Fredas, 1st of Sun's Dusk 4E201 Early Evening

Elenwen

I thought we'd taken this drunkard off the guest list.

Of course, I kept a warm smile on my face, even as Razelan went off in search of alcohol after a tepid greeting. In spite of my gloves, I still felt the urge to scrub the filth from my hands. He was the worst sort of Imperial; uncouth, ill-mannered, and just important enough to warrant attention. The East Empire Trading Company's taxes had best be favorable this quarter. Of course, I think with a dissatisfied glance over the crowd, that could describe just about everyone at these sad Skyrim affairs. Razelan was simply the worst of the worst. Small, silly people with small, silly ambitions, yet all too conceited and self-aggrandizing to accept the guidance of greater and grander people and civilizations; a microcosm of the snowy province itself, or of Tamriel as a whole, even.

And yet, while I harbor little true hope for such an outcome, it is my job to show the light of the Thalmor's truth to such lesser beings. I put thoughts of sunny Alinor from my mind and turn back to greet the next guest; a Breton, fair skin and hair - strong Direnni blood, perhaps - and wearing a very classy outfit from Radiant Raiment - Taarie and Endarie's work is impossible to mistake. Most importantly, he carries himself in a confident manner, but without any of the swagger of swine like Razelan.

"Master Talao, I presume?"

"You may indeed, Madame Ambassador." He sweeps into an elegant bow, grasping my outstretched hand and placing a chaste kiss atop his own knuckle rather than mine. Charming, respects superiors, knowledge of etiquette, and a touch of wit? Will wonders never cease? "Truly, I had never entertained the slightest notion of being lucky or talented enough to warrant an invitation to such an illustrious Thalmor soirée. Are you certain you have the right bard?"

"Were you not, it would be the first time my couriers missed their mark." Which, of course, they would not. And he needn't know about the agent who personally confirmed his talent and identity yesternight in Solitude. "It is always possible that you are instead some low-brow charlatan, so I do hope you shall prove your skill later on in the night?"

"A charlatan I could conceivably be called in certain towns, but unskilled I could not," he says with a sly wink. "Nothing would give me greater joy than to perform something for your Ambassadorship, not to mention all these terribly important guests. As I see more of them coming, I shan't monopolize your time just now."

Sadly, he is quite correct, a couple more individuals passing through the door. "By all means. Until later, Talao." With another bow, he takes his leave to the bar, ordering a glass of wine - Arenthia Red, good taste as well - as I return to the dreary drudgery of hostessing. "Vittoria, my darling, you are looking terrifically radiant this evening. How go the matrimonial preparations?" Would that Ondolemar were here, and not stuck babysitting the Reach. He might not be able to alleviate the tedium of meaningless chatter about weddings - doubtful that Vici's upcoming nuptials with that Nord boy will cause any change in the war efforts, but an eye should be kept on them - but at least he'd be miserable with me. Not to mention hypothetically plotting gruesome ways to torture the lot of them.

Hypothetically, of course. The actual torture is saved for the nobodies in the dungeon.

Alas, I must suffer alone, though thankfully the entire guest list has finally arrived and I can get about the proper business. A ghastly business, but one at which I happen to be quite adept.

"Proventus, how is Jarl Balgruuf holding up? I heard there was a stormcloak incursion at the northern border of Whiterun; nothing to worry about, I hope?"

"Elisif, my dear, you seem much recovered this month. I do hope that business regarding the festival didn't affect you too harshly - the Burning of King Olaf, was it? It seems in poor taste to me, but I confess ignorance to some Skyrim customs yet."

"Jarl Siddgeir, I do hope the rebuilding of Helgen is proceeding apace? If you require any assistance, please don't hesitate to call upon the Embassy; we have provisions in place for such events."

"Brelas, another drink for our good guest Thane Erikur; Stormcloak swill simply shall not do."

Yes, quite adept. A touch of flattery, a hint of their enemies to stoke the embers, offers of help and favors, all with a gentle reminder of the Thalmor's watchful eyes. We need not be everywhere in sooth if the masses already believe us to be so. Little pawns on a little chessboard that I nudge around with a whispered word to weaken each other, all thinking it was their own idea to begin with. Political artistry.

"Ah, Lady Ambassador! May I offer you a drink?"

"Oh, Master Bard! I do hope you aren't feeling neglected."

"No, no, not at all, your Ladyship." He shakes his head while handing me a drink - a subtle cantrip assuring me it had not been tampered with. "There is naught I understand better than 'working the room,' as we call it. You are the conductor of a wonderful orchestra of a party, and how it does make music at your slightest whim. I would doff my hat, had I one, to a clear Mistress of the craft, for I have seen many, though none as accomplished as yourself."

"Such flattery, Talao," I say with a half-smile, and a sip of my drink, cool and sweet. "But surely, I hope you do not expect such banal compliments to affect a, as you say, Mistress of the Craft?"

"Ah, but is it not right and proper to shower a host with kind words for the hospitality they have shown? Someone like you is certain to see through insincerity as though 'twere a clear pond, therefore I need not muddy its depths with subtext, and speak with candor."

To this I give a genuine chuckle. "Indeed. How did a gentleman of such refined wit and verbosity wind up in a land like Skyrim; it does not strike me as a place to appreciate such subtle nuance as you and I are fond. Especially during such… troubling times."

"Well, there are a few reasons, all very good ones. In one way, such troubling times are fantastic opportunities for new stories and songs to write. One can only perform the classics so often. To be certain," he says, grabbing an appetizer from a passing Bosmer servant, "it is difficult, if not impossible, to match or surpass the masters of old, the stories that have withstood the test of time, centuries old and yet still popular. But the masses demand fresh entertainment, and I must oblige."

A healthy respect for tradition, yet fulfills obligations to those he deems worthy. I find myself more and more intrigued. "I suppose the courts of High Rock do not afford any tales worthy of transcription, but certainly there are less dangerous places to find inspiration than an active war zone?"

"To be sure there are, Lady Ambassador, but what good is a life lived without a touch of reckless abandon? I could sit at home, reading second-hand letters of the adventures that other folks have undertaken, but nothing compares to experiencing it yourself. Not to mention all the details that get lost the more hands that get in the way. I find it is best to take the most important matters upon yourself rather than delegate, and there is naught more important to me than the craft."

"I admit, it does have an appeal to it." I can see a certain parallel to my own situation, not that he would be aware of any part of it. "Though it does beg the question; how is your craft, Master Bard? I require a demonstration to prove your view."

A wry grin crosses his face. "Why, Madame Ambassador, I thought you would never ask." He polishes off his drink with a swift motion, placing it gingerly on a passing servant's platter. "Have you a lute or other instrument? I can provide mine own accompaniment."

"Certainly." Within a minute, a lute has been brought forth from some dusty corner, and the guests have assembled, curious and hungry for entertainment, like fish in a bowl being offered food. "On your mark, Master Bard."

He finishes tuning the instrument, flashing a smile at his audience. "Lords and ladies, in honor of the festivities of this fine evening, I present to you, in the style of the ancient Nords, a piece I like to call: A Night To Remember." He pauses again, building tension - to borrow his own metaphor from earlier, the conductor's baton in his own hand for the moment… And then begins to strum and sing.

"In Windhelm cold, the wind blows deep,

A pub observes a meet.

Erik Slayer, a strange man finds,

'Three drinks, an' I'll bet this staff.'"

I do admit he has skill to back up his charm, though of course I'd already heard as much from my agent. And the story is rather amusing; this quest the Sam character has put upon the protagonist is absurd, but it does so tickle my fancy to hear humans making right asses of themselves. Cleaning a temple and grovelling before a priestess? Comic genius, in my not so humble opinion. The rest of the buildup is equally amusing, though sometime beggars belief. A marriage to a hagraven? Preposterous. Though I suppose it wouldn't be much of a story were the protagonist butchered, stewed, and eaten.

"Back to the Pale, ruined redoubt,

To Morvanskur's the route.

A belch he heaves, he falters forth

As mages' magics flare."

Ah, some action finally. I would expect a much greater resistance from a fort of mages, but the protagonist manages somehow to bumble his way to success rather than outright combat. Tripping to avoid blasts of destruction magic, illusionary crossfire, and in the end the last two mages wind up blasting each other unconscious as the hero stumbles through a portal; I can't help but laugh at the thought, and Talao - despite being occupied in his craft - catches my eye in that moment and winks.

"'A prank, a prank?' Sanguine prattles,

Debauch'rous Daedric Lord.

'Items no need, minor 'musement,

Through drinks, ideals are known'"

Sam Guevenne was the daedric lord Sanguine? Hmm. Now that I hear the two names side by side, the connection is clear, but I cannot say I would have seen the link were it not pointed out to me. Though I suppose that is why the tale did so. The events do sound like something the Lord of Indulgence would inflict on a helpless mortal if he actually liked them rather than being intent to ruin their life through excess. Though from the sound of the artifact given to the Nord, I imagine he could cause just as much chaos as the Lord of the Never-There

"Erik Slayer now roams the land,

Sanguine Rose by his side.

To drink, to dine, to revel oft,

And ever enjoy his life."

With yet another dramatic flourish - he does so enjoy those - he strums a last chord, and the audience erupts into applause, which I join decorously. "Wonderful, Master Bard, wonderful. I do believe we could all learn a lesson from our unfortunately fortunate protagonist. More drinks, Malborn!" Another cheer from the assembled guests as I take the baton back from Talao. After such a rousing performance, I imagine few people will be attempting too much business, but frolic and revelry also has its place at these events - not too often, lest it become expected, but enough to encourage them to return and keep the information flowing.

"Have I exceeded your expectations, Madame Ambassador?"

"Hmm." I pretend to be deep in thought as Malborn hands myself and Talao another drink each. "I would say you certainly are your own Master at working a crowd. Your wordplay and your painting of stories is beyond reproach. I must say that my only true complaint is of personal taste and dislike of the old Nordic forms; I much prefer the lays of old Alinor."

"Ah, I suppose there is always room for improvement, good Madame."

"Come, Talao, you have done my party a wonderful service. You may address me more familiarly if you wish."

He blinks, I assume caught off by my sudden warmth. Just another very useful tool at my disposal, one that I use rarely, lest it lose efficacy. But I find it works wonders on a certain subset of society. Especially men. "It would be my great honor, Elenwen, to consider you a friend."

"A great honor, indeed? I imagine there are many who would disagree with you within the Empire and High Rock."

"Bah, simpletons all."

The slight shadow cast over his eyes… something beneath the surface there. "Dear me, I hope I have not touched upon a sore spot. Perhaps it is related to the as yet unrevealed other reason you elected to bard abroad?"

He pauses, looking around for eavesdroppers. "I fear that you would not consider me truthful were I to tell you. And I would also worry to the effect others would have to my words as well."

"Well, one is easily taken care of." With a gesture, I raise an invisible wall around us; one of my specialties. "There, none outside our little sphere shall hear us, nor see our lips move. A neat little cantrip I invented. As for the other, you still think that despite your earlier claim that deception against me would be fruitless?"

He touches the magical barrier gently. "Fascinating. That is, forgive me, Elenwen, I assure you I do not doubt your abilities. Simply that even my own family despises me for my view, which is simply that I believe that High Rock was never as prosperous as when it was under Direnni rule."

"You thought I would not take you at your word?"

"It is hardly a common position, to the point of uniqueness. Or at least, I did not meet any Bretons within the noble families that agreed." He takes a deep draught of his drink, as though to cleanse the bad taste from his mouth. "Though consider how thoroughly I was… not disowned, but encouraged to take myself abroad, perhaps it is not uncommon, but merely kept behind closed doors."

Intriguing. Very intriguing. "Yes, I daresay it is an unpopular opinion in a land that takes pride in its politicking."

"To be certain, I can see why some dullards would think so, yet High Rock has hardly been considered a bastion of power and civilization since the Direnni were ousted. And it is especially maddening considering the families most in power are the ones in which the Direnni blood runs strongest. They take pride and shame in equal measure of their heritage, but when I suggest that shame is misplaced, suddenly I am 'fomenting dissent' and 'threatening the province's autonomy.'"

I drink and raise an eyebrow. "Is not High Rock under the direct dominion of the Empire?"

"Exactly, Elenwen! The one time High Rock was fully autonomous, directly after the Direnni were ousted, the entire province was a mess of dozens of small fiefdoms incapable of cooperation until the Brass Tower walked, leaving but five kingdoms and all of Bretony fell under Imperial rule." He pauses in his tirade, taking a deep breath to calm himself. "You must forgive me once more, Elenwen. The whole charade infuriates me. High Rock thrives only when it follows another power, and it's hardly a secret that the current Empire is on the decline. I hardly wish to see my home follow it to destruction."

"Not at all, Talao. I admit, I often feel the same way about the small minds of self-important people." We both pause, watching the rest of the party on the other side of the clear barrier. They are clearly still enjoying themselves, not yet requiring a guiding hand, and so I consider it a safe bet to dig myself into this trusting little Breton. "Would it be safe to assume you consider the Aldmeri Dominion a worthy inheritor to the reins of High Rock's future?"

"I would rather be considered a traitor in Wayrest than watch it die. I would indeed."

Hook, line, and sinker. "Then perhaps we could reach an agreement of sorts. I can always use more friendly faces in my corner, and you strike me as someone who is capable of much you put your mind to, not merely a set of eyes and ears." He nods. "I have some interesting intel that I've lifted from a rat in my dungeon. I've already sent some of my men to take care of it, but when they return their findings to me, I imagine I'll have need of a silver-tongued individual to make use of it."

"Not to worry, Elenwen. You can… uh oh, that doesn't look good."

"Wha- oh not again." Where Talao is looking, I can see Thane Erikur starting to turn red as he accosts one of the serving girls. "Auri-El preserve… I must take care of this, Talao, I apologize. If I do not see you again before the night is over, I must insist you take a room at the Winking Skeever for the next week, I'll assure it's paid for. We will discuss the specifics later, agreed?"

"Of course, Elenwen. Phynaster keep you."

With a wave, I part the spell around us and briskly move toward the brewing altercation before they ruin the evening. "No, I'm sorry, but I can't go anywhere with you," I hear the serving girl say. Brelas, if I remember correctly. "I won't. Please, I must get back to my duties."

"Don't you dare walk away from me, you slut! Do you know who I am?"

"Please, sire, leave me alone!"

A few guests have started staring. "Thane, is there an issue here?"

Brelas looks at me with fear, even as Eriikur's rosy face stretches into a rictus sneer. "Now you're going to be sorry you crossed me. Elenwen! This servant girl has been throwing herself at me in a most disgusting manner."

"Is that so, Erikur?" I sincerely doubt it, though I would never say as much. "And you with such delicate sensibilities. It must have been most upsetting."

"Mistress Elenwen, it's not true! I did nothing!"

"I demand that you have this wench removed from my presence at once!"

"Well, whatever the truth of it, I'm sure a few words with Master Rulindil will have a salutary effect." I gesture to one of the guards. "Take her downstairs."

"No! Sir, you don't know what they'll do to me! Please!" I ignore the Bosmer's cries as she is dragged out of the room with haste. There is no doubt in my mind that Erikur had deluded himself about the girl, but really, her job is to serve the guests; if she is too dull and too prudish to take care of a drunk Thane in one way or another and cause a scene… well, I hardly consider her a benefit to the Embassy in either case.

Well, with that little bit of unpleasantness over, I return to the guests, relieving them that everything was quite alright and not to let it upset their lovely night out. Once all were accounted for, I noticed one guest missing. "Malborn. Whatever happened to Talao? I was hoping to speak with him once more."

"Oh, my apologies, Madame, but he let me know that he was heading back down to the city. Said that the rich wine and the… excitement had upset his head. He did tell me to assure you he would remain in Solitude as long as you needed."

"Unfortunate, but I suppose it can't be helped." Not a worry, my claws were sunk deep, I could tell. Desperate men are so easy to manipulate. And someone as talented as him would make for a useful patsy for our eventual dominion of High Rock. Problems for another day. As for this day's… "Maven, I'd been hoping to catch your ear before the night let out. Come, let's chat about your charming Riften."