Chapter V – The Great Oak's Shade
"Come to me, Stendarr, for without you, I might be deaf to the manswarm murmurings of thy people, and forgetting their need for comfort and wisdom, I might indulge myself in vain scribblings…"
Bishop tried to ignore the reverent speech as he passed through the chapel filled with a crowd of people. Apparently there were masses all day – morning, midday, eve. It sounded exhausting, spewing the same religious bullshit day in, day out.
Master Samus stood in front of the altar and the grand statue of Stendarr, preaching to the eager crowd while Bishop made his way along the side wall towards his destination. He had never spent enough time in the chapels of Cyrodiil to see this part. He didn't even know it was there – an infirmary. Apparently, there was a small set of stairs at the side of the chapel leading to that place. It made sense. He knew that temples healed people, he just never saw where – it was clearly not in the main chapel and neither was it in the living quarters. Funny how huge this place was. Save for Markarth and Solitude, the cities of Skyrim were lucky if they could fit some statue and berths for the infirm in their temples.
The entire morning had been spent by Aeyrin reuniting with the temple folks and Bishop being introduced to them. After that, Aeyrin seemed eager to start helping out with the healing and other temple duties, so Bishop spent some more time talking to Vaselis, telling him about their adventures. The young girl with now braided hair, Horencia, stayed behind in the mess hall too, eagerly listening to stories about dragons, vampires and other beasts. Bishop may have deterred the two of them a bit from life in the temple, but he really didn't mind one bit.
Now it was time for the young initiate and the cleric to return to their duties too and Bishop decided to go on his own mission at last.
It was time to go out into the city again and see what unscrupulous things lay hidden in the Great Oak's shade.
Figuratively speaking, of course. There was sweet fuck-all beneath the actual oak – it was in the opposite direction from where he needed to go.
He entered the infirmary promptly and looked around the area. It wasn't very big, but there were a lot of berths there with a lot of people lying on them. Along with the other Master, Selvia, Aeyrin was there, as well as the second priest and the Khajiit cleric, shuffling around the room and tending to the wounded.
He wanted to approach Aeyrin to tell her he was leaving, but she seemed quite busy.
"Sir, you need to keep still, please," she was currently healing a torn open leg of a squirming man that looked very haggard and drunk.
Bishop leaned on a nearby wall in the meantime, waiting for her to be done and watching the scene. She was so eager to get back into this? Healing drunkards who were barely able to keep still? He would never understand that. But he had to admit, there was something about the… image. She looked like some kind of a fucking saint in those robes in this place. So tempting to 'corrupt' her again.
It took a while of her reprimanding the man to keep still, but after several minutes, she finally let out a relieved sigh.
"All done. Just be careful next time," she smiled kindly at him.
"H-hang on, muss," the man hiccupped at her. "One more… thing. Think I caught some from… from this… whore." His unsteady hand moved to the laces of his trousers, but Aeyrin quickly grabbed his wrist to stop him.
"I'll call someone to make sure you're alright. Only the priests deal with social diseases," she smirked, as if she knew something that others didn't, before she looked around the room hurriedly to locate the second priest. "Gavros!" She promptly gestured to him to come over.
"Oh. Ya know… know wha… I think I'm good…" the drunkard stammered instead and he started to finally get up from the berth. The Imperial priest, Gavros, only nodded knowingly when he saw the man he had been called to leaving, and Aeyrin merely proceeded to ignore the patient further, turning around to clean her hands in one of the washbasins by the side of the room.
At least now Bishop could finally go and talk to her.
"Did that fucking drunk seriously just want to flash you?" He growled angrily as he approached while keeping his eyes with a nasty glare on the haggard man who was just making his way out of the infirmary.
"It happens," Aeyrin shrugged, as if she was used to that. Come to think of it, by the way she promptly reacted, she probably was. "Some people do that. We just call a priest or a Master, usually of the opposite sex to see if they're actually seriously sick or… not. Not many people do that, but some do," she sighed. "I'm not trained to heal those diseases anyway, if he really was sick."
"That's fucked up, having to deal with shit like this," Bishop scoffed. "I should have punched him."
"Please, don't punch people in the infirmary," she chuckled at him a bit before she stepped back from the washbasin and towards him at last. She patted his cheek affectionately, but she didn't say anything more, waiting for him to tell her why he came around.
"Fine. Since you asked so nicely," he smirked. "Anyway, I'm going to head out, see if I can find out some shit about the clan."
"Be careful, please. That place is…" Aeyrin sighed. She understood why Bishop needed to ask about the clan in more… unscrupulous places, but just the idea of the slums filled her with unpleasant memories.
"I know. I'll be fine, princess, promise," Bishop smiled at her in turn. He was just going to ask around. Nothing too dangerous, though throwing the Thrice-Banished name around was never really 'safe'.
He leaned in to give her a proper kiss goodbye, but it turned all too brief for his liking. They were promptly interrupted by the disapproving clearing of Master Selvia's throat.
"Sorry," Aeyrin chuckled a little as she quickly parted from him. He wasn't sure if she was apologizing to him or to the Master, but it didn't matter. He would steal her away somewhere private soon enough.
Right after he took care of the clan shit.
…
The Oreyn House was quite lively after midday.
Plenty of people drunk out of their skulls already, plenty of people getting violent and loud and plenty of people getting frisky with some whores. The usual low-town tavern of Cyrodiil. It looked promising.
Bishop weaved his way through the rambunctious crowd in the small common room. He was past drinking the swill that they would serve in a place like this and he was in no mood to engage with anyone here, though that hadn't been different years before – he hated places this… 'lively'. But he had no choice but to look like he would blend in.
He didn't even take his armor and weapons, just his regular clothes and his knife.
He sat down at one of the miraculously free bar-stools and hailed the barkeeper. Hopefully buying a drink here would loosen his tongue enough. The clan was hardly too secretive – they wanted people like these to know where to find them, to do business and other shit. But they were on the move a lot.
"Six drakes for an ale, five for beer. Anything stronger and you're paying double and cleaning your mess both," the innkeeper said morosely right when he approached Bishop from across the bar.
Bishop wasn't sure if he would trust anything 'stronger' here. They probably didn't have brandy. Or Stros M'kai rum. Fuck, he was spoiled.
"Just get me an ale," he sighed.
The innkeeper was watching him with a measured eye with a hint of suspicion. Bishop kind of anticipated that, but there was not much he could do. He was a stranger here.
"New in town?" The man asked him unsurely.
"Passing through. I'm looking for someone," Bishop nodded.
"Who isn't?" The innkeeper scoffed.
That wasn't a very eager reaction, but whatever. Bishop was going to try anyway.
"Ever heard of the Thrice-Banished clan?"
The man's eyes instantly narrowed. He knew. He heard of them. But he wasn't going to say it.
"Never heard of them," he grumbled.
"I just have some… business propositions for them," Bishop sighed. Admitting his relation was too dangerous – he had no idea what the clan had been up to, who they had betrayed and pissed off. That was too risky, even if it might reap some results.
"Sorry, never heard of them," the innkeeper shrugged once more.
Fuck. Fine. Bishop would just have to try harder. Or ask other people here. Surely someone knew where the clan was.
It was going to be a long afternoon in this hole.
…
"Master Selvia?"
Aeyrin approached the woman slowly. Now that Sevyen and Luscia came to join the infirmary duties, she could take a little break. And she had questions to ask.
She couldn't help it. No matter how normal Master Therien's absence was, she couldn't shake the unpleasant feeling in her gut.
Master Selvia had been sitting on the sidelines in the infirmary, watching her charges work. Back when Aeyrin was still part of the congregation, the woman was still a priest, but she had been serving for almost a decade in that role – plenty of time for her to earn a higher rank in the temple hierarchy. Especially since, according to Luscia, the oldest Master, Drothi, had already passed in Aeyrin's absence. He had been too old to engage with the younger members much even before though. She barely knew the man.
"Yes? Are you in need of a break? You can go have a meal if you want to. There's enough healers here now to help," Master Selvia smiled at her slightly.
"I'm alright, I just… wanted to ask you something," Aeyrin sat down on the bench beside the Master while she fidgeted a little nervously. She couldn't help the anxiety. She really hoped that Master Therien was just in a nearby city like always. But he surely would have told someone where.
"I would have thought you were told a thousand times already, my dear," the woman smiled again, this time a little dismissively. "The Gods celebrate expressions of love too, but have some compassion with your compatriots here who deny themselves to focus on other spiritual aspects and Stendarr's doctrines."
Not that again!
"N-no. I know. And… sorry," she sighed. This was a new 'position' for her. She knew that some initiates and clerics sometimes treated the vows like some punishment to befall them and that they were eager to break them before they even actually took any. But not her. She was never really that interested in exploring all that would be denied by life in the temple to her before she had been actually encouraged to by Master Therien. She never would have thought that she would find herself to be one of those misbehaving clerics that always needed to be chastised against flaunting temptation. She was too used to showing open affection to Bishop. And vice-versa, though he was surely doing this partly on purpose exactly to flaunt temptations in front of the congregation members.
"This is about something else," she sighed. "I know that Master Therien left to preach elsewhere recently, but… do you know where he went? Luscia said he didn't tell anyone, but… I was sure he must have told you and Master Samus at least."
"I'm sorry, he didn't. He got a letter calling him for service and left a few days ago," Master Selvia shook her head.
"But… he always says where he's going," Aeyrin pouted. She wasn't sure if the fact that she always knew made her feel more special or more worried now.
"He's been a bit… preoccupied lately," the Master sighed in response. "He has a new friend that has been keeping him preoccupied, dealing with some spiritual issues, Therien said. He has been too busy and absentminded for a while now, barely even tells us if he can take the mass."
"A new friend?" Aeyrin's eyes went wide. What did that mean? And this did not sound like her old mentor. He never neglected temple duties.
"Yes. An older Nord gentleman. A noble, I think. He still comes here for services sometimes, even now when Therien is elsewhere. I think he's staying at The Oak and Crosier," Selvia nodded.
A Nord noble. Free-Winter?
Still here?
Why?
What was going on?
…
Bishop was almost about to give up on this place.
Nobody would talk to him. Everyone looked at him like he was a guard in disguise or something. What the fuck was that about? He usually had no problems with this shit. Had he lost his edge or something?
Or maybe he just forgot how to weave himself into the Cyrodiil shadows. Was there a difference? Maybe there was. He was just a kid when he left… kind of. He was old enough to be fishing for information in taverns ten times over, but it still felt like it was a lifetime ago. It kind of was.
From what he had gathered, most people really didn't know who the Thrice-Banished were. Or they were very good liars. But with some, he could see it in their eyes. They knew something. They had heard the name. They just wouldn't tell him. He fucking hated that. He had no idea how to convince anyone here. He even offered some a few drakes, but they wouldn't budge, constantly claiming they had never heard of the clan.
Maybe he could threaten one of these wretches. Though he was worried that it would get the whole tavern turned against him.
He could have better luck elsewhere. Most of those shits in Bravil would do anything for a few drakes.
With a defeated sigh, he sat back on the barstool again. He had been trying to talk to the people in the tavern for the better part of the afternoon. It was time to call it quits. At least for today.
Maybe just one more ale. Alone. Without having to talk to anyone.
It's been a lot all day. Not that he disliked talking to the people at the temple – it was surprisingly pleasant, especially the clerics were. But there were so many people around all the time. He wasn't used to that all day without any chances to retreat somewhere alone with Aeyrin.
He gestured to the barkeep and another bottle of ale was soon passed along to him. The tavern was very loud, but if he tried hard, he could just drown it all out in his head.
After a few minutes of silent drinking and contemplating on how to get the information he needed, however, he got an unpleasant feeling at the back of his head. Like someone was watching him. Granted, many people had been watching him throughout the evening. He was being very suspicious, asking all the questions. But this time it felt like more than the wary glances.
He looked behind his shoulder promptly, but then he noticed that the looks came from the other side of the bar. There was someone leaning on the counter there, watching him curiously, as if he was trying to catch his eye.
There was a Khajiit there, with auburn fur and scars across his eye, staring at him intently.
Shit.
Bishop recognized him. He'd seen him before. It took him only a second to place the man, especially given where he was.
But the Khajiit couldn't know him in turn. Why the fuck was he staring at him?
Alright, calm down.
The main thing was to remain calm. He had only ever seen him once. And that was in a weird dream-world… thing. He wouldn't forget that though. This was Ri'zhassa. He was sure of it. But the Khajiit couldn't know that Bishop would recognize him. He couldn't know who Bishop was. Unless… he had seen him back when he was scheming with Aeyrin's father in Skyrim for her capture. This was bad. Bishop had no idea what to expect here. And the man wouldn't stop fucking staring.
The best thing was to act like Bishop had no idea who it was, surely. How would he know after all?
Well, he could know by Aeyrin's descriptions alone, supposedly. But what did Ri'zhassa know of their relationship? It was best to downplay it whenever it came to people like this – whether the Thrice-Banished or Aeyrin's ghosts of the past. The less close these fuckers believed the two of them to be, the better. The less opportunity to use them against each other as leverage.
Bishop tried to ignore the man for a few seconds, but it proved to be harder than he thought. Fuck, he kept staring with his one good eye. Why?!
"Do I know you?" he growled at the Khajiit at last. He didn't want to talk to him, but he was getting more and more antsy about this. He couldn't stand it anymore.
"It's just… an interesting development," the Khajiit smirked at him.
"What is?" Bishop scowled. What the fuck was the cat talking about? He still couldn't tell if he knew who Bishop was or not.
"You are. A friend told me you've been pestering everyone about the location of a certain clan all day," the Khajiit nodded at him. "I assumed you were some inept undercover jetwijijri guard. But now I see. There's… resemblance there."
What? 'Resemblance'? Meaning, he knew the clan?
Of course he did. Why was Bishop even surprised? Skooma smuggling was profitable and the clan was always good at shit like that. No wonder someone like Ri'zhassa would know of them at least, if not outright work with them on occasion.
That fucking resemblance. This time it might actually get Bishop some good. Though he wasn't exactly thrilled to be getting it from this asshole. He had half a mind to slit his throat right there and then for Aeyrin's sake, but that would end very badly.
What was surprising, however, was that Ri'zhassa actually recognized him based on the resemblance. Torban was long gone. Maybe there had been connections going way back, more than he realized.
"You knew Torban?" Bishop scowled. That was the resemblance anyone ever referred to.
"Who? I speak of the clan you've been asking about, wafiit," Ri'zhassa scowled at him.
"Right. What resemblance are you talking about then?" Bishop scoffed. He didn't know Torban even a little. Everyone else Bishop had ever 'resembled' was dead. At least he thought so. Maybe smaller things could be noticed though. That was probably why the Khajiit had been studying him so intently.
"It's the eyes," Ri'zhassa nodded. "Same as those two. What are their names again?"
"Ost and Duful," Bishop sighed. The last of Torban's brats. Who else?
"Correct. Passed the test," the Khajiit smirked. "I think we should talk, yes? I have some… questions for you."
This couldn't mean anything good. At all.
But Bishop couldn't say no. He needed to find out where the clan was and he needed to see this shit through. Maybe he would learn more about Ri'zhassa's dealings as well. He just hoped that all the man knew now was that Bishop was one of the Thrice-Banished and nothing about Aeyrin.
The Khajiit stood up from his barstool and walked towards the rickety stairs leading to the built-in second story.
And Bishop had no better option than to follow.
…
The Oak and Crosier looked just like she remembered.
It was a little intimidating then and it was just as intimidating now. The Chorrol nobility was always very keen on letting their status be known and The Oak and Crosier was where they came to flaunt it. It was the best inn in the city, of course, and if things were different, she and Bishop would have surely been staying here tonight, since they could afford it. But the place still always made her a bit uncomfortable.
Aeyrin came here right after her talk with Master Selvia. She couldn't wait any longer. She didn't even get dressed in her regular clothes, she just ran out of the temple in those robes and rushed across the street into the inn.
Was Free-Winter really still here? She could finally get some proper answers without having to wonder. Without having letters compromised or being fed suspicious half-truths, as she was convinced she had been until now. Something was going on. She knew it.
She got only a couple of odd looks. It was hardly that unusual for a priest to walk around town, though maybe not into this establishment in particular.
First she looked around the common room carefully, but when she didn't see the nobleman anywhere, she promptly approached the bar and tried to get the innkeeper's attention.
"You here for lord Free-Winter or do you actually want a drink?" The man behind the bar smirked at her.
What? There were priests coming in for Free-Winter? Maybe they delivered messages. Or maybe some of them knew what was going on. Master Selvia didn't mention any of this. Maybe she didn't know. Aeyrin had no idea whatsoever about how things have been going on this end. Master Therien only told her vague progress updates. She was so out of her depth. But none of this mattered now. All that mattered was finding out where her old mentor was.
"I'm… here for lord Free-Winter," she nodded.
"Alright. Take a seat somewhere. I'll call him down eventually," the man responded and he promptly returned to his other customers.
This could likely take a while. With an impatient sigh, she walked towards the only empty table she could find and sat on the nearby chair. She could kind of use a drink right now, but that was not a good idea while she was dressed like this.
There was nothing to do but wait.
Eventually, she even lost sight of the innkeeper in the crowds as minutes passed. She just watched the people around, drinking merrily and discussing everything under the sun with excitement. While she couldn't relax even for a second.
It felt like such a long time, but then, finally, a familiar voice echoed behind her back.
"I didn't expect anyone. Did something happen? Is he back?"
What?
Aeyrin turned around in surprise, and lord Free-Winter was left just as speechless when he saw who he had been addressing before.
They stared at each other for a minute, both mulling over their own turmoil in their heads, before the nobleman broke the silence with an incredulous gasp.
"Lady Aeyrin?"
No, that wasn't the shocking part here. What he said was more important. Aeyrin didn't offer an explanation of her presence in Chorrol. That did not matter. There was only one question she needed the answer for. Right now.
"'Back' from where?"
…
"There. Safe from prying ears," Ri'zhassa smirked when he finally ushered Bishop to one of the empty open rooms on the unstable second floor. Bishop kind of felt like the wood would give way under them any minute.
But that may have been because of how on edge he was constantly. He knew all about this shithead. He was half tempted all the time to just run back to the temple, fetch Aeyrin and finish this one together. But that was not going to work.
And besides, he might have some information that Bishop wanted. Playing along was the best option for now.
"So, you know where the clan is?" He asked impatiently. Best to get what he could out of this fucker and then be done with it. They could figure out how to deal with him after that together with Aeyrin. He knew that she wanted to put an end to this man and they might be able to concoct a plan to do that. Truth be told, Bishop had no idea why she hadn't already. She mentioned that their last interaction went poorly but she never gave him any details. He still didn't know the half of it, even though he had now been thrusted into this man's clutches.
"Slowly, jetwijijri. First we deal, then we share," the Khajiit raised his hands to indicate Bishop's overexcitement. "Everything has a price."
"'Price'?" Bishop scoffed. "I don't even know if you know anything. I don't even know who you are." Let's try to play this card.
"Ah. Apologies. Of course. The name is Ri'zhassa. Have you… heard of me?" He raised his brow at Bishop curiously. It was a predictable question, but Bishop was still going to play ignorant. It was his best option for now.
"Should I have?" Bishop snarled impatiently. That should be believable.
"No. No, I suppose not," Ri'zhassa's maw widened in a pleased smile. "I did not expect this, admittedly. Let us speak frankly, shall we? I have heard of your arrival, Nord. Or maybe I should say, who you arrived with."
Hm. So he was keeping tabs on Aeyrin. That was probably not surprising. A man like that had to have plenty of contacts around the city and he still held a grudge against her. He might have been expecting her to come back a lot sooner, like she had originally planned herself.
"What? What does who I came here with have to do with anything?" Bishop scowled. He was still determined to play ignorant. For all Ri'zhassa knew, he was. Even if the man eventually came back for Faldaen when they had left him for dead, that wretch had no idea what Bishop knew. And the more ignorant he played now, the more chances he would get to actually keep Ri'zhassa talking, surely.
"How well exactly do you know the girl?" Ri'zhassa pried somewhat carefully. It was understandable. Despite the 'family resemblance', the Khajiit could not be sure about Bishop's loyalties to Aeyrin or his loyalties to the clan.
But he was determined to go with one tactic – he was here to find the clan, whatever the 'price'. And Aeyrin was nothing to him than an opportune diversion. If Ri'zhassa knew how close they actually were, he would never tell Bishop anything. He would more likely try to do something bad to them both.
"As well as I can," Bishop smirked at him suggestively, making sure it sounded exactly how he meant it to sound. Like she was nothing more than a bed-warmer for him.
"Hmm… well enough to cross borders with her. And why?" The Khajiit gave him a dubious look.
Hmpf, he knew that? Alright. That made sense. He could have known about Bishop, have his description from Faldaen or some contacts in the north when he was trying to entrap Aeyrin there and claim Mercer's bounty. But that still didn't change Bishop's tactic. He just had to do some questioning of his own.
"How the fuck do you know that?" He scowled at the man. "You know her? From here?"
"So you know she came from Chorrol?" Ri'zhassa asked instead of answering, clearly trying to gauge how well they knew each other, how close they were.
"Yeah. I told her we'd go visit those zealots of hers," Bishop scoffed disdainfully. This should garner a little trust, shitting on the temple folks. "I could hardly tell her I needed to find my bandit clan here, could I?"
"So she doesn't know who you are?" Ri'zhassa's good eye observed him with suspicion, but his brows shot up in surprise.
"I have a bounty on my head in Skyrim. What the fuck do you think? That I go spreading that shit around to get my head chopped off?" Bishop snarled. That was a lie. The bounties were taken care of. Almost. Except for the one that Maven was keeping a secret.
"Hmm… why bring the girl at all?" Ri'zhassa scowled again.
"Why not?" Bishop shrugged. "You try finding an elf willing to spread her legs for a Nord up north. And it's proving to be a long-ass search here, as expected. Something to pass the time." Sorry, love.
"So you brought her to warm your bed? And she knows nothing about your intents here? That sounds… risky. What if she finds out?" Another round of suspicious questioning followed.
"So what? There's no bounty on me here," Bishop waved his hand dismissively. "If I gotta ditch her, too bad, but nothing new. But she's not gonna find out anyway. She's as naïve as they come. I could probably convince her the whole clan are some noble hunters and she'd eat it all up, if it came to that," he chuckled meanly. Again, sorry, love. "Would have to find them first," he growled in palpable frustration. He needed the man to think that Bishop was willing to do whatever it took to find the clan. That was the only way it would get him any answers.
"If you say so," Ri'zhassa nodded. Bishop was unsure whether he had succeeded or not. The man was kind of hard to read. "I suppose there are some things I could believe you," he murmured, mostly to himself.
"Why would I give a fuck what you believe?" Bishop scoffed. "And why do you keep asking about her anyways?"
"The price, of course," the Khajiit smirked. "I want you to bring the little rabbit, Aeyrin, bring her to me where I tell you to."
"Why?" Bishop's eyes narrowed. It wasn't an unexpected request. Bishop was worried that the Khajiit might want him to take revenge in his stead or something, but he should have known that wouldn't be the case. This was much better. He just still had to play along for a while.
"Not a concern for you, wafiit. I wasn't even going to try asking, but… since now I know who you are… I'm sure you'll be… malleable to the deal."
Of course. Of course he would think that a Thrice-Banished would have no qualms about shit like this whatsoever. That only played in Bishop's cards.
"Why the fuck would I do that? You still didn't offer anything. And I'm not gonna bring her to you just for the fuck of it," he waved his hand dismissively. "I don't even know what you want her for. You can just send a fucking letter if you wanna meet. Or go to the temple."
"No, no," the man shook his head briskly. "You misunderstand. The little rabbit and me have… unfinished business. She can't know I want her to come."
"Right. So you want me to drag my girl to you for your 'unfinished business' against her will and for what? You're still giving me sweet fuck-all! I need to find my family," Bishop snarled. He made very sure to make himself sound as impatient as possible. Ri'zhassa should think that he was desperate to find the clan. Desperate enough to sacrifice anyone.
It seemed to work. Ri'zhassa's smile widened instantly. Bishop was pretty proud of how he was handling this shit so far.
"I had some business with the clan two months ago. Some… transportation of goods from Hammerfell. I'm sure you get the picture. Your varzeva of a sister almost cost me a big portion of my goods, but… water under the bridge," the Khajiit smirked. It sounded like he was still angry. Maybe he was hoping Bishop was actually looking for his family for some vendetta on his own. It would be kind of in the spirit of their usual familial bonds, not too far-fetched to assume. "I care not what you do with the clan. There's a… location, they have occupied. I can give it to you."
"Sure. And what happens if they're not there?" Bishop scowled. Not that he was going to refuse this deal. It would be a good idea to kill two birds in one stone and take care of Ri'zhassa and his family too.
"If the clan is gone, you decide, wafiit," the man shrugged noncommittally. "I don't want the little rabbit here anyways, too many allies in this damned city. No. You find the clan, you bring the rabbit to me on a different turf. Two weeks. In Kvatch. I will be there on the twenty-seventh for some… business arrangements. You bring her at night to the smallest house on the eastern plaza. Plenty of time to find your family."
That was even better. Plenty of time to discuss what to do, how to play this, how to entrap this fucker in return. Aeyrin was going to be beside herself about this opportunity.
"And why would you think I won't just find the clan and leave you hanging?" Bishop scoffed. He was taking a lot on faith.
"I'm not worried," Ri'zhassa narrowed his eyes threateningly at Bishop. "Everyone gets what's coming to them."
Was he just saying that or did he have something up his sleeve?
Fuck, Aeyrin would know better. And this was still too good to pass up. The perfect opportunity.
"But… I suppose it's a big price to pay. So… perhaps a bit of an incentive when you deliver her? How does two thousand drakes sound?"
Good, at least now it wouldn't be suspicious if Bishop agreed. If he actually brought her. Who in their right mind would do that after all, even if he had gotten his information and found the clan? Why would he go with Aeyrin to that place and sacrifice her when he already got what he needed? This gave him the proper reason.
"Fine. I'll bring her there, if I find them. You have a deal. Now tell me where they are," Bishop sighed. He made sure to still sound angry about what he had to do, but still, his impatience about his family should come across as more important.
Before Ri'zhassa said a word, he extended his hand towards Bishop to shake it. It did make him kind of uncomfortable to be dealing with this shit-head, but it was for the best. Bishop met his hand readily with a determined nod.
"Anvil. One of the farmhouses outside of town. Due east of the castle by one of those Oblivion Gate Memorials."
That sounded very much like one of the abandoned locations the clan would utilize. It was a good lead.
Now Bishop only had to hope that this would all work out in his favor.
…
"I don't understand what's happening. Where is he?"
Aeyrin was getting desperate for answers. Everything was just filling her with more and more dread, including the fact that Brunwulf took her back to his lavish room instead of talking in the tavern. That boded nothing good.
She practically rushed the Nord to his room instead when he made it clear he was unwilling to talk in public. She barged inside and sat on a nearby chair, determined not to waste a second with courtesies and pleasantries. She needed to know.
"Lady Aeyrin, what are you doing here? I'm the one that doesn't understand what's happening," Brunwulf sighed as he closed the door behind them and walked over to one of the cupboards to fetch a bottle and two goblets.
"I came to visit. What does it matter?" Aeyrin threw up her arms in exasperation. "You said everything was alright. And now I come here and Master Therien is gone and nobody knows where and you asked if he was back. You know where he is, so where is he?"
"I said that the spy was dealt with. Which she was," Brunwulf sat down in the chair opposite Aeyrin with a sigh while he placed the goblets on a small table between them. She had no idea what was in the bottle when he started pouring, but that was really the last thing she cared about just then.
"But?" She tapped her fingers on the table impatiently. Free-Winter was stalling. Or maybe it just felt like it because of how nervous she was.
"Master Therien didn't want anyone concerned. We are handling the situation, but it's delicate and…"
"What situation? Stop this and tell me!" She snapped at him. She couldn't help it. The worry was killing her. It was just a bad feeling before but now it was so far beyond that. She didn't care that she was yelling at him undeservedly, or that he may have been right to keep her away from this… maybe. She still had no idea what 'this' was. Usually she was happy to rely on her old mentor's judgment, let him handle things. But not now. Not when she hadn't heard from him for ages. Not when he was gone without her having even the slightest idea about where.
"I know you are worried, but… please, let me explain fully, at least," Brunwulf handed her a goblet with a somewhat reassuring smile. He still looked quite taken aback though. And also very worried.
That didn't make her any calmer. But she tried to nod at least.
"There was a spy, posing as a new initiate at the temple," Brunwulf tried to remain calming as he spoke, but the strain was palpable on him regardless. "She managed to glimpse at some letters from Master Therien. That's how she found out about the plans to alert the worshippers in Skyrim. We managed to oust her soon enough, but… she had been feeding the information to a Thalmor outpost outside the city."
"So… wait, the Thalmor know everything?" Aeyrin gaped at him. That was a disaster. So many people were involved in this. So many people would be executed!
"No. No. Not by a long shot," Brunwulf quickly shook his head. "The spy was working slowly and we managed to stop her before she could uncover anything damning, really. The only thing she got was the vague hint about warning the worshippers and that… was dealt with in Skyrim. They know nothing. Except for… the fact that something is going on under their noses. But they have no evidence, no actual information. They have no leg to stand on."
"That's… that's good," Aeyrin let out a slow sigh of relief, but the tension still didn't leave her entirely. "So… what exactly is the problem then?"
"The problem is precisely that. They have nothing, but they know there is something to have," Free-Winter lowered his head somberly. "And they knew who has the information. They summoned him for questioning at the outpost several days ago."
"Wait… what? What?" Aeyrin's jaw dropped at his words. This was so much worse than she had feared. She could barely process it at all. "How? Why? He… he went?"
"We tried to talk him out of it," Brunwulf sighed. "We have someone on the inside. In the outpost. It's… it's not an official prison, but… they do 'interrogations' when they have no basis for arrests. And I'm sure I don't have to tell you that they don't let people go until the interrogations get them results. But Therien was worried that resisting their summons would make things worse. That they would try to learn more on their own first and get some of the other members of your church implicated. So he went."
Aeyrin could feel involuntary tears pricking her eyes. That was just like him to subject himself even to Thalmor questioning and tortures just on the off chance that it could protect someone else. And she knew that he would never say a word that would risk anyone in on this dissidence get hurt. But that only made it all worse somehow. Who knew what her dear mentor had been through for the last several days?
She had so many questions, but she couldn't talk just then. Her breath was stuck in her throat and she kept trying to fight back the tears. There were images in her head, swirling constantly, of all the horrors she could think of that could befall someone in the Thalmor clutches. Especially if they weren't cooperative.
"Lady Aeyrin, as I've said, we have a man on the inside," Brunwulf placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "We know that Therien is alive and that he hasn't divulged anything that could implicate anyone else at all. The uncovered letters were glimpsed at in his study and not addressed yet, so effectively, the Thalmor know nothing. All we need now is to get Therien out of the outpost and somewhere safe."
"H-how?" She sniffled, trying to sound more composed than she felt. She still barely knew anything, but every time she heard about Thalmor capturing someone, there was not much hope involved in the stories.
But… not always.
Saadia escaped Thalmor persecutors before. There was always hope. There had to be a way to free Therien now and get him somewhere safe from them. And anyone else that needed protection because of this endeavor.
The Thalmor would not get to take her mentor away.
She looked up at Brunwulf with as much determination as she could muster, but her expression surely oozed mostly desperation. Rightfully so. But the old man's reassuring smile did let her hope a little bit more, especially when he spoke again.
"I think I may have a plan."
…
The dusk was already breaking and the city of Chorrol was getting drowned in the dim lights of the setting sun.
The calm atmosphere of the falling eve didn't extend to the halls of the chapel though.
Bishop kept running around the undercroft, looking for Aeyrin. Nobody had any idea where she went after she had left the infirmary in the afternoon. Apparently she just… ran off.
He himself arrived only now, but he had to find her soon. He had to tell her what happened with Ri'zhassa. They needed a plan.
He ran into a few more rooms before he determined that she was nowhere to be found in the chapel, despite its size. Fortunately though, just as he turned around, resigned to go look outside, the door to the living quarters opened and she finally appeared.
She looked a little odd. Her eyes were red and face downturned, but he would find out what happened in a second. First, there were things to discuss.
He rushed towards her and when she noticed him there, she did the same.
The second they met half-way, their voices echoed in palpable panic and eagerness through the chapel, practically in unison.
"We need to talk."