Chapter 14

Revelations

"…Nerevar?" Vahkiir repeated, a dumbfounded look on his face. "The Chimer rebel?"

"The very same," Emari – Nerevar – replied, seeming almost sheepish.

Vahkiir continued to stare blankly at Nerevar for several long moments, uncertain of how to respond. To his left, Ilga was similarly speechless, though while Vahkiir was merely stunned, she had become taut with rage. The color had left her face, and he could see her hand shaking as she gripped the hilt of her axe so tightly that her knuckles had turned white. However, as she glanced around, she noticed that the other Chimer were watching her closely, and she apparently decided that she did not wish to risk retaliation from the elves if she attacked Nerevar right then. It was obvious that she dearly wished to, however.

The awkward silence was broken by Llervu, who coughed pointedly and stated, "This is not the place to hold this sort of conversation. We are still in the Dwemer's territory, and while they have elected not to pursue us for now, I for one do not wish to try their patience any further. We should continue on our way."

Emari – Nerevar, Vahkiir corrected himself sternly – turned to Llervu and nodded. "A fair point," he said, before turning back to Vahkiir. "I… understand that this is unexpected for you, and that you have many questions. However-"

"I will ask them later," Vahkiir interrupted shortly, casting a quick glance at Llervu. "You are correct – we should be on our way. And… I need time to collect my thoughts."

"Of course," Nerevar said gently. He glanced at Ilga, then added, "As for-"

"Be silent, rebel!" Ilga spat, her eyes narrowed in fury. "Do not speak to me!"

Nerevar fell silent, then bowed his head. "As you wish." He turned back to the rest of the caravan and shouted, "Let's press onwards, then! We have plenty of daylight left, so let's make the most of it while we can."

The other Chimer let out shouts of acknowledgement, and moments later, the guar were once again trudging through the snow, pulling the heavy carts behind them across the icy road. Nerevar glanced at Ilga and Vahkiir one more time, a look of genuine regret on his face, and then he made his way back to the front of the caravan to supervise their journey.

Brevyn sidled up to Vahkiir and tried to catch his eye, but Vahkiir ignored him. Instead, he silently made his way to the back of the caravan, where he hoped that he would not be disturbed. Ilga shot Brevyn a venomous warning look before joining him, leaving the Chimer standing in the snow with a slightly hurt but understanding expression on his face. Reluctantly, he wandered up towards the middle of the caravan to instead join some of the other elven guards.

The trip was uncomfortable, and much of it passed in silence. None of the other Chimer dared make their way to the rear of the caravan, where Vahkiir and Ilga trudged silently through the snow together side-by side. Occasionally, the mer would steal glances back at them, but they would always find that Vahkiir refused to meet their gaze, while Ilga invariably snarled at them threateningly. Eventually, all of them stopped looking back and left the pair alone with their thoughts.

For a time, a simmering anger roiled in the pit of Vahkiir's stomach whenever he thought of how the Chimer had deceived him for so long. However, as the day wore on, his fury cooled, and he eventually came to realize that he was not truly angry with them – at least, not in the way that Ilga clearly was. Of course, he was irritated about the fact that they had withheld the truth from him, but he realized that all that he truly desired was answers. Of course, he was unsure how much trust he could place in the elves, now that they had admitted to deceiving him, yet… so long as they answered his questions, he felt as though he could at least forgive them. He wanted to at least hear their story before he decided whether to remain furious with them.

The caravan made its way swiftly along the Dwemer road, passing through a canyon that ran neatly overtop a relatively shallow mountain. The pass itself was more than wide enough that the caravan could travel through it comfortably, with the wagons even able to travel double-file. It was also fairly open, affording them a wide field of view, and though a pack of wolves and a lone troll eyed them from atop the cliffs as they passed by, neither of the potential threats thought it wise to attack a full caravan of armed warriors. Thus, they were able to traverse the pass unmolested.

As nightfall approached, Nerevar eventually signaled for the caravan to come to a stop for the night. They were near the apex of a tall hill, which Vahkiir noted would give them a clear view in all directions if they were to be attacked. Nerevar also instructed them to make camp near an indentation in one of the sheer, rocky cliff walls – not quite a cave, but at least a near semi-circle of rock – where they would be relatively protected from the wind, at least so long as it blew cleanly through the canyon. Once the wagons had been arranged in a loose ring and the guar brought inside of it, the Chimer began setting up their tents and building campfires for the night.

As the fires were being lit and pots were filled with snow to be melted over the fires to make water for the stews, Vahkiir wandered over to where Nerevar was sitting. He was accompanied by his two guards, Brevyn, and Llervu, all of whom were speaking to one another in low Elven. As he drew near, however, Nerevar looked up with an expression of mild surprise that quickly melted into a relieved smile.

"Good evening, Vahkiir," he greeted cordially. It was clear from his expression that he wanted to say more, but that he also didn't want to push Vahkiir unless he was ready to speak with them.

"Good evening," Vahkiir replied gruffly as he motioned to one of the bare stones that had been arranged around the fire to serve as a makeshift seat. "Might I join you?"

"Please," Nerevar invited with a wave of his hand.

Vahkiir nodded and sank onto the stone, then leaned forward and folded his hands in front of him. Though the gaze of every Chimer in the group lingered on him apprehensively, he said nothing for quite some time, and instead simply watched the crackling fire as he gathered his thoughts. Fortunately, none of the Chimer pushed him, even as they continued to gaze at him expectantly. When the silence finally became too much to bear, he sighed and looked up.

"I have questions that I wish answered," he said shortly.

"As is to be expected," Nerevar nodded, sitting back on the stone and resting his hands on the smooth surface behind him. "But first, I believe we should ask one other to join us."

Nerevar's eyes slid past him, and Vahkiir looked over his shoulder to see that Ilga was leaning against the cliff face several feet away. Her arms were folded tightly over her chest, and she was glaring at the elves suspiciously, as though expecting them to attack at any moment. She tore her gaze away from Nerevar to catch Vahkiir's eye, her frown making it clear that she wanted to join them, but did not want to address the elves if she could avoid it. Silently, Vahkiir nodded and motioned for her to come closer, whereupon she exhaled and reluctantly pushed herself away from the wall to stalk over to them.

"You have questions as well, do you not?" Nerevar asked as Vahkiir made room on his stone for Ilga to sit beside him.

"I do, but I do not trust you will answer them truthfully," Ilga snapped viciously.

Nerevar bowed his head slightly. "I understand," he replied evenly. "Nevertheless… ask, and I shall answer."

"Then allow me to begin with the first and most important question," Vahkiir replied, leaning forward with a scowl. "Who are you?"

The Chimer sat back on the cold stone, resting his hands on his knees. "As I have said, my name is Nerevar," he replied simply. "I am the leader of one of the many warbands of Chimer rebelling against the Nordic occupation."

"Just Nerevar?" Ilga scoffed derisively. "Were you not given a surname?"

"My surname is unimportant, especially since I doubt that few in Veloth would care to recognize my kinship to them anyways," Nerevar said plainly. "After all, I was born as an outlander, outside of Veloth. Many in Veloth see me as almost as foreign as the Nords occupying them. Even if they did recognize my name, though, my family is of no import. I am not descended from one of the Great Houses, although since I am an outlander, I doubt they would care even if I was."

"Veran is not your surname?" Vahkiir asked with a frown.

Nerevar chuckled. "No. It is a common name in Veloth, however, so I chose to adopt it as part of my pseudonym. In truth, Emari Veran is a name I devised by rearranging the letters of a simple phrase – 'I am Nerevar.'" A mischievous smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. "I thought it rather amusing to introduce myself as such to the Nords, since none ever suspected that I was, in a way, giving them my true name."

"Clever," Vahkiir said unenthusiastically. "With that said, you claimed that you were born an outsider. Why, then, do you have any interest in what happens in Veloth? It is not even your true home, after all."

"I may not have been born in Veloth, but I am a Chimer. Thus, Veloth is my homeland," Nerevar replied. Though he was keeping his voice level, Vahkiir noticed the emphasis in his tone. "What's more, even if I were not, one does not need to be born in a realm, nor even to be a member of its native species, to consider it his home. There are many tales of outlanders who accomplished great deeds in other realms, and who eventually adopted them as their new homelands. I see no reason why I should not do the same. In truth, I consider the fact that I was not raised in Veloth to be something of a blessing."

"How so?" Ilga sneered. "Would you perhaps claim that because you were not born in Veloth, you are free to wander Tamriel as you please, as a vagabond?" She snarled a bit more fiercely, "That because you have no homeland, you have feel no guilt about stealing the secrets of other realms?"

Nerevar held Ilga's gaze for a long moment, then replied softly, "No. It is because, unlike most of my kin, I am not sworn to one of the Great Houses. I am not a servant of the Redoran, the Hlaalu, the Dres. I consider myself a child of Veloth. As such, I believe that the land can be united, rather than remain as it is – fractured by the petty bickering of the Great House nobles who are more interested in squabbling over scraps of land and attempting to dominate their peers, even as the Nords clap their subjects in chains. I see the Great Houses as only fractions of a single great land, which can and should be united."

"United by whom? You?" Vahkiir asked, narrowing his eyes.

"If necessary," Nerevar replied simply. "If not by me, though, then by another. If a more worthy ruler were to rise, then I would be glad to support them. Since I have not yet met one who is worthy of claiming the mantle of overlord of Veloth, however, I have taken it upon myself to assume that burden."

"Which makes you no better than any other petty warlord," Ilga muttered.

Nerevar tilted his head slightly. "One could see it that way," he admitted after a moment's thought. "Others – particularly my Nordic enemies –see me as nothing more than an outlaw, a usurper… or, at worst, a murderer who must be put down like a mad nix-hound. And admittedly, few even in Veloth see me as a courageous liberator seeking to free his people from the Nordic yoke. I have little legitimacy and scant power, save for my small band here," he said, casting a warm smile around at the other Chimer.

Ilga scoffed. "Yet you feel you are the one who can unite Veloth?" she asked, her tone dripping with scorn.

"I do," Nerevar replied firmly. "Simply because no one else will. As I've said, the Great Houses are too focused upon their own petty interests, and any champion they put forth would place the needs of his own house before the good of the country. I have no such attachments, and thus fight on behalf of all Chimer. It does not matter to me which house one is sworn to; we must all band together to free Veloth."

"And the Dwemer?" Vahkiir asked.

Nerevar smiled faintly as he reached forward and poked the copper cauldron of stew simmering over the firepit. "They are integral to my plan," he replied softly. "I have no doubt that they are the single mightiest race in Tamriel, perhaps all of Nirn. To be sure, there are other races who exceed their skill in certain areas – the Altmer of Alinor are peerless spellcasters, and the Nords possess the unique and powerful thu'um. In terms of craftwork and smithing, however, that Dwemer we spoke to was correct – we are as children who have barely learned to wield sticks and stones when compared to their prowess.

"Yet, that is not the only reason I seek to sway them to our cause," Nerevar added, sitting back again as the pot began to boil. "I have said that I wish to unite all of Veloth. I do not merely mean the Chimer of the Great Houses. I intend to bring together all who inhabit the land – the Housekin, the Ashlanders, the nobles, the slaves… and, yes, the Dwemer. They are as much a part of Veloth as any Chimer, and I wish to include them in our newly liberated and united homeland as equals."

"Even when they have made it quite clear that they wish nothing to do with you," Llervu muttered bitterly.

Nerevar glanced at him, then chuckled faintly. "They are reclusive and stubborn, to be sure, but I believe they can be reasoned with," he said easily. "More importantly, though, they have as much claim to the land as we, if not more. Some tales claim that they were in the land before Veloth led our ancestors over the mountains. The other Houses may not recognize that fact, but I do. We can no more dislodge them from Veloth than we can eat the lava of Red Mountain. Therefore, I would respect their presence and attempt to integrate them into the new realm, rather than decree that they and we should remain separate. We are all children of Veloth, and we must act as such."

"Foolishness," Llervu muttered.

"Perhaps," Nerevar admitted as he leaned forward to inspect the bubbling stew. "What I believe the Dwemer want, though, is respect. So long as we demonstrate a willingness – nay, a desire – to respect their claim to their lands and holds, they will be willing to live alongside us in peace. And, more importantly, to aid us when the land is threatened, as it is now."

"Yet the Nords have never conquered Vvardenfell because of the Dwemer," Ilga pointed out as Nerevar began ladling the stew into a wooden bowl, which he handed to the guard on his left. "One of the decrees passed down by King Vrage the Gifted was to never antagonize the Dwemer, as he feared that if we roused their ire, we would immediately be defeated. Furthermore, any chief or king of Skyrim that disregarded that decree swiftly found that Vrage was right to be cautious – all were defeated, without exception. Therefore, why should they ally with you when they have no need for your aid?"

Nerevar glanced up and smirked faintly, his eyes glinting cunningly. "Are you saying that you do not believe your people could, in time, conquer the Dwemer as well?" he asked. "If not, then I am surprised you place so little faith in your own people, and it is in our best interest to seek an alliance with them. If so, then it is in the Dwemer's best interest to band together with us to repel you before you can succeed."

Ilga snarled. "You are twisting my words!"

"Quite," Nerevar agreed calmly as he offered her a bowl. Ilga hesitated, eyeing the dish suspiciously, as though she suspected it of being poisoned, but when she saw the other Chimer spooning the food into their mouths, she reluctantly accepted it. "Either way, my point still stands – we need the Dwemer just as they need us."

"And you need them," Brevyn added. He had been mostly silent through the conversation, but now he leaned forward and pinned Nerevar with his gaze. "If none of the other Great Houses accept you as one of their own, then securing the friendship of the Dwemer would give you the army you need to cow them into submission."

Nerevar paused with a bowl half-extended towards Brevyn, his eyes lingering on the other Chimer. Then a soft chuckle escaped his lips. "Perceptive of you," he said. "However, while it is true that earning the friendship of the Dwemer would provide me with a great deal of leverage to negotiate with the Great Houses, you are incorrect in assuming that I wish to intimidate and subdue them. Rather, I am hoping that an alliance with the Dwemer will prove that all of Veloth can unite for the common good, and that if even they are willing to join hands with me, then the stubborn nobles of the Great Houses should be willing to do the same."

Brevyn tilted his head at Nerevar as he reached out and took the bowl. "Justify it however you like," Brevyn replied with a shrug.

Vahkiir grimaced, but Nerevar didn't seem insulted by the response. Instead, he ladled more of the stew into a bowl and offered it to Vahkiir. "Do either of you have any further questions?" he asked.

Vahkiir fell silent as he absently dug at the stew – a combination of Velothi mushrooms and ash yams mixed with Nordic winter cabbage, carrots, and beans, flavored with wild herbs they had been gathering along the way. After taking a few bites, he decided to ask the one question that continued to nag at him.

"Do you have any designs on me, then? Any plans to use me in your war?" Vahkiir asked, looking up from his meal.

Nerevar took a few moments to poke at his own bowl before looking up again. "I will not lie to you – I would love nothing more than if you were to join us in liberating Veloth." Vahkiir scowled and angrily opened his mouth, but before he could speak, Nerevar held up a hand. "However, you have made it quite clear that you have no interest in being recruited by either myself or Skyrim, and while I cannot speak for our enemies, I intend to respect your decision," he explained. "Regardless, what I said before continues to hold true – I feel that we have a debt to repay to you by seeing you safely to the Throat of the World. Once we have completed that task, we can go our separate ways if you wish, or we can continue to travel together. Were you to choose the latter, we would still welcome your company, and you would still be under no obligation to aid us – though any aid you did provide would be deeply appreciated," he added with a sly grin.

Vahkiir briefly rolled his eyes. "We shall see," he muttered.

"A fair response," Nerevar replied. "I shall also confess that I am quite curious about where your path leads you, even if it does not always run alongside ours. I cannot recall any stories about a Dragonborn being called directly to the Throat of the World, and I cannot help but wonder at the purpose of these summons."

"I suspect that it coincides with these dragons that have been plaguing us," the smaller of Emari's guards piped up suddenly, his voice muffled behind his full-faced helmet. Until that point, they had been furiously scribbling something on a scroll, their bowl resting beside him while they apparently paid no attention to the conversation, but they now peered over the edge of the papyrus. "The tales claim that Dragonborn do not appear without cause… even if their purpose is often lost to their greed and wrath before they fulfill it."

Vahkiir tilted his head curiously, but then Ilga snapped, "That is another matter that is vexing me! Those two have yet to show their faces! Are they outlaws as well?! Assassins?!" she demanded as she rounded on Nerevar. "If we are to travel together, I would know their identities!"

Nerevar considered her for a moment, then turned to glance over at the two guards. "What say you?" he asked. "I will not command either you to reveal yourselves if you do not wish-"

"I see little harm in it," the larger of the two guards said suddenly. "Since you've chosen to reveal yourself to them, it's only fitting that we follow suit, wouldn't you say?"

"Your decision," Nerevar shrugged, taking another bite of his stew.

The guard nodded and reached up to grasp the bottom of the heavy bone helmet. As he lifted it off of his head, he let out a low sigh of relief and set it down in the snow beside him before looking up. Vahkiir was greeted with the sight of a broad, strong face, with a stout jawline and high, pointed ears. He had no hair, though Vahkiir was uncertain if it was because he shaved his head or if he was naturally bald. His golden-brown eyes shone with a deep intelligence that belied what might have been an otherwise brutish appearance, and he greeted Vahkiir with a broad, easy smile. Beside him, Brevyn's mouth fell open in surprise.

"A pleasure to properly make your acquaintance at last, Dovahkiin," the guard said in a deep, bassy voice that seemed to make the air in front of his mouth tremble. "Allow me to introduce myself. I am Voryn Dagoth, lord and head of House Dagoth."

Before Vahkiir could respond, Brevyn immediately fell to one knee and bowed his head. "My lord!" he exclaimed breathlessly.

Voryn blinked in surprise, then burst out laughing as he reached out and rested one large, heavy hand on Brevyn's shoulder. "Rest assured, there is no need for such displays of submission now, kinsman," he said calmly. "I would have revealed myself long before now had such trivialities mattered to me. Please, resume your meal."

Brevyn blinked as he looked up and uneasily settled back into his seat. "As you say, my lord," he half-stammered. "Though I must ask – why did you not at least reveal yourself to me before now. I… if I at all offended or insulted you-"

"You did not, kinsman," Voryn insisted, still chuckling with amusement. "Be at ease. I have been observing you since we first met, and you have done nothing to bring shame or dishonor to our House. You have been loyal to Veloth, and you have abided by your oath to the Dragonborn. I could ask no more of you, and I have been greatly pleased by your conduct." His eyes flashed with cunning. "Nor do I believe your actions have incurred the wrath of your other patron, weaver."

Brevyn's eyes widened briefly with surprise, but then he bowed his head. "Your words honor me, my lord," he murmured.

"Honor you have earned by your own merit, Dagoth Brevyn." Voryn then turned to Vahkiir and lowered his head slightly. "As for you, Vahkiir… and you, Ilga," he added, casting a quick glance at Ilga as well. "Forgive me for my deception. However, as with Nerevar, I could not reveal my identity. I would make for an even more valuable prisoner than Nerevar, after all."

Ilga grunted softly as she set down her bowl. "Quite. Any of the jarls would be unspeakably pleased to have one of the leaders of the six Great Houses in their dungeons, especially were they to learn that you had allied yourself with a rebel. They could sell you for a king's ransom, execute you for treason, or simply keep you in chains as a trophy to gloat about to the other jarls."

Vahkiir glanced at Ilga, then turned to Voryn with a faint frown. "Then… you are one of the nobles who rules Veloth?" he asked. He still did not have a firm grasp on the powers that ruled over Brevyn's homeland.

"I am. Though I only command those sworn to my house," Voryn explained patiently, leaning forward and lacing his long fingers together. "Which is to say, I only control a rather small portion of Veloth, and my army is weaker than most jarls."

"Though our clan does number in the thousands," Brevyn added absently around a mouthful of ash yam.

Vahkiir raised an eyebrow, then turned back to Voryn. "Then, if I may… I mean no offense to either you or Nerevar, but it seems as though you follow him, not the other way around."

"There is no cause for me to take offense at the truth," Voryn replied with a shrug.

Vahkiir frowned deeply. "But… why?" he asked. "You are a high noble, yes? Why bow to a commoner?"

Voryn and Nerevar glanced at one another and simultaneously chuckled. "Simply put, because I believe in Nerevar's dream of a free, united Veloth," Voryn replied. "And because I know that I am not the one who will unite the Great Houses. You must understand, if I were to attempt to name myself Hortator – Supreme War-leader, in Nordic – of Veloth, the other Houses would fiercely oppose it. They would claim that I was attempting to rule the entire realm in the name of House Dagoth, and they would fear that I would then attempt to suppress and weaken their Houses. After all, it's what they would do. Why should I be any different?" He shook his head. "No… if the Chimer of Veloth are to join hands, they must do so under the banner of one who holds no allegiance to the Great Houses or the Ashlanders. The land must be united by a champion who has no personal stake in the politics of our land, so that the other Houses cannot claim that one of their peers is seeking dominion over them. It must be an outlander. It must be Nerevar."

Vahkiir shook his head. "But why do you follow Nerevar in particular? Why not any of the other warband captains?" he asked, making sure to turn his gaze to the caravan captain as he spoke so that Nerevar did not feel he was being talked around while he was present.

Voryn tilted his head back, gazing up at the cloudy night sky. "I suppose you could call it faith," he said slowly. "Nerevar and I first met when his caravan arrived at my personal stronghold, Kogorhun. When I first received word that a mere caravan captain was requesting an audience with me, I shall confess that I thought him impudent and arrogant. However, something about his bold request intrigued me, and I decided to humor him. When he began speaking of his dream of a united Veloth, however, I found myself… entranced." He flashed a fond smile over at Nerevar, who returned it with a wry grin. "He spoke with such passion, such fervor. It did not matter to him that our lands had been occupied for centuries. That the Nords still possessed the most powerful army in Tamriel. That our land was fractured and ruled by bickering nobles who cared more about pointing blades at their rivals backs than drawing them across our overlords' throats. Nerevar still believed we could expel the Nords from our homeland, unite as one people, and forge a golden age for Veloth." He shook his head. "He certainly was not the first to say that the Nords must be removed, but he was the first who truly seemed to believe it could be accomplished. And the longer I spoke with him, the more I came to believe that he would be the one who could achieve such a dream." A warm smile spread across his face as he sat back. "Thus, I decided to pledge House Dagoth to him, to offer him any resources he needed, and to aid him in any way possible, to ensure that Veloth becomes a free land for the Chimer."

"You give me far too much credit, my friend," Nerevar said as he reached over and squeezed Voryn's shoulder. "Nor is this my fight alone. Without your support, I would not have been able to gather even a hundred warriors, and I would have been slain many times over – like earlier today, for instance," he said with an embarrassed grin.

"Which is why I keep telling you to take better care of yourself, you fool," Voryn laughed. His tone was almost fraternal, as though he was an older brother chiding a younger brother for hurting himself after falling from a tree, Vahkiir noted. "But no matter what path you commit to, I will follow you down it. That is the oath I swore, and I intend to keep to it."

"How touching," Ilga grumbled bitterly. The others turned back to her as she set her empty bowl in the snow and leaned forward, her eyes narrowed at the other guard. "And who are you?" she demanded.

The smaller guard appeared to ignore her for a few moments, his reed pen still scratching across the papyrus scroll draped across his lap. Only when Nerevar nudged him with his shoulder did the guard look up with a sigh. "Oh, very well," he said. "Though it is not as though she will recognize me."

"You are also wanted in this realm, so it is possible she will. And regardless, if we are to travel together, you should make an effort to earn her trust," Nerevar said softly.

"Even if she knows my face, she will not trust me," the guard retorted blandly. When Nerevar frowned, though, they reluctantly set down their pen and replied, "Very well. As you wish."

Vahkiir watched as the guard reached up and lifted the full-faced helm from his head, sighing softly as they did. Their face was androgynous, though they mostly seemed masculine. Like Voryn, his head was bald, and he had high, pointed ears that reached almost past the top of his scalp. His jaw was slender, though with a distinctly male shape to it, his cheeks were slightly gaunt, and his lips were full. His large eyes were a deep amber color, and as they fixed on Vahkiir, he could not help but feel as though the young man was staring straight through him. Though he was undeniably handsome, there was something unnerving about him that sent a faint shiver up Vahkiir's spine. What's more, he seemed familiar.

"We have met once before," the young man said, as though answering Vahkiir's unspoken question. "Though I did not have a chance to properly speak with you then… nor the desire, as I was yet unaware of the role you would play in our journey. I am Vehk, if you care to recall my name from when we were in Blacklight."

Vahkiir tilted his head slightly. "You… do seem familiar," he admitted slowly.

Vehk nodded slowly. "I was the one who Nerevar sent to speak with the leaders of House Redoran about joining our cause, for all the good that did. I suppose I cannot fault you if you do not remember me. It was a rather brief encounter."

"I recall your face, though I am afraid that I do not recognize you the way that I do Lord Dagoth," Brevyn said.

Vehk hummed softly. His face remained neutral, though, so Vahkiir couldn't tell if he was displeased. "Unsurprising. Unlike Lord Dagoth, I have no great claim to fame," he replied. Though his tone was even, Vahkiir thought that he heard a note of bitterness in his voice. "I am not a noble, nor a priest. I am no great warrior either. I am merely one of Lord Nerevar's junior counselors and advisors."

Beside him, Nerevar let out a merry laugh. "You are too modest, Vehk," he said, placing a hand on the smaller man's shoulder. "Vehk is among the wisest and cleverest of my companions. He is an ardent student of history, poetry, and lore. What's more, he has a remarkable talent for seeing through the designs of my enemies, and his advice is always sound. His cunning makes him as valuable as ten thousand warriors, and I am ever grateful for his contributions."

"You honor me, Nerevar," Vehk said quietly as he looked away. "Though it pains me that you still do not heed my advice regarding the Dwemer."

"And it pains me that you continue to challenge me about my decision," Nerevar replied simply.

"Hmph. In one breath, you claim to treasure my advice, and in the next you ignore it," Vehk pointed out as he picked up his scroll and resumed scribbling on it. "Which simply shows how valuable my so-called wisdom truly is to you."

"I am grateful for your advice," Nerevar insisted. "However, whether I choose to follow it or not is my prerogative."

"So it is," Vehk murmured, more to himself than to anyone else. He then lifted the scroll up and hid his face behind it once more as he resumed scribbling across the thin surface.

Nerevar watched him for a few moments, then turned back to Vahkiir and Ilga. "In any case, you now know who we are," he said as he leaned forward to wash his empty bowl in the snow. "Once again, I apologize for the deception. This is the truth of who we are. Can you accept it?"

Vahkiir looked down and gazed into the dancing fire as he considered Nerevar's question silently. After pondering it for a short while, he asked, "Will you swear to me that you will not attempt to draw me into your war?"

"I swear," Nerevar stated immediately, to Vahkiir's mild surprise. "If you wish to aid us in any way, I will welcome it, but I shall not ask you to join us again. That is your decision, and I shall respect it regardless of whether it benefits us or not."

Vahkiir nodded and looked up. "Very well. Then I look forward to continuing to travel with you all, Nerevar."

Nerevar grinned, then turned to Ilga. "And-?"

"Do not speak to me," Ilga snapped curtly as she pushed herself up. "I am only restraining myself from slaying you because of my oath. Certainly, your guards might cut me down before I reach you, but even were I to fail, my courage would be celebrated in the halls of Sovngarde. Vahkiir is the sole reason you yet live, rebel." Despite her words, she cast a wary eye at Voryn and Vehk, the former of whom matched her gaze, while the latter half-pretended to ignore her, but was clearly watching her from around the edge of his scroll. "So if you tire of having your head attached to your shoulders, feel free to approach me. I would be happy to relieve you of your burden. Otherwise, leave me be."

With that, Ilga turned on her heel and stalked across the snow away from the fire. Vahkiir pushed himself up to follow her, but he had only walked a few steps when he felt a hand fall on his shoulder. He looked over his shoulder to see that Brevyn was lightly restraining him.

"Do not pursue her. At least not yet," the mer said in a low voice.

"If she attacks-" Vahkiir began.

"She will not. She is no fool, and despite what she claims, she has no desire to die," Brevyn assured him, releasing his arm. "However, if you defend us in any way, I fear she will view that as a betrayal on your part. Nothing you say right now will comfort her." He looked past Vahkiir at where Ilga had taken a seat on a boulder. "Simply allow her some time to consider all that she has heard tonight."

Vahkiir frowned and folded his arms over his chest, watching her in silence for a few moments. Then, softly, he asked, "How long have you known?"

"About Nerevar?" Brevyn asked. "Almost immediately upon meeting him." Vahkiir looked over his shoulder and raised an eyebrow. "Admittedly, I was not certain at first, but I had heard certain tales about him. Among them were whispers that he had a rather distinctive appearance. Even so, while wild, white hair is uncommon among Chimer, it is hardly unique, so I was uncertain as to whether our captain was indeed Nerevar himself, or merely a mer who shared his appearance. Still, there were enough other similarities – his charisma, his martial prowess, his occupation – that I was reasonably confident about his identity."

"And you did not think to tell me?" Vahkiir asked with a scowl.

Brevyn shook his head. "Forgive me, but I did not believe that it was my secret to tell. Whether Nerevar chose to reveal his identity or not was his decision to make, not mine. Besides, I did not think it vital that you know one way or another."

Vahkiir narrowed his eyes angrily at that. "You did not think it necessary to warn me that we were traveling with a rebel war-leader?" he growled.

"Nerevar is hardly the only rebel warlord in Veloth," Brevyn pointed out. "Certainly, his ambitions are loftier than most, and he has enjoyed a surprising amount of success in his campaigns, but there are dozens of Nord-hunting Chimer warbands roaming the ashlands, and Nerevar does not even command the largest army, even with my House's support. The Nords likely do not consider him a serious threat, even after he liberated Blacklight. Thus, so long as he did not reveal his name, I did not feel we were in much danger."

"And if we were? If they did discover his identity?" Vahkiir countered.

"We could have been attacked, true. However, even then, I doubt we would have been in any serious peril," Brevyn replied calmly as he folded his hands behind his back. "For one, you will note that even without our adversaries knowing of our identities, we have been attacked, simply because we are Chimer traveling through Skyrim. Yet, each time, we were able to repel them with minimal casualties. Nerevar does have rather skilled warriors under his command, particularly Lord Voryn and Vehk. Furthermore, I doubt the Jarls would care to muster entire armies against a single caravan captain. It would be a pointless waste of resources. Better to drive us into the tundra and let the cold take us," he chuckled bitterly.

"This is not a laughing matter, Brevyn!" Vahkiir snapped.

Brevyn lazily glanced at Vahkiir over his shoulder. "You have said that you have no interest in our war, correct?"

"I have not, and I do not," Vahkiir confirmed coldly.

Brevyn nodded. "Then if we were to suffer an attack, all you would need do is explain that you are Dragonborn, and that you have merely been traveling with us Chimer. You have no affiliation with us, so they have no reason to attack you. As you are cousin to them, most Nords in this land would be willing to take you at your word, especially if you were to show that you are, in fact, Dragonborn. That title alone earns you significant respect among these people, and were you to demonstrate a Shout, even the most belligerent would be unwilling to earn your ire. So, if we are discovered and we do fall under attack, disassociate yourself from us. None among us will begrudge you."

Vahkiir stared at Brevyn blankly. "How are you able to recommend I betray you so easily?" he asked softly.

Brevyn smiled faintly, almost sadly. "It is what most of us would do," he admitted, turning away to watch a gust of wind blowing flecks of loose snow across the icy ground. "While my people do value honor, we also accept the realities of the world. Boethiah teaches us that if one must betray another to survive, there is no shame in doing so. Better to live and fight another day than to die pointlessly."

"Would you betray me so easily, then?" Vahkiir demanded coldly.

Brevyn turned back around and immediately shook his head. "No," he stated emphatically. "Because I swore an oath to protect you, and I intend to keep to that. Such oaths are not lightly broken, even among my people. In fact, such bonds are what keep us from devolving into a lawless, chaotic frenzy of murder for personal gain."

"You would not even tell me of Nerevar's identity. Yet you expect me to trust you?" Vahkiir retorted. Brevyn sighed and looked away again without answering. After a moment, Vahkiir asked coldly, "Are you hiding any other secrets from me?"

"Many," Brevyn said bluntly. "And no, I will not share them with you."

"Then I ask again, how can I trust you?!" Vahkiir snapped.

Brevyn exhaled slowly, then turned to face Vahkiir directly. "Vahkiir, have you shared everything about yourself with me?" he asked. "Every facet of your life? Or are there some parts of it that you wish to keep to yourself?"

"I…." Vahkiir hesitated.

Brevyn nodded. "Of course there are. We all have secrets that we have no intention of divulging, no matter how much trust we place in our companions. There is no shame in that. It is simply a fact of life." He smirked grimly to himself and looked down. "I will share one secret with you – I am a devotee of the Daedric Prince Mephala. Do you know of her?"

"The name is unfamiliar to me," Vahkiir admitted.

"Mephala is one of the patron daedra of the Chimer," Brevyn explained. "She is the mistress of intrigue, deception… and most of all, secrets." The elf looked up, meeting Vahkiir's eyes again. "So, to me, secrets are not merely important – they are outright sacred, and we do not reveal them lightly, even with close friends and allies. In fact, by telling you of my devotion to her, I am committing a taboo amongst the truly devoted."

"Then you are admitting that you cannot be trusted," Vahkiir concluded grimly.

Brevyn shook his head. "You misunderstand me. I am telling you that even though we all keep our secrets – whether out of necessity or simple desire – that does not mean that we cannot and should not trust each other. If we demanded total honesty from others before we could trust them, no one would ever form bonds. Friendships are built on the assumption that you can trust another, despite the fact that you know that there are certain things your companions cannot and will not share with you."

Vahkiir narrowed his eyes. "You are simply trying to justify yourself," he snarled.

Brevyn considered him for a long moment, then lowered his gaze. "Perhaps," he conceded. "Vahkiir, we are at war with these Nords. If I must keep information from you in the hopes that it will lead to the freedom of my homeland, I will do so without remorse." He folded his hands behind his back. "However, as I said, there is one other facet of our society that we hold even more dear – our oaths. I have sworn an oath to protect you, and I intend to keep to it."

Vahkiir considered him for a long moment, then turned and spat on the snow in disgust. "You just explained that betrayal is not only accepted, but lauded by your people," he pointed out.

"For followers of Boethiah, yes. You absolutely should not trust them," Brevyn chuckled. "However, I never betrayed you. I simply did not share information that I did not think you needed to know. I have not forsaken my oath to protect you. Nor shall I."

Vahkiir sighed. "Again, though, how am I to believe you?" he retorted coldly.

Brevyn frowned faintly, then shrugged. "I suppose you cannot," he replied simply. "I can give you assurances until the next kalpa, but there is no guarantee you will ever believe me. So, to that end, all I can do is demonstrate that I intend to hold to my oath, and if, in time you choose to trust me again, so much the better." He then smirked slightly. "However, in my opinion, a bit of suspicion does not go amiss for anyone. Especially a Dragonborn who intends to remain staunchly neutral in this war."

Vahkiir narrowed his eyes at Brevyn's smirk, his fingers clenching with anger. "You should leave me be. I have much to ponder," he growled.

"As you wish," Brevyn replied easily with a nod. "Rest assured, though, that if you wish to return to the fire, no one here will deny you. We would enjoy your company. However, if you wish to remain apart for now, none will press you to do otherwise."

Vahkiir scowled for a moment, then looked away and folded his arms across his chest. "Perhaps in a short while," he muttered. "I… wish to be alone for now."

"Very well," Brevyn said as he made his way back to the fire. "There is still some stew left as well, if you are still hungry."

"Mm," Vahkiir answered noncommittally.

Brevyn nodded and turned to return to the fireside, leaving Vahkiir alone. A cold wind blew over him as he stared down at the valley stretched out below them. Not for the first time, he wished that he was back home, with his wife and his children. He could not help but wonder if they were also eating right now – if Strunheim was tending to his sisters like he had been ordered, if the girls were listening to their mother… if Brit was thinking of him as well. He would give anything to be with them.

Instead, he was in a foreign land on a freezing winter night, camping with duplicitous, murderous elves, in the middle of a land of men who wished to use him as a tool in their own pointless wars. It seemed that there was no one he could trust. If he died out here, he felt that he would do so unmourned, and unknown to his family until many months had passed and they finally realized that he was not returning home.

That thought, rather than chilling him, seemed to spread liquid fire through his veins. He would not die out here, he told himself sternly. No man or elf would take his life so long as his family was waiting for him. Even if there was no one in this alien land that he could trust, he would survive, if only to fulfill his oath to return to them. He would simply have to be more alert for knives pointed at his back from now on. Brevyn was right about that much, he reluctantly admitted to himself.

With a soft, resolved grunt, he turned to make his way back to the fire. As he did, however, he caught sight of Ilga, still sitting with her back turned to the camp. For a moment, he considered going to speak with her, but when he took a step towards her, the sound of his boot crunching in the snow caused her to suddenly swing and glare at him with such intensity that it stopped him dead in his tracks. In that instant, he felt as though he was staring down a snarling wolf. Exhaling slowly, he decided to follow Brevyn's advice and leave her be. Instead, he simply nodded to her and turned to make his way to his tent. He felt there was little else to discuss that night, and he would undoubtedly need to rise early the next morning to continue his journey to High Hrothgar.