Chapter XV – The Twin Moons' Light

The month of Second Seed brought about some fresh air.

It was the time of year where everything in Cyrodiil started to bloom with bright flowers and fruits. Even if the change wasn't apparent in the greenery of the West Weald forest quite yet, there was something in the air that was… encouraging.

Bishop and Aeyrin had spent three nights in the wilderness, healing and recuperating. It was a rough process. Sometimes easier, sometimes harder, but each day was getting a little bit better. It took two nights for Aeyrin to be able to stop shivering and hold down any kind of food. And on the next day she did still have to take it easy – only dry foods and nothing too heavy. But the energy she got from it helped.

On the second day, she was able to use her magic, though not as well as she hoped. She tried and tried, but her broken hand was giving her trouble. She fixed it a bit, but not as well as she hoped. So in the meantime, she concentrated on Bishop's wounds lest they scar. He had a lot of them, but those were healed more easily. And by the third day, she managed to fix her broken wrist a bit more. It was still sore and needed to settle, but the worst part was over.

Aeyrin's mood was still a little down. The fears were always there, telling her that she could become weak at any second and lose control of herself – that she would actually be tempted to do skooma again. It made her even more anxious just thinking about that. But there was not much left to do but hope that those thoughts would stop occupying her mind entirely with time. After all, nothing had changed – not to her reason and values. She still hated that thing. She knew it was ruining lives. But sometimes those thoughts worried her to the extent that she wasn't sure what she really believed.

It was difficult to overcome. Bishop's presence helped a lot though. He always tried to cheer her up and distract her. And when she was helping him make food, even if she didn't feel like eating it, or when she was healing him, or cleaning their clothes, checking their funds, it always helped her steer clear of overthinking her current predicament. Whenever the shivers and nausea didn't remind her, of course.

But hopefully the city ahead should provide even more distractions.

Skingrad. Some called it the city of spires. Some called it the city of wine.

Aeyrin had always found the streets of Skingrad a little intimidating. The buildings were all so tall – so many of them were lavish mansions or large businesses. And the tall buildings made for dark and somewhat stifling streets. But the city had its charms. The view from a distance was amazing, especially when the sun or the moons illuminated the countless pointy spires decorating the roofs and towers all over the town. And the smells were also what always charmed her to the city. Mainly the constant smell of freshly-baked goods. There were several big competing bakeries in Skingrad – all of them eager to become the most renowned and popular one. After all, it was practically Skingrad tradition to start a day with a goblet of wine and a sweet baked treat.

That was one tradition she could get behind any time. She was a little disappointed that they were visiting just when her appetite was still waging a war on her, even if only a little now. But hopefully, she would still get to enjoy that particular custom tomorrow morning.

Today they had other plans.

They didn't have much money left, unfortunately. They did spend a lot in both Chorrol and Anvil. And Kvatch. On those pointless hidden weapons. But fortunately, they had things to sell here. One was Aeyrin's ruby – now useless with her old pretty clothes gone. And the other was the bag of loot they liberated from Miscarcand. They didn't sell it in Kvatch yet, they were going to meet Ri'zhassa almost as the first thing.

But that was in the past. Now they had many magical stones and a gem to sell. And they had clothes and supplies to buy.

Bishop looked… odd, to say the least. Aeyrin could not get used to what he was wearing. She usually loved brightly colored outfits and embroidery and anything that made clothes look a little more like art. But somehow, on Bishop, it just looked disturbing. She felt like his bright blue tunic always startled her when she looked his way. And so did his trousers. The amount of embroidery and decorations on both was also something she would never get used to – he always loved simple clothes he could just replace on a whim. They did get ruined a lot for him. His leather armor was hardly as good at preserving whatever was underneath as her chain was.

At least his boots were black. He didn't steal any boots or shoes. Those, of course, were not on the clothes line. But that only meant that his only footwear were his leather boots lined with hidden ebony plates on the shins – part of his armor.

She was in a similar state. While she did like bright clothes, the yellow dress he had stolen for her wasn't exactly ideal. For one, it was very brightly yellow. She almost felt like a target in it. She had no idea what she was a target for, but given recent events, it did make her uncomfortable. The dress was also not just a simple dress that any commoner would wear. It had that corset thing, though it wasn't too sturdy. She had no idea what it was made from, but it wasn't squeezing her so much she was suffocating. But that may have been an issue. It was actually a little bit big for her and it sometimes left a gap between the semi-firm cloth and her body. She could not bend over in that dress. Everyone would see everything down her front. Though Bishop certainly loved to tease her about that and come up with excuses to make her do just that.

At least the skirt was loose and flowy and allowed her some freedom. Of course, it was also very long. And that was inconvenient, especially since she didn't have any shoes either. She had to wear her ebony boots reinforced with the shiny crystals from Blackreach and she constantly stepped on her 'gown'. That was dangerous. If she didn't realize herself soon enough, she was sure she would rip the whole thing off herself.

She looked ridiculous. They both did.

It was a little odd that Bishop got these clothes from the poor quarter in Kvatch. This was certainly not something anyone there would likely wear. But after a while of pondering, it occurred to Aeyrin that these clothes were probably only being washed in there – by someone making a few drakes serving a richer household.

That was a disturbing thought. That person would without a doubt be in a lot of trouble for losing these clothes.

But they couldn't dwell on the havoc they had left behind in Kvatch too much. There was one important thing to concentrate on – a horrible and vicious man was dead at last, after years of torment he had inflicted on so many people.

Bishop and Aeyrin entered the city shortly after noon and they started to march straight towards the shops. There was no time to waste. People were already throwing their attire and footwear choices strange looks. Maybe the vineyards would appreciate them though – the heavy boots would likely be perfect for that work. They might be able to pull off claiming that they were here for that purpose, if only the clothes didn't look like something nobody would ever want to dirty with mushed grape juice.

Aeyrin was nervous about what kinds of questions this may raise, but Bishop was convinced that nobody would ask anything. This wasn't Skyrim after all – people were surely used to strange sightings on the streets. They weren't as easily caught off guard by the extraordinary as the Nords were.

They passed one of the bakeries, walking through the intoxicating smell of fresh bread and other tasty treats, before Aeyrin directed Bishop first to a pawn shop where they could sell their loot and then promptly to another large shop. She had never been inside, but she had been to Skingrad a couple of times, enough to know where which shops were. Although granted, her first few times here, she did get hopelessly lost in the stifling alleys, but eventually, she learned to tell directions by the different bakeries. That was her best bet – go by the smell.

They entered the store promptly, eager to get away from the surprised looks the passers-by were giving them. But of course, it was no different inside.

There were several people there already shopping, looking over fabric swatches and at finished clothes. There were also several assistants there, running around and trying to sell those shoppers whatever they could. It was almost surprising every time they entered some of the more frequented places in Cyrodiil. It was so easy to get used to Skyrim with less people, less travelers, less commerce. Everything was so busy down south.

But once they showed up in the shop, all those people stopped what they were doing and they turned their eyes to the new arrivals instead. A hushed wave of whispers and critical looks spread over the store suddenly. Alright, they looked a little odd, especially when Aeyrin stomped with her metal boots against the stone floor, but that was surely no reason to gawk like that. So with resigned sighs, they both headed over to the main counter and to the excited man standing behind it – he could clearly see he had a sale on his hands.

"We need some clothes," Bishop smirked at the man as they stopped by the counter.

"Well of course, these are very… ill-fitting. Who sold you these?" The merchant shook his head in indignation.

Bishop's clothes weren't exactly well suited to him either, and not just because of the colors. Whoever the owner was, he was not a Nord, that was for certain. He was definitely shorter and leaner. Thank the fucking Gods that Bishop didn't actually burst out of those trousers. He wasn't moving in them much though. He could get the pair he sometimes used for sleeping, but those were very old and worn and if they got torn on a sharp corner or something, it would probably be even worse. He really needed new clothes. More of them. He had some spare sets of clothes in Whiterun, but those were pretty fucking useless right now.

"We got dirty and had to borrow these," Bishop just shrugged disinterestedly. The fact that 'borrowed' meant 'stole' in this context wasn't worth mentioning.

"Ah. I see. Well… what can I interest you in? Leisure wear? Sleepwear too? Some undergarments? Perhaps something for special occasions too or for travel," the Imperial merchant's eyes roamed over them, as if trying to gouge out what he could force on them. At least it wasn't that obvious that they were travelers. Their nearby camp ensured that they didn't look completely haggard and filthy. Their heavy backpacks spoke for themselves though.

"Calm down," Bishop smirked. "Just some traveling clothes. Good for cities and the road. And maybe some extra pants for sleeping."

"Are you sure?" The merchant seemed disappointed. "There's a festival in town in three days. Ladies often wear dresses with floral patterns on them during the celebrations and the men wear…"

"We're sure," Bishop interrupted him. They were not going to waste their hard-won money for a one-time festival purchase. They didn't even do that when it came to the balls in Solitude – the sucker paladins always paid for that.

"Very well," the Imperial sighed in defeat. "Tell my assistant over there," he pointed to an Orc woman, currently the only unoccupied assistant. "She'll find you something nice and fitting. And practical."

That sounded good. Hopefully it was going to be something they could afford too. They did have a comfortable amount on them now, but they certainly couldn't afford more clothes that had gems embedded in them. No matter how pretty.

The Orc looked very eager to start working the new customers and she rushed over to them the second she noticed being the object of the talk.

"Here, follow me. I'll find you whatever you need," he smiled at them brightly, baring her low fangs in the process.

They followed wordlessly.

Neither of them could wait to get out of their stolen clothes at last.

…

Aeyrin wouldn't even need to look at herself in the mirror to know she should be satisfied with the selection. The way that Bishop kept glancing at her didn't leave her guessing. Still, she did like to admire the pretty clothes herself too.

She stressed to the Orc that she needed something stretchy and practical – just like her old clothes. The fabric was nothing unusual for the Orc, of course, many people apparently preferred to wear such things, even if they were more expensive than linen. Aeyrin kind of lamented never really bothering with clothes back when she was still in Cyrodiil before. She had gotten some traveling attire at the temple and she made do with that constantly, taking a new one whenever she returned. Until Helgen that is.

But that was not important. Right now, she seemed to have stumbled upon another perfect set of clothes that would make the travels only more pleasant.

The fabric was the same as before – light and stretchy and a tiny bit soft and furry, as if to warm her on the inside. Her tunic was light-blue, tight, but without much of a cleavage this time. It was a little concerning though that it left her whole shoulders bare as it only covered her torso and upper part of her arms with some flowy short sleeves. But she had her cloak. She could always cover up against the cold when she was back up north. These clothes were clearly made first and foremost to impress, only then to be practical. The tunic was lined with silver strings around each hem, making it look a little more fancy, especially with that pretty color of the fabric too.

She received a soft-grey set of above-elbow-length gloves along with it which in turn had light-blue lining along the hems. It was obviously a traveling set. Along with the boots in the same color with the same light-blue lining where they could be rolled down at the top, creating a double layer of soft leather. They were leather, though the stretchy and fluffy fabric was on the inseam to make them warm.

Her trousers were fitting her tightly, which was always good for moving in armor. They were black and had slits with strings all over the flanks from up her thighs down to the bottom – she could adjust the tightness that way. It was very handy.

And of course, the Orc talked her into purchasing a new black leather belt with an ornate silver clasp as well. To complete the set. How could Aeyrin say no? It all fit together so well.

And she did like how she looked in it, she had to admit to herself. And Bishop did too, clearly. The shopping managed to lift her spirits a bit more again, much to her joy.

Bishop found some good clothes too, after convincing the Orc that he really didn't want anything even remotely 'vibrant' or 'colorful'.

He ended up with light grey trousers, which he would prefer to have darker, but it was acceptable for just going around cities. It was an acceptable sacrifice for the lighter and thinner leather. He wouldn't be so hot all the time. Especially here down south, but it was the case in Skyrim too. Summer was coming soon and it was going to be a relief with thinner pants.

The tunic was nice. It was pitch-black and had some silver lining on the hems, kind of like Aeyrin's outfit but a little more subtle. He liked that it wasn't too flashy. He could do without anything on the black fabric, but it was still alright like this. The Orc said they didn't sell 'plain shirts'.

His boots were nicely sturdy, black too with the same silver lining. Everything had to match, the Orc thought. But at least she let it all match in dark colors. And she didn't even push for the second pair of trousers, this time made out of linen for sleeping. She let him pick very dark green ones without even trying to convince him to get something more colorful.

Now there was only the matter of the price left, when they had everything else. Bishop almost forgot that they could actually try to negotiate here, but Aeyrin got to that before he could grumble about the price. She offered to leave the merchant at the main counter the 'borrowed' clothes if he lowered the price down from five hundred to only four. It was an outrageous price in any case, but the clothes were good quality.

The Imperial did seem suspicious about buying off 'borrowed' clothes. He looked at them as if they were thieves. Which they were. But he didn't know that for certain. He did examine their clothes carefully though. And he did seem interested in their quality.

Eventually they did make a deal and they were finally looking like normal people, able to leave the store at last without any more concerns.

And they still had some money left over for an interesting time in Skingrad.

The second they stepped away from the clothing store, Bishop rushed up behind Aeyrin and grabbed her by the buttocks, dragging her back into his arms.

"Fuck, I love this shit," he grinned as his head dipped towards her neck and nipped at her skin a little. "Every time I see you in some new stuff like this, I need to figure out just how easy it is to take off," he chuckled. "If it wasn't such a fucking drain on the funds, we should go clothes shopping more often."

"Hmm, I wouldn't mind that either," she chuckled at him as she turned around in his embrace and nuzzled herself into his chest. "I like seeing you arguing with the merchants trying to sell you everything under the sun," she laughed. He was always so frustrated and curt with these people. It was amusing. And useful for scaring them off their sales tactics.

"Ha! Yeah, you like that?" He smirked. "Then I'm really glad you didn't come with me to buy this trinket." He grabbed a hold of her hand and raised it a little, looking pointedly at the engagement ring glittering on it. "I was a fucking sucker through and through. That guy got me, hook, line, and sinker."

"Really?" She giggled. She couldn't even imagine Bishop letting someone sell him anything he didn't need. But he only bought her the ring, right?

"Yeah. You remember the story, when the tin-head came in and then I had to come back?" Bishop smirked. "I think I told you. I was trying to make sure the guy wouldn't tell anyone why I was there. You know the rumors in Solitude. He convinced me, but then I remembered that the tin-head already saw me there. So… the merchant abused that situation instantly and he said I needed an 'alibi'. A reason to be there other than the ring." He took a hold of her braided hair as he was talking and he brushed his fingers over the lush braid until they stopped at the pretty white ribbon holding it all together.

"Right!" Aeyrin chuckled as she remembered. He did tell her about that. It was still a little hard to believe how much trouble he went through.

"Yeah. I had almost no money left. The necklace from the bureau that caused all that shit... it wasn't fake. But what it was worth, I spent on the ring. I had barely a hundred drakes left and that fucker still talked me into buying something," Bishop chuckled. It was a little funny in retrospect. And at least he got to see her face light up one more time. He loved giving her gifts – she always got so giddy.

"It's a sweet story," she grinned, as she looked at her white ribbon wistfully. "You and your panic moves," she snickered.

"Right?" He laughed in return. It was always interesting when he had to cover his tracks in various situations. Not always in a good way, but this time it was.

Aeyrin stood up on her tip-toes in her new boots so that she could plant a proper kiss onto his lips. Spending time like this was good for her still rattled state. In moments like these, she could almost forget their recent ordeal.

"So… what now?" She asked curiously. She was eager to do something equally pleasant and distracting.

"Now? What else? We got enough money to go to that fancy inn, right?" He looked into a particular direction and Aeyrin had no idea if it was the right one.

"Pfft, they're both fancy," she snorted. "It's just that West Weald Inn is a little fancier than the Four Brothers Lodge. They're both nice though. If there is a crappy inn in Skingrad, I don't know about it," she shrugged. She never really explored many of the poor areas, if there were any. It was perhaps more accurate to say that she had never found any, but she was getting lost in the streets too often to find anything more elusive.

"Well, we got money, we're surrounded by the best wineries in Tamriel, I say we go to the fanciest inn we can find and go nuts," Bishop smirked.

That sounded… really good.

Like he couldn't really have a better idea just then.

…

The night soon crept in and the merriment was only rising.

They've been drinking Skingrad wine often ever since they stepped foot in Cyrodiil. It was the best there was, of course. But somehow it always tasted the best in the actual city where it came from. Neither of them were sure why.

Maybe it wasn't really about the city, but more about how much they both needed this reprieve. They needed to unwind, to focus on having fun and on enjoying each other's company, leaving the thoughts of Kvatch behind.

And Bishop was making some good points.

They did get the better of Ri'zhassa. He ended up dead.

That was something to celebrate no matter what.

They spent the better part of the evening in the common room of the West Weald Inn, enjoying some of the local wines. Aeyrin was always partial to Tamika wine – it was the oldest winery still functioning in Cyrodiil and the long practice showed. Bishop liked the new Rosethorn wines better. They kind of packed a punch with their unusual use of spicing and fruit blends. They got him drunk pretty fast. But definitely not as fast as Aeyrin.

While they were both in pleasant moods, it was easy to enjoy their evening, no matter where their minds led them to.

Aeyrin had been spending most of her time on Bishop's lap by now. How was it always so comfortable when she was drunk?

Bishop seemed no less comfortable with having her so close. He kept squeezing her. He was even too reluctant to let go of her to take a drink, so he asked her to hold up his goblet for him instead. It resulted in more hilarity than actual drinking. It was good that his new shirt was black and his wine white.

He didn't mind the spill one bit and instead he leaned against her more, pressing his head into her shoulder. When he felt the fabric of her new shirt on his cheek, it reminded him of something he couldn't exactly place just then. He just began to rub his face on it more.

"What are you doin'?" Aeyrin giggled at him. Though it was pleasant.

"Hmm… so soft," he murmured. "It would be even softer like this…" He didn't wait for her to question him before he grabbed her hips and turned her around in his lap. She ended up facing him, straddling his thighs, and a second later, he leaned his head on her breasts and began to rub his cheek against the fabric there.

Aeyrin's face flushed even deeper as she let out another merry chuckle. How did she not see this coming? Right then she didn't really mind though.

"Reminds me of something…" he murmured again, a little absentmindedly.

"I hope so," Aeyrin scoffed with a slight giggle accompanying the sound. "You've… you've done this a lot before." His face buried in her cleavage was not exactly anything new. Although it was always just as exciting. Even if people were likely staring at them.

"No… no… it's something… oh!" Bishop seemed like he finally remembered, then he gave her a slightly nervous chuckle. What was that about? "I uh… it just made me remember how… fluffy you are when… you know."

"You really… really not scared of it?" Aeyrin pulled away from him a bit. She couldn't understand it. But then again, he did make some good points – she didn't know the beast. She knew what she had been taught of werewolves and she knew how terrifying it was when she turned and the carnage she left behind. But… Bishop was sure she would never hurt him. And he was right in that basement. How was that even possible?

"Not even a little," Bishop smirked. "We… got an… unders-understandin'."

"What kind of understanding?" She scowled at him slightly.

"I… don't know how to say it," he sighed. "It's… you, you know? Still you. In there, somewhere. I understood that eventually. You don't wanna hurt me. You're just… scared. Confused."

"I still think you're seeing what you want to," she shook her head. She didn't remember it at all, how could it be her? She had no idea what was happening to her during the transformations.

"No. You saw yourself, you didn't hurt me," he defended the werewolf adamantly. "You even ripped off the ropes from my arms."

Aeyrin looked at him in surprise. That's right… his ropes were just… gone suddenly then. How? It was really the werewolf?

"Tell ya what, love. Let's go out. I'll show you," his gaze turned intense suddenly.

"What?" She gasped at him in shock. What did he mean by that?

"I'll show you. We'll find some dark alley, all alone, you'll turn, then turn back. No killing. No mauling, no nothin'. I promise it'll work like that. I know it."

"You're drunk!" She scoffed at him. That was insane. So insane. She couldn't risk that.

"Hey, worst case scenario, I bolt. But I won't need to. Promise," he gave her a determined nod.

"Why?" She scoffed. "Why wouldya…. Why do this? Why do you wanna?"

"Because I want you to see that you're in control. Even if you don't remember. I want you to stop worryin'. We need to use this shit sometimes, you know, when shit's dire and all that. I know you want it gone, we'll get it gone for your afterlife and shit but… fuck, you got a weapon we might need. You can't be afraid to use it. Not when we lost the last one with it," Bishop sighed.

She knew he had a point, but… she was still so apprehensive. Even with her inhibitions down, this didn't sound like a good idea.

But to actually have some more confidence in the beast… it was a strangely tempting thought. She had already been wavering in her convictions in the basement, but now…

Ugh, it was hard to think about.

Bishop felt a little bad for trying this on her whenever she was vulnerable – first in her withdrawal and now drunk and still a little in withdrawal. It wasn't really intentional, but he just wanted her to be more comfortable with all of this. It would be one less awful worry to obsess over. It would put her mind at ease at least a little until they found the cure.

"Come on, love. It will be good for you, I promise," he urged her again.

"You'll take your… your knife. You cut my leg if I get… aggressive. I don't wanna hurt anyone," she gave him a pleading look. No matter what, she always needed at least some contingency plan.

"Alright," he nodded without much hesitation. He wouldn't need to do that anyway.

This was going to help. He knew that.

…

"Alright. This place seems good," Bishop determined after looking around carefully, around each corner.

They found a nice empty blind alleyway behind a few houses. There was nothing there but a few old discarded boxes, hidden from view, and one Skingrad banner. They were all over the place, depicting the twin moons in the middle of a red field. Each one of the banners had a closed glass lantern hung behind it to make it appear as if the moons on the symbol actually shone down onto the streets. Perhaps because of the tall buildings, someone thought it would be a nice substitute for the actual moons that one could hardly see over them. It was quite charming. It illuminated the dark alleyway in a dim light, red and white, just like the moons on the banner.

"It is private but… you… you really wanna do this?" Aeyrin stammered uncertainly.

"I really do. Come here," he chuckled at her confidently as he grabbed her by the hand and yanked her into his arms. Just one transformation and she would see – she would feel much better about all of this. And for that to happen, of course, she needed to be out of those clothes. They couldn't ruin all their expensive new shit for the experiment.

His hands snaked below the hems of her new light-blue shirt, sliding beneath the soft stretchy fabric and rolling it up her stomach.

Aeyrin quickly looked over his shoulder to make sure there was nobody around. She knew he was technically undressing her for the transformation, but she could already tell when his touch changed its purpose. His hands got firmer, sliding across her skin languidly. And when he rolled her new shirt up above her breasts, he stopped there entirely and instead bent down to kiss her there.

A shudder went through her as he began to suck on her nipple without much delay. His hand wrapped around her back, pulling her closer onto him, while his other one lowered down to squeeze her buttocks. It was already clear that the transformation was all forgotten by now. And honestly, she was kind of relieved. Sex in a location where anyone could find them seemed like a much safer option. And much more pleasant. It always gave her a little thrill, despite the fear that accompanied it.

She twined her hands into his hair, locking them in his soft tresses. She chased away all the thoughts of being found and instead concentrated on the feeling of his lips on her skin. They hadn't been together like this ever since before Kvatch. She didn't even think of sex much, she wasn't sure why. It was usually the perfect distraction, but somehow it was the furthest thing on her mind. But now, with the warm wine coursing through her system, the familiar urges came back. And she realized that she really missed it.

Bishop's lips moved to her other breast after a while, sending more shivers down her spine, and then up along her neck. He nipped at his favorite spot there, eliciting a pleasurable groan from her. She loved when he did that. Always.

"Turn around. Take off those boots," Bishop growled against her skin, sending hot breath along her neck. She still held his head by the hair, pulling him towards her, but the order couldn't be ignored. Mainly because she didn't want to. And she loved the tone of his voice when he spoke like that so much.

She promptly pulled away, despite him still kissing her neck and exposed shoulders, and she turned around to have her back face him. As she did, Bishop grabbed her shirt again and this time he draped it over her head, finally getting rid of it for good.

She bent over in order to take her boots off as he told her to, and while that opportunity presented itself, she promptly moved her buttocks back a bit until they collided with his groin. She could already tell how excited he was, even through their clothes, and she didn't hesitate to start to move opportunely while she struggled with the boots, rubbing her ass against his hardening cock firmly.

Bishop let out a pleasured groan and he let her continue the treatment for a while. She was pressing more and more into him, but soon, it was just not enough. He needed more.

He reached around her to undo her belt and he promptly slid the fabric of her trousers along with her undergarments down her thighs, exposing her to him entirely. He didn't touch her yet, he needed more for himself too and his hands quickly moved to his own trousers. He only opened them enough to have the access he needed. The moment his cock was free from the clothes, he pressed it against her again, just as it was when they still had their clothes on. This time, he moved his hands to her asscheeks, squeezing them and spreading them a bit as he let his cock slip into the crease, moving it along the crevice with louder and louder groans escaping his lips.

Aeyrin couldn't really continue to remove her boots like this, lest she would lose her balance. She was just getting bent over more and more and she could do nothing but place her hands on the ground to hold herself steady at last – leaving her with one boot off and one still on. It didn't matter. Undressing wasn't all that important just then. What was more important were the jolts of pleasure she felt every single time when Bishop's cock slid against her firmly enough to tease her slit in the process. It wasn't exactly in the spots she ached to be touched yet, but it did serve to excite her even further.

"Fuck, touch yourself," Bishop groaned.

She didn't need to be told twice, although she was hoping that he would touch her instead. His hands were busy squeezing her buttcheeks as she snuck one of her own towards her slit, but the second she moved her fingers to rub between her folds, she felt Bishop let go of her with one palm and move it towards her own hand. He placed it on top of it and started to guide her fingers, rubbing her with firm strokes as she could feel both their touches between her legs.

Aeyrin shuddered at the sensation. That was definitely better.

Bishop continued to tease her while his cock slid between her cheeks. He let go of her other buttocks after a while though to hold his own length, stroking it slowly. Instead of the previous friction, he began to tease her wet entrance with his tip, sometimes almost pushing in, but mostly just teasing her frustratingly. His hand still continued to urge her to rub her clit more and more eagerly, but along with that treatment, she really wanted to feel him inside already.

"Bish, please," she moaned when he almost slipped the head between her folds, but then withdrew again. "Please put it in," her voice trembled a little with the tension in her entire body. Every single time it seemed like he would push in, a strong jolt went through her and her stomach tightened. But he still only teased her.

"Hmm… I could listen to that all day," he murmured against her ear as he pressed the head against her once more. Gods, it was infuriating and exciting at the same time.

"You can't take the… the teasing long… either," she panted as he started to press on her fingers even more, making her stomach coil in tension. She could come just from the touching, but she wanted more. She ached to be filled just then, especially when he was constantly making her think that it would happen, over and over.

"I bet I can take it… longer than you," Bishop chuckled, and as if on command, he redoubled all his efforts. His fingers moved past hers to let her feel his touch properly, rubbing around her clit and teasing her endlessly. He bent down as much as he could and his mouth began to suck on her sensitive neck again, sometimes moving to her ears. It was infuriating that her back was to him and she couldn't reciprocate properly.

But when he teasingly slid only the tip of his cock inside her wet entrance, she was determined to prove him wrong, no matter how much she wanted it.

"Come on, princess, move on it, show me how much you want me," he smirked at her victoriously, confident that she would soon begin to start moving against him to take all of him inside at last. It was tempting. So tempting. But she could persevere.

She stayed still, as still as she could with her whole body trembling, but she did try to squeeze herself around the head of his cock as much as she could. And she concentrated on the sounds she made as he continued to tease her clit, moaning as lasciviously as she could. She even moved one of her hands to her breast to squeeze it herself to tantalize him. And she arched her back properly to give him as much access he would need to thrust deep inside her with just one smooth push.

"Fuck, come on," Bishop gritted his teeth at her retaliation. It was really tempting to just drive into her and start fucking her properly. He really wanted to. It's been overdue for so long. He needed this. He really wanted to see her desperately take him in herself, but fuck.

She won this one.

Bishop thrust himself deep inside with one long groan of relief and a shocked gasp escaping her lips. She did not expect him to cave that fast. But she couldn't really complain about the results. As he finally began moving inside her, hard and quite fast, she felt herself become overwhelmed way too soon. She was still squeezing her own breast, he was still teasing her between her legs and her position let him slide so deep. It all came together too quickly.

She let out a moan as her walls began to pulsate and quiver, the knot in her stomach unraveling. Relief and warmth flooded her instantly and she felt Bishop stop in his movement. He remained buried deep inside her, groaning at the sensation of her coming around his cock. He only began to thrust again once her peak subsided a bit.

Aeyrin rolled her hips against him, meeting his thrusts, and when she managed to collect herself a bit after her climax, she started to squeeze his cock with her inner walls again. That served to send him over the edge soon after.

Bishop let out a moan of his own as he spilled inside her at last. Fuck, he really needed that. He stayed locked in with her like this for a while before Aeyrin finally started to squirm a bit. Granted, her bent position all the way to the ground didn't really seem comfortable.

Bishop pulled out his softening cock away from her and he almost collapsed against the nearby wall. He watched for a while, her bare ass and folds wet with their fluids tempted him again, illuminated by the false twin moons on the banner, but soon Aeyrin straightened up again.

She didn't put her clothes back on now. She had no cloths to wipe herself with, but there was not much she could do about that right now. The plan was for her to still undress. So this time she turned towards Bishop to bend over to take off her shoes. If she did that the other way around, she was pretty sure it would lead to another round. And while she wouldn't exactly mind that, she needed a little break from being bent over like that, at least for a while.

Soon she was entirely naked and Bishop finally tucked himself back into his new trousers. He for one didn't seem bothered even a little by any mess on his new clothes. Sure, they would wash them and let them dry as they slept, as they always did, but still.

He stepped towards her again and he wordlessly reached out to the nape of her neck. He fiddled there with something for a while before he unclasped the necklace with the wolf-head ring. The Stendarrite amulet he just grabbed into his hand and began draping it over her head – that one was long enough for that.

She helped him a bit as he took off her jewelry too – last was the engagement ring. She always hated parting with it the most when she was transforming. It was hard to believe that this time it was… voluntary.

"Alright, I'll hold these," Bishop nodded. "Clothes will be fine there," he looked thoughtfully at one of the crates in the corner where she had already discarded her clothes and boots.

She felt much less drunk than when he had asked her to try this the first time. She was feeling really uncertain. But she already agreed. And maybe it would really help ease her mind a bit. She wanted it to help. She couldn't stand the constant fear of it.

"Just a quick one, I promise it will be fine. Try to do what you did in the basement and turn," Bishop continued. It was a tall order. She had no idea what she had done in the basement – how she even forced the turning.

But she could certainly try. She wasn't sure how, but she stood there, naked in the night air and the dim light of the fake twin moons. How was she supposed to do it?

Turn into that monster. Come on.

"Hmm," Bishop let out a disappointed sigh. "It worked in the basement."

"It had to work in the basement," Aeyrin murmured. There was no other choice back then, she knew that. Just like in Falkreath when she was captured by those vampires. Now it was just… senseless. Danger for no reason.

"It has to work now too," Bishop scowled. "You need this. You need to see what you really are, that you're not as mindless as you think, not as dangerous. Maybe before you were but not now. Don't you wanna see that?"

"I… I do," Aeyrin sighed. "But I'm scared," she admitted.

"Of what? I promise, I won't let you hurt anyone." He knew how to stop her. He knew how to treat her to calm her down. He wouldn't let her get more regrets tonight. This was about making things better.

"I… I know. I'm still scared of that too. But… Bish, what if it does work? What if… what if I find it… too useful. I don't want to become that, I don't want to rely on that. I don't want to be that," she felt her voice tremble as she finally gave words to her fears. The Companions embraced what they were. A lot of people embraced it. And now some of them were even excited to spend eternity being Hircine's playthings. What if it happened to her? What if it warped her beliefs beyond recognition?

"Sweetness, you're still you. It won't make you a different person," Bishop stepped closer to her and he squeezed her hand in encouragement. "It is a last resort when things get tough. That's all. It's a weapon you can use that you can just… toss away eventually."

She knew that, in part. But in another part, she still couldn't stop the fears. The what-ifs.

"Can you promise me something?" She looked at him intently.

"I'm not gonna kill you if you get too into it," Bishop scoffed. She looked like she was about to say something insane. He was not going to do that no matter her beliefs and all that Stendarrite shit.

"No," she shook her head briskly. "I don't want to… I don't want to go there." She had to shudder at the mere thought of experiencing the horrors of afterlife in a plane of Oblivion. "I just… no matter what I say or want later, please, promise me you'll get me cured even if I don't want to. If there is a way…"

"I promise," Bishop nodded promptly. That was actually a reasonable request. He still doubted that it would tempt her this much to use this power. She was still so worried and reluctant, and as long as she didn't remember anything after, she would still be wary. But it was an easy thing to promise. Even if sometimes he was kind of glad for her inability to Shout, mostly hopeful that there must have been another Dragonborn out there who would fit the prophecy when she couldn't. But that was just a comforting fantasy he knew not to be true. The important truth was that she despised the Daedra with everything she got. And he kind of did too after all that shit they've been through. He would not let her end up in one of their clutches.

Still, this would not happen. She would not want this life or afterlife. But he had no problem making her this promise.

"Alright. I'll… I'll try again," she nodded, a little appeased by his words.

She concentrated again and instead of the worries of something going wrong, she tried to imagine the opposite. She tried to imagine exactly what Bishop said – that she would just turn, then turn back, without hurting anyone at all, and then she would feel more at ease. And soon, she felt the brief pressure overcome her.

Aeyrin began to transform in front of his eyes, right there under the false twin moons. It was an oddly poetic sight, he thought at least. Even when the moons didn't force her, they still shone above her through it in whatever way they could.

Soon, his favorite werewolf was standing in front of him, looking pent up and eager for a hunt. But that was not going to happen.

"Alright, princess, we're doing this for you, remember? To make it all easier. You understand that, right?" He spoke to her calmly as he began to reach out. She flinched a bit, but definitely not as much as she used to. After a moment, she stood still while he rubbed her furry nose with affection. Fuck, she even seemed to enjoy it, aside from the usual wariness in her black eyes.

"Good. Now, can you turn back for me again? To show that you don't have to hurt anyone," his voice still remained calm, confident. He wanted to reassure her that he believed that she could.

Aeyrin let out a soft whimper and she looked behind his back, watching the empty, tempting streets. But then her eyes returned to him. To his gaze of encouragement and confidence.

And a few moments later, her body began to distort once more.

The second the transformation was over, Aeyrin slumped into Bishop's arms. It always seemed to take a lot out of her, but he knew that after some time it would pass. She didn't move for a while, still in his embrace with her eyes closed, but after a bit, her eyes finally fluttered open and she straightened up, pulling herself away from him.

She looked around nervously. Around the hidden street, at her naked body to see any sign of blood or gore on her, then quickly at Bishop to observe him for any wounds. At least the lantern behind the banner let her see a little.

Everything seemed fine. He seemed fine. And he was smiling at her.

"See, love? All good," he grinned.

Alright. He… he was right. Maybe the beast could control itself more than she thought. She still recalled nothing, but maybe it wasn't her who was in control. Maybe… maybe it was just Bishop. Maybe it was his… taming skills. She wasn't sure. But at least with him there, she could feel a little safer during the transformations.

She still wouldn't trust that beast without him though.

"I… it's hard to believe there's no carnage at all," she let out a weak chuckle and Bishop quickly stepped closer to her, cupping her cheek with the free hand that wasn't currently holding her jewelry.

"It's gonna be alright, sweetness. It's gonna get better and better before we can get rid of it for good. I will keep my promise to you, but you'll still want the same thing anyway. I'm sure of it."

She smiled back at him. She certainly felt like that now. It was still so scary, but now she was just a little relieved that she could put her trust in him when she couldn't be in control. She wasn't so sure before with his… dangerous experiments, like sleeping in the werewolf's arms. But now she knew that he had a point. And he really did make progress like this, managed to calm the beast even if she didn't.

She was determined to take the little victory she got today.

…

The next morning seemed a blur.

After their brief trip to the streets of Skingrad, Bishop and Aeyrin got lost trying to find their way back to the West Weald Inn. Neither of them were exactly sure how long it took them to find the tavern again. They weren't nearly as drunk as before, but it was difficult in the dark alleys.

Eventually, they finally found it. And after all that searching, and all that activity out there, they felt like drinking some more wine was only fitting.

They drank into the morning hours, just the two of them, enjoying each other's company while the rest of the tavern attended to their own merriments. They weren't exactly eager to socialize with strangers so this worked out for the best.

After a few more hours, they finally retreated to their rented room. Bishop was eager to get frisky again, but it proved to be an impossible task just then – they were both too drunk and barely able to keep awake through undressing, let alone any even more taxing activities.

In the end, they both just fell asleep in comfortable exhaustion.

The morning was probably still hazed by some lingering alcohol. They weren't even feeling that hung-over, more strangely out of it. But hopefully some food would help with that.

They made their way tiredly into the common room again and waited for the barmaid to approach them. It actually seemed like it was almost noon. Some people there were already eating lunch meals. It was no wonder though, after the night they've had.

The barmaid took their order and scampered away soon. It was good that the inn carried the goods from the local bakeries. Aeyrin had been looking forward to this. A nice sweetroll with some delicious glazing, some strawberries and even some honey bread. It sounded like the perfect thing to wake her up.

But when the barmaid came to their table next, she wasn't carrying plates with food, unfortunately. She was carrying something else.

"Hey, boss said someone left a letter here for you, with your description and all," she handed them the letter. It was a sealed envelope, surprisingly enough.

Who would send them a letter here? The Imperial Courier Service would probably not be able to find them now if their disenchantments were still in effect. They hadn't seen a courier since they used them. And nobody really knew that they were here.

Well… Therien and Brunwulf did. Maybe it was from them.

Aeyrin eagerly grabbed the letter and inspected the envelope. It didn't say anything, it didn't even have either of their names on it. It must have been delivered here by the sender outright. And what was more, there was an insignia on the letter's seal.

The twin moons.

Aeyrin showed the insignia to Bishop and he promptly scowled. Whatever that was, it looked fucking official. Skingrad official.

She tore the envelope open at last and placed the letter onto the table, letting both herself and Bishop read the contents.

.

Dear visitors to our fair city of Skingrad,

our Count requests your presence in his castle at your earliest convenience. He has a matter to discuss with you along with a proposition. You are urged to see him without any major delay.

Long live the Empire

Shaeez, Steward to the venerable Count of Skingrad

.

It was a short message and it didn't even say much. Aeyrin only gazed at Bishop with worry in her eyes when she was done reading.

"What the fuck? Why does the Count want to see us?" Bishop scowled. It was common in Skyrim to be summoned by leaders – when it came to dragons or the war or some shit. For them it was common. But not here. Nobody knew Aeyrin was the Dragonborn. Nobody knew who they were among the scores of nameless travelers and tourists. Cyrodiil was much more open, much more metropolitan and much more populated. Nobody would pick the two of them from the crowds for anything important. That was part of the appeal of being here.

"Do you think he got some words… from Kvatch? They had our description, not names," Aeyrin bit her lower lip nervously. "What if some of the people who saw us run out of the house reported us. And now we're wanted throughout Cyrodiil."

"If we were 'wanted', the guards would come. Not an invitation," Bishop narrowed his eyes in suspicion at the letter. But Aeyrin did have a point about Kvatch – it was the only place they'd cause some kind of a commotion. Maybe it was all related. Maybe the Count wanted to know what happened. Maybe he wanted to reward them for a criminal's death even.

Fuck, when did he get so optimistic?

"It doesn't sound like just an invitation," Aeyrin sighed. "It sounds like he expects us to come."

"Yeah," Bishop nodded. "Might not be too smart to not show up." He hated that it made him paranoid anyway – there could be guards waiting to arrest them at the Castle. But then again… why? Why invite them and why not do that now? They weren't 'important' here. They were just travelers. Nobody would think twice about throwing them in jail.

"I know," Aeyrin cringed. It was probably better to go and see, even if it made her uncomfortable. She just wanted to spend the day in bed. She still wasn't feeling too well, both from the alcohol and still from the skooma. Sometimes she remembered that the darkness was still there and it made her queasy. But this was still probably the smartest thing to do. Maybe whatever the Count could want from them wasn't so bad.

She just couldn't figure out what it could be.

…

"It's been over an hour!" Bishop fumed at the Argonian in a very fancy and frilly dress. "How long are we supposed to wait for him?"

They've been waiting in the foyer of the grand Castle Skingrad for so long. The Argonian steward greeted them there with a charming smile and urged them to sit. There was fruit there for them to munch on and a bottle of Skingrad wine – though they avoided that for now. It was a nice place, with only two guards by the main entrance, though even they didn't look hostile.

That was comforting. But as time went by and the Count still didn't show up to receive them, their nerves were starting to get the better of them. The steward only told them that the Count wanted to speak with them and nothing more. And it was getting more and more frustrating to just wait in uncertainty.

"Apologies, sir, the Count is a very busy man. He will have you summoned when he is available," the Argonian smiled again.

"He already summoned us here," Bishop growled again. This was ridiculous. The letter spoke about them coming at their 'earliest convenience'. And they did. Right after breakfast they fought through their encroaching hangovers and climbed the hill towards the Castle. It felt like an inexplicably long way away just then.

And now they were just sitting here nervously, waiting for nothing.

"Just a moment of patience, sir," the Argonian smiled once more. She had a permanent smile on her face and her impeccable appearance only accentuated her professional looks.

Bishop sat back into one of the chairs with more silent grumbles escaping his lips and Aeyrin only threw him an understanding smile. This was making her very nervous too.

It took another ten or fifteen minutes before a noise came from a balcony above them – like someone hitting the floor with a sword. The steward stepped back a bit to look up, then she nodded and turned her attention back to Bishop and Aeyrin.

"The Count will see you now. Follow me, please," she smiled warmly once more.

While Bishop murmured something like 'finally', they got up from their chairs and followed the Argonian with eagerness. She ushered them up some stairs that led to a second floor, above the foyer. There was another guard there who just nodded at them in acknowledgement and allowed them to pass through the door.

The woman led them further, passing lavish rooms and a few guards, before they reached a grand, long room. A throne room.

It was odd. Usually thrones were more… accessible, but it seemed like the Count preferred private encounters with whomever he needed to speak to.

The man himself was sitting on the throne. He was dressed in a fancy outfit with a simple crown on his head – it was in the Skingrad colors – black ebony metal with red gems. Much like his clothes. He was an Imperial in his middle years, with soft wrinkles below his eyes, long grey hair in a neat do and a trimmed grey beard.

When they came closer, they noticed perhaps the most striking thing about the man. His eyes were completely red. Almost like a Dunmer, but it was only his irises. His sclera were more… bloodshot perhaps, not as red as elven ones. It was more startling how vibrant and shiny his eyes felt. He was undoubtedly from some interesting lineage.

"Welcome," he nodded at them with a small smile breaking onto his face. "Count Janus Hassildor the eleventh. Pleasure to make your acquaintance. And you are?"

Aeyrin and Bishop looked at each other nervously. He didn't know who they were. That was… kind of to be expected. But it still made them uncertain.

"You summoned us," Bishop narrowed his eyes at him. "Don't you know?"

"Not as such, no," the Count shook his head. "I do prefer to know who I'm addressing though, if you don't mind."

"Uhm… my name is Aeyrin," she spoke a little quietly, but he definitely heard her.

"Bishop," he only shrugged his shoulders. The names weren't going to change much anyway, whatever this was about.

"Good. Thank you. And again, pleased to make your acquaintance," the Count nodded in satisfaction. "I understand that this must be quite confusing to you, being summoned before me. You are… travelers?"

"Yes," Aeyrin nodded. Both those statements were true. "We just stopped by Skingrad to get some supplies. And rest."

"Of course, many do," Count Hassildor only shrugged, somewhat disinterested about their reasons for being here. After all, it was nothing exciting.

"So… why summon us?" Bishop asked at last. This was making him so fucking frustrated. He wanted to know what was wrong.

"I have a… proposition for you," the Count turned his gaze to Aeyrin specifically. "I know what you are."

Aeyrin instantly flinched. He knew about the Dragonborn thing? How? How could that get out? Ri'zhassa knew and the people at the temple too, but surely none of them would spread rumors for the Count of Skingrad to find out. And even if he did, what did he want with her? Maybe the Count of Bruma needed help with the occasional dragon, but not Skingrad. There were no dragons here!

"Who told you?" Bishop scowled promptly. He had the same questions she had.

"One of my men. He witnessed something… interesting last night."

Aeyrin and Bishop's eyes both went wide. He wasn't talking about the Dragonborn stuff. He knew that Aeyrin was a werewolf! Someone must have seen the transformation and in their slightly drunken state and right after indulging themselves in each other, they didn't even notice.

"Fear not, your secret is safe with me," the Count smirked at Aeyrin. "Skingrad is a… welcoming city. I take my pride in that. I was told that you transformed in front of your companion and then turned back. I assume it was some sort of… demonstration?"

"Uuuh…" she didn't know how to answer that. For one, he was going to just wave off a werewolf in his city? Was he serious? And he actually seemed curious about why Aeyrin was transforming. Well… it made sense. Maybe he wanted to reassure himself that she was no threat to his people. But she still had no idea what to say.

"I talked her into it," Bishop sighed. There was no point in hiding the truth. He could take some of the blame on himself and the truth was actually better than anything else it might have looked like – like Aeyrin showing off her vicious wolf on a whim or some such. "She was turned against her will and she's worried about hurting people. I talked her into it to show her that she can just… turn back without hurting anyone."

"We mean no harm to your city, I swear," Aeyrin quickly shook her head. "I won't do it again."

"It's quite alright," the Count only nodded. "I'm familiar with the workings of the werewolf… curse. A fascinating experiment. Should I assume then that your transformation was very… recent? Since you still worry over it." He really didn't sound concerned at all.

"A few months ago," Aeyrin nodded. She wasn't sure if that counted as 'recent'.

"Where? Was it around my city?" Hassildor suddenly scowled at her. He was probably wary of other werewolves in the area.

"No. It… it wasn't even in this Province," Aeyrin chuckled a little weakly. "We travel all over." She wasn't going to say anything about Skyrim – this stuff could be traced back if they were unlucky. She just hoped that being semi-forthcoming would be enough to convince the Count that they were no threat. Really, another prison stay would not be very encouraging.

"Good. Very good," the Count smiled. "I'm glad to hear it. See, I've been looking for a werewolf. A… civilized werewolf, so to speak. One that does not hide away in some filthy cavern and waits for prey to hunt."

"Why?" Bishop scowled immediately. "What do you want a werewolf for?" This meant nothing good. He was sure of it.

"Much like you, for an… experiment," the man smirked. He didn't seem even a little concerned with his steward hearing the entire conversation. She was just standing by his throne silently, looking diligent and obedient. "I could of course send some men to hunt one down and imprison it, but I don't like to risk their lives for my interests. I would prefer one more… cooperative."

"For… for what, exactly?" Aeyrin cringed. She didn't expect anything good from this. Oh Gods, he would surely blackmail her if she refused. What was he planning? She was really wary of men in power finding out her secrets and weaknesses.

"Tell me, Aeyrin, was it? I assume you are somewhat… battle-hardened. Most people who stumble upon opportunities to become lycanthropes are not usually farmers and such," the Count looked her over curiously, along with the large pack on her back.

"We're… adventurers," Aeyrin nodded at him, wary of what he was going to ask of her.

"Ever since your first transformation, have you by any chance tangled with… vampires? Fought them? Got wounded by them?" He asked curiously.

Aeyrin instantly flinched. Somehow she felt like he knew that she did. But that was ridiculous. Maybe it was all just his strange interest. What was with this anyway? She didn't understand any of it. It wasn't some kind of a relative of Dengeir and Siddgeir, was it?

"I have an interest in such things. Beings capable of living among the others while wielding such power," he shrugged as if he was just telling her that he likes to paint. "Tell me then. Have you fought any vampires, specifically after you were afflicted with lycanthropy?"

"Uhm… yes," she nodded. Too many for her liking.

"Did you get bitten?" He continued prodding and she only nodded once more. "What was the reaction? Did the vampires attempt to drain you?"

"No," she replied uncertainly. "They said my blood was… vile." She still wasn't sure why, but she had a suspicion that it was the lycanthropy. These strange questions now made her even more convinced.

"Interesting. That's what my research until now suggested. See, I would like to find the reasons for this. What makes werewolf blood so unappealing to vampires?" The Count leaned back in his chair, still studying Aeyrin curiously.

"Why? Why would you need to know that?" Bishop scowled.

"It's only my own interest. I am an avid scholar, very respected at the Arcane University," Hassildor straightened up proudly. "When I can find the time in between caring for my people, I do like to pursue my own curiosities."

"But… I don't know why. I don't know anything about this curse. The blood didn't taste different when I…" Aeyrin prompty stopped herself. Was she getting too forthcoming?

"When you what?" The Count's eyes widened at her in intrigue. What was the point of hiding this by now?

"I was… forced to ingest the blood. That's how I was turned," she sighed. She wasn't going to tell him who did this to her, but he probably didn't even care anyway.

"So it tasted like…?" He prodded once more.

"Just… blood," she shrugged. It was vile, but in a regular way of how vile it was to drink blood.

"That just makes it more interesting," Hassildor sighed wistfully. "I have a request of you. I'd like to take some of your blood to study it."

"What?!" Aeyrin instantly took a step back and Bishop got into a tense stance too. But the Count seemed completely calm.

"Just a sample. Nothing that would do you any harm. Possibly mild light-headedness, but that is all. Your friend may supervise, if you wish," he nodded at Bishop. "Even armed, if he prefers. All I would do is take some werewolf blood for my experiments."

"This is fucking fishy," Bishop growled. He knew that mages did weird shit for their experiments, but he really didn't like it one bit.

"I'm willing to pay you two thousand septims for the sample," the Count smirked victoriously. And rightfully so. Bishop and Aeyrin gaped at him in shock when he said that.

Two thousand septims?! That was so much money. For a sample of blood. This was even more fishy now but… it was two thousand septims. They were heading into the most expensive city in Tamriel soon. And unless they wanted to sleep at the waterfront watering holes, they would need funds.

Aeyrin only gave Bishop an uncertain shrug. It was… a strange request. But the Count didn't seem like an evil man. He invited them here. He didn't send his guards or force them. He even explained his interests.

"If you refuse," Hassildor got their attention again. "You are free to go. I will not force travelers into my studies. I will simply have to luck into someone else willing. But come now, isn't the pay more than sufficient for such a small sacrifice?"

It was. It really was. Bishop shrugged at Aeyrin too, but it was more agreeable than uncertain. He would be there. He wouldn't let the Count do anything bad to her. And the man knew he was dealing with a werewolf – he wouldn't even try anything for the fear of his life.

"Alright," Aeyrin sighed. "You can take a sample for your… studies."

She just hoped she wasn't making a mistake.

…

The procedure had been quite painless.

The Count led Aeyrin and Bishop into some room where he had a bunch of vials and alchemical equipment. There were no guards inside so it was only the three of them.

Bishop readied his hunting knife and Hassildor didn't seem bothered by it in the slightest. He urged Aeyrin to sit on a chair there and then he picked up a strange contraption that looked kind of like the blood collector they had from Septimus. Bishop insisted first on examining it – to see if there wasn't anything inside – like the Thalmor putting poison into his system like this.

But the vials were empty and the man was allowed to proceed.

It hurt a little bit when the needle went into Aeyrin's arm, and then she did feel a little light-headed. But that was it.

The Count seemed happy with what he got and he gave them several heavy pouches of gold in return.

It was… strange. But they earned so much money by this one simple act.

It was definitely going to come in handy in the Imperial City.

That was their next destination. That was where the clan was supposed to be.

And with any luck, they would not only find them at last, but they would also get to enjoy the capital and its many attractions.