After a few more days, a Courier found Cura. She had decided to stay in Windhelm for that time so it would be easier for the Courier to locate her. In that time, she was developing a rapport with the people of the city, and training her skills by sparring with Inigo, Mjoll, Lydia, and even Torbjorn, who taught her a bit on using two-handed weapons.
"I've been looking for you; got something I'm supposed to deliver, your hands only." The courier looked through his bag. "Hmm... let's see here... ah, a letter from a person called 'D'! So mysterious. Looks like that's it. Got to go." He waved a two-finger salute and left the city.
Cura opened the letter and read it aloud.
"Cura,
get down to Riverwood as soon as possible.
I have a plan ready. Don't bring your friends. The less people involved, the better.
-D"
Cura rolled up the paper. "Here we go." Immediately, she Fast Travelled out of the city while her allies were preoccupied with the venues.
She appeared in front of Riverwood and hurried to the Sleeping Giant Inn, and hurried down into Delphine's bunker.
The older Breton was surprised to see her so soon. "I guess you just received the letter?"
Cura nodded. "Yes. I'm ready."
"I've figured out how we're going to get you into the Thalmor Embassy." Delphine opened. She seemed very sure of this, and pressed on the urgency. It was clear time was growing short.
"Only me? You're not coming?" Cura raised an eyebrow. Of course she would be the one everything hinged on.
"That would be a bad idea. I'd be too likely to attract the wrong kind of attention. But they don't know you at all, yet." Delphine stated their advantage.
"Well. I trust the method will be effective." Cura mused.
"I've been doing this a long time, remember? While the Thalmor's been looking for me, I've been watching them." Delphine bragged.
"Your bravado is showing." Cura rolled her eyes.
"Because I can afford it." Delphine smirked.
"The Thalmor ambassador, Elenwen, regularly throws parties where the rich and connected cozy up to the Thalmor. I can get you into one of those parties." Delphine explained.
Elenwen. That name sounded familiar. Where did she hear that one before?
"Ooh, fancy." Cura sung. "Will I be arriving in a silver, gilded carriage?"
"Ha! If you succeed, you'll be returning in one." Delphine played along, in attempt to be friendly before she continued with the nitty gritty. "Once you're inside the Embassy, you get away and find Elenwen's secret files. I have a contact inside the Embassy. He's not up for this kind of high-risk mission, but he can help you. His name's Malborn. Wood elf, plenty of reason to hate the Thalmor."
"I'm not entirely familiar with Valenwood's relationship with the Thalmor." Cura pursed her lips, not entirely convinced.
"You can trust him. I'll get word for him to meet you in Solitude, at the Winking Skeever. Do you know it?" Delphine asked.
"I'm sure I'll find it." Cura assured her. "I've been to Solitude once before."
"Good. While you're doing that, I'll work on getting you an invitation to Elenwen's little party. Meet me at the Solitude stables after you've arranged things with Malborn. Any questions?" Delphine opened the forum.
"Who is this Malborn fellow, exactly? Are you sure I can trust him?" Cura raised an eyebrow.
"Don't worry about Malborn. He's not a dangerous character like you, but he hates the Thalmor at least as much as I do." Delphine reassured. "He's a wood elf - the Thalmor wiped out his family back in Valenwood during one of their purges that we never hear about. Luckily they don't know who he really is, or he wouldn't be serving drinks at the Ambassador's parties."
The Thalmor were slaughtering the other Elves as well? That didn't seem right: they advocated for Elven Supremacy after all, didn't they? Still, Cura would give her the benefit of the doubt. Delphine was a woman who always took precautions. If Malborn were an issue, he would have been resolved immediately.
"How does a poor Vigilant of Stendarr find herself among the honoured guests at a Thalmor party?" Cura almost laughed at the sheer madness of it.
"Let me handle that. You'll have a real invitation, don't worry. As long as you can act the part of a Thalmor toady, you'll get past the guards." Delphine explained.
"So, bash the Stormcloaks on entry, and brag about Thalmor greatness?" Cura pondered.
"Now you're getting it." Delphine stated.
"Let's say I can pull it off; once I'm inside the Embassy, then what?" Cura mused.
"That's when the fun starts. You'll have to slip away from the party without raising the alarm. Then you'll need to find Elenwen's office and search her files. Malborn should be able to point you in the right direction."
"All right, then. I'll see you as soon as I've finished with Malborn." Cura nodded reassuringly.
"Sounds good. Be careful." Delphine said. "Be discreet."
"I will. Fast Travelling really helps in that regard." Cura chuckled.
"You can do that?" Delphine was shocked. "Here I was thinking only the Blades remembered that lost art."
"Some Vigilants know it too." Cura informed her. "It's not entirely dead."
"Well, good. Then there should be no trouble." Delphine said as she headed up the stairs. "Solitude Stables. See you there."
Cura nodded, and left the Inn. As soon as she reached the exterior, she again Fast Travelled to Solitude.
Cura found herself at the front gate of the city, and looked to her right, remembering her first sight here; Roggvir's execution.
She hoped this escapade wouldn't see her in his shoes.
To her left was a tavern with a sign that read "The Winking Skeever". Cura hurried on inside. Time was of the essence.
Unfortunately, it was noon, so the place was full of people eating lunch. Cura quickly looked amidst the faces as she walked past the white-haired Bard woman playing music at the center of the large room.
Cura waltzed around pillars and servicewomen to a smaller area near the bar, where the room was dim.
A wood Elf sat in the darkest corner of the Inn and glared at Cura as she approached. "Really? You're who she picked?"
"Yes. Is that a problem?" Cura asked, immediately insulted by his reaction. That was definitely Malborn. Loud and abrasive, for a smuggler.
"I hope she knows what she's doing." Malborn mumbled, having no faith in the young Breton. Still, he relented enough to explain. "Here's the deal. I can smuggle some equipment into the Embassy for you. Don't plan on bringing anything else in with you. The Thalmor take security very seriously."
"I suppose that's how they've become so successful over the centuries." Cura stated.
"And because they're merciless to all; even Merkind." Malborn sneered.
"So... I'm going to leave some things with you." Cura said. "I hope you're good at what you do."
"I'm the best at what I do. There are Skooma dealers who wish they had my tact." Malborn overtly boasted. "Give me what you can't live without, and I'll make sure to get it into the Embassy. The rest is up to you."
"Very well." Cura handed him her Elven mace and her Glass Shield. "Without these, I may as well be without arms or legs." Thankfully, her voice itself was a handy weapon, so she had that going in case of emergency. "I'd like to know if there are any other party requirements." Then she removed her armour and robes, keeping a normal red and white dress underneath.
"You're asking me? She promised that she was sending someone who knew what they were doing... If you actually want to get out alive, I'd bring whatever you need to move quietly, and kill quickly." Malborn raised a brow.
"Not my forte, sneaking and stabbing." Cura shook her head. She was more a steel wall of destruction than anything.
"Okay. Well, I'll get this inside the Embassy for you. I've got to go. I'll find you at the party, don't worry." Malborn quickly stood up. "Your job is to get into the party without being fingered as a spy. I'll take care of the rest."
"Say it louder. I don't think anyone heard you." Cura scowled by how openly he spoke.
"Please, do you think these buffoons are listening?" Malborn pointed to the Nord men who were mesmerized by the female bard playing a flute. "Their minds are in their pants right now."
He bowed half-heartedly to Cura. "See you in four hours." He began his voyage to the embassy, and Cura headed down to the stables near Katla's Farm, where Delphine flagged her down from behind a building.
"Ready for the happy fun hour?" Delphine asked.
"I'm only missing my cake, and I could almost pretend Elenwen was throwing me a birthday party." Cura laughed.
Delphine was actually amused by her sarcasm, granting her a smirk. Then, back to business. "Have you given Malborn the gear you want to smuggle into the embassy?"
"Yes, Malborn's all set." Cura responded.
"Good. I have your invitation to the party. But the only way you're going to get past the guards is if they really believe you're an invited guest. Which means you need to look the part, and not be armed to the teeth. Here, put this on." Delphine handed Cura a fine blue set of robes, and a funny fine hat lined with fur that hung over to one side, like a nightcap.
Cura nodded and quickly ran into the empty grain mill to change into her outfit, putting it over her dress and came out, handing Dawnbreaker to Delphine. "No weapons at all, right?"
"You carry a sword?" Delphine raised an eyebrow.
"Only in the case of utter emergency, or vampire attacks." Cura sighed. "I'm not that great with it, but it's better than nothing. Please, take care of it."
"Yeah, it'd be a good idea if you don't bring that. Good idea." Delphine pocketed it. She then took out a slip of paper."Here's your invitation. Go nuts."
Cura unfolded the missive.
"Elenwen, First Emissary of the Aldmeri Dominion to the Kingdom of Skyrim Requests the Pleasure of the Company of Cura of the Pale at a Reception on the 18th of Morningstar, 4E202 at the Ambassador's Residence. Formal Attire Requested."
Looked official. Cura didn't appreciate having her real name listed there, however. Why not an assumed name? She could have gone with "Curie du Pale"; which would lend well to her Bretonesque disposition. She could even throw some Breton words out there, too. Really play the part. How disappointing.
Delphine gestured towards the carriage. "Good luck. Save me a sweetroll while you're there, all right?"
Cura rolled her eyes. "Do you want a foot massage too, when I return?''
"Don't be smart." Delphine chastised. "Just enjoy yourself and do the right thing."
One of the citizens nearby, a farmer woman was looking at Cura and Delphine with suspicion, and the Blade played it cool. "My daughter." she lied, pointing to Cura. "I'm sure you know how impossible they can be."
The farmer nodded and went back to her work.
Cura cringed as she went up into the back of the carriage. Showtime.
The carriage ride the wild terrain and roads around the mountain pass, and over the mount itself, passing Kilkreath, where she could see Meridia's Beacon's shining light columning into the sky. She smiled.
The carriage ride spanned for just shy of 4 hours before a fortified encampment of brick and mortar came into view. There were High Elves in their respective armour guarding the gold-guilded gate doors.
This had to be the Thalmor Embassy.
Cura swallowed, but lowered her face to hide the fact. She hoped to the gods that there were no Thalmor from the Northwatch Keep here who could recognize her from her dealings with Thorald's release.
This was beginning to feel like a bad idea.
The carriage came to a halt, and Cura was allowed to disembark. As she hopped out, a drunken Redguard approached at the same time. "Ah! A fellow latecomer to Elenwen's little soiree. And arriving by carriage, no less! I salute you, milady! My lateness is due more to getting lost on the way up this gods forsaken mountain than to any desire to actually arrive late. I prefer to arrive early. Often the day before the party. So as not to miss out on any of the drinking."
Cura stated at him cockeyed, like a deer caught in headlights. His love for drink was certainly apparent.
"There's not enough drinking in the world today, wouldn't you agree? I will just... rest here a moment. Although it is damnable cold out here. I don't look forward to the trip back down... Perhaps we might share a carriage after the party? I know, I know - we've just met. But think, by the time the party is over we'll no doubt be fast friends. I look forward to it. I'll go after you. Although these fellows know me. I never miss one of Elenwen's parties, you see." The drunk rambled on as he took a seat on the snowbank nearby.
Cura continued to walk towards the entrance, doing her best to not appear suspicious.
The drunk hopped up to follow her. "Inside, my friend, inside! Where only the women and drinks are cold." he pointed ahead.
Cura decided to begin fraternization.
"What brings you to this party?" Cura asked him.
"You must be new around here. Bad manners to ask such a direct question, at one of Elenwen's little soirees." the Redguard scoffed as he wiped snot off his nose. "But I have nothing to hide, I'm in from the south, on business. And if you want to do business in Tamriel these days, well, you'd better get used to cozying up to the Thalmor. Like it or not."
Cura approached the porter: a Thalmor agent in hooded black and gold robes. He looked quite stern, but most High Elves bore this demeanour.
"My invitation." Cura smiled as she handed him a piece of paper.
The Elf looked it over, and then looked at Cura. "Hmm." he pondered, which for a moment made her anxious.
"You remind me of somebody I know..." the Altmer pondered. "...but I can't quite put my finger on it. Oh, well. Go on inside, and please, enjoy yourself."
Cura nodded. "Thank you." She walked past him. Maybe it was because of her half-Elven heritage. Maybe her mother was a Thalmor, after all, or perhaps related to that one in some way? She could not say for sure. She was here for more pressing reasons, regardless. It was time to get down to the job.
Behind her, she could hear the Redguard's interaction with the Guard.
"Now then. Here's my invitation. I don't have a poisoned dagger strapped to my thigh, et cetera, et cetera." the Redguard droned.
The Thalmor Guard sounded annoyed. "I'm just doing my duty, sir. Everything's in order. Welcome back, sir."
The Redguard walked in dismissively. "Yes, yes. Now to find myself a drink."
As soon as Cura entered the bustling party from the vestibule, a familiar face greeted her. It was the Altmer woman who was leading captives out of Solitude many moons ago. Cura's blood ran cold, but she maintained as calm a composite as she possibly could.
"Welcome. I don't believe we've met. I am Elenwen, the Thalmor Ambassador to Skyrim. And you are...?" The Altmer woman asked.
That's Elenwen!
"You're Elenwen? I've heard so much about you!" Cura exclaimed instinctively.
"Have you? All good, I trust. But you have me at a disadvantage. I'm afraid I know nothing about you... Please, tell me more about yourself. What brings you to this..." Elenwen fumbled as to not overtly insult the snowy wasteland she was standing in. "... to Skyrim?"
"My name is Cura of the Pale." Cura stalled for time as she tried to remember the false identity she conjured up for herself on the way here.
"Ah yes. I remember your name from the guest list. Please, tell me more about yourself." the Ambassador was intrigued. "There's no need to be bashful. You're here, after all."
"Well..." Cura began. "I'm from the Pale, here in Skyrim... around Dawnstar."
Elenwen's expression raised lightly upon hearing this admission, and she seemed to look Cura up and down, studying her face. "The Altmer certainly runs strong in your veins."
"Er, yes." Cura admitted. "I... uh..." She placed a hand on her chest and realized she had forgotten to remove her Amulet of Stendarr. "I just got back from Cyrodiil... I was in Chorrol... studying to be an Adjudicator. Imperial Law." One of the only things she knew about Chorrol was that it was the City of Stendarr, and they had affinity for the judiciary system. It would cover the fact of her Amulet, at least.
"Ah, how fascinating." Elenwen stated. "I suppose you're going to be enforcing the White-Gold Concordat here in Skyrim, then?"
Cura hoped in her heart that Talos could forgive her for what she was about to say. "Yes; after all, it seems to be the only place in Tamriel where the people insist on worshipping that bloody warmonger, Talos." She all but spat to the side when she hissed out his name in false disgust.
Elenwen smiled. "So you recognize the heresy in worshipping a human emperor as a god."
"Not a human emperor; a deceptive, genocidal scumbag." Cura corrected. "He sacrificed the lives of his friends to obtain power with the Numidium, and slauIghtered many elves in his journey of conquest for their simple refusal to involve themselves in his squabbles! The Empire was built on this. It can't be undone, but it can be rectified, I believe. I won't stop until every last Talos-worshiper is... taught the painful truth. That is my goal."
Elenwen rubbed her chin in thought. "An admirable goal, to teach the Humans of the error of their ways. Being a Nord and an Altmer, surely it must be difficult for you to turn against Talos. Yes, Talos was a heroic man, but not a god. It pains the Altmer that we must remind our younger cousins of the difference. "
Cura nodded. "I once believed, like the rest, that Tiber Septim was honourable... but then I learned the horrible truth of his crimes. Now, I hope to remove his image from the coins someday, as well, but step-by-step, I suppose." Again, she was praying internally for Talos to forgive her; she felt dirty speaking ill of the First Emperor and the Ninth Divine like this, but she had to keep up appearances. In her alone time later on she would do penance for this.
She had to grovel to the Thalmor like a sycophant, and she was afraid of slipping up. She couldn't tell where she stood with Elenwen currently, but she hoped that the Altmer woman was being genuine. It was difficult to say, especially among politicians, to whether their thoughts and feelings truly lined up. For all Cura knew, Elenwen already fingered her as a spy and was just waiting for a single slip-up on her part to have her apprehended and possibly tortured and killed. Who knows?
On the other hand, if Elenwen truly believes that Cura is who she says she is, then she has the Thalmor eating out of the palm of her hand, and could probably willingly pry information from her concerning the Dragons; though that would not placate Delphine in the slightest. Cura needed solid proof, after all. And what would an aspiring Agjudicator need with Thalmor Dragon Documents? It would ruin everything.
Best course of action would be to continue as a partygoer, sneak some treats for her friends, and play along until Malborn comes with an opportunity.
"You know, I'm beginning to like you." Elenwen confessed. "You're a sharp one. your mother taught you well."
"I never knew her." Cura confessed. "But being an Altmer, I'm certain she was quite refined and wise, herself."
"Indeed, I can almost guarantee it." Elenwen remarked. "Please, come; make yourself comfortable." She invited Cura into the main room, where many guests of influence could be seen: most notable among them was Maven Black-Briar to Cura, but Vittoria Vici, the Emperor's cousin was there, Jarl Elisif the Fair, the widow of the High King, Jarl Siddgeir, and Jarl Idgrod Ravencrone, the mystic.
Cura felt small in this room, even if she was the Dragonborn.
"If anyone would have told me on my Birthday I'd be spending it in the company of such majesty, I would never have believed it, but here we are." Cura mused a little too loudly.
Elenwen turned to her. "Today is your Birthday?" She asked.
"Oh. Oops." Cura realized that she let her thoughts out of their cage a little too early. "Yes, yes it is. I've just turned 17."
Elenwen began to stare at Cura with the corner of her eye. She began to address the topic. "I see. Quite young, for an aspiring Adjudicator."
"I'm in my Journeyman Year," Cura told her. "Two more to go; I passed Apprentice last year."
"Impressive." Elenwen remarked. "But not a surprise. We Altmer-and half-Altmer grow far wiser than Humans at that age."
"Absolutely." Cura agreed. "The other classmates are all in their twenties and thirties. One is even in his forties."
"Who is your professor?" Elenwen asked.
Cura froze.
Oh.
She had to think fast.
"Er... she's a Breton woman named..." Cura began to try and concoct a fast name. "Carcette... Du... DuBois! Carcette DuBois."
That was horrible.
She can't believe she spouted the Keeper's name, with a fabricated last name. Did Keeper Carcette even have a last name? Cura had never heard it, to be certain. The young pseudo-Breton cringed inside out, hoping Elenwen would not try to verify that.
"Ah, a Breton. Smart people." Elenwen complimented the mongrel race. "Clearly this Carcette knows talent when she sees it."
"Not really." Cura muttered.
"Hmm?" Elenwen turned when she heard the utterance.
"Er... I said 'truly.'" Cura reiterated.
Elenwen nodded. "Ah, more guests have arrived! Please, fraternize to your heart's content." She turned around to greet the next few guests: Jarl Balgruuf and Proventus Avenici.
Oh, great.
Cura would no doubt have to explain herself now, otherwise they may accidentally blow her cover.
She decided to face the wall in the corner with the intent to hide her face. She hoped Balgruuf wouldn't recognize her from behind: after all, he's never seen her without her hood... right?
Cura couldn't recall.
"See that disgusting drunk over there? A high-ranking official in the East Empire Company, believe it or not."
Maven walked beside her and took a Boiled Creme Treat off the platter. Then she turned to look at Cura directly, the charm wearing off. "Huh... I hadn't expected to see you of all people here... and I know everyone who's anyone in Skyrim."
Cura stiffened up, but quickly regained her composure. "Hello, Lady Black-Briar. What brings you here?"
Obviously she didn't know 'everyone' who's 'anyone', because if she did she would recognize the Dragonborn when she sees her.
How did Maven recognize her, Cura, though? Maybe her hood wasn't quite as good at hiding her face as she'd hoped and she got a good view of her face in Riften.
"I'm here to maintain relationships." Maven sneered. "Unless you want me to blow your cover, I'd advise that you avoid me for the rest of the party."
"I didn't know you had dealings with the Thalmor." Cura was not going to be threatened.
"Have you learned nothing about me?" Maven snarled. "I have dealings with everyone. Now, leave me. I don't want to arouse suspicion by talking to someone that clearly doesn't belong here."
Cura decided to pay blackmail with blackmail. "Are you here on guild business?" She grinned wolfishly.
"Don't mention the Guild. In fact, it's better if you don't speak to me at all. This is not the place." Maven scolded. "You go your way and I'll go mine. Deal?"
"Deal." Cura agreed and Maven walked across to have punch with a blonde-haired snobbish fellow who accompanied Jarl Elisif.
Off in the distance, the Redguard man stood up and laughed in his stupor. "Attention everyone! Could I have your attention, please!"
Cura and the other partygoers turned around to hear what the fool had to say.
"I have an announcement to make! I propose a toast to Elenwen! Our Mistress!" the Redguard raised his bottle of Cyrodiilic Brandy.
Elenwen hurried over to the disruptor. "Razelan. What are you doing?"
Razelan laughed maliciously as he slurred. " I speak figuratively, of course. Nothing could be more unlikely than that someone would actually want her in their bed."
Elenwen sneered. "Ugh."
Immediately, some Thalmor guards began to snake in towards him.
Razelan corrected himself as he wobbled. "Although... most of you are already in bed with her! But again... I speak figuratively, of course!"
The Guards quickly grabbed the bottle from his hands.
Though he struggled, Razelan eventually loosed his grip on the Brandy and fell into a sulk. "Fine. Fine. Take your hands off me. I'll be a good boy now. Wouldn't want to offend our Thalmor overlords, would we?"
Cura was afraid for his safety at this point. What would become of him after the party?
Razelan sat down, and called out. "Someone bring me a drink, quick!"
"You've had quite enough." Elenwen sneered. "It's all right, everyboy. Return to your affairs."
Everybody else at the party shook their heads at Razelan's antics and went back to their affairs, annoyed by the spectacle, though Cura was a little amused.
Cura noticed Jarl Idgrod, the mystic, sitting on a couch being served wine by a Wood Elf maiden, and she approached her.
For years, Cura had heard strange things about Morthal. Besides the fact that it looked like an anagram of "Thalmor". Probably just a coincidence.
"Now here is a face I did not expect to see. Be mindful, for you walk among adders." Idgrod addressed Cura directly.
"Oh! Er... have we met?" Cura asked the Jarl, curious about her reaction.
"I see you; the truth behind the Mortal flesh. A Manmeri Vigilant from the Pale." Idgrod seemed to be entranced. "Come to save our world from the black serpent, so my dreams have told me."
"That's... impressive. You got that from staring into my eyes?" Cura asked.
"It is not eyes that reveal another's true nature. It is the heart." Idgrod touched her own chest as she said this. "But, if your eyes and your ears are open and your mind is free of judgement and expectation, you might learn much in this chamber." She noted.
"What do you mean?" Cura took a sprinkled sweetroll from the platter beside her.
"There are words spoken, and words unspoken. Beware these Thalmor, for they are adept in both languages." Idgrod made her point very clear as she gestured towards an Elven guard who was looking at her from the other side of the room. "That is why I avoid them when I can."
"Well..." Cura decided to return to her cordiality. "Are you enjoying the party?"
"Fair faces and fine food are well and good, but honesty is rarely so pleasing." Idgrod spoke akin to a sage as she leaned back against the couch and took a sip.
Cura nodded. Simple truth. "Wish me luck in my endeavors." Cura respectfully nodded as she walked over to the punch table.
"May wisdom alight your path." Idgrod blessed the Dragonborn.
"At least Ulfric's men are willing to fight for their principles, barbaric as they may be." An Altmer man in Hooded robes muttered as he walked beside Cura to take some wine.
"Excuse me?" Cura asked.
He sneered at Cura immediately. "You have the honor of addressing a member of the Thalmor. Bask in it."
Wow. Arrogant.
"So, politically, can you tell me more about the Thalmor?" Cura asked. "I want to bask properly."
"We're the ruling body of the Aldmeri Dominion. Saviors of Mer. Victors of the Great War. The Empire exists because we allow it to exist." The elf spoke mockingly, not even showing false pretenses. He saw no reason to play the game.
It was kind of refreshing, actually. Cura knew where she stood with him, at least.
"What do you mean "saviors of Mer"?" Cura asked for elaborative purposes.
"The Thalmor saved all of Elven-kind during the Oblivion Crisis. We've been watching over our lands for 200 years. We re-founded the Aldmeri Dominion, an alliance between us and our Bosmer cousins. You might know them from their common name. Wood elves. We intend to prove the superiority of Mer over Man, one century at a time." He snarked smugly.
Delphine has clearly never read a History book before, believing that Malborn was their ally for being a Wood Elf. Tsk. Why did Cura let her string her along like this?
"It's only a matter of time before your whole rotten Empire collapses of its own decay. No offense." the Thalmor laughed, putting Cura ill at ease.
"So, if you're not here to make friendly conversation, what brings you to this party?" Cura stamped the offenses down.
"There are those in the Empire who would wish to evade their obligations to help root out the Talos heresy. Fortunately, those most opposed to the Emperor's wise policy have now branded themselves traitors as well as heretics. I am here to remind the ruling classes of Skyrim that their loyalty to the Emperor requires cooperation with the Thalmor." the elf put it simply.
Cura sighed. "Can there truly be peace between the Thalmor and the Empire?"
"There is peace now, and that peace will continue for as long as it suits our needs. But make no mistake, this is not a peace forged out of necessity between rival nations of equal strength. It is more like the calm between storms. And the next storm, I think, will be far deadlier than the last." the elf loomed over the Breton in a threatening manner, exalting in his power.
It took everything Cura had not to put his head in the wall; if for no other reason than her body detecting a foe. Thankfully, he had no bound weapon in his hand, or this would have been over in seconds.
Cura decided to breathe and change the subject. She couldn't afford to be the center of attention, especially with Elenwen looking at her from the other side of the room. "What are your duties here in Skyrim?"
"I lead the Justiciars. We are charged with enforcing the ban on Talos worship. Nords can be quite stubborn. They're slow to change their ways, and we find more heretics every day. But mark me well - I will purge the heresy from this land as surely as the flame burns the flesh from the bone." the elf punched his hand for effect.
"I agree." Cura nodded. "Tiber Septim was a disgrace."
"So, you are a wise one? I suppose you would be, for a half-Elf." the Thalmor tilted his head. "It's clear you know your better half."
They were just as bad as the Nords.
"I would have it no other way." Cura said. "If I could only be full-blooded... but I suppose the elven half more than compensates for my human filth, right?"
"Exactly." the Thalmor smiled. "I can appreciate your wisdom and humility. Enjoy the rest of the evening." He turned around and walked away.
Unreal.
Cura then spoke to Vittoria Vici. "Hello there! Are you enjoying the party?"
"I find these parties such a dreadful bore." Vittoria sighed as she took a sip of wine. "Just between us, I've got more important things to do than attend these meaningless parties."
"I'm sure. The economy is suffering- you must have much on your hands." Cura nodded. "One thing everyone can agree on. This war is bad for business."
"You took the words right out of my mouth." Vittoria laughed.
Cura smiled. "So, do you like your job?" she made small talk.
"Working at the East Empire Company has its benefits." Vittoria admitted. "Lately I've been distracted from the job, I confess."
"Oh? How come?" Cura asked.
"I'm getting married in a few months... to Asgeir Snow-Shod." Vittoria gushed.
"Oh, a Nord!" Cura was surprised. "That's brave of the two of you in the current social climate."
"You have no idea." Vittoria laughed. "Me, the Emperor's cousin, and the son of a Stormcloak."
"I guess the only thing people would find more controversial is you doing business with the Thalmor." Cura shrugged. "Oh, I'm not judging, by the way. I think we're all here for the same reason."
Vittoria nodded, and then explained her matters. "A delicate question, to be sure. I'm the Emperor's cousin, and the Empire has little love for the Thalmor. On the other hand, the Thalmor have considerable funds and are looking to expand their shipping. I haven't signed any deals yet, but I'm sure my cousin will want a cut if I do. What better way to soothe his wounded pride?"
"Losing the war... having to sign a Concordat... that must have been tough on him personally." Cura sympathized.
Vittoria cleared her throat as Elenwen approached from behind, keeping an eye on Cura, as it would seem.
Cura looked at the reflection in her wine to see over her right shoulder, and noticed the sneaky Altmer looming a short distance away.
"But I suppose it was necessary, to begin the healing of nations." Cura added. Elenwen turned around and walked to speak with another guest.
Cura swallowed, and gleamed proudly at her own performance. She was surprisingly good at this. Bretons and politics go together like sweetrolls and icing. Even pseudo-Bretons as well, apparently.
Regardless on whether it was true or not, Cura was raised by a Breton, people mistook her for a Breton, and she knew how to act like one. Safe to say, she was content with calling herself one, as well. It made her feel deep down, that she had a place of belonging in this world.
Quickly, she snapped back into the conversation when Vittoria responded.
"Absolutely." Vittoria agreed, remembering where she was. "At any rate, I was going to invite you to my wedding. I'd love to see you again."
Cura was surprised. "I'd be delighted!"
"Excellent!" Vittoria was overjoyed. "I plan to invite the important people of Skyrim to attend. It will be much more exciting than this party, I promise."
Cura laughed.
"So, what did you say your name was again?" Vittoria asked.
"Oh... Cura of the Pale." Cura stated without a moment's thought.
"Cura..." Vittoria mused. "What a nice name. Are you a Healer?"
"I am an Expert in Restoration." Cura shrugged.
"Fascinating." Vittoria remarked.
"Well, well, well. Now, isn't this a surprise?" a familiar voice caught Cura off-guard.
Oh, no.
Cura turned around to find herself face-to-face with Jarl Balgruuf.
"Jarl Balgruuf the Greater!" Vittoria exclaimed. "A pleasure." She extended a hand, and the Jarl kissed it gentlemanly.
"Vittoria Vici, always a pleasure." Balgruuf said. He looked at Cura, but could see an anxiousness brewing in her green eyes. He smirked. "Ah, an old friend of mine. Cura. How have you been? How did your... test... go?" he tried to keep it vague. He had, after all, heard the Voice of the Greybeards last week, as did everyone else in this room, no doubt.
Elenwen was watching again.
"I passed at the top of the mount, of course. Having the loudest voice in the class certainly helped." Cura coded. "They said I was a fast learner, and soon enough, I'd be able to graduate and call myself Adjudicator."
"Excellent news. Keep up the good work!" Balgruuf smiled.
Elenwen again walked away.
"Are you having a good time?" Cura asked.
"I am not. I have no more taste for Thalmor wine than I do for Thalmor company. What is more, I'm away from the hold at a time when there are dragons and Stormcloaks on the loose. There's every chance I'll return to find a pile of smoking ash where Whiterun once stood." the Jarl spoke frankly. "This gathering is nothing more than a boast. The Thalmor are reminding us that we're at their beck and call."
Vittoria nodded, but decided to leave the conversation to not seem involved should they be overheard.
Balgruuf sneered. "We've got troubles enough without the Thalmor and their witch-hunts."
"Yes; witch-hunts should only be reserved for the Vigil." Cura joked.
"I'd rather be back at Whiterun, but while I'm here I might as well get some real news from the other parts of Skyrim." Balgruuf confessed to his friend.
"I have a warning for you from Windhelm." Cura broke her silence. "Ulfric and his general were planning against Whiterun. Keep your eyes open."
"I thought you were supposed to be apolitical?" Balgruuf asked, curious as to how she knew.
"I care for Whiterun." Cura stated. "I don't want to see it ablaze."
"Neither do I." Balgruuf said. "But if these Elves go unchecked, it will someday."
"They really hate us... don't they." Cura sighed sadly.
"These Thalmor might not like to admit it, but as long as the Empire has Skyrim, the Empire has strength." Balgruuf reassured her. "All the more reason why the Stormcloaks can't take Whiterun-for all of our sakes."
Cura nodded. She understood that Whiterun was important, given its central location in the province.
"So, how well do you know Elenwen?" Cura was hoping to know more about her, so as to be careful.
"Not well at all, and I'm happy to keep it that way. That woman and her Thalmor justiciars have caused nothing but problems for the people of Skyrim." Balgruuf sneered.
"From what I've seen, they've only been after the Stormcloaks." Cura shrugged. "And somehow Ulfric has evaded them."
"Oh, he was in Elenwen's clutches before. And other Thalmor beside her." Balgruuf remarked. "I've heard that the woman is merciless."
"Jarl Balgruuf, enjoying yourself?" Elenwen asked.
"Yes..." Jarl Balgruuf lied through his teeth. "The Alto wine is quite good."
"And what about you?" Elenwen turned to Cura with a sugar-coated smile. "Are you enjoying your time here?"
"Oh, yes!" Cura nodded enthusiastically. "The company is so refreshing, but as our Jarl put it, the wine much more so." She held up her glass. "Do you host these parties often?"
"Quite often, yes. The only thing I enjoy more than luxury is sharing that luxury with those who can appreciate it. But I also enjoy learning the latest gossip and hear the most intriguing rumors." Elenwen smiled enthusiastically.
"I can see you spared no expense." Cura gestured around the room.
"Of course not. One does not gather the most important men and women of Skyrim and then serve them cheap ale and stale bread. This is only a taste of the benefits that accrue to those that align themselves with Thalmor interests." Elenwen emphasized.
Cura nodded. "And to think the Stormcloaks would pass it up for their worn out traditions. Tsk." She took a sip of wine nonchalantly.
Jarl Balgruuf was impressed by Cura's acting ability. He didn't think she had it in her, but deep down, he had a feeling she wasn't just here on a formality. The Jarl consigned himself to silence regarding her true identity.
Elenwen smirked lightly. "Well, Cura, I'd like to speak with you in private, if that's all right?"
Cura looked to Jarl Balgruuf, who gave a concerned glance before covering it up fast. She then nodded to Elenwen. "Certainly, Madame Ambassador." She left the Jarl's side and walked some distance away with Elenwen, before they eventually stopped near the corner wall near the bar.
"I have something I'd like to give you." Elenwen told Cura. "But first, I'd like to know what really made you wish to attend this party." She clasped her hands together, as if hiding something within them.
Now, Cura was becoming nervous again. She was surrounded by Thalmor Soldiers from all angles of the room; one in front of every exit, waiting for her to twist her torso the wrong way so they could accuse her of violence and grab her, as she saw it. Elenwen was definitely onto her. The ruse was up. Did Maven screech about her?
Cura took a sip of wine. Play it cool, Cura. You still hold some power here. She lowered her glass, calmed by the alcohol. Verbal warfare was afoot. How could she outmaneuver a master? No. Don't question it. Just be careful and keep a mental shield up. Cura cleared her throat. "I don't understand the question." Cura raised an eyebrow.
"I think it was rather simple." Elenwen raised one in kind.
"I'd never been to a Thalmor party before." Cura confessed. It was true, there was no denying or fact-checking that. "When I'd heard the prospect of seeing you all up close, I was eager to attend."
"Who did you get the invitation from?" Elenwen asked, pushing ahead.
"An Altmer whose name I don't quite remember." Cura shrugged. "I've not met enough that your names ring easily to my mind. I'm sorry. It's my failing." She looked down, ashamed.
"No, that is all right. I suppose being in this cultureless-er- this province, you don't have a wide network of knowledge of our people." Elenwen admitted. "Was the Altmer's name 'Alsumar', perchance?"
Cura was not going to bite the low-hanging fruit and say 'yes.' As far as she knew, that was a trick. "I don't remember." Cura simply shrugged.
Elenwen shrugged it off. "Oh, well. I suppose it can't be helped."
Cura shrugged, as well and took another sip of wine. Her glass was running on empty. Hopefully her luck would not follow.
"Ah." Elenwen diverted from the conversation. "Yes, I did say I had something for you, did I not? Hold out your hand."
Cura was confused, but saw fit to oblige, for the interest of her facade.
Elenwen placed a gold diamond ring in her hand. It rippled with some kind of energy. An enchantment of some kind?
"Oh, wow..." Cura held it up to the light and ogled it, turning it in many directions. "it's lovely."
"Yes, it's an old thing, but a lovely one." Elenwen admitted. "Do you like it?"
"I do." Cura spoke honestly for the first time in this party. "Thank you." Great. Now she was feeling guilty about her task.
"I'm glad." Elenwen stated. "It has a Restoration enchantment on it. I couldn't help but overhear-"
Cura raised her brows.
"-I heard you're an Expert-level Student of Restoration." Elenwen recalled her conversation with Vittoria-at least the end of it.
How much did she hear?
"Er, yes. It comes with following Stendarr." Cura stated.
"You're also with the Vigil, aren't you." Elenwen called her out.
How did she know that?
"Er... well..." Cura stammered, backed into the corner. "I've worked with them, yes. Bef-before going to Cyrodiil." She was starting to crack. This wasn't good.
And that was when Malborn called from the bar counter, effectively saving her hide. "Madame Ambassador, I'm so sorry to interrupt..."
Quickly, Elenwen turned to face the Bosmer. "What is it, Malborn?"
Malborn gestured to some empty wine bottles. "It's just that we've run out of the Alto wine. Do I have your permission to uncork the Arenthia red..."
Elenwen snapped at him, exasperatedly. "Of course. I've told you before not to bother me with such trifles."
Malborn lowered his head. "Yes, Madame Ambassador."
Elenwen turned around to face Cura again, prompting the Breton to look over her shoulder at Malborn.
Malborn signaled to Cura with his eyes, gesturing for her to speak with him, but Cura nudged her head to Elenwen, who momentarily stole a look at one of the other Guests, as if to inform him that she's a little preoccupied at the moment.
Malborn slapped himself in the forehead in frustration. They needed to get Elenwen off Cura's case, but the Altmer was simply not letting up.
Cura swiped a Honey Nut Treat from the counter and pocketed it, and a few Sweetrolls, in front of Elenwen. "Uh... for the road." She fibbed. She was saving them for inigo, Lydia, and Mjoll.
"That's fine." Elenwen was unfazed.
"So, er, about the Vigilants." Cura stated. "It was through them that I was able to attend the Law School in Chorrol."
"I never would have guessed." Elenwen seemed to glow with a false surprise.
As if fate itself took Cura's side, the blonde nobleman, Erikur, decided to flirt with the Bosmer waitress. "Hello, my dear. I got your message. Where shall we go?"
The Bosmer stepped back. "What? I'm sorry, sir, but you must have misunderstood. I'm not permitted to leave the party."
"Oh, I don't think so. I think I understand perfectly. Don't worry, my dear, I will make any necessary excuses to your employer." Erikur threatened.
What an ass.
The elven woman shook her head, concerned. "No, I'm sorry, but I can't go anywhere with you. I won't. Please, I must get back to my duties." She tried to walk away.
Erikur followed her closer to the center of the room. "Don't you dare walk away from me, you slut! Do you know who I am?"
"Please, sir, leave me alone!" the waitress pleaded.
Cura had half a mind to intervene, but she had to keep her head down. Besides, Elenwen looked like she was about to, herself. Now, if she only just would, for a minute, so she could talk to Malborn.
"Now you're going to be sorry you crossed me." Erikur sneered. He then turned to the Thalmor Ambassador. "Elenwen! This servant girl has been throwing herself at me in a most disgusting manner."
Elenwen knew this was untrue, but decided to pander to the sycophant regardless. She walked towards them and away from Cura. "Is that so, Erikur? And you with such delicate sensibilities. It must have been most upsetting."
Cura hurried to Malborn, but Elenwen turned back to glance at them in a moment's notice.
Erikur snapped. "I demand that you have this wench removed from my presence at once!"
Elenwen looked at Cura, then at Erikur. "Well. Whatever the truth of it, I'm sure a few word with Master Rulindil will have a salutary effect. Take her downstairs." She quickly turned to the guards and pointed at the Bosmer woman.
The Thalmor Soldier against the wall near the entrance nodded. "Yes, Madame Ambassador."
Malborn spoke quickly. "As soon as you distract the guards, I'll open this door and we can get you on your way." The time was not yet ripe, and Elenwen was still glued on Cura.
The Bosmer woman was apprehended by th guard. "No! Mistress Elenwen, it's not true! I did nothing! Sir, you must tell her! You don't know what they'll do to me! Please!" She pleaded with the spoiled Noble, who sneered and shook his head.
"I'll be ready very shortly. I have someone in mind." Cura looked over to Jarl Balgruuf in the corner.
"Of course. Let me see if we have another bottle of that." Malborn spoke a bit louder for Elenwen's ears. He then whispered. "I'll be waiting by the door for everyone to be distracted."
Erikur took a sip of wine. "Well, I'm glad that little unpleasantness is over."
Cura felt bad for the Bosmer woman, but if they were escorting her into the Embassy, perhaps Cura could help her there. She hurried through the small murmering crowd of Nobles, and found Balgruuf, who was drinking brandy with Proventus.
"My Jarl, I need your help. Quickly." Cura proposed in a hurry.
"Let's hear it." Balgruuf was eager for some excitement.
"I have important matters to attend to, but I need you to make a scene. I need Elenwen off my back." Cura explained quickly, her audacity amusing Proventus.
"Say no more. I was wondering what you were doing here... I'm glad to play my part." Balgruuf was more than happy to screw with the Thalmor, and help a friend in the process. "I've got this. Do what you need to do." He held up a reassuring hand, and Cura nodded.
She quickly pretended to be finishing her wine, as Balgruuf approached the local drunkard. "It's all for a good cause, old chap." The Jarl prefaced to the confused and inebriated Redguard. Then, he raised his voice. "Ulfric Stormcloak? The rightful High King? That's bordering on treason, man! Stand up. Stand up, I say!"
Cura waited for Elenwen to look at the spectacle before sneaking around observers.
Razelan was in a light panic. "I don't understand... did you say Ulfric Stormcloak? Fine fellow, although a bit too fond of... I mean, no, of course, I condemn him in the most..."
Balgruuf tilted his head and changed his tone, not wanting the man to actually be executed. "You take it back then? You retract your statement? Well?"
Elenwen groaned in irritation. "Razelan. And you promised to behave yourself this time. Remove him. He's disturbing the other guests."
Razelan stood up angrily. "I protest! This is an insult to the dignity of my person! This time I'm completely innocent! Madame Ambassador, you know that I would never have behaved... that is to say... well I swear I'm innocent this time!"
Cura rushed to Malborn, who opened the door to the kitchen, and the pair disappeared into the back.
Balgruuf held up a hand. "Tell your men to stand down. I don't need any help dealing with this kind of fool. He isn't worth the trouble. I apologize for the disruption to such a festive occasion."
Razelan was frazzled, and continued to slur and stutter, eventually accepting his mental condition. "Absolutely not! I protest... uh, that is, yes, of course. I still don't understand what just... oh never mind."
The calmness returned to the room, and Elenwen returned to her post. She looked around for Cura, but the Breton seems to have vanished.
"I need to lock the door behind you, or the patrols might notice something's wrong." Malborn told Cura as he did just that.
No turning back now. She followed Malborn into the kitchen, where a Khajiit woman snarled at them. "Who comes, Malborn? You know I don't like strange smells in my kitchen."
Malborn gestured towards Cura. "A guest, feeling ill. Leave the poor wretch be."
The Khajiit was taken aback. "A guest? In the kitchens? You know this is against the rules..."
Cura fell silent, but Malborn laughed. "Rules, is it, Tsavani? I didn't realize that eating Moon Sugar was permitted. Perhaps I should ask the Ambassador..."
Tsavani quickly whirled around, going back to her duties. "Tss! Get out of here, I saw nothing."
Cura and Malborn continued for a bit, where he opened a chest, revealing her Apprentice Robes, her Vigil Enforcer Armour, her Elven Mace, and her Glass shield, and Steel-plated gauntlets and matching boots. "Here are your things. I told you I was the best at what I do. Good luck."
Cura nodded. "Thank you, Malborn. Be safe."
"I'll try." Malborn was uncertain about his fate. "If not, at least I did my part to save this land."
Cura finished gearing up. "You've done more than enough. I appreciate it."
Malborn gave Cura a small smile. "Just do what you have to do." He turned around and headed back through to the kitchen. He knew, deep down, that this was most likely the last day of his life.
Cura quickly hurried through the small vestibule's door and crouched down to sneak around. She would rather not kill the Elves if possible, so as to be able to claim peaceful intrusion in the event of a fallout in the future.
As sure as the day was long, she overheard two Thalmor Soldiers talking in the next room.
The first spoke up. "Did you see those robes march in this morning? Who're they with? More of the Emissary's treaty enforcers?"
Cura snaked to one side of the room and ducked behind a bureau.
"No. They're high mages, just in from Alinor." the second one responded. "I guess Herself is finally getting worried about all the dragon attacks."
"Ah, good. I was wondering how we were supposed to defend this place from a dragon." The first soldier wiped her brow in relief.
So, they had problems with the Dragons, as well.
Cura was really starting to doubt Delphine.
The only way this made sense was if they couldn't fully control the Dragons. Perhaps some of the Wyrms would go rogue.
The second Thalmor laughed. "If a dragon does show up, maybe we'll get lucky and it will eat the mages first. Might give us enough time to kill it."
The first chimed in in agreement with a cackle. "Ha! I'd like to see those arrogant bastards taken down a notch. Always looking down their noses at us lowly footsloggers."
The pair exchanged some hearty laughter.
"Well, I guess we should get back to our rounds." The first proposed, and the second nodded. They both turned around and began to patrol in different rooms.
Cura hurried through and kept a low profile. When she reached the next well-decorated room, she saw one of those hated Wizards by the stairs, walking around. He was going to be a problem.
She scurried about as he walked by, alerting him. Quickly, he began to look around. "Is someone there?" The Wizard asked as he unsheathed his elven dagger.
Cura crawled on all fours underneath a table with a platter of fruits and leeks, hiding beneath it like a cat as the Wizard made his rounds. Then she popped up from behind him and smacked him in the back of his head, knocking him unconscious.
Then, Cura had an idea as she stared at his robes. Quickly, she undressed the Altmer and stole his hooded robes, and hid his unconsciou form beneath the table. She threw the Thalmor robes over her own outfit and pulled down the hood, in attempt to wander through incognito. She had Elven weaponry, herself, so perhaps she could pass as a Thalmor.
Cura headed down the stairs as nonchalantly as she could, and the nearby Thalmor ignored her presence. It actually worked! The Altmer must run through her veins strongly, after all.
Cura even played the part, taking a sweetroll off a counter and eating it casually before exiting the room. Her slow, deliberate walking exhumed confidence and pride, as expected of a Thalmor. After walking through some hallways, she found a door that lead outside, into the cold winter courtyard. The important information she was seeking would have to be in Elenwen's Solar. As Ambassador, she was in charge of all operations; even Draconic matters, if the two soldiers' conversation didn't tell her anything.
A Thalmor Wizard stood guard. Of course.
"Why are you not at your post?" The Wizard snapped at Cura as she approached.
"Elenwen asked me to guard her Solar." Cura lied. "She wants your presence at the entrance gate. Apparently, there's suspicious activity in the forest, and she wants the best hands on it."
"Really?" The wizard was not buying it. "Why was I not made aware of this order, then?"
"Because it was a spur of the moment order." Cura stated condescendingly. "Do you want to disappoint Herself?"
The Altmer fell silent for a moment, then in thought, nervously relented. "No. I do not. Very well. Take my post. Do your job." He marched off, after handing her the key to the Solar.
Sucker. Cura thought to herself with a smirk. He just gave her the keys to the kingdom.
She unlocked the door and headed inside, and then locked it behind her. At least that would buy her more time for an escape, should Elenwen be thundering down the halls for her this very moment.
Cura casually walked about the Solar, past a few Altmer, who seemed to be bewildered by how short this new recruit was. One jokingly called her a runt.
Cura brushed the remarks off, and headed up the stairs. Therein was a fancy-looking room with a luxurious double-bed with a canopy, and a chest behind the main desk. There was a green and gold-trimmed carpet that was wrinkled near its edge in front of the desk, so Cura cautiously walked around it after closing the door behind her. To the left of the bed was a low table with a bottle of alto wine, a potion of some kind, and an apple. On the other side was a safe. The documents could be in the safe, or the chest.
She saw a pair of hoodless female-fitted Thalmor robes hanging on the wall, and knew that this had to be Elenwen's private quarters. Quickly, Cura dashed towards the chest, which was carefully locked. She sighed.
Then, Cura decided to search the desk. Atop it, she saw a note.
"First Emissary Elenwen,
We anticipate a breakthrough in our efforts to uncover the party or power behind the dragon resurrection phenomenon. An informant has identified a possible lead, whom we have brought back to the Embassy for a full interrogation. The subject is obstinate, but by all indications is holding back the information we seek. I have authorized Intermediate Manual Uncoiling - I do not expect more will be necessary, unless you feel time presses.
I know you prefer to be present for the final questioning; I will inform you immediately when the subject is fully receptive. Two days should tell the tale.
In the meantime, if you wish to audit our technique, your expertise is welcome, as always. I have placed the prisoner in the cell closest to your office stairs, for your convenience.
-Rulindil, 3rd Em."
Cura's jaw dropped. If this is to be believed, it means that she and Delphine have more knowledge about the Dragons than they do! This was all a waste of time and effort! No. No, there was still more to this. There had to be.
Cura frustratedly opened drawers and sifted through rolls of paper, when she found a key inside of the drawer. She decided to give it a try. She stuck the key in the lock of the chest and quickly unclicked it. The chest opened, and she swiftly opened it and searched within.
Inside, she found a few dossiers.
One on Delphine, one on Ulfric, and one on a mystery man named 'Esbern'.
Cura ducked underneath the desk and began to read Delphine's dossier. Who was she, exactly?
"Thalmor Dossier: Delphine
Thalmor Dossier on the Blades agent Delphine
Status: Active (Capture or Kill), High Priority, Emissary Level Approval
Description: Female, Breton, mid 50s
Background: Delphine was a high-priority target during the First War, for both operational and political reasons. She was directly involved in several of the most damaging operations carried out by the Blades within the Dominion. She had been identified and was slated for the initial purge, but by bad luck was recalled to Cyrodiil just before the outbreak of hostilities. During the war, she evaded three attempts on her life, in one case killing an entire assassination team. Since then, we have only indirect evidence of her movements, as she has proven extremely alert to our surveillance. She should be considered very dangerous and no move against her should be made without overwhelming force and the most careful preparation.
Operational Notes: She is believed to still be working actively against us within Skyrim, although we have no location on her. Assumed to be working alone, as no other Blades are known to be active in Skyrim, and she has in the past avoided contact with other fugitive Blades for her own security (one of the reasons she has so far evaded elimination). Her continued existence is an affront to all of us. Any information on her whereabouts or activities should be immediately forwarded to the Third Emissary."
Cura had information that could be useful. If this turns out to be for nothing, and she gets caught, maybe she can use that as a bargaining chip. It would be a sort of justice. She then looked through the dossier on Ulfric.
"Thalmor Dossier: Ulfric Stormcloak
Thalmor dossier on the Stormcloak leader and Jarl of Windhelm Ulfric Stormcloak
Status: Asset (uncooperative), Dormant, Emissary Level Approval
Description: Jarl of Windhelm, leader of Stormcloak rebellion, Imperial Legion veteran
Background: Ulfric first came to our attention during the First War Against the Empire, when he was taken as a prisoner of war during the campaign for the White-Gold Tower. Under interrogation, we learned of his potential value (son of the Jarl of Windhelm) and he was assigned as an asset to the interrogator, who is now First Emissary Elenwen. He was made to believe information obtained during his interrogation was crucial in the capture of the Imperial City (the city had in fact fallen before he had broken), and then allowed to escape. After the war, contact was established and he has proven his worth as an asset. The so-called Markarth Incident was particularly valuable from the point of view of our strategic goals in Skyrim, although it resulted in Ulfric becoming generally uncooperative to direct contact.
Operational Notes: Direct contact remains a possibility (under extreme circumstances), but in general the asset should be considered dormant. As long as the civil war proceeds in its current indecisive fashion, we should remain hands-off. The incident at Helgen is an example where an exception had to be made - obviously Ulfric's death would have dramatically increased the chance of an Imperial victory and thus harmed our overall position in Skyrim. (NOTE: The coincidental intervention of the dragon at Helgen is still under scrutiny. The obvious conclusion is that whoever is behind the dragons also has an interest in the continuation of the war, but we should not assume therefore that their goals align with our own.) A Stormcloak victory is also to be avoided, however, so even indirect aid to the Stormcloaks must be carefully managed."
Wow. The Thalmor really had no idea at all. Cura was becoming frustrated. Poor Malborn, even if he was a jerk about it, he risked his life to get her in here, and for what? It was all pointless. All of it.
Cura angrily hit her fist against the floor, when she realized an unevenness in the tiles. This caught her by surprise, and most likely was the reason for the abnormality in the carpet.
Cura ran her fingers on the surface of the floor when she discovered that the tile was loose. Trying to make as little noise as possible, she slowly maneuvered the tile off the floor, revealing a small hole, wherein she could see what looked like a dark blue journal.
What was this little bit of secrecy?
Cura cautiously lifted the book out of the hole and was surprised to find that there was no dust on it considering its location.
Someone wrote in it recently.
When Cura opened it, the journal gently slumped over, and a letter fell out from within the inner cover.
Cura started with that letter. It looked discreet, on standard stationary.
"Elenwen,
your eyes are beautiful as the golden sunset and your smile lovely as the morning snowfall.
If any knew of our affairs, our lives would certainly be put into question and we would endure unending scrutiny. It pains me to know that it will ever keep us apart and that we must live up to the expectations of our own peoples and our foes alike.
Though the Empire and Thalmor both will ever be at enmity with me, know that we must play our parts in the storm, and that I hold no ill will against you. Before we take Solitude I will send you word of warning so that you may find safety.
yours truly, Ulfric "
Cura sat there in pure silence. Ulfric? Ulfric Stormcloak? The leader of the rebellion, the Jarl of Windhelm himself?
No, that couldn't be! He hated the High Elves! They tortured him, and Elenwen was there, wasn't she?
And yet if this letter was true, it would mean...
Cura shook her head.
No. Impossible.
Dare she read the journal?
Maybe just today's entry.
She turned the pages according to the date, and found that there was no entry for the 18th of Morningstar, but there was the 17th. Hesitantly, Cura decided to read it.
"Another day has passed in this insipid wasteland, and I feel as exhausted as I had the day before and the day before still. I am beginning to question whether it is the climate, or my own sorrow that causes such fatigue.
Tomorrow is her birthday again. Every year I wonder how she has been all these dreary years, and it corrodes me like rust upon iron.
Some time back, I had seen, ever-so-briefly a young near-elven maiden as I'd left Solitude with heretics in tow. That could very well have been her. Or not. I could never know.
Nor could I ever tell her if we'd met. That maiden, however, looked like a Vigilant of Stendarr, which lends credence to my theory. It was, after all, the Vigilants who I entrusted with her discreetly. Perhaps giving her to those who worship the God of mercy was the right call, assuming, of course, that was her.
My daughter.
My love, and yet my shame. Had the others aside from Rulundil known of my affair with Ulfric Stormcloak, my head would be upon a pike, surely.
And Ulfric would be dismembered by his own warriors. It is especially for the greater good of the Aldmeri Dominion that I keep this a secret, even if it wears me away to nothing. I shall shoulder the guilt, for someone must.
I hope she lives her life to the fullest, and that she inherits the wisdom of my people.
~Elenwen, 17th of Morningstar 4E 202"
With that Cura nearly fainted underneath the desk. Her hands trembled to behold the book in them, threatening to collapse it to the floor.
She could not stop herself from shaking profusely.
How?
How was this possible?
Elenwen, the Thalmor Ambassador, and Ulfric Stormcloak, the leader of the rebellion...
Cura nearly blacked out again. It was too much. It had to be a lie.
But why would Elenwen hide a jest beneath the floor tiles?
Cura's heart was racing and her vision blurred as tears streamed down her cheek, lining her face.
She found her real parents. At last.
And it was terrifying.
How could she face either of them now? How could she face her friends, or the Vigil?
How could she pretend like she never read that damning journal?
She was finished.
Cura wept to herself, unable to hold it back, and that was when she heard footsteps outside of the room.
Quickly, she blocked her sniffle and gasped.
The door opened. Worst case scenario.
"Elenwen, are you..." a masculine voice called out, then fell silent.
A male Altmer in identical robes to Elenwen-a high-ranking Thalmor-entered the room. He looked down at the moved letter and disheveled carpet. "Someone's been in here..." He must be Rulundil.
He began to look around the room.
It was only a matter of time before he discovered the sniveling half-Elf under the desk.
Cura took a look at the diamond ring Elenwen gifted to her during the party. She must have known.
Footsteps scuttled behind the desk.
Cura had to act fast, and with due caution. Though, being encumbered by raw emotion, it was proving difficult to concentrate.
The moment Rulundil reached the centre of the room, he looked around, and then shrugged and left. He didn't dare to go near Elenwen's desk.
Cura exhaled deeply and wiped her eyes on her sleeve, the little comfort that gave her.
She had to move; she couldn't stay in the Solar for too long. It was a deadly risk, and she already got what she needed.
Cura's legs were heavy, gluing her to the floor tiles. She struggled to lift herself up. Her armour felt heavier than ever, and her weapons were outrageous.
She was enfeebled by the news.
"No... I must get out of here." Cura dragged herself up. She pocketed the collection of documents and journals; Elenwen's included. Perhaps if the Thalmor come for her she could use it as blackmail.
She hadn't done substantial harm, so they hadn't cause for execution.
Cura pulled up the Thalmor hood and resumed the disguise, hoping her tear-stained cheeks wouldn't call any attention to her.
She came upon another room that was empty.
The other room on that floor was also an office, and contained a desk with a helf-empty bottle of alto wine resting atop it, and two rolls of paper on top, and another basket containing more rolls of paper beside it. Behind the desk was a small pair of shelves with two more rolls of paper hanging out and an iron dagger, a wall shelf opened, revealing three bottles of alto wine and a bottle of Nord mead. These Elves had a drinking problem, it seemed like. Hanging on the wall beside the doorframe was a copy of the interrogation chamber key, according to the plaque it hung on.
Cura thought it a good idea to investigate that. She took the key swiftly and hurried through the halls, and down the stairs.
She trembled along the stairway and used the key to open another locked door next to a shelf with many wine bottles on it.
Above the door it read, 'Interrogation Chamber'.
Through that door was a balcony overlooking the dungeon proper, with several suspect barrels and a small table with a random shield and a bottle of poison sitting on top. Cura shivered when she saw the prongs and bloody tools.
At the far end are stairs that lead down to the main area, Cura could hear the Thalmor torturing someone for information.
Upon closer inspection, he looked like a Breton.
"Stop. Please. I don't know anything else. Don't you think I'd have told you already?"
the Breton wailed in agony.
The Thalmor Soldier pulled the blade from the Breton's arm. "Silence. You know the rules. Do not speak unless spoken to. Master Rulindil will ask the questions."
Rulundil walked forward, having just arrived from his little romp. "Let's begin again."
The Breton groaned. "No... for pity's sake... I've already told you everything..."
Rulindil smirked. "You know the rules."
"Nooooo!" the man wailed in protest.
Rulindil turned to the soldier with the blade and then back to the Breton.. "Start at the beginning, as usual. If you persist in this stubbornness I'll have..."
The Breton wept as he spoke, worn out and in shambles. "No, wait! I was just... catching my breath... why wouldn't I tell you again? I don't even know anything... There's an old man. He lives in Riften. He could be this Esbern you're looking for, but I don't know. He's old and seemed kind of crazy. That's all I know."
Cura snuck down the stairs.
Rulindil leaned in threateningly. "And his name is...?"
"I don't know his name. Like I've already told you a hundred- Ahhh!" the Breton cried out in pain as the Thalmor cut the inside of his elbow and twisted the small knife in.
Rulindil crossed his arms. "You know the rules. Just answer the questions. And where can we find this nameless old man?"
After heaving, the Breton caught his breath. "Like I said, I don't know! I've seen him down in the Ratway. Maybe he lives down there, but I don't know for sure."
Rulindil grabbed him by the jaw and turned his face around, examining his eyes. "That will be all for now. I must say I continue to be disappointed in your lack of cooperation. I hope next time you will do better." He turned his back to the victim and nudged his head, telling the torturer to continue.
The Breton began to try and bargain. "What else do you want from me? I've told you everything. Listen, if you let me go I can take you to Riften, show you where-Ghaaa!"
Thalmor Soldier dug his fingers into the hole in his inner elbow and pulled the flesh down. "Silence, prisoner!"
"FUS RO!" Cura's voice hit the torturer, causing him to stumble, and Rulundil, causing him to fly like a ragdoll through the air.
She caught them off-guard and knocked Rulundil unconscious when he hit the wall.
The Thalmor Soldier scrambled to his feet only to be knocked out by a blow to the head by Cura's mace.
The Breton man was wheezing as pain stung his entire body. Cura approached him swiftly. "Are you well?" She'd heard him speaking of Esbern. Perhaps he was an ally.
"Ugh... ooh... my arm's almost falling off, but I guess I'm all right besides." the man whimpered lightly when Cura laid her hands on the deep gash.
She then cast a Healing Spell on him, ending the pain and closing the wound.
"Thanks..." the man breathed again.
"You're welcome." Cura stated.
The Breton looked up and saw her Thalmor robes, and cringed. "Oh, no... you're here to start the torture over!"
"Huh?" Cura was confused, then caught on. "No. I'm not here to torture you."
"What? Who... what do you want then?" the bound man was concerned and confused, and more than a little delirious. It was clear he'd been here a while.
"I'm going to set you free. Just hold still." She removed the robes and cast them aside.
"Did the Guild send you?" The shifty Breton asked before seeing the Amulet of Stendarr. "No, wait... you're with the Vigil of Stendarr, aren't you?"
Cura nodded. "I'm Vigilant Cura. Who are you, exactly? What are you doing here?"
"They grabbed me in Riften. They seem to think I know something. They just kept asking me the same damn questions. I'm Etienne Rarnis." The Breton introduced himself. "So, uh, which part of High Rock are you from? Daggerfall? Wayrest? Bhoriane?"
"Not important. You mentioned the 'Guild'..." Cura asked. "Are you with the Thieves Guild?" Should she really be getting involved with them again? Maybe she could cut their mutual hatred here and now.
Etienne nodded. "Yes." He grunted when Cura unlocked the wall shackles that bound him. "You didn't have to help me, so... thanks."
"Again, you're welcome." Cura said. "Look, we don't have much time-we've got to find a way out of here, and maybe you can help me once we do. You may know something important."
"I damn well hope so. If it helps you twist them up, I'm glad to help. They're after some old guy named Esbern. Something to do with dragons, I gathered it from listening to them talk when they thought I was out. I've seen a guy in Riften who they seem to think is him. Not much to go on - I don't even know where he lives, or his name. But they seemed pretty excited about it. That's it. Now, let's get out of here." Etienne volunteered the information out of sheer gratitude, and hurried towards a latched trapdoor. "Come on, this way. I've seen the guards use it to get rid of bodies. It must lead , the Breton slipped a lockpick out of his sock and jimmied the lock, and quickly pried the door open.
Cura looked around and was about to follow, when suddenly she was alarmed.
"No! Please, don't leave me here! Please!" A feminine voice cried out from another cell further down.
Etienne quickly leapt down the hatch, leaving captivity behind him and Cura investigated the source of the voice: it was the Bosmer woman who was accosted during the party due to that wolf of a nobleman. She was bound in chains with numerous bruises adorning her lovely face and collarbone, and her right eye was swollen and her nose running with blood.
"Oh! I recognize you!" the Wood elf noticed when Cura approached. "Y-you're that one in the funny hat... with... um... umm... I saw you... with Lady Elenwen..." Her anxiety was driving her thoughts, making them difficult to discern amidst the terrible throbbing pain.
"It's okay." Cura assured her. "I'm going to free you, too. Once I do, I want you to make a run for that trapdoor and follow the Breton man. He can certainly find the exit." She cast a Healing Spell and began to unchain the elven woman.
"Oh... thank you. I don't understand what's happening." the Bosmer mused. "I can't stay here. What will I do now?"
"Go to Windhelm." Cura told her. "Go to the New Gnisis Cornerclub. Tell them Cura sent you."
"Thank you so much! I'll never forget this. I'm Brelas, by the way." The Bosmer said as she hurried across to the trapdoor and pried it open, and jumped down into uncertainty.
Cura took a breather and allowed her magicka to replenish itself. As soon as she walked out of the cell, however, she found herself face-to-face with over twenty Altmer, all with their weapons drawn and pointed at her.
Her blood ran cold. She attempted to turn around and run down the narrow hall, but more came from there, effectively sandwiching her between a rock and a hard place.
Elenwen herself stepped into view, on top of the balcony, and a naked Thalmor covering his sensitive area came running up beside her, and immeidately pointed at Cura. "That's got to be the witch who stole my robes!" The nude Thalmor Wizard shouted as he ran past Elenwen, and down the stairs, where another Elf handed him his robes off the floor.
"Well, well, well." Elenwen leaned against the railing to face Cura. "All alone, and with nowhere to run or hide. A rotten thief, cornered, like a Rat."
Cura could probably kill most of these elves with her voice alone, but that would cause diplomatic mayhem for Skyrim. Instead, she took a couple of steps back and looked around. She knew that if she were to run for the trapdoor now, she would undoubtedly get a magickal arrow in the heart. If she backed into the cell, she would be their actual prisoner. Voluntarily. After what she had just witnessed, she would rather not.
"Fine, you've cornered me." Cura confessed. "I have nothing to hide."
"You'll come quietly, then?" Elenwen demanded as she slowly began to descend the stairs. "Or will I have to order my men to attack?"
The Thalmor were ready to strike Cura from all sides.
Cura was taken aback. "You'd kill your own daughter?"
Elenwen froze where she stood, and the Thalmor soldiers each grew expressions of shock and confusion, and immediately looked to the Emissary for answers. "What is the meaning of this, Ambassador?" One of them asked.
"I...I don't..." frustration was coming unto Elenwen, and she struggled to answer that question.
Who was truly the cornered one here?
Cura held up Elenwen's Journal. "Yes, I was looking where I ought not, but I've learned all I needed to absolve the Thalmor."
"Absolve the Thalmor of what?" Elenwen grit her teeth in horror, fighting back panic as she recognized the damning book in Cura's hand.
"I needed to know about the Dragons. Some think you're involved, and see it as cause to bring another war between the Dominion and the Empire." Cura half-told the truth. "I conducted an investigation, and now I can deter any problems. After all, peace is what we all want, yes?" Of course not, but she had to make a case of some kind.
Cura walked over to Elenwen, who was now a mere fifteen feet away from her, and eyeing her with a mild fury and fear in her eyes. Instead of mocking her or throwing shade, Cura simply handed Elenwen her private journal back. When the Altmer took it, Cura gently patted her hand, and leaned in close, whispering into her ear. "I know the truth, but I'll keep it between us." Which was far more than Elenwen deserved.
Elenwen's eyes widened upon hearing this, and Cura simply have her a kiss on the cheek before turning around to head towards the trapdoor.
"Cura!" Elenwen called out to her, causing her to briefly turn around.
"If...if what you've said is true..." Elenwen begins. "then, on behalf of the Aldmeri Dominion, I give you our thanks, for preserving the peace." She was, of course, referring to her own hide.
Cura nodded. "Can I leave?"
Rulundil slowly picked himself up off the floor, finally awakening from his head trauma. "You little-"
He blasted Cura with a bolt of lightning, which caused the unsuspecting Breton to fly across the room. She hit the ground and slid. "You'll pay for what you did!"
Rulundil blasted Cura again and again, and then she activated her Dragonskin ability, absorbing further attacks. The other Thalmor were simply watching, weapons still drawn, waiting for Cura to fight back.
"Gah!" Cura grunted when a particularly strong bolt tore through her Dragonskin. She vainly held up her Glass Shield to block other bolts, which only caused her further pain as the electricity arced around it and into her.
Ward.
She activated a Steadfast Ward to block more bolts.
"That isn't going to help you, you fool!" Rulundil formed a Bound Sword and ran at Cura, swinging viciously.
Cura ducked under a swing that was aimed at her neck, and then sidestepped and parried a vertical slash with her shield. She could easily keep up with the Altmer.
"Rulundil! Stop this at once!" Elenwen commanded.
"I'm going to trap your soul!" Rulundil cast a dark violet aura onto Cura, causing her to stagger backwards.
"RULUNDIL!" Elenwen shouted angrily. "Cease this at once! As First Emissary of the Aldmeri Dominion, I command it! You must obey!"
Cura readied to block another attack, when Rulundil halted mid-swing.
"I..." He turned to Elenwen and bowed. "I'm sorry, Madame. I was out of line. But she attacked me when I was distracted." He pointed at Cura.
"Let her go." Elenwen crossed her arms, and the Thalmor Soldiers cleared out.
Cura wiped some blood off her nose and tried to reorient herself. She quickly looked around at everyone there and dashed for the trapdoor and quickly descended through it, leaving the Thalmor and her Mother behind.
She slid down a ramp of shallow dirt and landed face-first into a snowbank within a filthy cavern with a skeleton in mage's robes and several bones strewn about. Etienne and Brelas were long ahead of her, but she planned to return to Windhelm.
As she struggled to walk through the snow, she saw a dead Frost Troll with a slit throat. Etienne's work, she was sure.
When she finally reached the outdoors, she could overlook the entire valley from the altitude she was at. Cura felt dizzy, and more than a little disoriented. She lost her footing like a fool and tumbled down the mountain, hitting a few crags below, and landing on her chest.
"...Ow..." She moaned as she pulled herself up and cast a healing spell.
That's what she gets for drinking, crying, and fighting all in one evening. Cura now found herself chuckling at the absurdity of it all.
"Oh, Delphine. I hate you so much..." Cura cackled as she prepared herself to Fast Travel.
After a moment's focus, Cura Fast Travelled to Windhelm, all right; right in front of the Palace of Kings. A sight to see, it was. If she truly was Ulfric's daughter as well, that would mean the Kings whose names were plaqued on these walls were her ancestors. And Ysgramor himself.
Huh. Something she could boast about at a party.
No, enough parties. She just needed some rest.
Cura found herself giggling like a buffoon, covered in blood and mud, and wandered into Candlehearth Hall.
"There she is!" Mjoll called out.
Her friends had been waiting around the establishment, it looked like.
"My Thane! Where were you?!" Lydia snapped. "Inigo and Mjoll were so worried!"
"Says the woman who was racing around the whole of Eastmarch." Inigo chuckled.
"Shut up, Cat." Lydia spat.
"I... did the... job that Delphine needed me to do." Cura put it simply.
"Going to a party made you end up like that?" Mjoll asked, concerned.
"Hehe, once I went to a party and woke up the next morning with a shaved tail and cheese in my ear." Inigo laughed. "Don't underestimate how wild a party can be."
Mjoll pursed her lips. "What happened?" She asked Cura.
Cura slogged over to the bar and lay her face down in her own arms. Clearly, she did not want to talk about it.
"..." the group went silent momentarily.
"Okay... if it was really bad, you don't have to talk about it." Mjoll said as the world fell apart around Cura.
Lydia walked over to her Thane. "Well, Happy Birthday, my Thane! We all pitched in together and got you something. I'm still not quite sure it was legal, though."
"Hehe." Inigo chuckled as he handed Cura a large, shield-shaped parcel. "We got it from Sadri's Used Wares. He got it from a shifty source too, but it is useful for any warrior!"
Cura wasn't entirely feeling it, but she did not want to disappoint her friends. She forced a smile and began to unwrap the gift. What could it be?
It was a Dwarven shield; but not just any plain Dwarven Shield. It was a Daedric Artifact. Spellbreaker! Cura could recognize that distinct shape from picture books. Its four-sectioned parts with ruminators in the center and bottom were unmistakeable. The other Vigilants would kill her if they saw this.
But... she already had Dawnbreaker, so would it surprise them at this point?
How could a girl whose name means 'Cure' carry around an artifact of the Daedric Prince of Diseases? Could anyone see the irony in that?
Cura held up the shield, and it immediately created a mystical Ward in front of it, thrilling Mjoll, Lydia, and especially Inigo, who was bouncing up and down with excitement.
"It is so cool!" Inigo exclaimed. "My friend, it will be most beneficial to you!"
"Sure, what's next? Will I replace my mace with the Mace of Molag Bal? Why not?" Cura rolled her eyes.
"Apparently, one of Peryite's minions was slain by a mercenary who sold it to Sadri." Mjoll explained. "We each pitched in and bought it for 2361 gold."
"Two thou-" Cura was stunned mid-speech, and her friends nodded. "No, come on. You didn't have to..."
"We wanted to." Lydia stated. "You deserve it, Cura; you do so much for everyone else. It was a show of gratitude."
"I don't know what to say..." Cura looked at the offensive, yet incredible shield. "No. Actually, I do know. I will put it to honest use in my quest against Alduin and the forces of evil, and when peace returns to the land, I will give it to the Vigil for safekeeping." She then thought to herself, I could have used this a while ago, actually.
"Then it is settled!" Inigo raised a flagon. "Now I shall sing!"
"No, Inigo, please, don't..." Lydia put her face in her hands as the Khajiit popped up out of his seat.
"This I have prepared all day!" Inigo cleared his throat.
"Happy happy birthday, to my friend Cura!
Another year older, yet you always endure-a!
Come Daedra, Dragon, Ice Wraith, Troll,
You kill them all, though they take a toll.
Happy happy birthday, to my friend Cura!
You cannot see it, but you have such allure-a!
Catch a killer, live a thriller,
you are the one who does the thing when the people ask, 'will her?'
Happy happy birthday, to my friend Cura!
Now that I conclude this song, I think the lyrics should be few-a."
He held up his hands, and then assumed a stage bowing position as Cura clapped and laughed in amusement. Her gloom was replaced with sunshine again. Where has this Khajiit been all her life? "Thanks, Inigo." She grinned.
"Did you like it?" Inigo asked.
"It was wonderful!" Cura exclaimed.
"Would you like an encore?" Inigo asked, and Lydia was gesturing a big 'no!' behind him, waving her hands to the sides and all.
Cura chuckled. "It's all right. You should give your voice a rest. Besides, I've brought something for each of you, from the party!" She gave a Honey Nut Treat to Mjoll, and a couple f Sweetrolls to Inigo and Lydia.
The small group made merry and enjoyed the rest of the evening together, laughing and joking of all manner of subjects, though Cura kept the secrets she had learned to herself for the time being.
Though the knowledge of her heritage disturbed her somewhat, it yet amazed her. A part of her wanted to ask Ulfric, but her rational mind told her to let it be. For now, she should let tomorrow's problems worry for themselves.
