my service to you, as an armorer and outfitter."
"So you have claimed, just as you've also claimed that one of our own would vouch for you," Brynjolf said with arms crossed and a healthy amount of skepticism in his voice. He then glanced over to Galadriel, "Well then Galadriel, the decision of this ultimately falls to you."
"Well, of course!" the Bosmer said with a single nod, "If you think you can help us, you're more than welcome. But, you're willing to be away from your home in Windhelm to do this?"
"Are you serious? An excuse to be away from that deep-frozen city and its backwards Nord folk? I practically jumped at the opportunity when I first learned of it!" Vanryth said, "And besides, Windhelm was never really home for me at all; I'd only come there in the first place because it was the first city out of Morrowind. Anywhere is better than there."
"In that case, let me be the first to welcome you to our Guild, Vanryth Gatharian!" Brynjolf announced in his semi-grandiose tone he was sometimes known to speak with, "Our own fence Tonillia here can help you get set up with your own space just outside of the Flagon there."
"Much appreciated, and thank you," Vanryth nodded once before moving to speak with the Redguard in question.
"You hear that, Dirge? The new one is welcome here now! You can relax!" Vex called out to the bouncer at the Flagon's entrance. The man said nothing aside from utter an audible grunt before turning back to assume his stance.
"Alright, that's all been cleared up," Delvin said, "Now then Gal, you return with good news?"
"I have," Galadriel announced to Delvin as well as Vex and Brynjolf, "The mission was a success; Torbjorn Shatter-shield has agreed to plans to allow the Guild reign in Windhelm." Her announcement was met with smiles all around from the three other Guild members.
"Hm, nice work," Vex said.
"Very well done, lass," Brynjolf said.
"Nicely done, indeed. I knew you were the right person for the job," Delvin added as well, "Weren't no complications you couldn't handle I take it?"
"N-" Galadriel started until she hesitated for a very brief second. In that brief second she actually considered what she was asked. To say that there weren't any complications wouldn't be the truth in the slightest. Nearly everything she'd gone through during this entire mission had been a trying experience, but more so for her mind rather than her body and thieving skills. However, another glance back up at her fellow Guild mates helped to re-center her priorities. They did not need to know of 'that', so she would not reveal it to them,
"Nope, none at all..."
Out of the corner of her eye she couldn't help but notice the slight furrowing of Brynjolf's brow after she'd spoken. If he noticed anything, he did not immediately say something right away.
"A-and in fact, it turns out I got us a, shall we say 'bonus', for our group..." she quickly followed up. She reached to her side and fetched the coin-purse granted to her by Torbjorn. Holding it in her hand before them, they eyed the prize with various smirks.
"Hmm, very nice," Vex said with a nod, "What is that, seventy-five? A hundred gold?"
"One hundred, granted from the man himself," Galadriel set the coin-purse down on the table, the coins within jiggling slightly upon contact, "Oh and Delvin, Torbjorn said that he'd contact you with the specifics of what will be offered the Guild in Windhelm in due time."
"Glad to hear it, I'll be awaiting his call," Delvin replied, "Well alright then, that's enough pats on the back, eh? What say we all get back to work; there's more gold like this to be made!" With that he took hold of the coin-purse and made his way towards the Thieves Guild hallway with the intent to deposit it into their safe.
Galadriel herself felt the familiar welling of pride within her. Another heist successfully completed, a new kind soul would be offering their invaluable services as a Guild vendor, and one step closer to restoring the Thieves Guild reputation. So then... why was she not exactly 'beaming' with pride as she felt she should've been?
Because no matter how hard she tried to recall the positives, her mind keep falling back to the Dwemer ruin... and 'that' incident...
"Hey, lass?" the familiar sound of Brynjolf's voice broke her from her own thoughts. She looked over to see his face looking back at her with plenty concern, "You alright?"
"Um, o-of course! Why wouldn't I be?" the Bosmer tried to shake off her nervousness with making her voice as casually-sounding as she could.
"Well, just seemed like you've been a bit... a bit out of it, in a way," Brynjolf explained, "You sure there's... there anything you wanted to talk about?" Had any other person posed this line of questioning to her she'd have continued to stubbornly refuse to elaborate. However, with it being Brynjolf and his usual genuine care for her... She could feel her inner walls of resistance growing weaker and weaker.
"I... Bryn? Could I maybe... talk with you, in private?" she spoke in a soft voice.
"Private?" he asked, to which the Wood Elf nodded, "Well, there are important things to do, but... Forget them; I can talk with you..."
"Thank you-" Galadriel said as she prepared to explain. However she caught herself as she quickly remembered that the two of them were not alone in the Ragged Flagon, "Um... come with me; over here..."
She hastily led the taller man behind her as they went through the adjoining hallway themselves. The sounds of rushing water from the nearby sewer reservoir grew more and more faint the further the two of them walked. In no time at all they stood within the small 'guest's' room just next to the main door for the Thieves Guild members' quarters. Very rarely did anyone use this room for anything functional, despite having normal decor and furniture like a bed and a couple chairs around a table. It's primary purpose was to serve as a casual distraction to the uninitiated of their Guild.
"Alright Galadriel, I think we're alone now," Brynjolf said after quickly glancing behind him over his shoulder, "Now then, what was it you- huh?!"
The taller Nord barely even finished his sentence before Galadriel practically leapt forward towards him. She wasted absolutely no time in throwing her arms around his body as best she could, wrapping him up in the biggest and tightest hug she could possibly manage. Nothing else in the world mattered in this moment; all that mattered was that Brynjolf was here, right here here and now, in her arms. This was real, this was actually happening for her. But more importantly, it actually made her happy, if not pleasantly content.
In no time at all, she felt the feeling of arms around her own body, her own hug being returned by Brynjolf himself. He was not objecting to this sudden action at all, and in fact was openly returning her affection with that of his own.
"Brynjolf... oh, Brynjolf..." she spoke with eyes clenched shut and trembling voice barely speaking clearly, "Something... very bad happened, while I was out..."
"Huh? What happened?" the man said, "Don't tell me you ran into those two mercs again?"
"No-no, not that at all!" Galadriel quickly said, "I mean something else bad happened. You see... it was... I saw Mercer..." The instant she spoke that name, that hated name, she swore she could feel the arms embracing her stiffen ever so slightly.
"Mercer..." Brynjolf said with a growl in his voice. Hastily he pulled himself away from her, much to her dismay, to look her directly in the eye, "Don't tell me... Galadriel, is he actually 'back'?"
"Well, no... no, he's not back," Galadriel replied sadly, "But, that in itself is what confuses even me; you see... I 'saw' him, but he wasn't really there? Yet it felt like he really was, but I was awake and not dreaming-" her words practically spilled from her mouth unfiltered before she knew what she was saying.
"Lass, lass! This is all sounding right insane, you know that?" the man swiftly but gently silenced her. For a moment from saying those words, Galadriel feared that the man she cared about would simply dismiss how she was feeling. That is, until he spoke again, "But... How about this: tell me everything that happened while you were out. We'll try and make sense of it that way, alright?"
Relief washed over her again; Brynjolf was looking down at her with those eyes of understanding. Or rather in this case, a genuine desire to understand her plight. It was just another reason why she was glad to have met such a wonderful man like him.
"Alright... I'll try."
-Just for clarification, Galadriel catching sight of Mercer's 'shade' wasn't completely out of nowhere, nor was it really any direct callback to any previous works. Rather, it's actually in reference to a really great Skyrim Steam mod called 'Following Mercer: A Thieves Guild Quest'. In it you basically are on a hunt at variously added custom locations across Skyrim where Mercer apparently was hiding his own personal treasures in an effort to refill the Guild's vault after he'd plundered it. But not only that, throughout all of them you also end up fighting an entity referred to as 'Mercer's Shade', a ghostly visage of the character that puts up quite a nasty fight. That whole thing got me thinking 'gee, that's gotta be pretty traumatizing seeing the image of the same asshole who screwed over the Guild, killed a Guild mate and framed another, not to mention actually stabbed you and left you for dead in an old ruin again, over and over and over. That's got great potential for a storyline!' So yeah, I hope it was portrayed well here!
But anyway! Next chapter will be back on track with the usual 'main' storyline stuff as you've come to expect, or at least I hope still have given how much time had passed since last reading about it. Follow, favorite, review, all that good stuff, and keep on reading! -
