And I think you have the right suspect.


Chapter 3.4


Cyrodiil, Ocato’s office.

“Lord! Lord!” Ocato looked up at the sudden sound with an irritated expression. He instantly smoothed his expression down to one of stoic calm and scolded himself for showing weakness, even if it had only been for a mere moment.
“Yes? What matter would be so important that it is necessary to disturb a chancellor of the Council?” He asked in a dry monotone.

The pages all fidgeted about nervously and Ocato picked up a demeanor of considerate attention.
“Lord, we come here with important news.” One of them, an Imperial in his late forties, said. Ocato gestured for the man to continue.
“And what would this news be?” He asked at the same time.
“The Emperor, he is nowhere to be found within the palace. Servants are searching every chamber, but as of yet, they have not been succesfull.” The page continued after a short pause.

Ocato leaned back in his seat and glanced at the papers on his desk without seeing them.
“I see.” He muttered, addressing no one in particular. He looked up at the ornate clock hanging on the wall.
“Within the hour, the citizens shall flow to the palace to present their needs and issues to our liege.” He added. He calmly began to fold the papers and stack them into a pile which he then shoved to a corner of his desk. Once he was done, he stood up.
“Last night, men entered the palace with criminal intentions. The palace guard was, surprisingly, ineffective to prevent entry. As according to protocol in such an event, the Emperor was roused from his slumber and escorted to the Imperial prison where he would hide till the culprits had been caught and detained. You will find our liege there. Now go there and tell him that the threat has passed. I shall go to the palace and take his place till the moment of his return.” He ordered and watched the pages filter out of the door. Once they’d all left, he walked out himself.

Ocato had scarcely fled the office, or the air in a corner shimmered before settling into the form of a tall Altmer with grey curls reaching to his shoulders, dressed in a white robe similar to that of the pages, yet differing in the details. The Altmer leaned out beyond the doorway and peered down the hall before closing and locking the door. If any of Ocato’s houseservants came this way, they would find the door locked and assume that Ocato wished the room to remain undisturbed so that he could continue his work where he had left off upon his return. Or so the Altmer hoped.

He moved through the room slowly, with barely a sound. The first item he inspected was the stack of paper forms Ocato had left on his desk. It was about the organization of a festival next month, nothing that merited the Altmer’s interest. He placed the papers back in the position Ocato had put them, making sure he maintained the right order.

Next, he moved to a bookrack running along a sidewall. His finger skimmed over the titles till he found the one he had been looking for.
‘Financial report of private spendings. 3E 401 - 3E 431’
The Altmer placed the book down upon the desk and sat down. The first page confirmed what he’d expected. The numbers in it were about the money Ocato had donated to various organizations and individuals, on behalf of Uriel Septim VII. None of the numbers would appear in the official reports found at the palace.

He picked up an empty sheet of paper, as well as a new quill and bottle of ink. Ocato, the Altmer assumed, wouldn’t miss either since it wasn’t his task to look after the stock. The servants meanwhile, would assume Ocato had taken the items with him to the palace and would replenish the stock without a word. The Altmer allowed himself a smile of satisfaction as he began to take notes of the more noteworthy reports. Reports of unusual events, or those that stood out due to their regularity. It wasn’t long till a pattern grew.

3E 403: Gift for Kvatch temple restoration. 5000 septims.
3E 403: Expenses for investigation regarding individual ‘Cluson Alkad’ 8054 septims
3E 403: Expenses for investigation regarding individual ‘Aran Geydar’ 531 septims
3E 403: Expenses for investigation regarding individual ‘Rajn Treesap’ 531 septims
3E 403: Outfitting of Blade operatives with forged Legion equipment. 3067 septims

3E 404: Financial gift to Thieves guild infiltrant, for the purpose of aquiring a decommissioned navy vessel through illegitimate channels. 5400 septims
3E 404: Gift for Kvatch temple restoration. 5000 septims.
3E 404: Financial agreement with individual ‘Redriz Valerus.’ 16807 septims.

The Altmer tapped the paper at the last line and whistled softly. That was a lot of money for just a single agreement. He continued running down the list.

3E 404: Mage-copy designated ‘Luper Alkad’, inserted. Original placed in stasis. Financial agreement with Dark Brotherhood for the silencing of individual Redriz Valerus. 6000 septims.

Again the Altmer paused. So this Valerus had apparently been a mage, hired by the palace to forge a copy of a certain person. Then after his work had been done, Valerus had been silenced.
“Something important is going on here, but I don’t know what. I should keep my eye on this.” He thought.

3E 405: monetary gift to merchant-vessel ‘Blue Serpent’. 2400 septims
3E 405: Gift for Kvatch temple restoration. 5000 septims.
3E 405: Expenditure at Cyrodiil quality arms. 1 Elven Claymore. 1750 septims

He rechecked to make sure he hadn’t made a mistake somewhere.
“A single Claymore? Odd.”

3E 405: enchantment-costs for Elven Claymore. 7080 septims.

Surprisingly, the next few years were devoid of anything interesting, except for the regular
gift to the Kvatch temple, which was starting to stand out. Then, at 3E 427, the Altmer found something interesting again, even moreso since he knew the importance of this date.

3E 427: Agreement with Mage guild for memory-wipe of individual ‘Luper Alkad’. New memories implanted. 25970 septims.
3E 427: Prison-files altered. Silencing money paid. 4500 septims.
3E 427: Gift for Kvatch temple restoration. 5000 septims.

3E 429: Agreement with Dark Brotherhood for the silencing of individual ‘Luper Alkad’ 30000 septims.
3E 429: Gift for Kvatch temple restoration. 5000 septims.

3E 430: Financial gift to Dark Brotherhood for base reconstruction in Mournhold. 3300 septims
3E 430: Gift for Kvatch temple restoration. 5000 septims.
3E 431: Payment to Dark Brotherhood to cease threats of murder Uriel Septim VII. Hunt for individual ‘Luper Alkad’ cancelled. 20000 septims.
3E 431: Gift for Kvatch temple restoration. 5000 septims.

The Altmer stopped writing. He had what he’d been looking for, pretty much. The Kvatch temple really stood out. Why, he didn’t know. What was more important, was the fact that there had been a noticeable peak in the number of Dark Brotherhood agreements in the year before. Then there was what he called the ‘Alkad’-case. He wondered what that was about. It seemed as if the matter had been resolved, pretty much. Though the amount of funds that case had siphoned over the years was incredible.
“To survive the Dark Brotherhood for two years and actually make the order so desperate it threatens the emperor just to have the hunt cancelled. I should keep an eye out for rumours regarding this man. He could be a threat.”

The Altmer folded up the paper, closed the bottle of ink and tucked everything he’d used in his pockets. He then unlocked the door, placed the key where he’d found it. Finally, he vanished into tin air.

And there I thought he was actually Ocato for a minute...

I still don't know who he is, but I'm enjoying the conjecture, and the material. Great stuff.

Hm, interesting... I wonder what's going on with the Kvatch Temple. I'm already having some very odd ideas about that. And one very crazy idea, involving blackmailing the Emperor.

And, we have Luper... Yay!

I think I have a good idea about the Kvatch Temple issue. Perhaps it's an agreement for the Temple to look after a "certain someone" ya know? Someone that should be close to the Emperor.

Very interesting update with this one. Makes me make a lot of speculations.

Good, one thing though: 'Financial report of private spendings. 3E 401 - 3E 423’ had entries for 3E431 as it reads. Not really an issue though.

Who is Lupar (I assume he appeared somewhere else?) or is that another one to guess at. Kvatch temple certainly suggests someone though some bits are intreging...

Keep it going.

Luper is another of Jack's characters, from the Oasis stories.

And besides Luper we also have passing mentions of Rajn Treesap and Aran from Jack's Corrupted Heart story.

Ah, good job catching that, Olen. I'll edit it right away.

And yeah, this update was pretty much just my way of saying: ,,See? This story fits in my alternate TES universe."

And while I'm at it, there are some clues to things beyond the Kvatch temple one. Oh, and I doubt Luper is going to make a major appearance in this story. He's more likely to woop Mehrunes behind from Ald-Ruhn all the way to Sadrith Mora.

Hmm, with how my universe has developed, I feel kinda sorry for what the Daedric forces will be going through when they invade Vvardenfell.

Aye, double-post! Ok, with half a month inbetween. Yeah, I've slowed down tremendously on these things.

For now, some short Latta stuff.


Chapter 3.5


Lake Rumare

The silvery blur tried to escape one hand but ran right into the other. I held on tight to keep it from escaping as I swam back to the boat where I dropped it into a waiting bucket. That was the fifth. Delmar pursed his lips as he looked at his own bucket.
“Just one here. I miss my youth. A rod just isn’t such a quick method.” He said and then grinned.
“Though on the other hand, I was one stressed out kiddo back in the days. Nowadays, I’m much more relaxed. Not a bad change.” He added. I could see he was still somewhat jealous though, despite his best attempts at making jokes. I dove back underwater without a word.

Two minutes of swimming later, I ran into another Slaughterfish. I steered clear of it and hid behind rocks as much as I could, despite the camouflage. Those buggers were starting to annoy me, really. I just couldn’t relax with those things around. I peeked up over the rock and saw that it was tearing through a school of frantic fish. It didn’t even kill just one. No, it tried to kill everything that moved and then only ate like two of the dozen dead fish. It made me mad, to see that waste. It also made me wonder how this ecosystem could possibly support such a stupid predator.
“Seriously. Everything else must breed like crazy just to keep up.”

I sighed and went the other way. Last trip, I’d noticed a school of fish just to the northwest, near the bank. It wasn’t the one that had been ripped apart by the Slaughterfish. I could tell cause they were different breeds. When I found the school, I settled down at the bottom of the lake near some weeds and waited for them to come. Judging by their swimming pattern, they probably fed on smaller creatures which in turn hid among the weeds, like the clump I was sitting next to. All I had to do was wait till they ventured over here on their own.

When the school arrived, I didn’t strike instantly. Instead, I kept waiting while trying to appear like just another rock, a trick made easier by turning my skin into grey with a gravely appearance. One fish went to investigate the cracks between my fingers. The moment it dipped its snouth into my cupped hands, I closed them and then waited till the rest of the school had moved on. Unlike the other predators around, I only took what I needed and allowed the rest to live and reproduce.

With the sixth fish in my hand, I made my way back to the boat, where I could see the hook of Delmar’s fishing rod floating in the water. It was still pristine. The worm hadn’t even been nibbled on. That was rather odd, considering the Slaughterfish I kept seeing everywhere. Then again, those big teeth weren’t really usefull for feeding on something as small as a worm.

As I looked at the dangling hook, I began to feel bad for some reason. I tried to ignore it but as I looked at the fish in my hands, I realized why I felt that way. I felt bad because Delmar had generally been nice to me and here I was, upstaging him at what he did best. Sure, it wasn’t really a competition, but it could be that he felt that way. He tried not to show it, but it made him feel uneasy. Maybe he really felt old, and considered it a bad thing.

I impaled the fish’s lips on the hook, closed the mouth around the worm and then gave a little tug before moving away from the boat. Making someone younger was beyond my abilities, but I could still comfort him, in my own way.

Good to see more of redemption. I'm waiting for it all to kick off now.

I like how you make subtle jabs at the AI in Oblivion like the behaviour of the animals. Everything in Oblivion besides deer tries to make killing you an objective as soon as they lay their eyes on you. Quite annoying really and I agree with Latta.

I also liked her act of kindness. It was what I would have done in her place as well. Nice thing to add.

Yeah, that is weird but unfortunately something you find in just about any rpg. Really a bit of a shame. I mean, I am quite sure that a Mudcrab in real life would never try to hit a humanoid. Apart from being a hell of a lot faster, TES humanoids (those that don't avoid the Mudcrab) tend to be just way beyond the crab in terms of combat capability.


And Olen, I don't know when it will all kick off. That reminds me, Latta is still wearing those damn manacles. Gosh, her wrists really must be sore by now.


Chapter 3.6


Cyrodiil, market

“Please, sir. If you have as few as a single coin to spare, I could eat today.” The beggar pleaded. The Altmer stopped and looked down at the scrawny Breton. One corner of his lips twitched upward as he dug in a pocket of his robe. His hand retrieved a coin and flipped it up in the air. The beggar caught the coin with surprising dexterity and rubbed the face on it. He quickly tucked the septim in his own pocket and bowed.
“Many thanks, kind sir. May you be blessed by the sixth golden dragon’s shade.” The Breton quipped, bowed again and sauntered off.

The Altmer continued walking across the market as if he’d already forgotten about his encounter with the beggar.
“Sixth golden dragon’s shade. Temple district, at the area cast in shadows at the setting sun.” He concluded after giving the riddle a moment of thought. The other corner of his mouth rose as well.
“I am somewhat surprised at finding that particular coin to still be in use, even after nearly half a century. Uriel, I had hoped you would become a bit more paranoid after that incident.” The smile turned sour.
“If you are this naïve in handling your intelligence, I hope you are much more considerate in choosing your hiding place.” For a moment, the smile returned.
“On the other hand, this sort of naivety must have provoked overconfidence within your enemies. If so, it should not be such a difficult task to find them.”

He took advantage of the fact that Cyrodiil was a circular city by simply following the road till he’d reached the temple district. From there, he began to circle the temple that gave the district its name. While circling, he stood still often and pretended to admire the beautifully sculpted marble. In reality however, he used these moments to study those around him. No one appeared to have any particular interest in him, which reassured him.

The spot the beggar had indicated turned out to be one of many benches, placed near a tree and some distance from the path. The Altmer walked over to it and sat down, instinctively shifting into a position that made it seem as if he was merely resting, or enjoying the sun on his face. Now that he was seated, he noticed why this bench was so well-suited for secret meetings. While in plain sight, the nearby temple bent the wind in such a way that it was impossible to listen in on a soft conversation being held by those sitting on the bench.

He tapped his knees with his fingers, while whistling a simple tune. It wasn’t long till an Imperial came to his bench and sat down. The Altmer observed the man from the corner of his eyes.
“Thick beard obscuring his lips, clothes of a commoner, no fancy jewellery, bag with letters. A courier, and apparently a contact.” He deduced. The Imperial stretched his entire body and jawned.
“Ah, nice weather today, isn’t it? Makes me just want to sit here and take a nap, rather than delivering the mail.” He said casually.

“Indeed.” The Altmer concurred. The courier grinned.
“Forgive me, but I am going to take a break now, sir Elf.” He laughed. Still laughing, he somehow managed to sneak a whisper among his howls.
“How can the Blades serve the Empire today?”

The Altmer cupped his hands and appeared to inspect his fingernails. Hidden from sight by his fingers, the air turned a vague violet and began to vibrate, creating sounds that resembled a voice.
“There was an assassination attempt on our liege last night. I have been ordered to conduct an investigation outside the official channels. What information do the Blades have?” The voice asked. The Blade cocked his eyebrows, a barely noticeable sign of being impressed by the subtle use of magicka.

The man took an apple out of his bag and took a bite.
“One or more assassins entered the prison compound. Killed all the guards and prisoners. Signs of a large-scale summon. We also found a previously unknown tunnel in prisonblock V which led to the sealed off foundations. Foundations are flooded and Argonian operatives are exploring it at this moment. It appears that our liege has been kidnapped and then been taken through the foundations. Either that, or he has been slain.” The Blade kept his face in a perfectly pleased and relaxed expression throughout. The Altmer on the other hand cultivated an impassive one that was fitting for a high-ranking mage, noble, or just an Altmer with his head in the clouds.
“I see. How can I enter the prison compound?” He asked.

“Tell them this. ‘I came to visit a friend for I fear that last night’s weather might have given him a cold. If I were to donate, would you give him a coat to wear?’ Show them a coin just like the one you gave the beggar.” The courier stretched again and got up, still chewing on his apple.
“Well, I’ve got to get going or the boss will get mad. Hope you’ll find your tongue again.” He said before walking away.
“Damn elves. Indeed, is that all they can say? Hmph, so much for the superior breed.” He grumbled. The Altmer leaned back and now truly enjoyed the sun. He would have to wait for a while in order to avoid suspicion anyway.

Ok thats odd, he has contacts in the blades... Intriguing. Nice secret meeting though but why does he want back into the prison block? You're really building up the mysteries. And that altmer is one hell of a mage.

I want more.

Oh and I'd imagine wrist irons are like bad shoes, your skin would thicken to compensate.

Nice Jackie! Do I have to say more???? I don't think so....you know very well I read your stories with great pleasure!

Well technically, he doesn't have contacts in the Blades. The idea was that he knew the contact procedures and the Blades themselves simply believed he had to be the real deal since he got the protocol right. As for why he wants back into the prison block, he has reasons.


Chapter 3.7


Lake Rumare

“Won’t you just look at this. I haven’t caught this many fish in years.” Delmar’s voice was calm and composed, but I could still feel he was absolutely brimming with excitement. There was a grand total of fourteen fish in the bucket, not a bad catch for an hour of two of honest work.
“Maybe I’m a good luck spirit.” I joked.
“I wouldn’t be surprised if you were. I swear, I just had to throw out the line and another fish would bite it.” Delmar laughed and took the oars. With a quick sweep, he changed heading and pushed the boat off towards the city at the center of the lake.
“Um, aren’t we going back to the shack and skin those fish?” I asked.

“I’ll get to that later, but first I figured I would take you to a certain person.” The old man replied.
“Certain person?” It wasn’t that I didn’t trust him, but the fact remained that we’d only met this morning. I just wasn’t ready to follow his lead without knowing where he was taking me. So I had to ask.
“Well, I have to admit I don’t know his name. I never even met him.” Delmar added. That didn’t really explain anything.

“So uh….It’s not that I don’t trust you, but why are we going to meet a guy you’ve never met before and whose name you don’t even know?” I muttered slowly and jabbed a finger at the bucket of fish.
“Somehow, I don’t think it’s because he would give you a good deal on raw fish.”

Delmar shook his head.
“You’re a nosy one, I give you that. But, you’re right. He won’t give me a good deal on raw fish. Rather, he isn’t even a trader. Well, not an open trader. He deals in…goods of debatable legitimacy.” He explained. The explanation made me frown.
“We’re going to meet a thief?” I inquired with a hint of disgust. The fisherman seemed surprised.
“You have something against the thieves guild?” He asked. The open disbelief he put in his words was too much for me so I turned to look out over the water.
“I don’t like people who steal. And I definitely don’t like an organization with the sole purpose of taking other people’s possessions. I just don’t.”

I could still see Delmar’s reflection in the water. It was as if I hadn’t averted my gaze at all.
“Hmm, I don’t really think much about the guild myself. But it honestly could be worse. At least the thieves guild doesn’t count any murderers among its members. I’ve heard that any member who crosses that line is given over to the guards.” He mumbled, talking more to himself than to me. I blinked and spun back to face the old man directly.
“You mean there is an actual organization of murderers here?!” I screamed.

The change in his expression was frightening. No, it wasn’t that. It was the fact that he was frightened, and it rubbed off on me.
“Quiet! It’s not something you should bring up. What if they hear?” He whispered urgently and his eyes fled from side to side. I looked from side to side as well, but didn’t see anything out of the ordinary. Why was he so scared all of a sudden? Did he have the superstitious belief that people knew it if you spoke about them? Or did he think that there was a murderer hiding behind every bush, ready to kill anyone who brought up the subject? But whether he was superstitious or not, that didn’t change the apparent fact that there was an organization of murderers.
“Murderers and thieves, banding together. This land is a sinhole.” I thought.

After a couple of minutes, Delmar had managed to relax somewhat.
“Why won’t the guards deal with that?” I asked all of a sudden. I bit my tongue right afterwards. Perhaps it hadn’t been such a good idea to bring that up again, just when the old fella had calmed down a bit.
“Deal with what?” Delmar asked.
“You know, crime. This thieves guild…and the other one.” I shrugged. I had already brought it up, might as well go on with it.

Delmar let the oars rest for a moment and looked over his shoulder at the city-walls that were quite close now.
“Trust me, they tried. They tried, held a raid every day, unannounced. But somehow, the thieves would always know and be gone before the guards arrived, only to return mere moments after they’d returned to the barracks. As for the other…” He got nervous again and licked his lips.
“Look, I’ll tell you this, but after that I really want you to never talk about it again. It’s for your own good. You understand, Maorlatta?”

I nodded. With a sigh of relief, Delmar picked up the oars again.
“The other…guild. There are stories about it. It’s members are like shadows, like ghosts, the worshippers of a terrible god with an unsatiable bloodthirst. They can move unseen and even if caught, they’ll turn to mist and vanish. The only clue to the guilds existence are the victims found the following morning, always drained of blood. But…they say you can summon them with some sort of evil ritual and no matter where you are, one will come.” He whispered, his eyes shifting back and forth.
“And that is that. Now I’ll hear none of it ever again.” He finished in a louder voice. Looking past him, I could see a rickety wooden pier. It looked as if we were there.

His story about the murderers felt like one big superstitious falsehood after another. But one part kept with me.
“Drained of blood. That reminds me.”

We landed at the pier and I jumped out with the rope. I quickly tied it around the pole and then doublechecked the knot to make sure the boat wouldn’t unravel it and drift away.
“You must have done that before.” Delmar noted dryly. I stretched my back and looked up at the walls.
“Well, grandfather wants me to become a perfect member of the family, father thinks it is good if I’m a bit more practical.” I said. I grinned.
“Though he isn’t that practical himself.” I added.

The old man picked up the bucket and stepped out onto the dock as well.
“Well, I can hear you’ve enjoyed your youth.” He spoke.
“It was fun, usually. I didn’t like all of it.” I replied.
“Oh, like what?” Delmar inquired. He moved towards a small door built into the wall and I followed.
“You know, education on subjects I’ll never have to deal with. How to lead the family for example. I’m like sixty-fourth in the line of inheritance.” I said with a casual shrug. I thought nothing of it, but he did.
“Line of inheritance? What are you, a noble?” He asked as if it was a big deal.

I thought for a moment before I came up with a good answer.
“Well, my family is reasonably wealthy and has a bit of social influence in the area. But it’s not as if we rule this continent. Knowing who is in charge if the old man dies is considered to be very important by most of us.” I said half-jokingly.
“But as I said, I’m sixty-fourth in line. My position won’t change when that happens, which probably won’t happen for the next few generations. So it’s nothing I should worry about.”

I cut off my monologue. Delmar had gotten awfully tense.
“Next few generations. That must be nice.” He muttered to himself so softly I almost thought I’d imagined it. It did make me frown.
“That must be nice? What’s so nice about grandfather dying?” I thought angrily for a moment. Then I figured it out.
“Oh, he was reminded of the fact that he’ll die in a few generations as well. I mean, how old is Delmar? Threehundred and a half? Must be. Any younger and he wouldn’t be so wrinkled.” It made me feel bad. Why did I constantly have to make him sad or frightened?

The door led to a dark alley. Wet cobblestones, some brown grub smeared on the walls, a couple of rats dashing away as soon as we got near. It was kind of spooky.
”It didn’t look this dirty on the outside.” I mumbled.
“I know. That’s what most people say the first time they look beyond the plazas, the temple and Nobleman’s street. Cyrodiil is beautiful on the outside but on the inside, it’s just as with people. Nothing’s ever perfect. I try to avoid this place, not enough guards here.” Delmar concurred. That reminded me.

“About that trader we were going to meet. We got a bit sidetracked, so I still don’t know why exactly we’re going to meet him.” I said.
“Since the prison was rather negligent, I figured we had to free you of those manacles and the uniform ourselves. Our trader happens to be experienced in this area.” He finally managed to give me his reasons. I looked down at the manacles around my wrists. They were heavy, bruised my skin and right now, rather wet. I would love to be rid of them. Same thing with the clothes, they itched. Though getting rid of that brought new complications.
“How do I pay? I don’t have any money.”

Delmar fought to hold back a frown. He did not succeed, obviously.
“I’ll probably have to work as an informant for a while.” He said after a moment. I frowned as well.
“Informant? Look, I appreciate the lengths you go to help me, but you shouldn’t consort with criminals any more than the absolute minimum. Besides, we just met this morning. I’m practically a stranger for you.” I pointed out and took hold of one of his sleeves.
“Come on, let’s go back to the boat. I’ll grab a sharp rock and see if I can force the lock or something.”

Delmar stopped and gave me a reassuring smile.
“It’s nice to see that you worry about me, but it is alright. I just want to do this. Besides, informant duty is risk-free and nothing big. I’ll just have to report on rumours and keep an eye on any boats coming past my shack at night. That’s all. And if the lock on those manacles could easily be forced with a rock, it wouldn’t be good enough for the prison. You need an expert to get those open.” He said. I sighed and let go of his sleeve.
“Oh, alright. But don’t go do anything you don’t want to.” I replied.

Great update and thoughtful insights on the way the Thieves Guild operates. I also like Latta's semi-ignorance when it comes to the way her position and lineage are perceived by commoners. I would imagine Altmer wouldn't very much like Latta though, seeing as her grandfather invaded the Summerset Isles several times.

Yea, her ignorance of the lifespan of humans is also an interesting note. She definitely doesn't get out much. Haha!

Solid update. Though you made a point - mer live for a few hundred years so why don't they get a population explosion with greatgranparents still youthful? Just one of those things I suppose.

To even up they also have a very slow rate of breeding. At least that's the way it is in most fantasy universes, LOTR and Tamriel included. That way, humans are still on top because they breed faster, despite the fact that they have shorter lifespans.

This is extremely good. I haven't been on for far too long, but I had the day off today to catch up, so I decided to read this one. To say I was impressed would be an understatement. I was so impressed in fact, that I went back and read Oasis chapter 1 to compare. You showed plenty of talent back then, (I remember Minkey telling me you were one to watch almost 2 years ago), but the difference....

Well, suffice to say, if there was an award for most improved writer, you would be my nomination hands down. This is, quite simply:

EXCELLENT! Here, have a slice of my birthday cake as reward

Touching on the egos of other writers isn't really advisable but I must agree with you that Jack is one of the best writers here at Chorrol, and one of the most active ones as well.

I remember that some time ago I had an idea to have a poll regarding who the most popular writer is (to say the best would not fit, since you can't really determine the best writer with one of these polls since personal preference always takes the fore) and that he would be decided by votes. I think Jack would win by the sheer quantity of quality stories he has posted, from Oasis to Redemption to the many others he has written (In Service of a Fallen God, Agent etc.).

But as I said, I'm sure that other writers have also improved greatly, not just Jack. You could say Jack is one of the more stringent examples.

How is that, "touching on the ego's of other writers?" I simply said I thought he was the most improved. My opinion, and I never mentioned any other writers. He's kept writing, and kept getting better with each story. That just shows how through hard work and persistence (not getting discouraged, not giving up) people can get SO MUCH BETTER. I think the fact he did that deserves congratulations. Especially seeing as I for one have been online so little over the last year I haven't been able to give the feedback to him that writer's crave. This is just my way of doing that. Nobody is directly comparing him to anyone else.

I did say that I agree with you. He is an excellent writer with great stories across the board. I know since I've been following many of them. Well, 'followed' isn't a suitable term since Jack writes at a very good pace so that he finishes most of his stories after a certain point, not dragging them on and on, but I've followed what stories aren't over yet (like Oasis 2 or this very fine work) and I've enjoyed the stories that have been finished.

Don't mind me though, I just have these comments once in a while, comments that I should keep to myself.

Thanks for all the praise.

Anyway, I have indeed improved quite a bit. Though to be honest, if you had told me this two years back, I wouldn't believe it. And I'm especially glad that I can say that I'm not the only improved writer here. In fact, I can't remember any bad writer here. Even if the story itself didn't appeal to me, it always had good quality so in short, this place is great.

About the production-rate of mer, I don't know them myself. Barenziah was apparantly a slow breeder but Barenziah is Barenziah and you can't nail an entire race on just one example. Even moreso because Maormer are not Dunmer.
(Note: Here's some inside information. Latta is not the 64th because she's got that many older siblings. There are also cousins, uncles, nieces and a whole lot of other family members who come before her.)

Now back to the story.




Chapter 4: Traces

Cyrodiil, Prison

A gauntleted fist smacked into the wall, causing a stream of dust to explode outwards.
“Damn it!” The owner of the fist shouted. He struck the wall again with his other hand.
“What do you mean, it was not a mage?!” He then demanded to know.

Behind the man, an Argonian, dressed in fine blue garb fit for a nobleman, leaned on an elegant cane. For a few seconds, the crimson eyes of the being studied the man, how he stood in his armour, fists still resting against the wall.
“It is exactly as I said, captain. This was not done by a mage.” The Argonian hissed. The captain stepped away from the wall slowly and turned to the Argonian.
“Then what did it, sir Grey?” He asked, slightly calmer now.

Grey bowed his head before answering.
“I can’t give you a specific answer, I’m afraid. All I can do is make deductions.” The Argonian reopened his eyes and looked at the man directly.
“Making deductions however, is what I do best.” He added before hobbling towards the next room. Whereas the room they’d just been in had been pristine safe for a number of scorchmarks, the room they entered could best be described as a wretched ruin filled with lingering chaos. The walls were cracked, furniture had been splintered. Broken swords lay on the floor, next to several pools of dried blood.

Grey tapped a large indentation in the floor with his cane.
“We’ll start with this. Judging by the size, shape and depth, this particular indentation has been caused by a creature with feet as big as a dog, clawed toes and an approximate bodymass of over four tonnes.” He said. The cane swung across the broken swords.
“The swords were clearly broken when the creature stepped on them. However, the blade has been dulled, which is either the cause of neglected maintenance or usage.”

The captain sneered.
“Prison duty is an assignment we give to those who are unable to serve on the streets in a satisfying manner. Prison guards are prone to gambling, alcoholism, Skooma usage, accepting bribes, bringing in prostitutes during the night…if they haven’t wasted their money on the previous sins already. They have a lot of bad habits, but letting their swords grow dull is not one of them.” He pointed out. The Argonian nodded.
“I see. Captain Lex, then there is only one last thing the swords can tell us. All the blood is on the hilt, not on the blade. Whatever the creature was that has slain your colleagues, its hide was strong enough to turn back Imperial Steel.”

As its last point, the cane swung up at the door leading down to the prisonblocks. Or at least, it swung up to point at the location where the door had been. Now there was only a gaping hole.
“Not just its hide was strong. It’s musculature was equally impressive. The doorframe has been torn out completely, bricks have been crushed and large sections of the wall have been removed by brute force. To put it into a proper perspective, a battering ram manned by ten Legionnaires is slightly outclassed by our suspect.” Despite himself, Lex whistled in unwilling admiration.
“Stronger than a ten-man ram. That is something.” He muttered. His hand subconsciously reached down for the sword at his side. When the thumb caressed the pommel, he became aware of the motion and stopped it.
“Stronger than ten men and invulnerable to a Broadsword. What kind of beast are we dealing with?” He wondered out loud.

The Argonian shook his head.
“I wish I knew, but I’ve never heard of anything like it. Suffice to say however, that it required to remove most of the wall just to fit through. However, beyond that point, it apparently stood in place doing nothing for a moment. More importantly, given that the previous room is relatively free of destruction and still has a door, I can only conclude thus. A summoner entered the previous room where he took down a guard with fire. Proceeding into this room, he summoned the creature we’ve discussed. The creature dealt with the guards here before moving down to the first prisonblock. At that point however, it was apparently dismissed after which the summoner proceeded on his own.”

Lex nodded slowly.
“I see. So that means…Nevermind. Lead on and explain at the site of the crime. I’ve already found you can explain best by showing me the clues.” He said. When the Argonian neither answered nor walked to the hole, he frowned.
“Is something the matter, sir Grey?” He asked warily.
“It appears we have a visitor. An Altmer.” Grey replied equally wary.

An argonian detective, thats a nce touch. And he knows when the altmer is around. Impressive. He was also remarkably corect in his judgment, who are we dealing with here...

Still I'm loving this, I can just feel it waiting to kick off into something truly epic.

I liked the vintage detective work done by the Argonian. As was said, his affirmations were very accurate when it came to describing the Daedroth. I also liked how Lex described the men who were sent to guard the prisons. A very stylish touch there. I'm now eager to see how Lex will deal with the Altmer. We still don't know his name do we? I think I'll call him Bob. Yes, that's what I'll call him. Let's see how Lex will deal with Bob.

Jack, your characterizations are some of the best I have ever seen. You give each character a personality by subtle means of description- no heavy-handed, "beat the reader over the head" portrayals here. And I like the way most everyone is ambiguous- we find ourselves wondering what their real agenda is. Perhaps the best one-word description I can give is- MASTERFUL.

Do I see some more cross breeding between your stories here, Jack? Because I do believe we've met Sir Grey in one of your other stories.

Trey basically stated what everyone else thinks. Can't say it much better myself.

The detective work was a nice touch, but I have to ask. Barenziah was a "slow breeder?" It says in the series that Dunmer women normally only have one child, two is less common but happens sometimes. Barenziah concieved three times, that's exception for a not-so-prolific race.

If dunmer women normally have one child they would die out. Each woman must have an average of two children to keep a stable populatuion...

But back on topic I hadn't noticed this cross breeding between stories. Nice touch.

I think the best answer to that is to consider twins unusual. If Dunmer only had one child total, then indeed extinction would be the only way. (Unless the Tribunal employed secret cloning facilities. Who knows with them.)

And while I would love to do some more Altmer...err...Bob! The schedule says we go with more Latta.
(The schedule also says I should pay more attention to my other stories, but I'll do that when I get in the mood.)


Chapter 4.2


Cyrodiil, shack

I tried to breathe through my mouth instead of my nose. This place reeked, and not in a good way. I could smell sweat, rust, rotten food, alcohol, stale water and some fragrances I couldn’t place. It made me dizzy. It was also so dark I couldn’t see a thing. Since there was nothing to see, I closed my eyes and tried to relax. I could hear Delmar talking to someone in an other room of the building. The walls muffled their voices though, so I couldn’t exactly hear what they were saying. Not that I needed, it was probably about the deal he was going to seal anyway.

I shivered. A deal. That word just felt bad. It was too cold, too heartless. A deal.
“I don’t care how safe it is, it’s still wrong. They’re crooks, one shouldn’t have to interact with them.” I thought.
“What is wrong?” My eyes snapped open and spun across the room to the only lightsource. My thoughts had become a panicked whirlwind.
“Did I say that out loud?! Oops, that’s bad. Insulting people is bad, but insulting people who stand outside the law already is just asking for trouble! Did he know what I said? He asked me to repeat myself, but that could just be common courtesy. Common courtesy? He’s a criminal, he doesn’t have common courtesy. So he did hear. Agh, this is bad!”

The lightsource was a small candle, little more than a stump, held by….furry paws.
“Err…nothing…I was just complaining about the Slaughterfish. Dumbest beasts I’ve ever seen.” I stammered. Meanwhile, I noticed the paws had claws that dug into the wax. Claws…stuck in wax. This was so not helping me calm down. All I wanted was to disappear and my skin darkened in response to that urge. The…person dashed forward, revealing two large luminescent eyes to me.
“Hey, where did you go? Bosmer, this one hasn’t given you his services yet. This one still has to remove the iron inconveniences!” He purred. Or at least, I thought he was a he. Frankly, he could be a she or even genderless. I had never seen anything like him before so I couldn’t judge. His words were what made me realize I’d tried to vanish. I recoloured back to my normal tan after which I made sure I’d stay that way.

Funny enough, I wasn’t so scared anymore, just annoyed.
“Gah, changed on a whim. I should be better than that! I’m not a baby anymore! This is so emberassing!” I scolded myself.
“Sorry…umm…We haven’t been introduced yet. My name is Maor….umf!” My words were cut off by one of his paws covering my mouth.
“No no, Bosmer shouldn’t tell its name. That would be bad, cause Khajiit can’t tell his name and if he can’t tell his name but Bosmer can tell its, this one would feel bad.” He said. So he was a he. I must have guessed right then. Though, he was kinda getting on my nerves.
“Why is he talking in the third person all the time? And I’m a she, dammit! Who does he think he is, addressing me as if I’m some kind of animal?” It was common courtesy, and my best interests, that kept me from voicing my thoughts.

Delmar was still talking on the other side of the wall. So who was the trader we were supposed to meet? The person Delmar was talking to, or this…Khajiit? I shook my head.
“No, neither is. System of corresponding rank and risk. Tasks handed down from the uppermost rank to the lower ones, with the lowest rank actually doing the job and taking all the risk. Anonymous contacts, semi-random meeting points, it all makes sense.” The Khajiit blinked.
“What is this one blabbering about?” He asked.
“Did I say that out loud as well? Dangit, I should either stop thinking or cut off my tongue before I blab myself into trouble!”

The stump was placed down on a stool after which the Khajiit grabbed one of my hands and pulled it close to the fire. I suppressed a yelp and the urge to pull my arm back.
“How rude! He could have asked first!”
He then held a loupe over the lock. I could hear him growl.
“Ah, this one hasn’t seen this type of lock in months. It will be fun to work with.” He whispered.
“AE-35914…An AE-series manacle. Nice…very nice.” He let go of my arm and stood up.
“This one has just the tools it needs, in a box upstairs. Please wait.”

And so I was left alone again. Not for long though. The Khajiit returned after a few minutes, a few rather long minutes in my opinion. So he had his tools upstairs in a box and said tools turned out to be a few strips of metal and a pincer. If that was all he had to get, then why took it over ten minutes?
“He’s probably just trying to agitate me. Stupid thug.” I decided not to say anything whatsoever. I also hoped I hadn’t said that out loud but he didn’t bring it up, so I probably hadn’t.

Surprisingly, the Khajiit was quiet as well and the only sounds were the clicking of those little scraps of metal in the lock of my manacles. Delmar was quiet. Did he leave? At first I was worried but as it turned out, dealing with those manacles took the better part of the whole day. Delmar had probably gone to process the fish we caught in the morning. Though taking the whole day just to open two locks? Those manacles had to be quite something then.
“Though I can’t complain. Breaking the lock with a hammer and a hot pick wouldn’t take more than a couple of minutes, but it would break my arms in the process, after searing off the flesh. I guess it’s better to take the slow option then.” The soft clicking was oddly relaxing after a while and I drifted off into a light slumber.

When I woke up, the stump had been replaced by a much longer candle. Both manacles were still around my arms and the Khajiit was still fiddling with them. I frowned, suddenly agitated for some reason. The urge to vanish came back. How long had I been asleep? And better yet, why was he still busy with the first one? This slow…it…my mind ground to a halt, before branching off onto a new path. The urge grew.
“Hypothesis. He is part of an organized crime organization, and an expert at cracking locks. In his line of work, he probably opens locks all the time. But the locks in these manacles are too small to be really complicated, they can’t be the most complicated locks he’s ever worked with. And if he took this long on the streets, guards would interrupt him.” I grit my teeth.
“This guy isn’t cracking the locks. He’s just pretending to! It’s a set-up. But for what?”

While longer, the new candle gave off just as much light as the stump. Which basically meant, not much at all. I still couldn’t see anything beyond the stool the candle was placed on. But I could hear, and I could smell. There was a new flavour in the mix of scents here…and a third pair of breathing lungs. The urge to vanish was almost uncontrollable now. Still, I remained where I was and tried to keep thinking rationally.
“That smell, it’s hard to recognize in the chaos but…I have smelled it before…No, I haven’t but it is awfully similar. It reminds me of…family?”

Hmm, interesting, I don't think she's been sold out (at least by the old bloke) but maybe...

I could smell sweat, rust, rotten food, alcohol, stale water and some fragrances I couldn’t place. Sounds like my flat.

Still this update makes things far more exciting - Latta was drifting a bit but she's moving now and we have tension. We still don't know why she's there though.

Ah, she has her reasons. And for once, her reasons aren't part of any quest at all, unlike the Altmer who is still sorta following the main script of Oblivion. (Though she probably will get involved sooner or later. I mean, it's gonna be a major invasion, she won't just be able to avoid all Daedra by mere coincidence.)

Ironically, while Latta gets a boost in the tension department, the Altmer is taking it slow and easy. Then again, the way I've portrayed him, there isn't much that can make him sweat.

Speaking of the Altmer, he mentions a name here! WWWWOOOOOTTTTT!!!!!
And since Griff brought it up, he had to give a name beginning with Bob. Hmm, I need emoticons for the characters. Lesseee.
Altmer: (Not the emotional type)
Latta: (What the hell is with this place?!)
Grey: (Thinkity think.)
Lex: (For the Empire! Serve, protect!)
Delmar: (Jolly old guy.)


Chapter 4.3


Cyrodiil, prison complex

Lex wheeled about.
“Yes, what’s the matter?” He inquired matter-of-factly. The fact that someone had sneaked up on him annoyed him, but did not concern him. He had full fate in the guards posted at the entrance. That this Altmer had managed to pass merely meant he had the right to pass. And if the Elf had the right to pass, who was he to question his presence? The only thing he could question was his reason for coming.

The Altmer made a swift bow.
“Angoril Bobardi, from the palace.” He introduced himself. Lex stroked his chin and nodded, while Grey looked sharply at the newcomer. For a moment, Argonian and Altmer locked eyes. No words were spoken, not a single muscle was flexed. Yet still, a message had been brought across.
“Pleased to make your aquantance, sir Bobardi. I am Cyrodiil’s captain of the guard, Hieronymus Lex. My companion here is Grey-Tongue, a private contractor From Chorrol.” The captain said after a moment.

Grey bowed as well, albeit slower than the Altmer had done.
“Good tidings. Now since we have all become aquainted, perhaps you would care to reveal your purpose?” The Argonian asked. Angoril nodded.
“Certainly. I have been sent as an unofficial representative of the palace in order to investigate this matter. More precisely, I am to investigate the perpetrator of this case, the summoner. Nothing less.” He stated.

“Excuse me, but how do you know this has been done by a summoner?” Lex desired to know. For some reason, one he couldn’t explain even to himself, the simple mention of the summoner had struck a chord in his mind.
“He must have overheard my conclusion.” Grey noted.
“Precisely.” The Altmer concurred. Lex shrugged upon hearing that. It made sense.
“Very well. Sir Bobardi, sir Grey, please accompany me as we follow the path of the suspect. Or rather, Sir Bobardi, let us follow sir Grey as he traces the path of the suspect.” The Imperial decided.

The trio entered the prisonblock which was vaguely known to Lex, new but already familiar for Grey and absolutely uninteresting for Angoril. The latter merely noted that the Dunmer in the opposing cell was no longer there. He mentally shrugged.
“Judging from the lack of blood, he hasn’t been eaten, which can only mean one thing. I bet we’ll meet again, someday. Only this time there won’t be a reason for me to show mercy.” He thought.

“Sir Grey, is there anything you could tell me about this place, as it applies to the crime?” Angoril asked.
“Of course. At the moment of the deed, both this cell and the one opposite were occupied. The cell over here had only one occupant, although it appears that multiple persons entered it for a short time last night.” The investigator began, indicating the Dunmer’s cell.
“There are minor amounts of reasonably fresh blood, along with signs of a minor struggle. There are no signs however, that this struggle led to anything more severe than superficial injury on one or more persons.” He continued.
“The other cell however, has been occupied by one person as well, although a second came to inhabit the cell recently and once again, multiple persons have passed through. In this case however, it is quite obvious why the cell was visited. As it appears, there is a tunnel leading to the sealed off foundations of Cyrodiil.”

“You keep mentioning persons. What kind of persons?” Lex cut in.
“Three persons wearing armoured boots of similar design to that of your own, captain. One man wearing slippers, two people barefooted. Judging by size, one of the barefooted persons was either a child or a Bosmer. The other has feet of average size, but the depth and shape indicates someone of less than average weight with a high center of mass, such as an Altmer. The persons wearing boots marched, and the person wearing slippers had a slight limp in the left leg, as is known of the Emperor. Therefore it is my conclusion that the one wearing slippers was our Emperor, those wearing boots were his guards and the two barefooted were prisoners who took advantage of the situation and attempted to flee when the opportunity presented itself.”

They stopped before the alcove. What had been merely a small tunnel just a few hours ago, had now become a comfortable corridor tall enough to stand upright in.
“Your skills of perception are quite impressive.” The Altmer praised.
“Although you are of course wrong in some of the details. I did not flee, nor did the opportunity present itself. Rather, I created the opportunity. Still, I’d best watch what I say, lest I reveal I know more about last night’s events.” He told himself at the same time.
“All a result of studies and experience, I assure you.” Grey answered.

“Well then, shall we move on? Workers shovelled a lot of dirt out here with spoons and it would be a shame if we did not appreciate their hard work and made use of the passage they provided.” Lex said.
“Is the dirt being examined?” Grey inquired.
“Of course, every single grain will be looked over with a loupe, and not a single one will be missed. If there’s anything special about them, we’ll find out.” Lex replied confidentally. The three stepped through the alcove and began to venture into the depths of the island the city was built on.

Ooh, what a nice name. Though, I don't know if it is his real one. I assume it is not however..... darn.......
Yes! I like this Grey person. For some reason, I can imagine an Argonian being a detective. Imagine one with Sherlock Holmes stuff on! Quite appealing I must say. lol Wouldn't that be a nice story? Sherlock Holmes, an Argonian detective in Tamriel!

Funny enough, Grey's first appearance was indeed as a short Sherlock Holmes story. He even smoked a pipe there.

And as for the Altmer. It could be his real name. Then again, it might be a lie. And finally, I've been thinking. The title of the story is Redemption but so far, there has little redeeming been going on. Meh, whatever.

Chapter 4.4


Cyrodiil, shack

Doubt began to settle in and I barely paid attention to the Khajiit anymore. The scent was so similar, who was to say it wasn’t the same?
“But then, who?” I asked myself. But the answer eluded me. There was no one I knew who might have followed me. No one would want to. No one could. But then, that smell?
“I don’t get it. It’s just so…familiar. If it’s not them, then what? All I can come up with would be something very simil…” I couldn’t bring myself to finish the thought. I didn’t want to finish the thought. If I finished it, I would believe it. If I believed it, I would be in big trouble. But there was nothing I could do. Even if my wil was against it, my heart believed.

“Drained of blood.” Delmar’s words came back. Drained of blood, it brought back memories. Memories of one of my aunts losing it and developing a god-complex, at which point she indulged in every single urge she got like some sort of beast. She had to be put down and so she was, in a way I preferred to forget. Now I jumped up from the stool and the manacles clattered onto the floor. So they had been unlocked all this time. The Khajiit scrambled back, perhaps out of fear. If that was the case, he was as afraid of me as I was of him.

“The door.” I knew where it was, even though I could not see it. Now, I made a mad scramble for it. Staying here would be nothing short of suicide, I was sure of that. A cold voice laughed in the room, but it was not the Khajiit.
“It is not often I am found when I try to remain hidden. Now my interest has been piqu…” My hands gripped the doorbolt and pushed the door open. Precious light entered the room and the hidden person let out a sharp hiss. I didn’t wait for a reply, but ran out.

A quite inappropriate thought occurred to me. I was still wearing that damn cold and itchy prison outfit. What would the guards do if they saw me running? I didn’t know and frankly, I didn’t care. I had larger things to focus on.
“Need to get to a place with more people. Safer that way.” I came across a narrow sidepassage and looked down it. It could be just me, but I had the distinct impression there were people on the other side. So I entered it and ran through. I didn’t even make it halfway. The sudden agony that exploded through the back of my skull knocked me to the ground.
“Now now, don’t run.” The same cold voice from earlier scolded, in a rather playful tone. I barely heard him though.

While my hearing was quite impaired, my sense of touch only seemed to be even more sensitive than usual. I tried to scream when his hand closed around my throat and lifted me up. I tried, but I couldn’t make a sound. I could feel the man’s breath, as cold as his voice, whispering into my ear.
“Yes, be afraid, my dear. Be very afraid. I’m going to kill you, slowly and painfully.” He laughed after uttering the word ‘kill’.
“Can you feel them, my fingers who are crushing your throat, squeezing out the life in you? Can you feel it?”

“Can’t breathe.” My consciousness was slipping away rapidly. If this would keep up, he would kill me. I had to do something, somehow. But I felt so weak.
“You are going to die like this. Unless you do something. Something like, tear out my eyes, bite into my throat and feast on the blood in there.” The monster whispered.
“No, I refuse! I won’t!” My heart was thumping painfully in my chest, my lungs burned. He was going to kill me. To survive, I had to kill…but…I couldn’t bring myself to lifting a finger. Not because my body was too weak to move, even though it was, but because I didn’t want to kill.
“Oh, but I forgot. You are not a vampire, unlike me. So it is no miracle that you lack the instinct to kill, quickly and efficiently.”
“Vampire?”

“Unhand her, you fiend!” What was that voice? My imagination? Or was it real? I couldn’t tell, couldn’t trust my ears anymore. All sensation in my body was fading. I didn’t even feel his hand around my throat anymore. I barely noticed he’d dropped me like a sack of rocks.
“Stay out of this, Redguard!” My assailant snapped. At least, I think he did. Lying there on the dirty floor, I gasped for breath and was slowly recovering already. My hearing came back first. There, a soft swish, like that of steel being cleaned with a piece of fabric.
“It is my business now. Step away or meet my blade. Your choice.” That new voice, now I knew it was real. And fleeting footsteps told me that my would-be murderer fled the scene.
“Who came? And why?”

“Hey, how do you feel, fair lady?” I tried to look up but couldn’t make out more than a big, bright yellow blur.
“Bad.” I managed to croak. My savior bent down and rather unceremoniously propped me into a seated position against the wall. He then pressed a handkerchief against my face.
“Seems you scraped your cheek in that fall. Please permit me to treat the wound.”

For a few minutes, neither he or I said nothing. I felt awkward. No one had ever touched my face before, no one except for my parents. This just felt, weird.
“Should I stop him? It’s not right. We’re not married.” I thought. But at the same time, I knew that I didn’t really mind. And he probably had no idea he was stepping out of line. Since he’d saved me, I decided to ignore it.

My eyes cleared up after a while and I could observe my hero properly. He reminded me of the priest I met last night in the prison. He had the same skin with the colour of mud. However, he was much younger, appearing to be roughly my age. And he wore the most eye-piercing yellow dress ever.
“A guy wearing a dress? I didn’t knew that was the local fashion.” I thought.
“Hey, it’s a tunic, not a dress.” The guy protested. I sighed. Me and my mouth again.
“Please forgive me, kind sir. I wasn’t thinking straight. I should also thank you for coming to my aid.” I said formally. I saw he was wearing a headband of the same colour, and he had a curved sword carelessly stuck between his belt and this tunic.

“Oh, it is no problem. A true Ansei would save anyone from the foul clutches of that scum. Even a beggar. After all, the soul of he who has no coin is worth as much as the soul of he who has a thousand.” The guy replied casually. I frowned a bit. Ansei?
“Must be some kind of profession.” I concluded after giving it some thought.
“Even so, it would not be fitting if I did not show you some gratitude. My name is Maorlatta Orgnum and once again, I give you my deepest gratitude.” I said.
“Sorian. Well met, lady Orgnum. Forgive my boldness, but who was that demon of a man?” I wondered what to call him. We weren’t on a first name basis yet. That would be so uncivilized. Well the other guy called him Redguard. I could probably call him that. It didn’t sound like an insult, even though the tone had been hostile.
“If I knew, sir Redguard, I would tell. However, I never even saw his face. Perhaps you could describe him?” I doubted it would do much good. The only people whose name I knew here were Delmar and that old man, Septim. Neither of them had that voice and neither looked strong enough to catch up with me, pick me up by one hand and keep me suspended for over a minute.

This girl was obviously very sheltered....... It's nice to see a character who is somewhat ignorant and naive of the way the world works.

Good stuff, the plot is certainly thickening.

neither he or I said nothing you mean anything, I think, double negative and all that.

Still I'm enjoying this though the altmer's name isn't what I expected.

Yes, things are moving along nicely. You keep making all these interesting characters Jack, I can't help but enjoy reading about them.

Now this is new. We don't skip to the Altmer this update. No sirs and madams, we continue right where we left off. Namely Latta and her first encounter with the love interest. (Ahem, you wish. Love interest, oh brilliant. I'm cracking myself up. )

Chapter 4.5


Sorian’s eyes darted up to the sky as he thought.
“Well…um…that is to say…It is really dark in this alley, so I couldn’t quite get a good look at him myself. Other than that he was wearing the darkest robe I’ve ever seen, I am afraid I am unable to give you a suitable description.” He stammered. I sighed.
“I don’t know anyone who wears that kind of clothing.”

Again we lapsed into silence. I was starting to wonder why he didn’t leave. He had already saved my life, so why didn’t he move on? Not that I minded him staying close, who knew when that creep would come back. A gut feeling told me I hadn’t seen the last of him. But still, that was none of Sorian’s business, I’d say. My eyes fell on that sword again. The lack of a scabbard made him look extremely careless.
“That edge looks obscenely sharp. It could cut through his tunic and stab into his side with just a slightly wrong movement.”

Sorian chuckled.
“Don’t worry, I’ve kept this Shamshir at my side for two years now and not once have I injured myself with it.” He said. It made me think a bit further. Well he did scare off that guy back there, so perhaps I should try to form a contract with him. I stood up and brushed off my clothes as good as I could. My cheek still burned slightly, which made me worry that my appearance had taken a turn for the worse.
“Ahem, I was wondering, are you currently employed, sir Ansei?” I asked politely. The guy scratched the back of his head as he jumped to his feet with remarkable grace. With some training, I bet he could become a court dancer in no time. If he had ambitions for that.

“Err…currently unemployed.” He admitted with some hesitation. Well, that made sense. No guy ever likes to say that he doesn’t do anything usefull.
“Well, I won’t call saving my life useless.” I thought as I cleared my throat.
“Ahem. It has come to my attention that remaining within this area is not safe. However, there still certain obligations I have to fulfil before leaving. Therefore, I was wondering…would you be willing to accept the duty of being my protector?” I then asked in a formal way.
“What’s the pay?” Well, that was rather straightforward. A bit blunt as well.

I shrugged and indicated my clothes.
“I am currently unable to provide you with any compensation for your efforts. However, I will set out to remedy this situation as soon as possible and umgfh!...” My attempt at persuading him was cut off when he clamped a hand over my mouth. It smelled like sweat, and dirt, some traces of tar. The structure was hard and rough, like that of a worker.
”Hush, I think I heard something.” He whispered urgently and flicked out his sword with the other. Contrary to my expectations, his belt wasn’t torn to pieces in the process of drawing the naked blade.
“Heard something?” My eyes darted left and right, before settling on a pigeon that was pecking at the dirt a few steps away. Sorian’s eyes followed my own and he relaxed once he’d seen the bird as well.

“My apologies.” He said calmly and removed his hand.
“Anyway, I’ve got a question for you, mylady. Do you perhaps have in your possession something that is worth far more than anything material you were thinking of offering? I mean, like skills?” He then asked. I cocked an eyebrow and held my head sideways, quite confused.
“Skills?” I repeated slowly.
“What is he trying to ask me?”

“I have completed First and Second grade of medicinal studies, which grants me a license to conduct healings for all common diseases and injuries within my homeland. Furthermore, I am familiar with courtly ethics, several written languages, basic economy, sailing, fishing techniques, sewing…” Again he cut me off, though this time he merely raised his hand instead of slamming it into my face.
“Those languages? Care to give me an example?” He inquired.
“Modern Cyrodiilic, Second Era Altmeri, First Era Meric, Dwemeric.”
“What?! You can read Dwarven?! Go away!” Sorian blurted out. I blushed.
“Note to self: Don’t say you can read Dwemeric.” I muttered before replying in a louder tone.
“A bit. Is that such an unusual occurance these days?”

Sorian blinked and began to scratch the back of his head again.
“Well, I guess it’s not such a big deal anymore. I mean, yeah, of course I heard the rumour that some Dark Elf has translated Dwarven and brought out a book on the ubject. Never saw it in the bookstores though.” The way he said it, it was obvious he had never been in a bookstore in the first place. Neither had I, not on the mainland.
“Although, first Era Meric? Could that mean Ayleid? I think…” He continued, more to himself than to me. He then snapped his fingers.
“I’ve got a proposal of my own. How about we team up for the moment. We’ll go into the professional archaeology. You’ll be the translator, I’ll be the one who protects you from all the undead. We’ll split the profit fifty-fifty. So, what do ya say?”

I was surprised by the sudden change of subject. So that was what he had been aiming for. I took a quick glance at my clothes. He’d taken me for a beggar at first, even though I was obviously wearing a prison outfit. So he wasn’t a local. And also, from what I’d gathered, people with knowledge of written languages older than themselves are very rare here. We might actually turn a profit right here in the heart of the mainland Empire. That would work, might even be faster than going into the trading-bussiness.
“Never saw myself as a treasure-hunter.” I giggled at the thought.
”I will accept, if you were willing to provide me with some more suitable clothes.” I finally responded. The more suitable clothes turned out to be a copy of his own tunic which he kept in a small backpack, only eyepiercing blue instead of yellow. Obviously, he’d accepted.
“Ah well, it’s better than having every guard arrest you because he thinks you’ve escaped from jail.”

Yup, in case you hadn't figured it out already. Grey is the Sherlock Holmes of Tamriel.


Chapter 4.6


Cyrodiil, foundations

At the end of the tunnel, they emerged in the chamber the Altmer already knew. The corpse of the assassin had been carried off to some other place and now only a pair of Legionnaires stood in the room to provide light with torches. The Altmer formed an expression of mild disgust as he put his foot down into the kneedeep pool of water that had formed.
“A bit cold, isn’t it?” Lex quipped.
“Indeed.” Angoril replied. The captain stomped off towards the two legionnaires, splashing at each step.
“Hmph, can’t even stand a bit of water. Superior physique my behind. I’d say they’re just too ‘civilized’ for their own good.” The man whispered under his breath. Within moments, he was locked in a hushed conversation with the two Legionnaires.

The Altmer watched the conversation from a distance. What none of the other beings knew, was that he was using his skills at bending air to form a tunnel. A tunnel through which the sound was amplified, enabling him to eavesdrop on the conversation taking place. After listening for a while, Angoril concluded that the three Imperials held no new information for him. That left only the private investigator, who was now fumbling with a gold-rimmed pipe in his snout. A small spark of fire erupted from Grey’s fingers and the pipe was lit.

“Forgive me for being so blunt. I’ve never seen an Argonian smoke.” The Altmer said. Grey inhaled deeply before answering.
“And I doubt you’ll see it happen again. It takes practise to handle a pipe meant for humanoids. But over the years I’ve found that it helps me relax, and think.” He answered to which Angoril nodded.
“I see. Regardless, I believe that our time would be ill-spent with small-talk. Exactly what can you reveal to me about…” He made a sweeping gesture with his hand.
“…Place?”

The Argonian pointed at the gate the two Legionnaires were guarding.
“That gate leads deeper into the foundations of the city. At the moment, we have hired a group of Argonian sailors to map the area. A generous donation in both money and trading rights ensures that they won’t touch anything. As for the flooded conditions, they appear to be recent.” He told. The altmer frowned.
“Recent? You mean it has not always been flooded? By always I mean, for generations. My apologies.” He inquired.

“Indeed I meant recent. If you look closely, the walls are not smooth, but rather are marked with various symbols. The fact that we can still see these symbols clearly, tells me that the water has not been here long enough to corrode the bricks. Also, I see no aquatic lifeforms and the sailors have reported drowned rats. The rats are all fresh corpses as well, less than a day old. No, most likely the flooding occurred suddenly, and last night.” Grey explained patiently.
“Suddenly. Sir Grey, that would suggest that an opening has been made to the lake. Perhaps the assassins used it to escape?” The Altmer asked. The investigator shook his head.
“I doubt it. The sudden flooding, one would have to shield oneself from the rush of water. It is hard to imagine, even for me. But tonnes of water, all pouring into the foundations. Tonnes of water. To form a barrier able to deal with that kind of situation, that is more than a mere cantrip. There was more than one assassin, on that we all agree. One mage, with tremendous skill, just might shield himself and only himself. But not even the Imperial Battlemage, Ocato, can do that. Finding multiple mages of that level, if they exist, then how come we haven’t heard of them? Finding one mage who can shield both himself and all of his accomplices, I can’t think of many with that kind of skill.”

Lex turned away from the two Legionnaires.
“Pardon the intrusion. But sir, you mentioned that you can’t think of many. Does that mean you do know someone capable of such a feat?” He interrupted. The Altmer allowed himself a barely visible smile of amusement.
“I’m not the only one who is eavesdropping, it seems.”
“Captain, you are correct. The Tribunal, the gods of the Dunmer in Morrowind can. I have little doubt regarding that. However, recent events have resulted in the death of two of the three Tribunal gods and the last one has refused to leave his temple ever since. Earthly politics are beneath the last god’s interest and even if they were, why would he come here in person? Why pursue assassination, when one holds the power to levitate a small mountain for centuries with no apparent exertion? Would it not be far easier to merely slay the Emperor from afar with a spell?” The Argonian said and took a puff of his pipe.

“No, captain. The Tribunal is not involved. There is the man who allegedly has slain two Tribunal gods as well as a demon from the same religion. I lay great doubts to those stories but even if they are true, I could present the same arguments. Why use assassins, with a low chance of success, when you are powerful enough to breach any of the defences surrounding our liege with little effort?” He shrugged.
“This man, is he just an imaginary monster?” The Altmer asked. Grey laughed.
“A monster? No. Despite killing the sacred gods in an influential religion, he is considered a hero by the Dunmer, not a monster. The two Tribunal gods he’s slain? Those were mad and a threat to the people they were supposed to protect. There are many documents about him, all of which provide the same description. Did you know that this man is a Redguard? The Dunmer would normally loath to admit that their hero is not one of their own. So most likely, he does or I should say, did exist. But as I already said, I doubt he really did all that. No mortal could ever face a god and win, right?”

Their conversation was cut short by a ripple in the water. A green snout emerged, soon joined by another. The snouts were followed by the rest of the two Argonian’s bodies.
“We have found the opening you seek, sirs.” One said.
“No trouble, I presume?” Lex asked in response.
“Only some Slaughterfish. As well as this.” The second one held up what appeared to be a soaked robe. It was crimson in colour and Angoril recognized it instantly.
“Where did you find this?” He wished to know.
“On a corpse. There were four of them, all wearing the same thing. Archers.”

Grey put out his pipe.
“Four, all wearing the robe we found on the first suspect? No one in a different garb? This…the suspects made a mistake. Perhaps the Emperor even escaped. But how? How did our liege survive? I don’t…” He fell silent. After a moment of thought, he took the robe and handed it to the Altmer.
“It is made from Colovian Silk. We do not know who sells this garb, for it has no markings which suggests a custom job. I suggest the following. You will follow this robe to the summoner, he or she will lead you to Septim. I will continue my investigation here and follow my own path. Regardless, we should both be able to find the Emperor in the end. For contacting me, go to Chorrol. The priest there is a friend of mine and can relay any message.”

Angoril took up the robe and carefully folded it.
“Understood, that does seem to be a good course of action. Any objections, captain?” He said. Lex shrugged.
“My job is to preserve law and order in the Imperial City. The investigation is something best left to the professionals. Do what you need to do, but don’t forget to ask one of my men for permission if you need to raid a house or take other technically illegal actions.” He answered.
“Very well then. Captain, sir Grey. I will depart immediately. The sooner I am in Chorrol, the greater my chance of apprehending the summoner will be.”

Chapter 4.7


Cyrodiil, western gate

“They’re kinda cute, don’t you think?” I said to my new ‘partner’. Sorian threw a quick glance at the beasts before settling his eyes back on the map.
“They’re just horses, and too expensive for us.” He mumbled.
“So that’s a horse? Interesting.” There were five of them, nibbling on the grass in a fenced enclosure.
“I’m not implying we should buy one. I have no use for a pet, especially one as large as this.” I replied. The Redguard nodded but didn’t say anything. His finger traced a road on the map, settling somewhat north and west from where we were right now.

“They’re not pets. Anyway, I’ve got the perfect location right here, about three hours down the road.” I looked over his shoulder at the spot he’d indicated. There was a little circle drawn there, but I had no idea what that represented.
“Could you please explain to me what that symbol means, sir?” I asked Sorian.
“Certainly. That milady, is a well.” I frowned, sceptically. Sorian snickered when he saw that, which annoyed me for a bit.
“Ahem. Yes, I realize that a well is not a place where profit can be made. However, the wells are all interconnected by a system of canals. If we climb down through a well and then follow the canals, we’ll be able to enter one of the abandoned cities.” He explained.

I held up a finger.
“Forgive me for my lack of comprehension, but why do we need to climb down a well? Wouldn’t it be a lot easier to merely walk through the front gate?” I inquired. Sorian folded up the map and put it in his backpack while answering my question.
“The gates have all been sealed generations ago. All easily accessible portions of the Ayleid cities have been plundered and there’s nothing left there, except undead. If the conventional entrances weren’t sealed, bandits could turn the ruins into their hideouts, not to mention all the zombies and skeletons that could come out and wander the countryside.”


What he called a three hour walk, became a five hour walk. In the end though, we made it to the well. It wasn’t much on the outside, just a low ring of grey stone, overgrown with moss. A horse-like beast, except a bit slimmer and with forked horns growing out of its head, was grazing next to it. When we approached, it fled. I sat down with my back against the well.
“Before we climb down, I suggest a break.” I said. Sorian snickered. He’d been doing that a lot. I knew he was trying not to, but I still noticed whenever he was laughing at me. It was seriously getting on my nerves by now.
“May I ask you what is so amusing?” I asked as cold as I could while still being polite.

Sorian stopped snickering instantly. For a moment, he looked ashamed.
“Ah, it is nothing. Yes, a break sounds fine.” He answered. But he didn’t take a break himself. He took out a long stretch of rope and began to bind it around the nearest tree.
“Right, right. Show that your feet are not aching. As if I care.” I thought and sighed.
“I feel so inferior right now.”

“With all due respect, milady. You merely have the physique of a city-person. Don’t worry about it. You’ll adapt in a while.” Sorian spoke, still working on the rope. I held back another sigh.
“I’ve really got to do something about this habit of thinking out loud.” I told myself angrily.
”And I don’t have a city-person’s physique. I’m just not used to walking for extensive periods. Although, doesn’t that mean the same thing?”

Out of a sudden urge to show off, I forced myself to stand up and walk over to the tree. Sorian looked at me for a moment before continuing his business with the rope. I bent down to inspect the knot he’d used.
“I don’t believe that will hold.” I noted.
“Really?” Sorian muttered and bent down as well.
“You have used a single knot. It is suitable for laundry, but it won’t hold my weight, by far. Perhaps long enough to descend, but not long enough to ascend.” I explained and began to untie the knot. All of a sudden, Sorian began to laugh.
“So what you’re saying is, that you’re fat?”

I glared at him and grit my teeth. As sudden as he’d begun to laugh, just as sudden he stopped and turned away. He didn’t apologize, but I did see how he hung his shoulders in shame.
“Now I get it. All this time I thought he was nobleborn but he’s not. We’re from two different worlds. He’s been raised in the wilds beyond the citywalls, I’ve been raised in a cozy palace. That’s why he’s been laughing at me all the time. Our experiences and values are so different, everything I do makes me look like a child in his eyes.” I turned away and retied the rope into a proper knot with quick movements.
“He’s been trying to act like someone from my world, but he keeps slipping on a role he’s not used to play…Did I say that out loud again? He’s not responding, so I guess I didn’t. Good.”I wondered if I should apologize to him and tell him to act natural around me. I really didn’t want to see him act like some kind of rude and barely civilized adventurer around me, but I did need to keep him happy. He was my bodyguard now, after all.
“Forget it. Let him shiver like that for a while longer.”

Once I was finished with the knot, I went back to the well and peered down. I could just barely see the bottom. There appeared to be water, but nothing moved below so it seemed safe enough.
”I have no intention of waiting any longer.” I told Sorian and climbed down. Sorian didn’t say a word as he followed. I sighed and focussed on the climb instead of him. Yet still, a thought refused to leave my mind.
“I hope he’s learned his lesson. That was just rude. Me, fat?” I looked down at my waist.
“Well, maybe I could do to replace some with a bit more muscle.” I blinked and jumped down the last two metres. The water splashed up to my knees but went no further. As I’d already guessed, the waterlevel was barely high enough to submerge my feet.
“What am I thinking? I’m not fat and I don’t need to get more muscle. Seriously, I’m like twice as athletic and half as heavy as all of my sisters, half-sisters and even some of my brothers and half-brothers. I’m good enough already! Being musclebound is his job, no need for me to get all apologetic!” Now I was just as angry at myself as I was at him.

Nice stuff. This is good, I can't wait to read more. I can see the ayleid ruin being more than she expects...

I want more...

Hehe, Latta is always thinking, you'd think she'd just stop thinking if she happens to just blurt out stuff she's thinking about every now and then. I guess we'll see how the ruin adventure will go.

Chapter 4.8


Cyrodiil, prison complex.

Once back outside, Angoril wasted no time. He cast a glance at a house’s window to make sure no one was following before ducking in a back alley. He moved a fair distance from the main road before raising his hand in preparation for casting a spell. Tendrils of magicka were cast out from his hands and traced a circle around his feet.
“Stay out of this, Redguard! It’s none of your business!” Faintly echoed amidst the walls. It was a harsh sounding voice. The Altmer paused and looked in the direction from where the words had originated. Sure enough, a black shadow came rushing around the corner. Angoril soon noticed that it wasn’t a shadow, but a pale man cloaked in a black robe. If that man wanted to progress any further, it would have to pass him first.

The man had noticed him as well. In an instant, he had bared a dagger, flipped it over till he was holding it by the blade and raised it as if he was about to throw it. But then, he froze.
“That face…I didn’t expect to see you ever again.” He said in a cold voice, mixed with a slight amount of fear. Angoril smiled.
“Good day. Meeting you is quite a fortunate incident. Would you be so kind and hold your breath for a moment?” He replied with a chuckle. The man frowned in apparent confusion. Then his eyes widened in shock as they were both drawn underwater.

“What was that?! Water?! In an alley?!” The robed man shouted as soon as he could breathe again. Angoril was covered in a thick column of steam for a moment.
“Ah yes. The Shiftgate has a rather peculiar appearance, wouldn’t you say? While it does have the unfortunate habit of soaking you to the bone, which leads one to taking certain measures in order to get dry, its rapid transit is undeniable.” He answered calmly.
“Don’t play jokes with me, Battlemage! Where are we?! And what are you doing here?! You’ve been dead for decades! Or was that all a lie?!”

The Altmer laughed.
“You have changed, Vicente. So many questions. I haven’t seen that side of you. You always used to carry yourself as if you know everything.” He looked the man in the eye and laughed again.
“Very well, I will answer just one question. At the moment, we have relocated to the Colovian region, just a short walk from Chorrol. By the way, if you wish to address me by a name, use Hides-among-the-old-Roots’. That would make things much easier.”

Vicente spun around. Wherever he looked, he saw trees and bushes. He struck one with his fist and found that the trees and the bushes were real. The Altmer wasn’t lying. This wasn’t merely an illusion. They had moved. He tucked the dagger within the folds of his robe before turning to the Altmer.
“Hides-among-the-old-Roots? That is an Argonian name. So, you don’t want anyone to know you’re back, am I right?” He muttered darkly.
“Quite the contrary, vampire. I have already revealed myself to a certain individual other than you.” Angoril said.
“Which individual?” Vicente inquired.
“I’d rather not tell.”

The vampire gave the Altmer a playful jab.
“Oh come on…Hides. How long have we known each other? How long have we been friends? Surely you can tell your old buddy Vicente Valtieri.” He cackled. Angoril’s eyes blazed with a cold fury as he looked down upon the robed man.
“We are not friends nor have we ever been. If you ever dare touch me again, you will not live long enough to regret it. Am I clear?” He hissed. Vicente backed off, his hand on his dagger again. But his hand was shaking. He felt that for once, he was outmatched.
“Very clear, Hides.” He said demurely.

“Good. Don’t forget it. However, since I’ve piqued your interest. Perhaps I could call upon the aid of the Dark Brotherhood again?” Angoril commented as if nothing had happened.
“Who do you want dead? The Emperor? I hate to break the news, but rumour has it he was slain just last night…” Vicente begun but cut himself off.
“Wait a minute. The timing is just too perfect. One night, the Emperor gets murdered and the next day you return. That can only mean one thing. Well, I see that you haven’t lost your edge. If you ever find world-domination to be boring, know that the Brotherhood always has a place for one with such diverse talents as you. Anyway, who do you want dead?” He chuckled.
“At the moment, no one. Perhaps later, perhaps never. Rather, I want your colleagues to merely observe a certain faction that wears red robes made of Colovian Silk. The make is quite crude, and the robes are custom-made. I want you to observe any individual wearing such garb. Deliver the reports anonymously to an Argonian investigator known as either Grey-Tongue or sir Grey. That is all.” Angoril explained.

Vicente spat on the ground upon hearing that his order had been asked for a simple observation job.
“If you were anyone else, I would have refused and crushed your throat. But since it’s you, I’ll take it into consideration. What’s the pay?” He spoke.
“The continued existence of you and your beloved Brotherhood. I believe that would be good enough, now wouldn’t it? And I assume I shall tell you who knows of my existence, if I feel like it.” The Altmer replied and turned to walk away.

“Oh, by the way. Your latest toy, how was it?” He asked casually over his shoulder. Vicente scowled.
“What, do you want to steal her as well?” He growled.
“If I so desire, I shall. Are you planning to oppose me?” Angoril wondered with a cocked eyebrow.
“I won’t. I didn’t live centuries just to get killed by you. Fine, she is average. Got talent, pretty good chameleon spell, although it seems to be limited to her skin and doesn’t extend to her clothing. Good senses too. Only flaw is she’s got no killer instinct. Isn’t even willing to save her own life. Thought she was a vampire for a moment, but no.” The Vampire hissed angrily. He then shrugged.
“But instinct can be bred. If what I’ve seen of that Redguard kid follows my knowledge of mortal minds, he’ll get her to hate him in no time and when that happens.” He slowly drew a finger across his throat while grinning.
“Kids these days snap easily and when they snap, they’ll cling to anyone who is willing to accept them.”

“I see. I suppose you wish to return to observing her. Now I would be delighted to form another Shiftgate that can return you to Chorrol but unfortunately, I’m on a tight schedule. Good day.” Angoril said in a disinterested tone and walked away. Once he had vanished amidst the trees, Vicente let out a howl of rage.
“You self-righteous, arrogant honoured user! I hope another champion appears and kills you! For good this time!” He roared.

That last line confirms my suspicions: Angoril isn't the name most people know him by I think. I didn't see the dark brotherhood getting involved, I like the twist. In fact I genuinly have no idea where this might go.

Was thinking Jagar Tharn - looking like it is him now too oops - did I give the game away?

edit: ok - there was that indignation about the Battlespire. Who has been though it? Could be the hero who discovered the invasion thereof? But then when did he betray the Emperor, and what global ambitions did he have? Who else is left one wonders?

Anyways, Minque has been saying you would improve and you are improving for so long now it almost makes me feel young again. Soon I guess I will have to read Oasis ... hmmm or can I put that off for a bit longer by doing something else?

Oh, I know, I can read another chapter of this - hint: WANT MORE

Ok, after way too long of a pause, I'm back. Err...I suppose I should tell you guys and gals the reason for my absence. My internet got blocked by my dad. While the argument for the blocking had some merit. "All that time messing around is bad for your studies." I do have one counterargument. (Which failed miserably.)
Namely, school was already over! What was I supposed to study? How to gracefully accept my diploma?

Speaking of which, yup I graduated and am now 200 km from home, about to go to the university of Nijmegen.

Anyway, I am also afraid I have to say my creativity plummeted during the period I couldn't get on here. So you get half a Latta segment from me now. (I actually had a full one, but I disliked the last half and deleted it...five minutes ago. Too much yelling and it became a bit unbelievable.)


Chapter 4.9



Ayleid ruin.

There were two ways we could go. Both looked exactly the same, a low but wide passage of smooth stone and thick white vines of some sort. While the passages didn’t draw my eyes, the vines did. Perhaps I could use some of them later one. One never knew if there was some true gold hidden among the dirt, as my mother would say. I bent down for a closer look as well as a very careful sniff. As soon as I smelled it, I got a thickheaded feeling, which told me enough. There could be some real gold in that plant. I might be able to use it as a painkiller but till I’d gotten a chance to read up on the local flora, I wasn’t going to try. I might consider myself capable with alchemy, but not so capable I could take risks like an apprentice without facing the consequences. It might actually be highly poisonous.

I turned away from the vines and saw that Sorian had already moved ahead. He was such an impatient guy. I cocked an eyebrow as I saw his back vanish in one of the pitch-black tunnels.
“You bet he’s going to be blind in there. I mean, he’s not a bat.” I mumbled.
“An Ansei has mastered all senses, and does not rely on sight alone. In fact, take his eyes and he shall not suffer any loss.” The Redguard said with fanatic zeal. So much for him being quiet.
“Does that mastery include common sense? I hope so.” I whispered to myself and rolled my eyes.
“Although I have to admit he’s got sharp ears, having heard my mumbling and all. But not the whispering, fortunately.”
And just what was this Ansei he was going on about all the time? Some kind of superbeing?

I stifled a condescending snicker. He wasn’t one himself. I could hear one of his sleeves rustle against the wall. He was upholding the ancient tradition of walking in dark spaces with one hand on the wall beside him. So much for not suffering at the loss of sight. And what was that other rustling sound just to my left? It was annoying. I stopped, so did the rustling. Now I knew what it was.
“Oh, this is ridiculous. I’m critiscizing his technique, while I’m doing the exact same thing myself.” I giggled to myself.

“Could you be quiet?” Sorian hissed suddenly.
“Oops, forgot about his ears.” I scolded myself. The need to apologize arose, but I remembered his earlier behaviour and still wasn’t willing to back down.
“No, I couldn’t. In fact, I don’t see any reason why I should be quiet. If I were, how would you know I was still behind you?” Was my rather snarky reply.
“Well, where else would you be? I’m not worried about where you are, I’m more worried about..” I stopped listening.
“This is getting ridiculous. I’ve got the perfect lightsource so not using it would be plain stupid. Flare.”

“Wah!” Sorian weeled around without warning and pulled out his sword. The steel flickered in the light and I screeched. We were both cast in darkness again.
“You should have warned me you were going to summon fire. I thought a Lich had come up behind me.” The guy sighed after a tense moment. A tense moment that made place for an embarrassing one.
“Well maybe if you weren’t so jumpy, I wouldn’t be sitting on my…I wouldn’t be sitting in this unclean water now!” I scrambled back onto my feet and tried as best as I could to wipe off the grime. I was still soaked though.
“Next time, don’t point your sword at me. Flare!” The small spark erupted over my open palm again.
“I’m a person who needs light, not an Ansei. So if you don’t mind, I’ll give us something to see by."

We moved on again. This time, Sorian walked with his hands dangling down his sides.
“First thing I’m going to do once we get out of here and sell the first batch, is get myself a new partner. One who doesn’t get on my nerves!” I shook my head at the thought. If this was how we were going to interact for the next few days, my future looked bleak.
“Speaking of selling, I don’t want to go back to Cyrodiil. Being the capital, it provides the most opportunity for selling any ancient trinkets, but it is also the place where I was imprisoned, nearly got raped, shot, eaten by a fish, murdered. I hate that place. And what happened to Delmar?”
“I hope he’s fine.”

“Hope who’s fine?” Sorian asked.
“Could you please stop peering into my thoughts?” I seethed.
“I’ll check up on him when we go back.”
“Well maybe if you weren’t constantly thinking out loud, I wouldn’t be tempted.” He countered. He actually had a good point.
“Then just ignore me. And something reeks here.” I snapped regardless. With every further exchange of words between us, I was just getting angrier. And it showed.
Sorian folded his arms and turned to me.
“I don’t care about what you smell. Just be quiet. Or if you can’t be quiet, you take the lead!” He complained.

I brushed past him without hesitation.
“Fine! I’ll go ahead. Geez, what’s your problem? Are your ears really that sensitive?” I grumbled. Sorian said nothing.

YES!!! The story continues!

Excellent, It's good to see Redemption being continued!
Thank you very much Jack Cloudy!

And if your dad ever tries a stunt like that again! tell me, and I will personally send him a strongly worded letter!!!

[necromancer mode]And then.... nothing.... [/necromancer mode]

And then indeed nothing. So more than three years later I'm trying to pick up the pen again. Don't have anything better to do anyway. I also want to go back to reading other people's fanfics while I'm at it. Let's see if it lasts. I just hope I'll remember all the old plotpoints I'd decided on. Unlike smarter folk, I never wrote down an outline of the story.



Chapter 4.10


Near Chorrol

“You self-righteous, arrogant honoured user! I hope another champion appears and kills you! For good this time!” Angoril’s eyes narrowed.
“Vicente, hold your tongue. Do not force my hand. You would not enjoy it.” He thought venomously. The Altmer then shook his head as he climbed to the top of a small hill. He had to admit to himself that he’d rather not met the vampire. Being a drinker of blood and a high-ranking member of the Dark Brotherhood, his loyalties were never in doubt.
“It is only such a shame that your loyalties never lay with me. As long as you fear me, you will cower among the shadows, but if that fear were ever to fade…” He did not finish the thought. It was not important, not at the moment. Besides, if that fear were ever to fade, he would simply have to restore it.

He reached the top of the hill and stopped to look at the surrounding landscape. Even from here, his view was obscured by the many trees. While he knew he was somewhere near Chorrol, he didn’t know his exact location relative to the city. On top of that, wilderness navigation had never been his strongest point. He would need to be able to see all around him in order to find Chorrol.
“Levitation? No, I’d rather not in case someone sees me. I could perform an illusion to make myself look like a bird of course, but let’s not. It would be better if I used a natural vantage point. One such as…” He thought to himself and smiled. From where he was standing, he could just barely make out the tip of a bleached white tower rising above the treeline. One of the many forts that had been built in Cyrodill throughout the ages, no doubt. It was the perfect solution. Even if someone saw him on top of the tower, no one would find it unusual. Adventurers and local children did it all the time, usually in search of their respective definition of treasure. Also, there didn’t seem to be any roads nearby which made it likely that the fort was uninhabited. Or at least not inhabited by any bandits. Those tended to operate closer to their source of income, namely lone merchants or small caravans travelling along the ancient cobbled paths of Cyrodiil.

From the top of the tower, he should be able to fix his position more accurately, The Imperial city was famous for its tower which served as a landmark no matter where one was in the province. From there, finding the direction for the city of Chorrol would be a simple matter. With those thoughts in mind, Angoril moved on.




Chorrol, northern hills.

The silk plantation he had been looking for was located just north of the city itself. He had passed Chorrol without entering. There were a few places he knew off from before his imprisonment. If those still existed, it would be faster for him to visit those than to try and find any contacts in the city itself. The moment he saw the plantation come into view among the trees, memories came to Angoril’s mind. He kept walking as his thoughts wandered off to the past. Scarcely three minutes later, the path he was following curved around a large boulder and he found himself in front of the gate. The Altmer shook his head.
“It is odd. Last time I visited this place, it was nothing but a humble hovel and some worms in a box kept in the backyard. Now, it is a sprawling complex the size of a small village. A very small village perhaps, but a village nonetheless. I wonder how the owner became so succesfull. Although, I suppose much can change over half a century.”

He paused to observe the place before going any further. It was surrounded by a solid brick wall, covered in only the smallest patches of moss and only interrupted by the gate he was standing in front of. Through the gate, he could see that there was a large three-floor building in the center and two rows of long and much lower buildings on each side. Behind the buildings lay the plantation itself, invisible to his eyes but for the telling humm of magicka-enhanced organisms. Whether those organisms were plants or animals he couldn’t tell, not from this distance. Countless rosebushes lined the path leading up to the large building and stacks of individual roses were hung in baskets on the walls surrounding the plantation as well as each individual building. The path itself was cobbled and meticulously swept clean. Finally there was the gate which provided entry to the plantation. It was a masterful contraption wrought of steel bars inlaid with a bronze relief that gave the entire construction the appearance of a metallic rosebush. Above the gate was a plaque, which told him the name. Quite fittingly, the plantation was called ‘Rosendorf hall’.

He walked up to the gate and waited till he was noticed. Within moments, a servant met him on the other side of the gate.
“Yes?” The man asked simply. Angoril bowed before answering.
“Good day. I would like to speak with the master. Would that be acceptable?” He said when he rose again. The gatekeeper frowned.
“Appointment.” He then said. While it came out as a statement, it was clearly meant as a question. It made Angoril smile. The gatekeeper did not seem to be a man of many words.

“Unfortunately, I do not have a formal appointment. However, I would appreciate it if you could just announce me.” The Almer replied in a polite tone. The other man nodded.
“He’ll decide. Name or title?”
“Imperial Customs Department.”

The moment he’d said that, the gatekeeper’s eyes widened. Just as quick though, he regained his blank expression. He was a professional and no matter who was at the gate, he would follow protocol to the letter.
“Please wait.” He spoke and marched to the tallest building. Behind his back, the Altmer allowed himself a short victorious smirk.
“Time for you to dance to my strings, good sir.”

Several minutes later, he was led into a spacious living-room. Seated in a sofa next to the fireplace was the man who could only be the master. Dressed in the finest Colovian silk, a subtle advertisement of his own products, and reading a book on poetry, a sign of a civilized person of the highest breed. The Altmer noticed the clues the man attempted to drop, then purposefully ignored them. They were the clues all successful men used, whether they be merchants or nobles. Only those who had made their fortune by steel resorted to different means of showing their sophistication. All he needed to know was that this pudgy Breton was one of the largest businessmen on the market when it came to Colovian clothing, as was apparent by the size of his estate.

The Breton looked up, then placed an exotic bird’s feather in the book to mark the page he was at. He stood up in a hurry and bowed profusely.
“The ICD! My father always spoke highly of your department. Regardless, I am Simanuel Rosendorf IV. Consider my home your home. Perhaps some tea?” He babbled, almost tripping over his own words. He was sweating only slightly, though not from excitement. There was a certain amount of fear which he couldn’t hide.
“I wonder if he’s done something illegal, on top of the usual that is. Smuggling? Illegal obstruction of his competitors? Slave labour? Or just nervous because I claim to be of the ICD and could be corrupt?”
“A pleasure to meet you, sir Rosendorf. I would be Angoril Bobardi. I thank you for the offer however, I will have to refuse. I am a busy man and can’t stay for long.” Angoril replied calmly.

Rosendorf gestured at a sofa with a smile, not taken aback at all.
“Of course. Have a seat.” He then said. Two servants entered the room and pulled back a sofa for Angoril to sit on. The Altmer sat down and waited till his host had done the same before speaking.
“Allow me to get straight to the core of my dilemma. I am conducting an investigation, a case of tax-evasion on mercantile products. Would you be so kind as to identify this robe here? Could it be one of your products?” He revealed the crimson robe and presented it to the Breton.

Rosendorf stood up for a closer look.
“Tax-evasion? I pay my taxes, like any good countryman. Ahem, this is not one of my products, thankfully. You see, we don’t sell finished garbs. We only sell raw silk to the clothiers. Silk of the finest quality, produced only by the finest silkworms imported from Argonia. Now it could very well be possible that the silk was produced on this here plantation. But I wouldn’t be able to confirm that without having a more indepth analysis conducted first.” He said resolutely after only a second of investigation. The Altmer merely cocked an eyebrow and said nothing, silently bidding the man to continue.
“Oh, but I do know what kind of person made this.” Rosendorf continued, with an expression of disgust.

“This robe wasn’t made by a proper Cyrodiilic craftsman. Please look here, sir. See this pattern of the fabric? It’s a Valenwood style, or so I’ve heard. It makes the robe quite…” He pulled on a sleeve with all his might. The robe didn’t tear.
“…durable. Yes, durable. Only a barbaric person like those Wood Elves could come up with something like that. And this item is plain on top of that! Not even the slightest frills or gold-thread. A durable robe, made of the high-quality silk. Preposterous! Why would silk have to be durable? It is a nobleman’s material! Clothing made from silk is a work of art! This, is just some mass-produced workman’s robe. And made from silk! It’s an outrage!” Rosendorf continued, his face turning red.

“You said it is a Valenwood product? Do they sell durable outfits made of Silk often in these parts?” Angoril interrupted softly. Rosendorf gently folded the robe and laid it down on a table before answering.
“Yes, I am positive it is a Valenwood product. But I haven’t heard of them using silk before, I just recognized the style that is the same they use with other fabrics. Hmm, doesn’t surprise me really. Silk is expensive. Those good for nothing thieving little midgets pretty much have to evade taxes in order to produce this much silk. It is a bit of a shame that they didn’t decorate their try at a silk product. Being a once in a lifetime chance for them, you’d expect them to try harder. If you wish to know more, you should go to a clothier owned by one of those Wood Elves. There is one in Kvatch. They don’t do silk products, but they might know someone who does.” Angoril wisely didn’t mention that the robe he’d shown Rosendorf wasn’t as rare as the man thought it was.
“They don’t do silk products? Are you sure about that, sir Rosendorf?” He muttered.
“Absolutely. We don’t do business with that store and neither do any of my competitors.” The Breton said resolutely.
“Any of your competitors? How would you know, without some espionage? Well, no matter. I already have a better tool for blackmail.”
“I see. Sir Rosendorf, On another note, would you mind if I saw your plantation for a bit?”

Rosendorf’s lips trembled, something which the Altmer observed in silence.
“Ahem, unfortunately we are conducting an extensive cleaning of all facilities right now. There was a locust plague that struck one of our neighbours you see and we don’t want to be next. The loss in revenue this quarter alone would be disastrous. Anyhow, we use alchemical products for this and it would be rather hazardous for your health if you chose to take a tour of the plantation at this time. Perhaps when you next visit us?” The Breton said, slightly too quick to be believed. Angoril shrugged and stood up.
“I am afraid that can’t be helped. As you suggested, perhaps another time. For now, I shall be off.” He replied and walked to the door which was held open by a servant. He stopped just before reaching it.
“Oh, one more thing. I noticed that some of your silkworms are low-quality mage-copies, which is illegal. So expect a fine on the order of half a million septims to land in your mailbox around next week.” The Altmer said casually. He turned around to face the Breton again, emotionless safe for an expression of mild disdain.

“What? You are mistaken!” Rosendorf yelped. To be fair, he kept himself quite well despite the shocking news.
“Mistaken? Oh, I wish I was. For me to be mistaken, that would be quite a sight. However, you forgot that a mage-copy has a distinct Magicka signature, one that is absent in the original. I can detect such signatures coming from all over your plantation. Just as an estimate, I believe one in five silkworms is false. Perhaps if you had taken the time to remember that I am an Altmer and therefore superior in the art of Magicka, you might have realized there is nothing you can hide from me. You have false silkworms which you did not report in your businessreport so you would not have to pay taxes for them. These worms produce false silk, which disintregates after roughly two months, at which point it can no longer be tracked to you. So most of your profits are gained from a false and temporary product. That is a serious crime since you do not claim to sell temporary silk. Regardless, you will have to pay the fine if you desire to stay in business, not to mention remove all false silkworms. Just be glad I allow you a chance to make amends. The alternate punishment is fifteen years in prison.”

Rosendorf’s eyes narrowed and flickered from one end of the room to the other. His self-control had begun to slip.
“But surely, the fine you named is preposterous? I mean, I’m not implying that you are preposterous, my good sir. Just that, it seems like somewhat much for such a small oversight. Besides, I don’t run this place. My father did, till he left it in the hands of his advisors. I’m merely the heir, the man who reaps the benefits and acts as the public image of the company. I had no idea this was going on, I assure you.” He pleaded calmly, but Angoril also glimpsed an expression that was one part fear, one part implied innocence and one part hate. Just the mixture of feelings the Altmer desired.
“Yet even so, as the official owner you hold full responsibility. What if the Emperor could blame every single problem on his aides? Without responsibility, there is no leash to prevent the outbursts we’ve had before. Surely you remember Pelagiad the mad? Another Pelagiad, and the Empire would fall. So that is why the Emperor holds responsibility. That is why you hold responsibility, sir Rosendorf.” The Altmer spoke.

Angoril had not moved since they’d begun arguing, nor had his expression changed. Yet there was an almost tangible menace in his voice. Rosendorf knew that any member of the Imperial Customs Department could ruin him with a single short letter. He knew that the Altmer held power over him, the power to send him into poverty. The rich Breton’s mind frantically analyzed the situation. There was no way he could get rid of the Altmer, not without drawing suspicion from the ICD. But the ICD, as well as its members, was not without flaws. He had been brought into this very same situation before, twice. Both times, the official had been easy enough to bribe. It would be expensive to add a third name to that list, but it would be less expensive than paying the fine.
“Please master Bobardi, sit down. You told me that you were a busy man, but perhaps you could stay here just a bit longer. I’m sure that we can work this out now, rather than go through a lengthy process of court and settlement later. You don’t want to be called away from your investigation after all because of my regretful mistake.”




OOC: I first wrote Rosendorf as the nervous corrupt merchantman, sweating, jumping up yelping and stuff. I then decided that given his success he should be made of sterner stuff and tried to rewrite him. The dialogue remained mostly the same, but his bodylanguage was changed. I hope I didn't miss any of the old Rosendorf.