Dr. Who? (or should I have said: "Dr. Who!")

Star Trek Deep Space Nine? (Dax)

I know you're a Doctor Who fan, so I'm going to guess at Doctor Who. Either that, or Futurama. Because Futurama is indisputably one of the best sci-fi shows to ever air on TV.

I should've guessed Methredhel would be the one to nick the sword, and it's good to see her and Aela back again. Aela's here, I assume, to lend a bit of magical firepower to the Guilds against Mannimarco and Co. (Mannimar Co. ?). I like that outfit of hersin the screenshot, by the way; is that vanilla, or a mod?


I liked this segment; considering that Methredhel hasn't seen Teresa for quite some time, it was a great way of showing how the titular stringy Bosmer has grown.

Edit: The brief appearance of Methredhel's fox spirit got me thinking; would people from more exotic parts of Nirn have more exotic spirit guides that fit with their locale? Like would someone from Vvardenfel have a guar or netch or cliff racer spirit guide, or somebody from Skyrim have a sabre cat or horker or chaurus spirit guide? Just a random thought, but seeing as it's played a fairly major role in the story so far I was just wondering if you'd ever given the idea any thought.

I love the screenshots with this episode. Also Methredhel’s POV gives us a rare and welcome glimpse of Teresa. She certainly has changed!

"I still have that hollowed out horker tusk..." Dynari winked.
A professional thief can maintain her focus through all kinds of distractions.

"Hello old friend."
I want to say Captain Piccard, but I think the scene I’m remembering (talking to a spaceship) is itself a tribute to something from one of the movies or the original series. I have to say I think the Next Generation series was pretty great.

Yay, Aela! And looking very nice in Lildereth’s favorite outfit. (That she doesn’t have yet.) I am so delighted to see her along for this adventure!

Dynari and Teresa’s non-greeting to each other was priceless. So much to read in their tone and body language!

"I'm in," Methredhel said. "Just tell me when and where."
Just like that. Awesome. Methredhel is that kind of friend.

Babylon 5... ...Aaaaah Jeff...

Sorry, still catching up...

*Applauds anyways*



---------------------------------------------------



EDIIIIITTTT!!...

As several people say throughout the Star Wars saga but I'll go with the Lando version right now..."I've got a baaaad feeling about this..."...

The house Teresa bought, her musings about her upbringing, this "One last job" thing... ...

Oh dear...

But anyways, to the story...

Kud-Ei was excellent!...I'm pretty sure that should she want to, she could have charmed the sword out of the Count's hands... ...But her objection to anything below board was a wonderful moment...

And then this trip to get her master thief... ...Another brilliant chapter...Loved it!!...

Absolutely amazing stuff...

Looking forward to much more...

Nice one!!...

*Applauds heartily*...


P.S. I do so miss Sinclair..."Ah, my good and deearrrr frrriend Sinclair!!"..."Meeesterr Garrribaaaldii"...Ah Londo...How I miss thee also... ....

ghastley: I figure Methredhel is sort of the Danny Ocean of Cyrodiil. Wait, that would be the Grey Fox wouldn't it? She's the Rusty, or even the Linus from the end of Oceans 13, after he has finally really stepped up in confidence and ability.

I don't think any of my thief characters ever beat her to Allectus' diary. They always had to steal it from Methie herself afterward. Like you said, she's got these rocket skates she flies around the city with.


King Coin: What else but a fox spirit for the future Grey Fox? You put that Khajiit nose on exactly what I wanted to spotlight in that episode: Methredhel's unswerving loyalty to Teresa. She is willing to drop everything in an instant just at one word from Teresa. That is the kind of friend she is.


Acadian: Another vote for the Jarol Job! Too bad I did not have more time, otherwise I could have written that for the Chorrol Competition! Nice try with Dax, but I think you were thinking of Sisko calling her "Old Man?" I have not seen that show in a long time now. In any case though, it was not what I had in mind.


mALX: That would be:
"I'm the Doctor!"
"Doctor, who was it again?"

Nice try, but again, not what I was looking for.


Colonel Mustard: I have to remember Mannimar Co. for the futuristic cyberpunk version of TES! Nice tries on the Doctor and Futurama, but still no cigars.

Aela's outfit in that pic is The Roadstroker's Road Rogue Ouftit. I have always liked that one.

Just like in Real Life, folks in the TF would get the spirit guide they need. Whatever that happens to be. It might be a dragon, a unicorn, or dreugh, or anything. It is just a matter of what is right for them at that particular time.


Grits: I could not resist throwing in that horker tusk line! They are single women, so they would have to have a few lying around. All the Skyrim women do...

Not Picard either. Thank you for trying though.

Another vote for the Road Rogue then! I think it would be excellent for Lil. Though I could see her in the various colors of Miran Talurn from Shdw Armor Pack 2 as well.

I worked on that non-greeting between Dynari and Teresa, and put a lot of thought into Dynari's crossing her arms to take up that closed in, defensive posture. There is definitely a cat-fight brewing there!


McBadgere: You got it with Babylon 5! Do I ever love that show. I think I am going to work in the time to watch it again. I was never thrilled with Michael O'Hare's acting, but I did love the character of Sinclair. "Hello Old Friend." has always been one of my favorite lines from the show, along with "Nothing's the same anymore..."

I once saw an interview with Peter Jurasik where he said he would get himself into the role of Londo by leaping out of his chair and shouting at the top of his lungs "Mr. Garibaldi!"

Don't worry, I do not plan on killing Teresa off at the end of the story! She's not an old cop who is retiring after all... We will get to see a lot more of Kud-Ei being smart, and being an old stick in the mud, in a few episodes.


Previously On Teresa Of The Faint Smile: In our last episode, Teresa and Aela traveled to the Imperial City. There they paid a call upon Methredhel and her roommate Dynari Amnis, who were planning a major theft upon Irlav Jarol of the Arcane University. Methie instantly agreed to help Teresa, without even hearing what it was her old friend needed. Much to the dislike of Dynari.


Chapter 46.2 – Methredhel's Eleven

"I'm sorry that this is difficult," Teresa said as she led the way down through the insula's stairway. "If there was any other way, I wouldn't be bothering you."

"How long have we known one another?" Methredhel asked. "You don't have to say you're sorry. I'll always stand beside you, you know that."

"Your friend did not look too happy," Aela observed. "I gather you two were planning something?"

"We are," Methredhel nodded. "Dynari is just nervous. She's never done anything so big before. It's asking a lot from her. But she has what it takes. She just doesn't know it yet."

"Now that sounds familiar…" Teresa breathed as they stepped out into the street.

Methredhel saw the other wood elf draw her dark green talurn hood up over her features. Aela pulled her cloak tightly about her shoulders, and a moment later Methredhel did the same as an icy blast of air sliced into her. Snow fell into her face, and crunched under her boots as she followed the other two women down Sword Avenue. Yet even with the winter snow piling up, the thoroughfare that cut through the Arena District was busy. Pedestrians like themselves went to and fro, as well as wagons loaded with goods bound for the Market District, and hansoms taking wealthier folk in all directions.

She was surprised when Teresa whistled for one of the latter, and they all climbed into the two-wheeled carriage. Aela passed several silver coins to the driver, and directed him to the Waterfront. They were forced to squeeze together to fit in the small cab, and were pushed back into the seat as the driver sent the horse trotting off past the Arena with a clucking of his tongue.

"We're taking a boat in this weather?" Methredhel cocked one eyebrow at Teresa. "Are you mad?"

"No, I'm a Witch," Aela said from the other side of the cab.

"I'm not sure which is worse…" Methredhel muttered. The thief stifled a yelp as Teresa's elbow dug into her ribs. Then the next thing she knew, she and the other wood elf were both giggling. Even the Breton mage loosed a wry chuckle herself.

"We'll be fine," Teresa smiled. "You'll see."

Methredhel did see when they finally reached the docks and clambered aboard a small boat waiting there. Rather than take out the oars, Aela raised one hand into a fist and loosed a burst of magicka. A form took shape in the air, with long hair and a slender, hourglass frame. But rather than flesh, the conjured being was comprised of water. Her hair was the foaming white spray of waves crashing onto the shore. Her body was the crystal blue of clear waters, and her eyes, mouth, and fingernails the dark green of an algae-soaked lake. She sank into the water surrounding the boat, and the next thing Methredhel knew the dory was speeding away from the dock.

"A Witch indeed," Methredhel said with respect. "Now I see what you mean."

"Oh, just wait until we get out on the open lake," Teresa teased.

Screenshot

Methredhel cocked an eyebrow in curiosity, but kept her silence. In the meantime, Teresa finally revealed what they needed her for. As Methredhel had assumed, it was a theft. What she had not expected was that it was the very Count of Bravil's sword they would be stealing, and that it was a cursed necromantic artifact at that! Even her plan to rob Irlav Jarol had not including prying the very staff from the mage councilor's fingers! She let that simmer in her mind and did her best not look out of her depth. She had what it took to pull off a heist like this. Even if she did not know it yet…

When they pulled out of the icy harbor and glided into the rough waters of Lake Rumare Methredhel discovered what Teresa had alluded to before. First she and Aela worked to loose the dory's odd, four-cornered sail from the mast overhead. Then the Witch spiked her hand to the sky once more, and this time a wispy figure of wind and glowing eyes took shape in the air above the boat. With one gesture upward, the summoning flew up into the sky and disappeared.

Just like that, the snow ceased to fall and the clouds opened above them to reveal an azure blue sky. A brisk wind rose out of the west and filled their sail, and the water calmed before them. They sped off across the lake with a speed that surprised the wood elf. She was no sailor, but the boat seemed to be moving far too quickly for any normal breeze. Then she looked up to the canvas, and she could swear that she could see a wispy figure dancing about the sheet.

"Teresa, you certainly know how to pick your friends," she said.

Methredhel felt a warm hand on her shoulder, and looked back at the other wood elf.

"I'd like to think so," Teresa smiled faintly.

By now, nothing the other two women did could surprise Methredhel. So she did not say a word when they sped on through the black cowl of night, rather than put into a port or simply an empty spit of beach. She saw Teresa pull her goggles from her Thieves Bag and put them on. Methredhel reached into a pocket and pulled out a plain obsidian ring. Its night eye enchantment immediately brought the world back into view as she slid it onto one finger. Aela simply raised her hand to cast another spell, and Methredhel did not have to guess what it was, as the Witch clearly had not difficulties seeing in the dark.

Teresa provided them with a meal of cornbread, and produced a bottle of Tamika's from her bag to wash it down. They continued on through the night, and soon the forester was pulling out potions to restore their flagging endurance. Before the sun could rise they had passed under the massive bridge over the Niben at Castle Alessia. By the time Magnus stood directly overhead Bravil itself hove into view.

Aela dispelled her sylph and once more called forth her undine to guide the boat toward the city. Methredhel was glad that the weather had naturally warmed on their journey south. In fact, she did not see even one flake of snow on the shore as they drew near. Yet the Imperial City had been under a blanket of the white powder for weeks! Now she could see one of the reasons her friend liked the southern city so much…

"Let's take it slow here," Methredhel said as they came around the castle. "I want to get a good look. Where would you say the count's chambers are?"

"Up on the top floor of the keep." Teresa did not point, and Methredhel knew the other wood elf was being cautious, lest the eyes of the lone guardsman walking the parapet above grow suspicious. Teresa might not be a thief by trade, but she certainly knew the ins and outs of the business. Growing up on the street would do that for anyone after all.

"The three in the middle should be his rooms. His court wizard is on the far left, and the steward on the right. On the other side of the keep are Drels Theran and the Captain of the Guard."

"And each has a suite of rooms," Methredhel thought aloud. "It's a big place, bigger than I expected. That's good though. It means a large staff, and lots of people coming and going. So a new face in the hallway won't surprise anyone."

"I thought you would want as few people around as possible?" Aela asked, "in order to sneak in and out undetected?"

"Only the small jobs are sneak and seizes," Methredhel declared. "Something like this is far more complicated. It will take more than stealth alone."

"I knew you would say that." Teresa bit her lip as they glided beneath the high stone walls of the keep above.

"Go ahead, spill those beans before you choke on them Teresa," Methredhel smiled.

"Well, I was thinking we might try a cat burglary," the forester offered. "We could come up from under the bay at night, go straight up the wall, and into his room while he sleeps. It's far enough away from the parapets that it will be out of life detection range."

"That won't work," Aela shook her head. "Look at the pennants on the keep."

As she imagined Teresa was doing, Methredhel stared at the long slivers of green cloth that spilled down the stone face of the rectangular keep. Decorated with the image of a brown stag looking back over his head, the banners fluttered gently in the breeze.

"Now look at the flag on the tower by the Larsius."

Methredhel's eyes moved to the dragon-emblazed banner that rose up above the tower at the north-east corner of the city. She looked back to the pennants above. Then she realized that they were blowing in opposite directions.

"A sylph," Teresa sighed beside her. "He's got a sylph guarding the windows."

"No doubt permanently bound too," Aela said. "Fathis Aren may be a womanizer, but he's no fool when it comes to his magic."

"Could you make us a scroll to dispel it?" Teresa asked.

"Nay," Aela stated flatly. "That would work on a creature summoned by another scroll, but not one summoned by a living, breathing mage. Magic is all about will. There is no willpower in a scroll. It is separated from its creator. So its effects are easily negated. Only a stronger mage can dispel a direct summoning."

"Could you do it?" Methredhel asked. She looked down from the keep to the Breton.

"I can do more than just dispel her," Aela said. "I can take control of her. But Fathis will instantly feel it when I break his bond with the sylph, and he will call out the guard."

Teresa whistled. "I didn't know anyone could do that."

"I am an ardhanari," Aela said, "or gallae, semnotatoi, enaree… Whatever race's word you like for a two-spirit magician. I can do things few others can."

"Mercenaries, thieves, guild magisters, two-spirit Witches…" Methredhel turned to her sister elf and laughed. "What are you going to pull from your sleeve next Teresa, a dragon?"

"No," Teresa smiled faintly. "But I do have a spy."

The food's not all that important, but you gotta get the drinks right!

I note that they're assuming Fathis Aren is siding with the Count. I'd expect them to actually investigate that aspect, as he has a big influence on the logistics. With his help, things would be very different.

And this is certainly developing into an interesting team!

Old news: Very right you are about Sisko calling Dax old man. I never cared for the show that much, but quite liked the idea of the symbiosis involved.


Yay, snow in the IC! How pretty that must have been!

What a magically fun boat ride to Bravil! You used time, weather and enhanced boat speed to remind us of the large geographical distances used in TF.

Putting these two passages together in the same episode shows a beautiful irony! Well done:
1: "We are," Methredhel nodded. "Dynari is just nervous. She's never done anything so big before. It's asking a lot from her. But she has what it takes. She just doesn't know it yet."
2: 'As Methredhel had assumed, it was a theft. What she had not expected was that it was the very Count of Bravil's sword they would be stealing, and that it was a cursed necromantic artifact at that! Even her plan to rob Irlav Jarol had not including prying the very staff from the mage councilor's fingers! She let that simmer in her mind and did her best not look out of her depth. She had what it took to pull off a heist like this. Even if she did not know it yet…’

And ditto with this:
"Teresa, you certainly know how to pick your friends," she said.
Methredhel felt a warm hand on her shoulder, and looked back at the other wood elf.
"I'd like to think so," Teresa smiled faintly.

Then you leave us with another guessing game:
"No," Teresa smiled faintly. "But I do have a spy."


Nits:
"Your friend did not look to {too} happy," Aela observed.’

‘In the meantime, Teresa finally revealed what they need {needed?} her for.’
I’ll take your grammar wisdom over mine, but it seems like mixing tenses?

‘Aela simply raised her hand to cast another spell, and Methredhel did not have to guess what it was, as the Witch clearly had not {no} difficulties seeing in the dark. ’

"Something like this {is?} far more complicated.”

“Its {It’s} far enough away from the parapets that it will be out of life detection range."

I didn't get to read that last chapter yet (but wanted to get my guess in). I'm slipping behind due to BS RL, not out of lack of interest in your story, believe me! I'll catch up, I'm sorry it is taking so long.

Witches and mages have everything better. Weather on command and a fast trip up and down the river.

Even her plan to rob Irlav Jarol had not including prying the very staff from the mage councilor's fingers!
That would be something! Doable in Oblivion though.

Everyone has their own way for seeing in the dark. Just add a Khajiit for one more variety.

Interesting castle defenses. Sounds reasonable, and I wouldn’t be surprised if there was more to it than they have seen yet. I suppose that’s where the spy comes in.

I really enjoyed the snowy IC after Bravil’s green forests.

It was fun to see Aela’s Aedric summonings and weather magic through Methredhel’s surprised eyes.

I especially liked the discussion of Aela’s abilities vs Fathis, and what she was capable of doing that would still not suit their purpose. Also I liked that Fathis could bind a sylph while I’ve had the sense before that Aela’s summonings are more like allies (though for all I know Fathis could be a Witch, too). The implications round out how magic works in Teresa’s world without an intrusive explanation.

I’m also wondering where Fathis stands with Drels’ plan and if he might be swayed to join Teresa’s team, but I suppose that approaching him would give them away.

A spy next? Hmm… Unless they're from another town, I've no idea.

Well, that was some pretty impressive magicks right there... ...Love the idea of the different spirit/sprite types...They were pretty epic...

OOoooh, I also loved the reference in the title...I've only seen - and enjoyed - the first of the Clooney ones, but the nod to it made me laugh... ...

An excellently realised journey, looking forward to what happens at the destination... ...

Nice one!!...

*Applauds heartily*...

PS...I love that witch...Seriously excellent!!...

ghastley: Ever since she met Jauffre, Teresa has never gone anywhere without a trusty bottle of Tamika's, just in case of emergencies.

As we shall see this next episode, there are not many people our heroes trust to bring into the conspiracy. That includes most of the Fighters Guild, and all of the Mages Guild but for Kud-Ei. As Girts mentioned, unless they are already absolutely certain how someone might answer, they do not dare approach them. So Fathis was never a consideration.


Acadian: First off, thank you for the editorial eye. I should be paying you! I knew you would like that part about knowing how to pick your friends. I was thinking of you when I wrote that in fact, and imagining your reaction upon reading it. Likewise, I am glad that you highlighted the two parts about Dynari having what it took, but not knowing it, and then the same for Methie. I was indeed meaning to show that in spite of Methie being the more qualified and experienced thief of the two, in this instance, she was feeling just as out of her depth as poor Dynari was back in the IC. Not that Methie would ever let anyone else know that of course!


mALX: RL has been trouble for me lately too. It is why I was not able to write an entry for the Community Competition, and why I have only been able to read the first half of the first story so far. *sigh*


King Coin: Now we saw the first reason Aela was brought into the conspiracy. She is a fast taxi to the IC and back! I did have fun with the seeing in the dark part. As you said, everyone has their own way of getting by that impediment. If only they did have Aravi in this! She could come in very handy in the endgame.

I want the castle to really seem like a tough nut to crack. Something beyond your average thief's abilities. So the patrolling spirit was an obvious touch. We will find guards with detect life amulets all over the place as well. So sneaking in and out is simply impossible.


Grits: The snowy IC was a way to show how late in the year it is. Nearly Saturalia! Not to mention to contrast the differences in climate between the two cities. I imagine the IC's winters are like those of Chicago, Detroit, Cleveland, Buffalo, or New York. While I see Bravil as like the Carolinas.

Aela's abilities are much like Fathis' because the two of them are graduates of the Arcane University. In that respect, Aela is an oddball Witch, in that she has a college degree. That is why Aela summons Aedric spirits rather than animals, as Morcant does. I am sure she can summon bears and wolves and such, but Aela is just more accustomed to sylphs and undines as that is what she learned in school. Daedric summonings would be reserved for Daedra worshipers like Saya, and of course Undead summoning is something only necromancers would do. I have not really thought of whether Fathis is a Daedra worshiper like his niece or not. But I know the count would not want a Winged Twilight hovering around his window. So Fathis would only stationing Aedra around the castle.

Aela's really big difference with Fathis comes from being transgendered. I am basing this off of RL, where gay and trans magicians are not only a common feature across the globe, but are also considered the top tier of mages, priests, and priestesses. I think the reason is that all magicians and holy people must live in two worlds at the same time: the mundane world around us, and the spirit world. They must be able to step between them at will. GLBT people also live between worlds, those of men and women, and between sexualities. They also have to be able to move back and forth between them. So they have a leg up in the magical and spiritual worlds. I am not exactly sure how to translate that into the game, except perhaps as an increased magicka and magicka regen rate. Perhaps also a fortification to magical skills as well. That is why Aela can take over other people's summons. She has the simple brute power to do so. I am sure there are other non-trans magicians sufficiently powerful to do that as well of course, like the Arch Mage. I don't see Fathis as having quite that amount of skill though. He seems to be a bit too busy with women to hone his skills to that level.


McBadgere: The different types of spirits are basically taken straight from the Classic Elements and Elementals. Being the creatures that created the world, and physically comprise it, I picture Aedra as being like Elementals - reflections of what we see in the natural world. So Lightning Aedra, Frost Aedra, Water Aedra, Tree Aedra, Fire Aedra, Rock Aedra, and so forth. Unlike in the game, which is purely focused on combat, I like to imagine what other sorts of things such creatures might be able to do. Such as clear the weather, create tides, etc...

I actually sat down and watched all the Oceans movies before and as I wrote this chapter. Plus a few other heist movies like The Italian Job. All to help me get in the mood. I highly recommend Oceans 13. I think it is my favorite of the three Clooney Oceans movies. Oceans 12 was just terrible. Stay away, unless of course you just want to look at Catherine Zeta Jones (and oh my, it was quite nice to look at her in that film!).


Previously On Teresa Of The Faint Smile: Our last episode found Teresa and company sailing back to Bravil on Aela's dory. Thanks to the Witch's summoned spirits, they were able to make the journey in half the time, in much calmer weather. Upon arriving at Bravil, they took their first good look at the caste from the water. There they discovered that a sylph was guarding the windows to the keep, preventing anyone from sneaking in that way.


Chapter 46.3 – Methredhel's Eleven

Teresa followed Tadrose into Pappy's office. Like the armorer, she brought a pair of extra chairs and set them down wherever she could find an empty spot. For while the guild commander's office normally felt spacious, today it was cramped with people. Kud-Ei wore her usual plain blue magister's robe, and stood next to her Fighters Guild counterpart. The commander was clad in ordinary linens, yet still carried his Nordic sword Hardrada at his hip. Mael stood nearby, speaking to Aela in low tones. Then of course there was Chance, who seemed to have glued himself to Methredhel the moment the thief had stepped into the guild hall.

"Alright you meatheads, we're burning daylight," Pappy said as Teresa sat down beside Tadrose. The wood elf took a sip of Tamika's and swirled the fruity wine around her tongue. Still she frowned. Not even the best wine in the world could get the awful taste of sewage from her mouth. Methredhel sat down on the other side of the forester, with Chance beyond her.

"I'm gonna start by saying that a lot of other people didn't get invited to this dance. The reason you're all here is because we know that we can trust you." The guild commander stood in front of a collection of maps and drawings of the castle that were pinned to one wall. "I know I don't have to remind anyone that what happens on this job stays on this job. One wrong word, even years from now, will put all of us in prison. Or worse. So don't even think of telling your mother, your girlfriend, your priest, or your dog. Keep your traps shut!"

"It's a good thing he doesn't have to remind us of that," Teresa heard Chance whisper to Methredhel.

"I've gotten rid of everyone else in the guild by sending them out of the city on contracts," Pappy went on. "Even Tavian is out getting some 'field experience' with Vincent and Morghak. So no one knows about this but us, and we've got the hall all to ourselves until this is over. Now I'll turn things over to our expert."

Methredhel rose as the guild commander took a seat behind his desk. She walked to the center of the room, eyes going over the assembled conspirators. "Yesterday I gave some of you assignments. How are we going on them? Chance you first."

"Only a few of the servants actually live in the castle," the Redguard began. "The steward - Elidor, the head maid Domitilla, the count's two pages: Flavius and Jirolin, his cook Honmund, and so on. Most of the housekeepers, grooms, and others live in the city and walk to work at dawn every day."

The Redguard stood and lifted a bag that had been tucked away in one corner of the room. He reached inside with a grin and drew forth a black dress, followed by a white chemise. "As requested, one castle maid's uniform, with my compliments."

Screenshot

"Oh this is beautiful!" Methredhel's eyes sparkled as she crossed the room and took the black outer garment in her hands. Teresa noted that the skirt hung down to the other wood elf's ankles, and could imagine what the thief was thinking: plenty of room to hide things in.

"I'll need some pockets sewn into the skirt of the chemise," Methredhel confirmed Teresa's thought a moment later. "For things like scrolls, potions, my picks, and so on…"

"I can do that," Tadrose offered. "I can take your measurements too, and fit it to you."

"That might not be a good idea," Chance frowned. "Eutropia is expecting this back from the laundry. If it gets smaller, well, I'll be hearing her complain about looking fat for months."

The other men in the room laughed at the remark. Teresa noted that none of the women did however.

"Will she notice the extra pockets in the chemise?" Tadrose was all business.

"We can just replace it with a new one," Pappy said. "Those things are a drake a dozen. If she notices it's different, she'll just think the laundry mixed it up."

"That's not all I have in my Saturalia bag." Chance reached back into the sack with a grin. A moment later he drew forth a pair of black court shoes. Their heels rose up in high, graceful arches, and their tongues were tied shut with ribbons. "Nothing but the best for my fair maid."

Methredhel practically glowed when she took the shoes from the Redguard. She held one up to the sole of her foot to check the size, and practically squealed in delight to see that it would fit.

"The way to every woman's heart is through her shoes," Teresa heard Tadrose whisper into her ear. The wood elf smiled faintly, and felt the other woman's fingers twine gently with her own. She made a mental note to herself to go shoe-shopping when all this was over. What a wonderful Saturalia present that would make for Tadrose!

"If we can leave playing dress up for later…" Pappy coughed. Teresa could see that Methredhel would be happy to play dress up, or perhaps dress down with Chance. But her friend's professionalism obviously won out, and she set the uniform down and turned back to the rest of the group.

"The court wizard is next," Methredhel said. "Kud-Ei?"

"Fathis Aren shall be joining this one tomorrow at dawn for a meeting," the Argonian declared. "He has been pestering this one for detailed reports on the activities of his niece. As much as he dislikes the early hour, it is the only time this one shall have available in the near future."

"Excellent," Methredhel said. "He was my biggest worry. That makes you next Teresa."

"I found an entrance to the castle that is not on any of the maps," Teresa smiled faintly. "I am not sure if anyone in the castle even realizes it's there. Or at least, I doubt they ever think about it."

Mael whistled. "Full of surprises indeed."

"It isn't perfect though," Teresa frowned. "I went under the lake and explored the castle's foundations. There is a drainage outlet that empties directly into the harbor, and another that goes into the bay. They're submerged, so you cannot see it from the outside. I followed one into a small system of sewers under the castle. I would say that all of the privies empty into it from shafts that run straight down to it. Most are wide enough that a small person could fit through."

"Isn't there a grate or something over the entrances," Mael asked. "To prevent this very thing?"

"Not anymore," Teresa smiled faintly.

"So I could fly up the shaft with a sylph and enter through the bathrooms," Methredhel looked impressed. "What are the toilet seats like?"

"Wooden in most places," Kud-Ei rasped. "But on the top floor they are solid marble. There is no getting through those. In any case, you would be seen through the walls by the life detection amulets the guardsmen wear."

"And I would be covered in muck even if I did slip by unnoticed. Not exactly the best way to blend in." Methredhel looked thoughtful. "I think we just found our exit strategy though. Okay, on to the entrance strategy, Pappy what do you have?"

"The count is getting all of the spirits for his Saturalia celebration from the Samaia Adamus brewery here in town. They brew their own ale, but import their wine and brandy from Skingrad. It's located on the north side of Riverwalk, between the bridge to South Island and Silver Avenue. They start work at the crack of dawn, and employ a dozen people. They put on five more workers for Saturalia though, which should make for the perfect cover."

"That's going to be a lot of people for Aela and I to overpower." Mael stroked his chin thoughtfully. "A few might escape in the confusion, or raise an alarm."

"This one can assist," Kud-Ei said. From the way the horns on her head drooped ever so slightly, Teresa could tell the guild magister was not comfortable with the idea. "I am not conversant with spells that damage the stamina, but I can charm and command them."

"You'll be too recognizable," Methredhel shook her head. "Even with a hood and mask, you are going to stick out like a sore thumb."

"Aye," Aela finally spoke. "I can pass for a man on this job, and Mael will probably never return to Bravil. But you will be here forever. If any one of those people see you on the street, see your tail and your nose, we'll all be finished."

The guild magister's shoulders slumped forward in defeat. Teresa could tell that the Argonian was disturbed by not being able to assist them, probably even more than she was perturbed by the very illegality of the entire plan. One thing Teresa had learned quickly upon coming to Bravil was that while Kud-Ei was the straightest arrow in the quiver, she never let her friends down.

"Who else are we going to bring in then?" Chance asked. "Delphine?"

"That one could never keep a secret," Kud-Ei rasped. "Half of Bravil would know before the sword was even out of the city."

"Saya then?" Teresa said.

"Fathis Aren is that one's uncle," Kud-Ei replied. "The very court mage."

"Yes, but she hates him," Chance said.

"Aye," Tadrose said. "But that might be what makes her slip up. In the heat of an argument, she might spit out how she made a fool of him and his count."

"Ungarion," Aela said. "He is who we need."

"Ungarion!" Kud-Ei sputtered. "That one is a black marketeer! A smuggler! He was nearly expelled from the University for sneaking banned books from the secret archives and renting them out to the other students."

"That was never proven!" Aela countered. "Besides, it only shows that he knows how to keep a secret. I have known him for years. He's always been there for me. There is no one I trust more."

"I like him already." Methredhel smiled.

"Aela's right," Tadrose said seriously. "The two of them were good friends of Seridwe. She was picky about two things in life. Her hair, and her friends. We can count on him."

"Let's bring him in then," Pappy said to Aela. "Do you think he'll do it?"

"Steal the count's cursed necromantic sword?" Aela's eyebrows rose. "This is his idea of fun!"

Kud-Ei said nothing further in argument, but Teresa could tell the Argonian was not pleased.

"Do we have enough necromancer robes?" Methredhel asked.

"We recovered four good robes from Anutywll." Tadrose said. "So with Mael, Aela, and Chance, we still have one left over for Ungarion."

"Good, I think that covers everything then," Methredhel said.

"There is one more thing." Kud-Ei rose to her feet with two pairs of gloves in her hands. She stepped across the room and handed one pair to Methredhel, and the other to Teresa. The instant she touched the soft velvet material, the forester felt the pulse of magicka within it. It was a strange sort of feeling however. Not at all like other enchantments. Yet she could not put a word to exactly what was different about them.

"These are negation gauntlets," the guild magister said. "They are used when handling cursed items. These ones must take care to only handle Soul's Rattle while wearing these. If the sword is indeed cursed, they will prevent it from forming a link to these one's spirits."

Teresa looked from Kud-Ei to Methredhel. She saw the same somberness she felt reflected in her old friend's eyes. For all that some parts of this felt like fun, the necessity for the gloves in her hand reminded her just how high the stakes were. This was no game, people would die, or worse, if anyone made a mistake.

A wonderful planning session! Each of the players was fabulous in their own right. I love how Pappy’s endorsement of Methie speaks volumes about how much he has come to respect Teresa’s judgment.

"The way to every woman's heart is through her shoes,"
Gosh, Buffy sure feels convicted of this!

Samaia Adamus brewery. . .

'One thing Teresa had learned quickly upon coming to Bravil was that while Kud-Ei was the straightest arrow in the quiver, she never let her friends down.'
I stood up and cheered over this! And you knew that I would!

Yay, Ungarion! Wonderful to see the lovably oily black marketeer merchant of. . . interesting items involved.

Negation gauntlets. Such a wonderful idea and touch you added here. It reminds me a bit of McBadgere’s ‘null iron’ that prevents spell casting.

This could be the heist of the era!

I like to think of myself as an avid student of TF, yet the name Mael escapes me. Is he supposed to be a mystery at this point? Perhaps the spy Teresa alluded to in your previous episode? My goodness, I shall certainly have a red face if I have somehow missed twigging on one of your previously introduced characters. If that is the case, I ask your forgiveness in advance. EDIT: Oops! My eyes flew open at 0230 this morning as I remembered. Of course I recall the Breton Blade Teresa met in Episode 45.4 as she was shooting her bow outside the FG. For some reason, the name ‘James Bond’ stuck and I quite forgot he was named Mael. Sorry.

Nits:
"Oh this is beautiful!" Methredhel's eyes sparkled as the {she} crossed the room and took the black outer garment in her hands.
”If she notices its {it’s} different, she'll just think the laundry mixed it up."

Ooo, I want a castle maid’s uniform! Irlav Jarol can keep his micro-skirt ones.

"The count is getting all of the spirits for his Saturalia celebration from the Samaia Adamus brewery here in town.
I love it! Perhaps their seasonal Satur-Ale-ia?

One thing Teresa had learned quickly upon coming to Bravil was that while Kud-Ei was the straightest arrow in the quiver, she never let her friends down.
What a wonderful way to describe Kud-Ei’s sense of duty and loyalty. That’s exactly how I see her.

Yay, Ungarion! This is quite a crew!

Isn't it lovely? You can buy it here. The chemise is separate though.

And you addressed the Fathis Aren problem, as I'd hoped.

He and a few other castle residents show signs of not exactly being on the side of the count, and I'm sure he'll be happy to be out of the castle when things happen.

I got a bit confused about the shoes. Was that just a Chance/Methredhel interaction detail, or do the shoes affect the plan?

Um...Firstly...



Um...Fair dues...Thanks for remembering...It's been a while since that...Cheers... ...



Aaamywho...

Loved the planning session...I had to laugh that Chance was straight next to the new girl... ...

I hope that Teresa's had her cure disease this morning... ...Eugh... ...



...Yeah, been there...Pfft...Men!... ...

I like Ungarion in the game, I always go to him for the Grand Soul Gems...He's cool...And I had to laugh at Kud-Ei's reaction to him being in on it...

Still, while I'm sure that Mael's very much trustworthy...Being a Blade and all...He's the new blood...Trusting him was a big...Heh...Chance, wasn't it?...

Love it!!...

Nice one!!...

*Applauds heartily*...



EDIIIITTTT!!!...P.S. I also loved the gauntlets btw... ...Nice one!!...*Applauds some more*...

Acadian: Thank you for the nits again. That first one was a leftover from an edit where I rearranged the sentence. The second one I just plain missed.

Both Aela and Methie are in the conspiracy because of Teresa vouched for them. She has not been in the guild for a long time, but she certainly has proven herself over and over in that time! Needless to say, she is someone that Pappy and Tadrose trust implicitly.

I knew Buffy would be skewered by the shoe remark! Just like I knew you would cheer at that description of Kud-Ei.

And there is plenty more Ungarion coming up. We finally get to meet him again in today's episode.


Grits: Another vote for Samaia Adamus! As usual I was hemming and hawing over coming up with a name, when I decided something tongue in cheek might be fun. It was either that or something like Ja'k Danielicus...

At least the count's maid uniforms tell us one thing about him. He is not a letch like Irlav Jarol! I really do love Ren Fair clothes. It was fun looking for a picture.


ghastley: I am sure that most people who have met the count are not exactly on his side! Kud-Ei sidetracking Fathis was always part of my plan. He is just too big a loose cannon to leave in the castle while they do the theft.

The whole shoe thing was indeed meant to create a little more Chance/Methie interactions. We will see more of that at the end of the chapter.


McBadgere: I see I am not the only one to come up with the idea of some kind of "safe gloves" for handling dangerous magic items. Null Iron has a nice sound to it, harkening back to the legends of elves and fairies being harmed or their magic impeded by good old mundane iron.

Of course Chance is straight after Methie! That is the kind of guy he is.

Hold that thought about Mael's trustworthiness...


Previously On Teresa Of The Faint Smile: Our last episode found the scooby gang planning to steal the count's sword. Pappy stressed the secrecy of the mission, and even related that he had sent off all non-involved FG members on contracts outside of the city for the duration. Chance provided Methredhel with a castle maid's uniform. Pappy informed them that the count's liquor was being provided by a local brewery. Kud-Ei related her plan to get Fathis Aren out of the castle. Teresa informed the others that she found a sewer underneath the castle. It was decided to bring in Ungarion to assist with overpowering the workers at the brewery. Finally, Kud-Ei provided them with enchanted gloves that would protect them from cursed magic items.


Chapter 46.4 – Methredhel's Eleven

"Almost ready," Aela said. She dabbed Ungarion's face with blue powder to smooth out the foundation that covered the high elf's face. "You know what this reminds me of? That time in Cheydinhal."

"With the theater, and the dremora?" the Altmer grinned. "Remember that wig Seri was wearing! I swear it must have been taller than she was!"

"I know, I could have nearly hid inside it!" Aela grinned. "She did fit several daggers and potions in there though."

"Not to mention the horses we used to get away with…" Ungarion said wryly.

"Oh you scamp!" Aela giggled and tapped his nose with her makeup puff for emphasis. Then her face turned serious. "I think that will do it."

"How do I look?"

"Like a dark elf," Aela declared with satisfaction. She held up a mirror to the other mage's face, and watched as he turned it this way and that, taking in his now dun-colored visage. The Altmer touched his hair. Where once it had been a mane of deep red, the elf's locks were now jet black and peppered with grey. He took the time to carefully arrange every strand, emphasizing his widows peak even more.

"I swear sometimes you primp more than a woman!" Aela snickered.

"A man has to look his best," Ungarion said. "He never knows who might be admiring him from afar."

"You mean a man might never know when his boyfriend might be admiring him from afar," Aela teased.

"I can always hope…" Ungarion winked.

"You wish Asgeir was part of this don't you?" Aela's features took on a more serious tone.

"Nay, it's best to keep him out of this," Ungarion sighed. "This isn't his fight. I just don't like lying to him."

"He really is special then?" Aela breathed. She wrapped her arms around the seated Altmer's shoulders, and rested her head against his own. He tilted the mirror before them, so that both of their faces reflected back in its silvered surface.

"He makes me feel like…" the high elf's words trailed away wistfully, "like I haven't felt in a long time. Not since I met that young, wild, sad, brilliant Breton at University."

Aela turned and kissed the elf gently upon his hair, lest she spoil the makeup she had spent the last half hour laboriously applying to his face. "You will always be the only man for me Ungarion," she said softly.

"But you do not like men," the Altmer wryly pointed out.

"That's beside the point," Aela smiled. "Besides, you don't like women."

She straightened up as she felt the Altmer shift under her. He rose to his feet, and turned to face Aela.

"That has always been the rub has it not?" The Altmer smiled sadly as he set his hands upon her shoulders and slid them gently down her arms. "I suppose we'll always have the University though, won't we?"

"You were the only thing that made it bearable." Aela closed her eyes. As difficult - and painful - as her transition to womanhood at the University had been had been, Ungarion had always been the one bright place in her heart from those times. He might as well have been Auriel himself, come down from Aetherius to rescue her.

"But you have Asgeir now," Aela forced a cheerful tone through her throat, "and he loves you. Even if he is a big tattooed Nord."

"Oh, he is a savage!" Ungarion's eyes sparkled. "You ought to see how far those tattoos extend!"

Aela smile turned genuine when she saw the warmth in her friend's eyes. Once that warmth was only reserved for her. Now she could see it was meant for another. Part of that made her feel sad, knowing that he had moved on. But the greater part of her rejoiced. She had never been able to give him the kind of love he deserved. The kind of love he needed. But Asgeir could, and after all he had been through, Ungarion deserved that happiness.

"If you go into that, we'll be here all day while you brag about your man," Aela declared. "We do have a job to do this morning after all."

"And Drels Theran shall see it done!" the Altmer declared. Pulling on a pair of black gloves, he gathered up his necromancer robe into a ball under one arm. Aela looked him over. From neck down he was clothed in dark cloth. The only flesh that showed was that of his face, which was now transformed from Altmer gold to Dunmer blue-grey.

"We'll have to leave our staves behind," Aela said. "They are too distinctive."

"We hardly ever use them anyway," Ungarion replied. "Besides, true power comes only from within. From discipline, commitment, and hard work. Not silly wooden sticks!'"

"Which professor was it that said that?" Aela asked. "Penczak, or Buckland?"

"I believe it was Starhawk," Ungarion said. "But as you say, let us be off, and meet Jalbert."

Aela gathered up her own robe under one arm and led Ungarion out of his shop and into the street. She shivered as the cold air bit through her clothing like an ice troll's fangs. A frost resistance potion took care of that however. A glance back revealed Ungarion doing the same to ward off winter's chill. At least it was not snowing, she thought as they crossed the street and vanished into an alley.

They followed the narrow passage between buildings until they found an alley that ran parallel to Riverwalk. Turning left, they made their way through the broken crates, empty barrels, and other detritus that piled up behind the businesses that lined the north side of the avenue. Soon they came to the rear of the brewery, and found a trio of shadowy figures waiting there.

"That you Jalbert?" Ungarion called out in a soft voice.

"Who do you bloody well think it is Drels, the Saturalia Fairy?" A Redguard clad in black robes replied.

"You two don't have to get into character yet," Aela shook her head as they stepped next to the others. "We had better get our disguises on though."

With that Aela shook loose her necromancer robe and slipped it over her shoulders. Belting it around her waist, she wrapped a mask around her face, then drew the hood up over her head. Like Ungarion, a pair of gloves hid her hands, and black boots rounded out her attire. All that was visible of her body was the pale swath of skin around her eyes.

A glance at the others revealed that they had done likewise. In the case of Chance, only his dark, reddish skin betrayed his Redguard heritage. Mael was like herself, and could pass for any of the other human races. Of course Ungarion's makeup gave him the appearance of a Dunmer. Only Methredhel was not clad in the black robes of a necromancer. Instead she wore the simple rough-spun attire of the working class.

"The door seems to be locked," Mael observed as he tried the knob to the back entrance of the brewery.

"I can take care of that," Methredhel said. The thief reached into a belt pouch and drew forth a pick and a tension wrench. But before she could step to the door, there was a brief flash of light from Mael's hand. A moment later the door creaked open at his touch.

"Oh look, it's not locked anymore," the spy winked.

They followed the Breton into the empty brewery. A massive chamber took up the center of the building, dominated by two rows of giant copper vats. A quick glance revealed several side rooms. Most were filled with stacks of barrels of varying sizes. Another was a small stable, and held a sturdy wagon as well as stalls with two horses. A wooden stair climbed one wall, rising to what appeared to be an office above the main working floor.

"Okay, everyone get into position, the workers will start trickling in soon," Methredhel said.

"What about you," Ungarion said. "You do not have a disguise. If any of them see you…"

"They won't see a thing," Methredhel smiled. She stepped back into the shadows under one of the vats, and vanished into thin air.

Aela smiled herself. Now she could see why Teresa had such faith in the other wood elf's abilities.

A rattling sound at the front door wiped everything else from Aela's mind. With Ungarion at her side, she darted to one side of the entry. Mael slithered into place across from them just as the sound of the lock clicking open came to Aela's ears. A burly Nibenean stepped through, followed by a slighter Bosmer. Both of their eyes leapt wide when they saw what was waiting for them inside the brewery.

A flash of white light sprouted from Aela's fingertips as she clapped a hand down upon the wood elf's shoulder. The warm glow seeped into the elf, and she felt his vigor flow back through it, filling her to the brim with his stolen energy. His eyes fluttered shut, and his body went limp as a noodle in her arms. He was still breathing however, simply fast asleep.

Red light sprang from Ungarion's hands as he used a spell to drain the stamina of the Nibenean, rather than absorbing it as Aela had. The result was the same however, and the heavy Imperial fell unconscious. The slender Altmer was not able to catch the larger Imperial's falling body though, and the man sprawled out on the stone floor. It took both Ungarion and Mael to drag the sleeping man to the stable. Aela took some satisfaction in being able to handle her mark all by herself. Granted, she was filled with his purloined energy, and he probably weighed less than half the Imperial did.

"First two down, just over a dozen more to go," Mael said with satisfaction. "Let's get these horses out and hitched up to the wagon. We'll be needing that soon enough."

"I can help with that."

Like the others, Aela nearly leaped out of her skin when Methredhel stepped out of nowhere before them. The Bosmer thief glided to the stable without making a sound, and gestured back to Aela and Ungarion.

"You two had best stay at the door, and be ready for the rest of the workers."

If you want a Brewers name that sounds applicable to lore, there's always Tolly Cobbold who unfortunately no longer exist as an independent brewer.

Ungarion and Aela give us good reason to think they'll work well together. Methy's showing what she's good at, and Mael has at least proved he knows a spell or two. And just a hint of the plan, as we know they're going to impersonate a few known characters.

Looking forward to this all going down.

‘She shivered as the cold air bit through her clothing like an ice troll's fangs. A frost resistance potion took care of that however.’
What a delightful metaphor! And I see Aela’s in need of a resist frost toe ring from Jerric and Co.

"Oh look, it's not locked anymore," the spy winked.’
Yay for unwarding spells. By not touching a lockpick, Mael reveals himself to be a self-respecting mage!

"They won't see a thing," Methredhel smiled. She stepped back into the shadows under one of the vats, and vanished into thin air.’
Methie shows off her wonderful Shadow birthsign and/or her super duper sneakiness.

Woot! Aela and Ungarion give us a show of TES style ‘less than lethal’ force! A nicely done and colorful display.

Aela’s doing a good job showing us the disparate skills of this gang as the op actually gets underway!

What a fun reminiscence about good times in Cheydinhal. I liked hearing a little of Aela’s past. It makes me wonder if she will want to return to her hermit’s life on mudcrab island after she’s spent some time with friends.

I just love Methredhel’s vanishing act that keeps a bit of mystery as to exactly how she did it.

Neat how the mages’ sleep spells were different. What a fun caper!

The thing that I loved with that, was that, to start with, Aela came across as this mysterious two-spirit witch type...Then she helps her most bestest friend do his make-up and it's all girly-girly-gossing and all that... ...

I did absolutely love this episode though, so much brilliance...



...

Loved the way they took the people down with the absorb spells...Nicely done that...They're searchers, not slayers...Yes...

OOoh, talking of slayers...For some reason, the make-up thing for Ungarion made me think of Lorne from Angel (Bless Andy Hallett )...

*Robert does the dance of appreciation of a decent tale*...

*Puts back out*...

Damn... ...

Aaaamywho...

Nice one!!...

*Applauds heartily yet carefully*...

I'll be over here...Urgh...

ghastley: Aela and Ungarion have a lot of history together, so they are a well-oiled machine. Of course Methredhel is Methredhel. It's finders keepers, and she's a pretty good finder. Mael even got a chance to show his stuff with the open lock spell. He has not really done much this story, so I wanted to show that he has some useful talents.


Acadian: Mael is indeed a self-respecting magician. I picture him as sort of a jack of all trades, knowing a little bit of everything.

I purposely wrote Methie's disappearing act to a little vague. I wanted to keep some mystery about her, since we were reading from Aela's perspective.


Grits: I like writing about Aela's past. Especially her past with Ungarion. The two of them are really fun to write together, given the rich and complicated history and emotions they share. Hopefully I will be writing more about them in the future. She may not want to leave her hermit's life on Bawnwatch Island though. One thing that city life brings is people seeing through her female presentation, which makes her uncomfortable to say the least.

One thing I miss in the ES games are the old fashioned sleep spells we had in the old tabletop RPGs. So I sort of drafted the Drain Stamina and Absorb Stamina spells to do the same thing.


McBadgere: Aela and Ungarion's banter at the beginning was a lot of fun. It all just poured out as I wrote. The same with Ungarion and Chance's in character greetings. I was actually channeling Thoronir there, with his "That you, Agamir?" I have done that quest so many times that I swear that greeting is burned into my brain.

Oh wow, I had forgotten all about Lorne from Angel. But once I looked him up, it all came back. I loved him! I agree, he is so much like Ungarion!


Previously On Teresa Of The Faint Smile: In our last episode Aela, Ungarion, Chance, Mael, and Methredhel sneaked into the Samaia Adamus brewery before the workers arrived. While Methie hid, the others wore necromancer disguises and overpowered the employees with sleep spells as they entered. Then they prepared the brewery's wagon for a delivery to the castle.


Chapter 46.5 – Methredhel's Eleven

Magnus was rising above the horizon when Methredhel and Mael trundled up to a city guardsman on the brewery's wagon. Clad in mail armor and wearing a surcoat bearing the green and brown stag emblem of Bravil, the middle-aged Nibenean lounged before the single bridge connecting North Isle to Castle Isle. The clomping of the two massive Shire steeds that drew the wagon sounded like thunder in Methredhel's elfin ears, and she wondered if he might be deaf to not hear them approaching? Or perhaps he was just ignoring the sound? In any case, it was not until the wagon was almost beside him that the guardsman looked up.

"Early day for you folk then?" The Nibenean stared up at Mael, who had divested himself of his necromancer disguise and was now clad in a tunic and trousers of worn flax.

"The count is a thirsty man!" the Breton laughed, "and the Samaia Adamus brewery aims to wet his throat!"

The guardsman nodded as they rolled past and onto the wide bridge that connected the islands. Methredhel glanced down at the water that lapped against the heavy piers which held up the span. She hoped that they were in better condition than the rest of the city! But the bridge did not collapse under the weight of barrel-laden wagon, and moments later they were clomping through the great stone gatehouse that brooded at the far side of the span.

After emerging from the miniature stone fortress, Methredhel had a good look at where the wealthy elite of Bravil lived. For the long road to the castle proper was lined with great stone manors, each sectioned off from one another by high walls and elegantly wrought iron gates. Snob Alley is what Teresa had called it, and Methredhel could see why. Bravil might have been known as a poor city, but you would never have guessed it from looking at the fine patrician estates that lined the avenue.

Now they began to roll by pedestrians on the road. Most were women clad in the same black bodice and skirt layered over a white chemise that Chance had provided her the other day. They stretched out in a ragged line from the gatehouse to the castle. Some of the women walked in small groups, others alone. Sprinkled among them were men clad in similarly colored attire. Methredhel imagined that they must be day workers in the castle as well.

"This is good timing," she said quietly to the Breton sitting beside her. "I should be able to blend in nicely."

The spy nodded as they left the pedestrians behind them and pulled up to the open gates of the castle's gatehouse. Standing there was a single guard, who held up a hand for them to halt. As they rolled to a stop, Methredhel noted that over his mail armor and surcoat he wore a heavy medallion of silver, shaped in the likeness of an eye.

That would be one of the detect life amulets that Kud-Ei had warned her about. The Argonian guild master had related that Fathis Aren had supplied them to all of the guardsmen stationed in key areas, including all of the entrances and exits of the castle. No invisible thief was going to sneak into this fortress.

"Top of the morning to you friend," Mael said as he brought the beefy horses to a halt.

"You're from Samaia Adamus?" The dark-skinned Redguard glanced at the side of the wagon, which was painted with the name of the brewery and a pair of overflowing flasks. "How come I don't recognize you?"

"We just started the other day," Methredhel explained. "They hired us on for the holidays, along with some other folk. Lots of deliveries to make in the next week."

The young man seemed to chew on that, and stared back at Methredhel. Her heart began to beat faster. Was he going to be a problem? Nocturnal save them from overzealous guards! The entire plan would come crashing down if they could not enter the castle.

"Do you know where the service entrance is?" Methredhel realized that she had been holding her breath, and inhaled deeply as Mael nodded his head. "It's across the bailey to the left, just follow that maid there."

The guardsman pointed to a lone woman walking along one side of the keep, and Mael tipped an imaginary hat back at him in thanks. With a cluck, the Breton put the horses in motion once again, and they lurched off across the open space within the castle walls, toward the keep.

It was a massive, rectangular affair of brooding stone. The lower walls were pierced by thin arrow slits, and the larger, higher windows flanked by heavy iron shutters. Clearly it was built to be a fortress first, and a manor second. Methredhel saw a pair of guards standing beside the twin doors of iron-bound oak at the front of the keep. She noted that like the Redguard at the gatehouse, they both wore life detection amulets.

Mael guided the brewery wagon around the side of the keep which the gatehouse guard had indicated. They passed by a smithy set against the curtain wall. Even given the early hour, a man was already hammering away upon a horseshoe at the forge, while a youth worked the bellows nearby.

A stone ramp led up to a pair of open double doors, and Mael drove the wagon directly inside. Within they found a wide chamber whose walls were piled high with all manner of crates, barrels, tools, and other minutia. A single guardsman stood inside, wearing another life detection amulet. He stepped up to them as Mael set the brake to the wagon.

"Delivery from the Samaia Adamus brewery," Mael declared as the man looked up. He jumped down to face the pudgy Colovian, and produced an inventory scroll. "Here's our work order."

"I wasn't expecting anything until tomorrow," the guard said. "But it all looks in order. Let me go sign this for you."

Methredhel smiled as faintly as Teresa ever did, and walked to the back to the wagon. Drawing down the back gate, she reached up to take a small cask of wine into her arms. It was light as a feather in her grip, but she pretended that it weighed far more. Leaning it against her chest, she put the wagon between her and the guard, and walked toward the far end of the room.

Out of the corner of her eye she saw Mael following the wide-bellied guard as the other man stepped to a small table and laid the parchment down upon it. The Breton stood in between him and Methredhel as the man picked up a quill and dabbed it into a nearby inkpot. Then Methredhel passed out of the storeroom, and into a wide hallway beyond.

Following the corridor, she counted doors on her left until she reached the fourth one. Opening it, she stepped into a small broom closet. She set down the cask and pried open its top. Within was her maid uniform, complete with shoes. Moving quickly, she stripped off her working class attire and donned the black and white linen. She stuffed her other clothing into the cask when she was finished, sealed it up tightly, and hid it behind a mound of old rags.

Stepping out of the closet, she fell in behind a small cluster of maids walking deeper into the castle. She accompanied them through the great hall, which she noted was empty except for a single guardsman. Here the maids split up, with two going to the back of the hall, two more vanishing into a corridor to the right, and a single woman taking one of the elegant staircases that flanked either side of the room up to the second floor. Methredhel took her time and followed the older woman from a distance. Her high heels clomped on the stone floor, and now she regretted the shoes. As lovely as they were, their hard soles and heels made moving silently impossible.

Once on the second floor, she stepped off the gallery that ringed the main hall, and found herself in a hallway that ran down one side of the keep. With no one else in sight, she lifted a hand in the air and concentrated upon the symbol of her Muffle spell. Channeling her magicka through that image, she opened her fingers with a soft puffing sound. Smiling more than faintly, she sauntered down the hallway without making a sound.

Counting doors once more, she found that the third one led to a circular stair. She climbed it to the highest floor of the keep. When she stepped through the door at the top, she found herself at one end of a long hallway. It was carpeted in red velvet, and the walls were paneled in dark wood. Portraits lined the walls, interspersed with fresh flowers and light stones set into golden niches. However, before she could take more than one step into the corridor Methredhel was confronted by another guard, again wearing a night eye amulet.

"You aren't one of the regular fourth story maids." The middle-aged Breton's eyes narrowed as he looked Methredhel over. "What are you doing here?"

Methredhel let one of her hands wander to her brown hair, and began to lazily curl it around her fingers. She leaned against one hip, and thrust out her small breasts to give them the impression of greater size.

"Oh, this is my first day," Methredhel said in as innocent and naive a voice as she could muster. "My friend Fathis got me this job, and I want to make a good impression. But it's so hard to find everything. I got lost twice coming up here!"

The guardsman rolled his eyes, and Methredhel had to resist the urge to smile as she went on. "Well Fathis - he said if I worked up here - I could service him directly. If you know what I mean. Isn't he just dreamy?"

"Hrmmph," the city guardsman sighed. He pointed down the elegantly apportioned hall to the nearest door. "The court wizard's apartments are right there."

"Oh I know, I've been there before…" Methredhel breathed huskily. "I was supposed to go to the count's quarters and help, hmmm, what was her name?"

"Livia," the guardsman said, beginning to look clearly exasperated.

"That's right, Livia!" Methredhel wore a mock look of surprise. "How did you know? Well, anyway, I'm supposed to help Livia today, and learn everything she does. You know what I mean?"

"Aye, aye," the guard sighed, and pointed across the hallway."Right over there, second door down."

"I swear they get younger and dumber every year…" Methredhel heard the Breton murmur under his breath as she stepped away.

She put an extra sway to her hips as she strutted down the hallway. As she walked past a planter filled with flax, she noticed how the bright yellow flowers swayed in the breeze. The same cool air washed across her a moment later. That is when she realized that the windows at either end of the corridor were shut, and there was no other place where air could be blowing in from.

Another sylph, Methredhel realized, just like the one outside the window. By Nocturnal, they said the castle was stripped of its defenders? She shuddered to think of how many armed men and spirits the place must crawl with when it was fully staffed!

Within a few moments she sauntered up to the count's door, where yet another guardsman waited. She prepared herself for another display of drama as she came up to the guard, this one a young Nibenean with a smartly-trimmed goatee. If she had not been working, she might have been tempted to chat this one up. But as it turned out, she did not even have to put on any pretenses, and he opened up the door for her without a word and bowed ever so slightly.

Now there was a true gentleman, Methredhel thought. Too bad more City Guardsmen and Imperial Legionaries were not like him. Her life would be a lot easier!

What fun as this ultimate heist continues! I quite enjoyed the ride to the castle and wonderful descriptions throughout. We know of Snob Alley from Teresa's wanderings, but it was nice to see it from a newcomer's view.

Nice touch showing us those detect life amulets.

‘As lovely as they were, their hard soles and heels made moving silently impossible.’
But what good is a successful mission if you don’t look good doing it? B'sides, Methie knows a muffle spell!

Neat how Methie used Fathis’ reputation with the ladies to help with her cover story.

Aww, how nice of that young goateed guard to open the hen house door to our little gray fox!

And you had a guard say that!

You're seriously risking turning the TF into the MF here. She's good at what she does.

Sorry to be gone so long, but I'm caught up now!

Loved revisiting Bravil with the T&T team. And now we see Methredhel at her TG best!

I do have one nit:


Usually "dun" refers to a sandy-color, and I think more appropriate to an Altmer (as Ungarion is) rather than a Dunmer (as he is pretending to be). Unless you were referring to the Dun in Dunmer? To my eye, the use of this word here was a bit jarring (as dear Olen used to say).

I am eager to see how the rest of this Heist of the Fourth Era is going to play out!

I'm all caught up! Really been enjoying the last couple of parts, from the banter between briefing/planning session in the Fighter's Guild to the banter between Aela and Ungarion. My favourite part of this last lot has to be Methredel actually infiltrating the castle; the whole 'dumb blonde' act she had going was great fun to read, and the guard's line about them getting younger and dumber every year made laugh. Now how is she going to deal with that Sylph, I wonder?

That was a great read, and I'm looking forward to the next part!

I object!!... ...

You write these parts as if all us men respond to the girly voice...and the hair twirling...An...And the batted eyelashes...And, like, the swayed hip thing...Not to mention the boobs thing... ...

...

...Aw dang it...

...Yeah, you're right... ...

Absolutely brilliant...From the excellently portrayed infiltration to the getting up to the tower...Fantastic stuff, could picture it all so amazingly well...

Loved the idea of the amulets...Brilliant that...

And yet another sylph!...Hell's bells, they're going to have their work cut out!...

Brilliantly amazing stuff...

Loved it!...

Nice one!!...

*Applauds heartily*...

I love how Methredhel of the stone-built Imperial City feels uncomfortable on Bravil’s rickety wooden bridge. I enjoyed her observations as they rolled through Snob Alley.

Her high heels clomped on the stone floor, and now she regretted the shoes. As lovely as they were, their hard soles and heels made moving silently impossible.

I’m sure every female in castle maid uniform regrets those shoes, and not just for the clomping noise. But they all look good while they’re working!

What fun to watch Methredhel make her way into Fathis’ chambers. I suppose it’s too much to hope that Methie’s hip-and-eyelash treatment might work on the sylphs? Maybe if Chance were to climb up the wall shirtless and wink at them?

I’m enjoying Methredhel’s parts of the story so much!

Acadian: Those detect life amulets are pretty simple, but very effective. They do not even need a long range at all for someone standing guard at a door or in a hallway. Just ten feet will be more than enough to see anyone trying to sneak in or out.

I could not resist playing upon Fathis' reputation with the ladies - so delightfully created by yourself and mALX. It really makes him come alive as a character. Not to mention gives Methie something to work with!


ghastley: I could not resist the "younger and dumber" line! It just spilled out of the keyboard as I was writing. The irony of it coming from a guard is just too delicious as well. But Methie would much rather hear than that "Stop, You Violated The Law!"


haute ecole rider: Hot Collie! It is good to see you back again. I hope you are feeling better these days.

I think you are thinking of dun as in the horse color? I am using it in the definition of a greyish shade. Which I believe is where Bethesda got the idea for naming the dark elves Dunmer from.


Colonel Mustard: The character interactions throughout this have been a lot of fun to write. Especially that part between Aela and Ungarion. There is an answer to your sylph question this episode, but I do not want to give away spoilers.


McBadgere: I do not know if I would say men respond to the dumb blonde act. But I do think that many of us have been subjected to that behaviour enough times when it has not been an act, we can fall for it when it is an act.


Grits: You caught the reason for Methie's trepidation on the wooden bridge. She is accustomed to good, solid stone all around her. Immovable and impermeable.

I could never take an eight hour day walking in heels! I could when I was 20. I could play basketball in 5 inch stilettos back then. But not anymore. And walking on stone too! I prefer the nice, carpeted walk from the living room to the bedroom...

At the image of Chance climbing shirtless through the window. If Bravil had a countess that might work!


Previously On Teresa Of The Faint Smile: Our last episode found Methredhel and Mael making their way to the castle on the brewery wagon, disguised as workers making a delivery to the castle. Methie slipped away as they unloaded the wagon, used a closet to make a quick change into her maid uniform, and has made her way to through the castle and into the count's private apartments.


Chapter 46.6 – Methredhel's Eleven

Methredhel stepped into the count's apartments, and heard the door creak shut behind her. She had to restrain a gasp when she gazed upon the wealth so casually displayed around her. The floor was of marble rather than stone or wood. The walls were paneled with gleaming mahogany, and small tables displayed statuettes made of lustrous ebony and meteoric glass. Portraits which she imagined might be just as valuable graced the walls, and small crystal chandeliers holding glowstones added their soft light to the space. It was all she could do to keep from grabbing the first shiny thing and running.

The clicking of footsteps came from one of several side rooms off the main chamber. Methredhel followed the sound and found a middle-aged maid pouring water into a gleaming copper bath that was built into the floor. Figurines of leaping dolphins and mermaids rose from the edges of the basin, and a golden-paneled chute stood open on the floor next to it, revealing a space directly beneath the tub. Methredhel could see brightly glowing heatstones spread out within, creating a small furnace under the copper basin.

"Livia," Methredhel said as the maid turned her lined face to her. "Domitilla asked me to come find you. She wants you to meet her downstairs and help her with the Saturalia invitations."

"Invitations?" the older woman's eyes narrowed as Methredhel stepped closer. "Those were sent out yesterday. Who are you anyway?"

Methredhel coolly stepped past the other woman, and gazed down into the tub. At least it was already full, she thought. That would save her the trouble of doing the work herself.

A quick glance about revealed no telltale signs of the sylph, such as things blowing in a nonexistent breeze. She thanked Nocturnal for that small blessing. At least she would not have to use the banishment dagger Aela had provided her with. With any luck it had orders to only patrol the hallway outside. Given that many Imperials had no liking for magic, it would not surprise Methredhel if the count did not want one of his wizard's pets lurking about him in private.

Still, there was the maid to deal with. Methredhel's heart doubled its pace as she reached down into the front of her skirts with one hand, out of the other woman's sight. She produced a small scroll, and shook it open.

"Sleep," she hissed as she turned to face the maid. The scroll fell to dust, and a spiral of red light leaped from the thief's fingers. It ground down into the older woman, and she collapsed into Methredhel's ready arms. The silver pitcher Livia had held clattered to the floor however, splattering leftover drops of water across the marble.

Nocturnal's black boobs! Methredhel silently cursed. She was going to pay for that. Dragging the other woman's body across the room as quickly as she could, she stuffed her into a laundry closet. She had just shut the door behind he when a voice rang out from the open doorway behind her.

"What was that?"

Methredhel turned to see a young man standing there. He was clad in black and red velvet, and the skin of his face looked as soft and smooth as silk. He looked at her with deep brown eyes, and brushed away an errant lock of long black hair from his finely molded features. He was young, but Methredhel imagined with a few years, he would have little trouble turning most women's thighs to butter. Her own included.

"Oh, I thought Livia was in here," he said. "Everything all right?"

"Oh yes," Methredhel said. "I just dropped the pitcher. I'm as clumsy as an ogre sometimes."

"Do not say that." The page walked across the room with his eyes fixed upon Methredhel's breasts. "You're as graceful as a Dibella herself, a living work of art."

"Oh, you flatter me sir," Methredhel batted her eyes and shyly looked away.

"It is not flattery when it is true." The page stood just inches away. He reached down for the closet door. But Methredhel was quicker, and clamped her fingers around its golden knob first. "Let me help you with that."

"That is alright," she breathed as his fingers softly caressed her skin. He edged closer, just enough so that his chest brushed ever so slightly against her breasts. She felt his other hand fall to her waist, and Methredhel closed her eyes.

He's too young! Much too young. Far, far too young.

But Dibella, was his skin soft and warm! She breathed deeply, taking in his scent, and felt his velvet-clad body against hers. It took every ounce of her willpower to keep from lifting her lips to his own.

Instead she opened her eyes and sighed. She raised her free hand, and gently pushed him away.

"The count," she whispered. "He could walk in any moment."

"You're right," he breathed huskily. She stared at his opened tunic and the finely chiseled muscles of his chest. Damn, he was put together like White Gold Tower, she marveled. How come no one in the Thieves Guild had a body like that?

"Perhaps later, we might spend some time to get to know one another?"

"Oh yes," Methredhel practically gushed. "Flavius? you must be Flavius, you don't look like a Jirolin."

"Flavius Carbo it is indeed," his eyes twinkled as they stared deeply into hers, "at your service. Jirolin has the day off. And you are?"

"Oh Flavius!" Methredhel put on an expression of surprise. "I was supposed to find you. The count wanted you to go downstairs and tell his cook to change breakfast."

"He did?" the young man said. "But he said nothing when I saw him but a moment ago?"

"Oh, you know how he is," Methredhel did not have to act to show how flustered she felt. "I mean, after all, you've been working here longer than I have."

"Aye, indeed," the young man nodded. "What does he want?"

"Umm, eggs and partridge breasts." Methredhel looked up as if straining to remember.

"Really, he has never had eggs before?" Flavius wondered aloud.

"I know, that's what surprised me too!" Methredhel exclaimed. "He said he wants something different."

"Well then, I shall be off on your quest my lady." The handsome youth strutted to the door. "Until we meet again."

Methredhel did not dare to breathe again until the sound of the door shutting came to her elfin ears. She turned back to the closet and slid the door open. Working quickly, she bound the unconscious maid's hands and feet, and stuffed a gag into her mouth. She was not sure how long the effects of the stamina draining scroll would last, but she was not going to take chances.

She had just shut the door when the count himself walked in, wearing nothing but a silken robe, and holding a wine goblet in one hand. As Kud-Ei had warned, the middle-aged Imperial's black sword was belted around his waist. Methredhel stared at the artifact. Unlike ebony, it did not gleam in the light. Rather its entire surface was a dull, flat shade of black. It seemed to devour all light cast upon it, rather than reflecting even a glimmer of it back.

"Where did Livia go?" Count Terentius scowled as he stepped to the bath.

"She was summoned downstairs." Methredhel curtsied gracefully, and silently thanked Kud-Ei for forcing her to practice the maneuver for over an hour the night before. "Domitilla sent me to serve you my lord."

"Well, get on with it then." The flabby Imperial held out the gem-encrusted goblet with one hand, and Methredhel raced forward to take it from his fingers. Holding the golden vessel in her hands, Methredhel stared at the rubies and sapphires that dotted its curved basin. By Nocturnal, she could feed the entire Chamber Pot with the money from this!

The count unbelted his sword, and gently, almost lovingly, laid it and its scabbard down beside the bath. Then his hands worked his belt free and he held his arms out wide. Methredhel stared at him for a moment, then quickly stepped closer and drew the soft material from his body. The Imperial stood with his back to her, and Methredhel noted that while his body was weighed down with flab, there was still plenty of hard muscle underneath it. The thief recognized the scar of a dagger thrust low in his back, near the kidneys. The memory of wide gash wrapped around one of his thighs, and an old burn marred a shoulder blade.

"Before he fell into a wine bucket, he was a questing knight and tournament champion." Teresa had said of the count. What happened to you? Methredhel wondered as the Imperial stepped into the steaming water of the tub. What made you let yourself go? Was it just age and world-weariness? Or was it something darker?

Her green eyes flickered to the dull black sword just a few feet away. Now she remembered what Kud-Ei had said the previous day when the Argonian had handed her the negation gauntlets: "If the sword is indeed cursed, they will prevent it from forming a link to these one's spirits." Is that what ruined you Terentius? Was it Mannimarco's vengeance? If Soul's Rattle was indeed one of the Dead Lord's artifacts, what would possessing it do to a person? What would years of having the King of Worm's energy seeping into you do?

"What are you still doing here?"

The count's abrasive tone snapped Methredhel out of her reverie. "My apologies my lord," she said softly. Even though his back was to her, she curtsied once more, then turned to leave.

"I didn't say take the wine with you," the Nibenean's voice seethed with exasperation.

"Yes my lord," Methredhel's tongue fumbled. "Umm, I mean no my lord."

Reaching into her skirts once more, she drew forth a small vial and upended its contents into the goblet. Giving it a gentle swish to mix the contents with the red liquid, she turned back to face the count and stepped up beside the tub. Without a word, she bent at the waist and set the goblet down beside his hand. Then she quickly retreated from the room, and stopped just beyond the door.

Peeking around the corner, she waited for him to take a sip from the golden cup. It only took a few seconds for his head to slump forward after that, and the goblet to slip from his nerveless fingers and clatter onto the marble floor. Methredhel smiled and strutted back into the room. Then she saw that the middle-aged man was still tottering forward, and her feet exploded into motion.

She felt her hose run as she slid across the tile and reached out for the count's hair. Just before his face could fall into the water, her fingers clutched tightly upon his scalp. Pulling with all of her might, she dragged him back. It took every ounce of muscle the Bosmer could muster, but in the end she was able to pull his torso from the tub, and splay him out upon his back on the floor.

That was close, Methredhel sighed. He had nearly drowned! While she doubted that anyone would weep at his passing, the last thing she wanted was a murder investigation leveled at her. The Imperial Legion became irate when you stole from rich people. But a cross waited for any plebeian who killed a patrician.

Drawing forth the negation gauntlets from one of the new pockets in her chemise, Methredhel slid the soft material upon her hands. Taking a deep breath, she reached down and picked up Soul's Rattle. She nearly yelped and dropped the sword a moment later. She could have sworn that it had moved under her fingers. Not shifted in her hands, but actually moved of its own accord!

Eyeing the enchanted blade closely, Methredhel waited until she was certain it was not going to move again. She had heard bard's tales of swords that leaped from their sheaths on their own, and could fly about killing people. She had never imagined they might be true. But then again, she had never seen an artifact of a necromantic god either.

Swallowing hard, the Bosmer thief gathered up her courage and once more lifted the blade in her hands. It seemed heavy, as if she was lifting a living being in her arms, rather than a thin sliver of metal. Being careful to hold it away from her body, she darted from the room with a clatter of heels.

That meant her Muffle spell had worn off, she thought abstractedly. She would have to cast it again before she left, just to be careful. Keeping her mind on such minute details of the job - rather than thinking about the dark weapon in her hands - Methredhel found the count's privy.

Just as Kud-Ei had said, it was marble, with only a small opening within the raised wishbone where one would sit. An elegantly curved glass carafe sat on one side of the bench, filled with a soft amber liquid. The smell of fresh flowers wafted up from the container, which Methredhel's nose was thankful for. She shuddered to think of what it was like for Teresa, far down below in the sewer.

Drawing forth a small, black pouch from one of the myriad pockets in her chemise, Methredhel slid a bright glowstone from its depths. Next came a handful of twine, which she used to quickly tie the glowing crystal to the scabbard of the black sword. When she was finally satisfied that the glowstone was firmly secured, she held the sword out vertically over the toilet. Without a second thought she let go, and watched the cursed weapon vanish into the inky depths below.

I like how scrolls are the non-mage’s path to wizardy things! You use them to excellent effect in TF at just the right times.

‘Nocturnal's black boobs! Methredhel silently cursed.’
How delightfully TESish and, well, just plain delightful! A welcome giggle in a tense scene!

‘Methredhel curtsied gracefully, and silently thanked Kud-Ei for forcing her to practice the maneuver for over an hour the night before.’
It does take some practice, and I’m sure it was a new skill for Methie! We’re reminded how out of her element our thief is. She was nearly distracted by the overtly displayed and costly trappings of wealth, and that she actually was distracted by the flirtations of Flavius!

‘But a cross waited for any plebeian who killed a patrician.’
Wonderful reference to the practice of crucifixion and, that in Teresa’s world, the station and class of the victim could greatly magnify the crime. Whew, almost lost Count Pompousness there!

And the evil prize is flushed down to Teresa! Now, Methie just needs to smoothly make her own escape.

What a wonderful continuation of this latest episode! I loved how Methie has to deal with one unexpected thing after another, and do so without becoming too flustered and panicked. Though for a moment I thought that Flavius Carbo was going to be the end of her! Why do those guys always show up at the most inconvenient times??

I was referring to the greyish-brown color that is actually not limited to the description of horse color. It is also used when describing sandstone and deserts of a certain color as well. That's why I kind of asked about your word choice here - if you were describing Ungarion as having more of a bluish-grey color, that's not what comes to mind when I think of "dun." As a matter of fact, some Altmer are rather donnish in their complexion. Not sure where Beth came up with the prefix of "Dun-" when they named the Dark Elves. Not that you're wrong or anything, it's just that your usage of "dun" seems to contradict what I typically think of it as.

When you described Methie dropping the sword down the privy, I thought "I hope it's not point-first, if Teresa's down there" but then it crossed my mind that she'd be avoiding other things coming down anyway. Tying a glow-stone onto it was a great idea. Warning beacon, as well as a homing one.

Now she has to get out, past all the people she sent on wild goose chases, who are probably on their way back. Could be fun!

I've been beaten to it on dun. It's a shade of brown for me too. There's a british bird called the dunnock, which is described as being devoid of any distinguishing markings, and just a plain dun colour. It's grey-brown.

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First off, I am so sorry it took so long to get back here to read.

45.6:

Your scene setting in this is so subtly worked in but gives the reader everything they need to know about what is going on, as if we walked into the room and saw it with our own eyes. I'd love to be able to emulate the natural feel of your scene setting! Awesome!

One of the things I love most about this chapter is the Lore you've woven into your own world building. The familiars like the Crypt of Hearts meshes perfectly and is a stroke of genius that makes me want to hunt for that bowing down emoticon. I am loving where you are taking your story!

Also love that the Fighters Guild is paired with the Mages Guild for an enemy of this magnitude - realistic. The infighting and elitism between the guilds takes a step back when a major threat is imminent, and them not agreeing on how to handle each bit of information they come across is so perfect and apt! I absolutely LOVE what you are doing with this story!

Still catching up, will be back.


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EDIT:

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46.1:

I've always loved your characterization of Methredhel, you have made me like her in game.

WOO HOO! Aela! I loved her/his character !!! Very pretty, just exactly like I pictured Aela!

46.2:

It suddenly struck me what Teresa's plan may be here, reading to find out...

I absolutely LOVED this chapter! Aela is one of my favorite characters in TF, there are so many you have brought to life and/or created that I love. I have to quote this entire section just for its awesomeness:



Your world-building in this story has me totally floored, I am so in love with this story!

Still catching up, sorry it is taking so long.


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46.3:

Fathis Aren is going to go nuts seeing pretty girls strutting around in those gorgeous maid outfits, ROFL!

Mael being considered one of the trusted really makes me nervous, I don't know him well enough to trust him yet, (not that I count in the equation, lol).



This is as real as it gets, in a land of magic there is no way the Counts would not have their guards fully equipped to watch what is going on so sneaky types can't pass them in chameleon - you think of everything in a way that the reader automatically realizes it is the way it should be - Awesome!



See? He is already planning to let the ones he is in cahoots with escape! ARGH! I don't trust this man!

This chapter absolutely ranks up in my favorite Teresa chapters, you are drawing all your forces into one place for this mission, making it as exciting if not more so than your tourney! Love, love, LOVE where you are taking this story! Awesome Write!

Not caught up yet, still reading.


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46.4

Love the open friendship and trust between Aela and Ungarion here, very reminiscent of Freddie Mercury and Mary Austin, love at its purest.




The "dun -colored" visage was explained before the description, it was really clear what you were going for here, especially in the context of the paragraph around it and the realm in which it was written within and about.

I LOVE that they are using disguises here, that really ramps up the excitement of this whole mission even more if that is possible! Add this chapter to another of my all time favorites, and put it high on the list! Absolutely stunning storyline and writing, it felt like I'd known Aela and Ungarion and their history personally - you did an EXCELLENT job with setting the feeling between them. Awesome, AWESOME Write !!!!


2 more chapters and I'll be caught up! WOO HOO!


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46.5



SPEW! When in doubt, claim needing to have sex with Fathis! ROFL !!! I LOVED this!

This chapter was too short! Reading on, lol.


46.6:

Looks like Flavius Carbo is giving Fathis a run for his Septims with the maids, ROFL !!! Methredhel should have taken care of her business before going on this mission, her focus is too easily distracted, lol.

I was holding my breath the entire time Methredhel was with the Count - WHEW! Awesome write, AWESOME Story - and can't wait to see what happens next !!!


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^ Someone's been busy... ...

Aaaamywho...

Brilliant episode, loved it!!...

Bit worried if yer going to follow the laws of story convention with Methredhel here... ...(Have you got to that bit with Marcus and Ivanova on B4 yet? you know/remember what I mean? )...

Fantastic writing, as ever...

Nice one!!...

*Applauds heartily*...

Well, the color discussion has been dun already, so…

It was all she could do to keep from grabbing the first shiny thing and running.
I love it!

Good grief, Methredhel was very distracted by the hot page! It makes perfect sense that he would assume any new maid was a tramp, given Fathis’ reputation. And Methie being already a little hot under the skirt tells me that she enjoys her exciting job!

That was close, Methredhel sighed. He had nearly drowned! While she doubted that anyone would weep at his passing, the last thing she wanted was a murder investigation leveled at her. The Imperial Legion became irate when you stole from rich people. But a cross waited for any plebeian who killed a patrician.
I love this paragraph! Very exciting, and a reminder of how high the stakes are when messing with nobility.

I just love that she tied a glowstone to a cursed artifact and then dropped it down the privy.

Now there are a couple of unconscious bodies on the floor and a horny page wandering around, and I’m getting nervous about Methie’s escape!

Acadian: If only I used scrolls in the game to such good effect! I always forget them when I am playing. But when I am writing - and have time to think - they strike me as a great way for non-magicians to accomplish specific tasks in their missions quests.

Curtseying is a lot harder than it looks! I remember when I tried to learn it. It is even worse when you are wearing heels!

The count's near death was another opportunity for me to reinforce the differences between social ranks in the TF. We have not seen it for a while. I also wanted yet one more danger for Methie to face. Plus of course the irony of actually having to save who might be the hated man in Bravil was just too delicious to pass up.


haute ecole rider: I wanted a good mix of obstacles and unforeseen issues for Methredhel to face in the count's quarters. From direct confrontations to more indirect problems. Flavius Carbo created a wonderful conflict for Methie - and her teenage hormones (she is only a year older than Teresa, 19). I had fun writing her battle against her ovaries.


ghastley: Hold on to that thought about Methie dropping the sword! As you noted, the glowstone is to act as both a warning to get out of the way when the sword is on the way down, and a helpful way to find it in the dark.


mALX: I was very glad that I was able to pull so much out of the existing Bethesda lore for the background on Soul's Rattle and the necros who are hunting for it. It all wound up tying together very well, which I hope makes the story a little more accessible - or at least familiar - to those who have played not only Oblivion, but also the earlier games.

I have to thank you for my characterization of Fathis as a hound. Thanks to you, I just cannot imagine him any other way.

Hold on to that suspicion of Mael, it may be justified...

Wow, Freddie Mercury and Mary Austin really hits it perfectly! They may have both moved on to other lovers, but both Ungarion and Aela still have that same deep bond between them.

I guess Methie should have brought that horker tusk with her after all...


McBadgere: Fear not, Methie has not fallen in love with anyone. At least not yet. So no dashing young men have to die because of her!


Grits: Picturing a street rat like Methie surrounded by all that wealth, it had to be like an alcoholic in a brewery. There must be an overpowering urge to just grab and take it all! OTOH, I always get nervous when I am around displays of wealth. I am always afraid I am going to break something. Except for technology. I am never afraid of breaking a million dollar server. Sometimes I actually want to kick them!

I would not go so far as to say that Flavius assumes the hot young maids are tramps, as to say that like all men, his penis has a mind of its own...

I decided to skip over Methies escape from the castle, as it felt anti-climatic after everything she went through in the count's chambers. Suffice to say, she slips out like the expert thief that she is.


Previously On Teresa Of The Faint Smile: Our last episode found Methredhel facing one challenge after another in the count's private chambers. She was forced to knock out another maid with a scroll and hide her in a closet. Then tricked a hot young page into leaving to change the count's breakfast. Then of course she not only had to poison the count's wine with a sleeping potion, but also had to rescue him from drowning in his tub. Finally, she was able to get hold of his sword and drop it down the privy to the sewer below.


Chapter 46.7 – Methredhel's Eleven

Teresa waited on one of the small, stone ledges that flanked the sewer tunnel. Her night eye goggles were strapped around her head. Otherwise she could not have seen her hand in front of her face in the lightless passages underneath the castle. Still, she was not entirely thankful for the illumination they provided. For that just made it all the easier to see the unwholesome liquid that floated alongside her. It was bad enough just smelling it, even with the vanilla and lavender-soaked facemask she had prepared ahead of time. She was even more thankful for the Jewel of the Rumare, for it had kept her dry while swimming through the effluvium. She could still taste it however, where the water, and other things, had touched her lips.

The Bosmer archer could not help but remember the last time she had waded through a sewer. It had been less than a year ago, shortly after the death of the Emperor. As it often did, her throat constricted at the thought of the old man. She had come so far since then. But he was always there waiting in mind, watching.

Teresa hoped that she had made him proud.

Leaning out over the water channel, Teresa glanced up into the shaft above. She thought she saw a light appear. The forester hoped that was Methredhel. Assuming she was under the right privy. Teresa took a step back, lest the count's falling sword cave her skull in. It was not the necromantic artifact that came raining down in front of her however, but rather a barrage of brown excrement. The stomach-churning bombardment splashed the water high up all around, washing Teresa with bilge.

The Bosmer closed her eyes and winced. Once again she as thankful for the protection of the Jewel of the Rumare. She vowed that next time Methredhel was going into the sewer, while she sneaked into the fortress over it!

A very loud splash came to Teresa's elfin ears, along with a flash of light from outside of her field of view. Teresa' head spun, and she saw a bright glow of light reaching up from under the water just a dozen paces behind her. The waves above it leaped and roiled from an impact more substantial than the normal discharges she had witnessed since arriving in the sewer, sending them spilling across the narrow stone walkways to either side of the drainage channel.

Praying to Nocturnal that this was indeed Soul's Rattle, the Bosmer pulled the negation gloves onto her hands and raced forward. Gritting her teeth, Teresa dove into the muck and swam down. Doing her best to ignore the flotsam and jetsam that floated past, she reached the bottom of the waterway and cast about for whatever had fallen from the privy above.

There it was, a long dark shape against the grey stone of the canal. The bright spot of light from the glowstone hurt Teresa's eyes as she neared it. Thanks to that she could not make out any details except for the basic outline of the sword. She reached down with one hand and clapped it around the scabbard. Lifting it up, she was surprised at how heavy it felt. Most swords weighed no more than a few pounds. But this felt somehow more substantial than them, as if she was lifting more than just steel.

The blade shifted under her hand, seemingly of its own accord. Teresa saw it sliding out of its sheath, and reached out with her free hand to take the grip. She felt - something - squirm under her fingers. Not the sword, but something else. Something soft, like flesh.

Looking down, she saw a woman laying on the green velvet carpet of the bedroom floor. It was Pompeia. Teresa did not understand how she knew the Imperial woman's name. She simply did. Just as she knew that they had been married for nearly two decades. Even after all that time, and all the arguments, Teresa could not imagine any woman in the world being more beautiful.

Yet that beauty was fragile, as all mortal beauty was. It was stained red with her life blood, which poured out onto the floor. Teresa reached out with one of her hands to stroke Pompeia's long black hair. She noted that it was not her arm and hand, but rather that of a man, thick with dark hair and muscle. Teresa's other hand took hold of the black sword that was buried in her chest. She knew that it was the only thing holding the wound even partially closed. If she pulled it out, Pompeia would drown in her own blood.

Teresa's hand shook, and she heard a cry rip through her throat.

"Healer!" a man's deep voice screamed raggedly. "Send for a healer!"

But looking down into Pompeia's eyes, Teresa could see that it was already far too late. The light in them faded, and went cold.

Then she felt her. Not in the still flesh stretched out on the floor. But within the grip of the terrible blade that had taken Pompeia's life. It felt warm now, as if it was filled with her love, with her anger, with her laughter, and with her tears. A whispering came to her ears, just loud enough to hear, but not enough for Teresa to make out the words. All that she could tell for certain, was that it was Pompeia…

Teresa gasped, and dropped the sword with both hands. As soon as she let go of the grip the vision was gone, and she was herself again. The Bosmer shook like a leaf, and stared at the sword below her. Now she knew why Count Terentius was a drunkard, and why he could not rid himself of the very cursed blade that had taken the life of his beloved. It was all he had left of her.

* * *

Aela watched the street outside. By now Riverwalk was busy with pedestrians going this way and that, as well as wagons and carts loaded down with goods from the docks, which lay just beyond the avenue. A glance back showed that Ungarion still waited at the back door, just in case anyone tried to enter that way. Chance stood near the stable door, to make sure no one escaped. She hoped that no one tried. They had already laid out over a dozen workers and locked them inside. From the banging she occasionally heard, some of them were once again awake.

Methredhel had better return soon, she mused, else this was going to go to Oblivion. The three of them could not keep the workers locked in forever, and guard all the doors. Not without killing someone.

Her heart leaped as she looked back into the street and saw Teresa standing there. The wood elf was clad in simple threadbare clothing, and wore a scowl deeper than the Niben. Yet when the Bosmer's eyes locked upon her own, she managed a faint smile. The archer raised one hand with her thumb up, and Aela did the same in return.

"Jalbert, Soul's Rattle is ours." Aela did not try to soften her voice as she usually did. Rather she let its full - distinctly male - resonance pour from her lungs. "They should return momentarily."

"Excellent," Chance replied loudly, doing his best to deepen his voice and sound different from normal as well. "All is going according to plan. Drels, you had better return to the castle before those fools realize that you have been gone."

"I'll wager that idiot that calls himself a count will even believe that it was the Renrijra Krin who stole his sword!" Ungarion laughed in voice as harsh and rough as Red Mountain. He vanished through the back door, slamming it hard enough behind him that the workers were certain to hear.

Aela saw the brewery wagon pull up in front of the building, with Methredhel and Mael sitting in its cab. Quickly opening the double doors that faced Riverwalk, she stepped aside while the Breton clucked the horses forward. A glance across the street revealed Commander Vitellus and Vice-Commander Tadrose. Both wore ordinary clothing, but carried their swords. They looked back at her and nodded.

As soon as the wagon was safely within the building, Aela slammed the doors shut. She did not lock them however. Along with Chance and Ungarion, she walked over to meet Mael and Methredhel as they climbed down to the floor.

"I just got the signal that we have it," Aela whispered to the newcomers. "We are ready for the next part."

"We saw her too, on the way over," Methredhel whispered back. Then she turned to Mael, and gestured toward the back door. The two of them opened it silently, and vanished into the alley beyond.

Aela waited, looking from the door to Chance, and back to the front door. A loud pounding rang out upon it. Aela ignored it, and the hammering only grew more insistent.

"Open up!" Vitellus' voice rang out from the street. "We know you're open. We just saw a wagon go in!"

"We're closed!" Aela yelled back, in the deepest, most masculine voice she could muster. A racket erupted from the stable, as the workers began pounding upon their side of the door. She heard them yell out, voices muffled from the wooden barrier, but still quite audible.

"Hey, who are you?" the Colovian's voice roared through the door. "You don't work here!"

With that one of the front doors came crashing open under a pair of boots. Pappy and Tadrose stood there, swords in hand.

"Fighters Guild!" Commander Vitellus shouted, "to action!"

Aela spiked a hand into the air and released her magicka. With a whooshing sound, a sylph formed in the space before her. Chance pulled out a scroll, and with a single word sent a bolt of lightning from it to the stone floor between him and the other two mercenaries. The two fighters shouted and struck the flats of their swords against one another, creating a loud clattering of steel.

"It's a skeleton!" Tadrose yelled out loudly. "I've got it!"

"Those necromancers are mine!" Commander Vitellus bellowed.

Aela fixed the symbol for her Flare spell in her mind, and pointed her hand to the floor. With a crackle of flame, it extinguished harmlessly upon the stones. The two horses kicked and neighed wildly though, and Chance was forced to back up lest he find a hoof in his skull. He walked to the back door, where Aela joined him.

In the meantime, the two mercenaries walked to the door of the stable, giving the excited horses a wide berth. Again, they clattered their swords together in a loud cacophony of metal.

"They're sending the skeletons after the civilians!" Tadrose shouted.

"We've got to save them!" Vitellus yelled in reply. "Blast it! We'll get the necromancers next time."

Aela grinned, and dispelled her sylph. Reaching into one of her pockets, she drew forth a potion and gulped it down. Her hand vanished from view, as did the rest of her body. Drawing off her mask and robe, she walked out the back door. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Chance vanish as well. Without a word, she trotted down the alley, and headed for the Fighters Guild.

My own throat constricted remembering how his death affected and effected her. She has come a tremendously long way since then, we all have a share in being proud of her.


Oh hell, the blade is possessed with souls! Urk! Now what?

HOLY CRAP! Everything is going haywire! GAAAAAH! For the gods sake don't give that sword to Mael! Urk!

GAAAAAAH! Cliffhanger! It can't end there! MORE! MORE I SAY! Urk. Awesome, AWESOME Story! Your writing always is outstanding, but you have excelled even your own standards with this storyline - Awesome Write!


*

What a crappy job poor Teresa had. Both literally and spiritually. That cursed sword certainly lives up to its name. Some chillingly disturbing images Teresa endured as she wrestled with it! Since Aela subsequently saw Teresa and even got a signal from her, I’m assuming little Red did manage to fully get custody of the slithery weapon.

Then we see the next part of the plan put into effect – all for the benefit of the locked away brewery stable folks. And a fine ‘cover story’ it appears to be. I imagine when the brewery captives are freed, the stories of what they heard will do a nice job of blaming necrodudes for the theft, implicating Drels, sharing the name of ringleader Jalbert and making Pappy’s crew seem like the heroes they are! And, being a brewery, naturally Pappy is first to kick in the door! Bards will soon sing about the Legendary Savior of Samaia Adamus routing the necromancers. All in all, not a bad day’s work it seems.

I’ll be nervous though until I know that sword is far away from Teresa and, hopefully, properly destroyed.

Nit: ‘They looked back {at, to, toward?} her and nodded.’

I don't know. I'm thinking "Give Mael to that sword" is more likely.

There's a distinct chance that Terentius is coming out of this looking better than he did going in. If he survives the loss of the artifact. The connection to Pompeia may be all that kept him going.

Free beer for life to the saviors from the Fighters Guild! <= pour it in here

What a fun and delightful adventure of misdirection! Yes, the loud and flashy always draws more attention than the quiet and sly. Something put to good use time and time again as military history has shown.

I am looking forward to the fallout from this episode. That is always the most fun part - seeing how people take something and blow it up into bigger somethings! The Bravil Fighters' Guild certainly left behind enough fodder for the gossip mill!

Wonder how Terentius will feel when he wakes up and realizes Soul's Rattle, and his last link with Pompeia, is gone. This has certainly been a fresh perspective on who is possibly one of the least-liked NPCs in the vanilla game. I love filling in the backstory on all these NPCs, and I enjoy hearing other people's own backstories.

*Bites knuckle and worries*...So many jokes we could do...But they could be taken entirely the wrong way...Should I?...No...Yes?...*Sighs*...Nah...

No, you're right...They'd just stink... ...

Aaaaamywho...

Brilliant stuff...

Loved the whole - if somewhat icky - bit in the sewer...The Jewel of Rumare's powers of crap-cling-prevention would be damned useful in work!... ...The bit about having some...Go down...Gahh...*Goes to get drink*...Ich woman...Fair dues... ...

The sword was exceptionally done...That was so sad...Bleeding necro artifacts... ...

The secondary thing with the rest of the Fighter's Guild was excellent... ...Though, possibly they'll not be called upon to grace the stage at the theatre any time soon, hopefully they did enough to convince... ...

If not, maybe they could all get their own Jewel of Rumare so that any fallout fails to stick...

Brilliant writing, as ever...Loving this whole caper...

Nice one!...

*Applauds heartily*...

mALX: Since this whole necronovella revolves around Soul's Rattle, I wanted it to really stand out as more than just a shiny magic item. I am glad it comes across as being really creepy.

Of course I could not resist the tip of the hat to the Emperor. He will always be Teresa's guiding star.


Acadian: You have skewered the intent of the Battle of the Brewery quite well. If all works out, the bad guys will get all the blame, while Teresa and company remain safe from retribution - not only from the law, but the King of Worms as well (who will think his own people went rogue and kept the sword for themselves).


ghastley: Mael will be getting exactly what he deserves. This episode in fact.

You had me rolling with the free beer line! Pappy should be so lucky!


haute ecole rider: It was fun to focus on Terentius this way. As you and ghastly have both noted, he is one of the least liked characters in Oblivion. Being able to show why he is such a prick was nice. It also allowed me to show the effect that possessing one of the King of Worm's artifacts has on a person. Where he will go now is anyone's guess. Without the sword, he will have to finally give up Pompeia. That might make him more of a prick, or temper his behavior. Only time will tell.


McBadgere: Teresa was so thankful for the Jewel of the Rumare that time! It was a crappy assignment as it is!


Previously on Teresa of the Faint Smile: Teresa recovered Soul's Rattle from where Methredhel dropped it in the sewer. Upon taking the sword by the handle, she relieved the death of Count Terentius' wife Pompeia, who had been killed by the sword. Even more chilling, she realized that Pompeia's soul was contained within the sword, that was why the count always kept it at his side. Exiting the sewer, she gave the all clear signal to Aela and the others inside the brewery. Mael and Methredhel arrived shortly afterward with the brewery wagon, and slipped out quietly. Pappy and Tadrose came bursting in soon after, and staged a mock battle between them and the 'necromancers' for the benefit of the incarcerated brewery employees. The battle ended with the fake necromancers escaping, but the Fighter Guild protecting the workers from harm.


Chapter 46.8 – Methredhel's Eleven

Teresa walked to Bravil's North Gate with Mael in tow. She was again clad in her miran-talurn armor, and carried Ravenfeeder strung in the gorytos at her hip. Her Thieves Bag hung from her other hip, with Soul's Rattle safely nestled within. Mael too, had returned to the original enchanted linens he had been wearing when Teresa had first met the Breton.

Lifting one hand in the air, Teresa concentrated upon the symbol for her Bloom spell, and spilled her magicka through it. As it had a dozen times before, her skin, hair, and even teeth instantly felt cleansed and refreshed. Yet the aftertaste of the sewer still haunted her lips…

"You know, you can cause harm by casting that spell too much…" Mael observed dryly.

"Shut up," Teresa growled. "You didn't spend the morning where I did."

"A fact for which I am tremendously grateful," the man snickered.

As they neared the massive stone gatehouse that guarded the bridge out of the city, they found a long line of people, wagons, and animals queued up ahead of them. Teresa could see that the City Guard was searching everyone before allowing them to exit the city. She headed for the end of the line, and stared in astonishment when Mael simply walked past her - and all the other waiting people - and strode directly toward the open gate.

"Hold up there citizen," a guardsman blocked his path with a raised hand. "You'll have to get in line with everyone else before you can leave the city."

"Are you mad?" Mael's voice shook like a willow in a stiff breeze. "This city isn't safe! There's necromancers roaming the streets, killing everyone!"

"Calm down goodman," the guardsman said in that firm, authoritarian tone that seemed to be issued to every legionary and city guardsman with their armor and sword. "No one is any danger. Now just get back in the queue."

"I'm not going to end up on some corpse-humper's charm bracelet!" Mael's voice was growing shriller with every sentence, and his eyes began to bulge from their sockets.

Teresa ran up and took him by one arm. "It's fine," she said in a soothing tone. "Look, I'm right here. I'll protect you."

"Teresa of the Faint Smile!"

The forester turned at the sound of a familiar voice, and found Gaius Prentus walking over from the line of pedestrians. "What are you doing here?"

"Bodyguard contract," Teresa said, nodding to Mael. "I've been keeping an eye on this jewel dealer since he came to the city. He heard about the trouble earlier this morning, and is eager to depart."

"No one can leave the city without being searched for the count's sword." The Imperial looked Mael up and down, and was clearly unimpressed. "Everything alright here goodman?"

"No, no it's not!" the Breton cried in a high voice. "We're all going to die! Die!"

By now the people in line were doing more than just stare at the erratic Breton. They were casting their eyes nervously about, and muttering animatedly. Teresa could only hear a few words here and there, but could tell that it was all related to the robbery at the castle, and the battle her fellow guild members had taken part in at the brewery. Then a Nord shoved two Imperials in front of him, and fists began to fly.

The first guardsman ran to the melee, as did the other mail-clad soldiers nearby. Gaius Prentus remained, anxiously looking back and forth between Teresa and the donnybrook.

"Well it's obvious neither one of you has the count's damned sword up your sleeves," he finally said. "Go on, get this fetcher out of here. Before he starts a riot!"

"Gratis," Teresa nodded. Taking Mael by one arm, she led the Breton through the gatehouse.

"What was that all about?" she hissed into the spy's ear.

"It got us out of the city, didn't it?" he winked in reply.

Teresa just shook her head, and followed the Blade into Bay Roan Stables. He paid for a rickety old buckboard wagon and a pair of sturdy Shire horses with a gold ring set with glittering sapphires. In no time at all he and Teresa were rolling north along the Green Road.

"You're awfully free with your money," Teresa observed.

"I can fill out an expense report when I get back," he murmured. "Besides, those sapphires were glass. This farmer's wagon might be rubbish, but the two horses will net me more than five of those rings."

"I thought you were a spy, not a thief." Teresa shook her head.

"Is there a difference?" the Breton grinned.

Teresa rolled her eyes as they trundled north behind the two bulky horses. In no time at all they had rolled out of sight of the city. The trees of the Great Forest rose up like a wall to their left, now denuded of their leaves. To their right empty fields stretched out to Niben Bay, broken by occasional orchards whose trees had long since been harvested of their fruit.

It was beside one of those deserted orchards that Mael pulled the wagon to a halt. Teresa noted that he did not set the brake, and looked questioningly at the Breton.

"Give me the sword Teresa." The Breton turned to look at her with cold eyes. "This is the end of the line for you."

"Tell me something first." The wood elf felt her heart double its pace, and fixed the symbol for her Burning Hand in her mind.

This was finally it. The endgame.

"What happened to the real Mael? Did you kill him? Or do you have him prisoner somewhere?"

"How did you know?" The Breton's eyes narrowed. Teresa saw his hands filling with light. She knew she had but moments left. Just keep him talking, she thought, and buy some more time.

"I knew the instant I shook your hand," Teresa said honestly.

She remembered the first time she had met a Blade. "What brings you to Weynon?" Brother Piner asked, extending his hand in greeting. His grasp was firmer than she would have imagined for a monk, and she felt his thumb press into the gap between the knuckles of her first and second fingers.

"You have already met the real Mael. He was one of the worm anchorites you destroyed in Anutwyll."

Teresa turned at the sound of the deep voice. Standing at the edge of the forest was Jalbert, clad in black necromancer robes. He had thrown his hood back to make his features plain. Teresa imagined that he wanted her to know who it was that killed her, and she noted that one of his hands was filled with sparks. Stepping from the forest around him were at least half a dozen more skull-robed figures, all looking at Teresa.

"You should have known better than to come here alone." One of the others threw back his hood, and Teresa saw that it was none other than the count's so-called advisor: Drels Theran.

"So are you a necromancer too then?" Teresa looked back to the Breton next to her.

"I'm just in it for the money," he shook his head. "I don't care about their corpse-god, you, or anything else. Now hand over that sword!"

Mael - or whatever his name really was - reached out to grab for Teresa with a fiery hand. But the Breton was too slow. A soft thwap! rang out from the road behind them, and a shield enchantment flashed from his clothing. It was not strong enough to resist the ebony tipped arrow that drilled into his back however, and the force of the shot threw him off the front of the buckboard to the cobblestones below. Teresa noted that he was still squirming however, so apparently his enchantments had saved his life.

Jalbert's hand flashed with sparks as he raised it toward Teresa. She leapt off the far side of the wagon as the crackle of lightning filled the air. She heard it impact upon the cab of the buckboard behind her, and felt splinters of wood patter harmlessly across her armored back. The two horses neighed in terror, and leapt forward in a panicked trot. The spy did not even have time to scream as the iron-rimmed wheels crushed him underneath.

Teresa pulled her hood up over her head and sped for the orderly rows of apple trees that bordered her side of the road. The sound of horses came to her elfin ears. Not the fleeing draft horses hitched to the wagon, but rather another pair of steeds, fast approaching from the south.

A glance in that direction revealed Methredhel standing at one side of the road, just out of life detection range. She wore leather armor, and held her Imperial Longbow in one hand. A blue disc of energy formed in the air beside her, and a serpent of fire coalesced in its wake. Ungarion appeared from out of thin air behind it, face cleaned of makeup and restored to its normal golden hue. Beside him appeared Kud-Ei, who winged a spiral of emerald energy down the road toward the necromancers. Galloping up the road behind them were Valerius and Ancondil. The Nibenean knight was clad in his silver meteoric glass armor, and held a glass-tipped lance in one hand. Ancondil was girded in his gleaming bronze Dwemer panoply, and hefted his elven war hammer in one fist.

Teresa heard the whooshing noises of multiple summonings behind her, as the necromancers prepared for battle. Lightning burst through the air nearby. But once again Teresa was too quick, and had dodged behind a tree before its glowing fingers could reach her. She drew Ravenfeeder from her gorytos, and after it a swallowtail-tipped elven arrow. She took the time to dip its head into the wide jar of magicka silencing poison at her hip. Then she set it to her bowstave and stepped out from behind her sheltering tree.

She saw half a dozen creatures now standing between her and the necromancers. One was a zombie from which sickly green wisps of effluvium wafted up. Two others were skeletons carrying elven greatswords. A third was a wraith, like those she had seen upon The Emma May, only this one clutched a short elvish blade in its ghostly fingers. The fourth was a zombie clad in a suit of battered armor plates and rotting cloth, of a style she had never seen before. The gleaming ebony longsword it held looked quite serviceable though. The tall curling horns of its helmet looked Nordic, and Teresa wondered if it might be some kind of undead found in Skyrim?

Finally, Teresa recognized a corpse wearing a dark red robe and a tall crested helm upon its desiccated skull. It clutched a staff in one hand, and floated in mid air above the cobblestones of the street. A lich! Had Jalbert summoned that? The Redguard had only been able to summon ordinary zombies at Vilverin. But that had been a long time ago. Her own skills had grown considerably since then. Perhaps his had as well?

Fixing her old nemesis in her sights, she loosed. As he had at Vilverin, Jalbert dodged aside, and her arrow plunked home into a tree behind him. He traded a lightning bolt, which Teresa also sidestepped. The lich turned to face her now as well, and leveled its staff in her direction.

Then it stopped, and seemed to shake. Jalbert began to tremble as well, and she saw the muscles on his face and neck stand out in stark relief against his reddish skin. It seemed like he was struggling with some great weight. Then suddenly the look broke from his features, and the lich turned and loosed a blast of fire into the assembled necromancers.

"I can do more than just dispel her," Teresa remembered Aela saying outside of Bravil Castle. "I can take control of her."

Teresa wanted to cheer for Aela, but was too busy drawing another arrow and poisoning it. She kept her eyes upon Jalbert the entire time, and raised her bow to fire upon him once more. The elven arrow sped across the distance between them, but once again he dodged. This time it was behind another of the necromancers. Teresa's arrow bore into the hapless man's chest, throwing him to the ground.

Now the Nordic zombie turned in Teresa's direction. It held its arms back and thrust its head forward, as if to spit. Instead it shouted "FUS RO DAH!" and a bluish wave of energy leapt out from its lips. The lich was first in its line of fire, and went flying into the trunk of one of the trees near Teresa. An instant later the Bosmer herself was picked up by what felt like a monstrous wind, and found herself thrown back as well. She slammed into something hard, and found stars dancing around her eyes.

Screenshot

Falling to her knees, she saw Ravenfeeder laying on the ground several feet away. Trying to shake off the shock of the impact, she crawled forward on her hands and knees. The world swayed for long moments, and she was afraid she might fall face first into the dirt. Then her vision cleared, and her fingers clamped down upon the golden sila wood of her bowstave.

A black-clad foot came down hard upon Ravenfeeder however, driving it and her hand down into the ground. Looking up, Teresa found Jalbert towering above her. He laughed as he stared down at her, dark eyes glowing with psychotic delight. He raised both of his hands, and lightning danced and crackled between his fingers.

"I've waited a long time for this!" he crowed.

"So have I."

Jalbert's head dissolved under the impact of a Dwemer mace. The necromancer's body slumped to the ground in a heap. Behind it stood Chance, holding Ncharcasti in one hand and shield in the other. The young Redguard's face was a mask of stone, neither hateful nor exultant, as he stared down at the corpse of the man who had killed his father. For a brief moment Teresa wondered what must be going through his mind, now that he had finally taken his vengeance?

Now that is interesting, I didn’t think about that! I wonder how?

The action moving so quick I had to keep rereading to make sure I didn’t miss anything here, and then this:



And I screamed, “AELA! WOOOOOOOOT!” Scaring the living crap out of husband, son, dogs, and a cat.

This whole section HAD to be quoted for its awesome impact on the screaming reader:


HOLY COW! I have been shrieking like a banshee through this whole episode, riveted to the page, read and reread, then reread again! Awesome AWESOME Write !!!!!! You have blown me away with this storyline, I love LOVE it !!!!!!!!!

As delightful as the previous few episodes have been, it feels so wonderful to be all happily once again inside Teresa’s head.

Buffy is so jealous of that Bloom spell! She curses me for making her hygiene requirements more mundane. I tell her to feel lucky she can summon a towel! Wasn’t it dear Nerussa, the retired courtesan, who originally taught the spell to Teresa?

Clever how Mael got the pair out the gate with nary a peek into Teresa’s bag of thieves. The warnings were there, but still chilling when Mael pulled the wagon over and his intent became clear. Can it get worse?

Oh my, yes! A whole army of necrodudes, led by Jalbert!

Whew! Yay, the cavalry’s here! Woot! And even Kud-Ei, swirling emerald illusions! Go team Bravil!

Uh, oh. . . the necrodudes counter by opening a whole can of undead army conjuration!

What a well-done white knuckle-inducing fight!

How delicious to see the horse thief Mael get killed by his hoofed 'loot'.

Good on Chance! Your gentle reminder of his history with Jalbert was perfectly placed with just the right gentle touch to remind us of the significance of this particular head pulverizing.


Nit:’Beside him appeared Kud-Ei, who winged a spiral of emerald energy down the road to toward the necromancers.’ (I’d delete the bolded ‘to’ as likely leftover from an earlier edit.)