@SubRosa - Adryn is a generous, forgiving soul. Also, yep, really really traumatised. It's probably not always that obvious because she's really good at repressing, but, well... there's a reason she tries very hard not to think about her past, and it amounts to "she falls to pieces the instant she does".

@ghastley - I like your pragmatic approach to things! Unfortunately, Adryn hasn't thought that far.

Re: the flashback... hmm, I think to some extent this is a problem with my glacially slow writing speed, because I've actually scattered around a bunch of the puzzle pieces to this particular mystery, but it's hardly a surprise if by now the details of chapter 9 are not very present in readers' minds. But there'll be more pieces to come, although the part where I put them all together is still some ways off.

Last installment, Adryn tried to learn an Invisibility spell... tried, and failed. It seems she had a very unpleasant experience involving the Illusion school (in particular, the mind-altering part of it) in the past, and the resulting trauma makes it impossible for her to cast any of the major spells. Let's see where she's gone from there.



It wasn't long after my failed attempt at invisibility that Edwinna called me into her office.

"Thank you for coming, Adryn," she greeted me. "How's that report on the organisation of the Dwemer government coming along?"

"Pretty well, I think. I had trouble finding sources regarding the semi-independent city-states, but then I found a lot of useful information in Dreth's The Aetherium Wars..."

We chatted for a little longer about my latest research project before Edwinna got to the point.

"I have something I'd like you to take care of," she told me. "I'd handle it myself, but I've been so occupied with the latest excavation report from Nchuleftingth, I just don't have the time right now."

I paused, wary. This sounded suspiciously like a departure from my usual, guild-bound, distinctly non-life-threatening duties. They'd been a welcome change, and I wasn't at all eager to go back to what had preceded them.

"What were you thinking, exactly?"

"I need someone to pick up a potion from Skink-in-Tree's-Shade, in Sadrith Mora. I requested it a while ago, and he hasn't gotten back to me. I need it by the start of next week, so time is running short."

"A potion?" What kind of potion? And why not have Anarenen make it, or Ajira, instead of going all the way to the Sadrith Mora guild? Or me, for that matter?

Edwinna must have read my questions off my face. "It's a Detect Creatures potion, but capable of detecting Dwemer automata as well as living beings. We're going to start the initial investigation of Arkngthunch-Sturdumz next week, and it's always a huge help if we can get the rough number and location of active automata off the bat. Skink is the only one I know with the skill to brew the potion to the strength required – he was an alchemist before he made chapter head, you know." She gave me a stern look. "Which is not permission for you to pester him about the recipe. Skink is very busy, I'm lucky he even agreed to help."

"So... I just head out to the Sadrith Mora guild, get the potion, and come straight back?" I decided to verify. I was still rather wary of diverging from my routine but the whole thing sounded harmless enough, and who knew... of course I wouldn't pester the (I guessed from the name) Argonian, but if he happened to be in a sharing mood...

"Exactly," Edwinna confirmed. "You're free to refuse, of course – it's nothing to do with the Dwemer, after all."

I was still considering it when a thought occurred to me.

"I don't suppose I could do this tomorrow around noon?"

Edwinna blinked, looking a little confused. "Well, when exactly doesn't matter much to me, provided I have the potion before Mondas..."

"What I'm hearing," I interrupted her loudly, "is yes, Adryn, I need you to get the potion tomorrow at noon exactly. Which is fine, absolutely fine, and I'm delighted to take this task on, thank you very much, I'll have the potion for you by the end of the day." I shook her hand to seal the deal and turned to leave.

As I walked out the door, I heard Edwinna mutter, "I swear I understand apprentices less and less every year." My mind, however, had left the guildmistress in favour of contemplating the exact wording of the letter of apology I'd be sending to Athyn Sarethi in order to explain that I would not, after all, be able to make lunch tomorrow.

Sarethi had been very insistent on trying to meet with me again, and I'd been having an increasingly hard time coming up with scheduling conflicts to explain why I couldn't make it – hadn't been able to create one at all for lunch tomorrow, in fact. Edwinna's task was a real stroke of luck in that regard, one I was definitely not letting pass unused.

And at the end of the day, how hard could it be to pick up a potion?



Notes: Since this was such a short segment, I won't leave you in suspense but do a double update... so you get to see the answer to Adryn's question immediately. ETA: Or not, because the forum insists on merging the two posts together! I'll try again later... or after someone else comments, so that the system will treat them as separate. Hint, hint

Hey, anything to help out a fellow writer!

Heh heh heh that Adryn is as sly as ever.

Though please refresh my memory, who is Athyn Sarethi and why is Adryn avoiding him? Is he the ungrateful bahsterd she rescued from a ruin quite some time ago? Or do I have that mixed up with someone else?

@haute ecole rider - Thank you! Have the first part of Chapter 20.

Athyn Sarethi is the father of Varvur Sarethi (kidnapped Redoran she inadvertently rescued via teleportation and can't be in the same room with without starting to argue). He's the one who rescued her when she was accused of murder, pointed out to her that she was actually a very altruistic person over lunch, then invited her to join Redoran. Adryn's avoiding him because... tbh, I think this makes more sense in Adryn's head than anywhere else; it's some combination of massive discomfort with the offer and class difference along with being upset about having someone strip away some of the lies she tells about herself.

Hope that helps!

Last chapter, after returning from Maar Gan with Jamie Adryn actually had a fairly relaxing time, mainly involving ingredient-gathering, research, learning Dunmeris and teaching Ta'agra. It's probably the most she's enjoyed her time on the island so far. That might be at end, given that Edwinna just asked her to pick up a potion from Skink-in-Trees'-Shade in Sadrith Mora. Although surely, Adryn can easily just do this and come back, right?

...right?



One week later found me in front of Edwinna's desk again. This time, the atmosphere was far less relaxed. In fact, Edwinna looked rather as if she were fighting a migraine.

"Adryn. It's good to see you." The reason I liked Edwinna was that even though the sight of me seemed to be causing her physical pain, she sounded perfectly sincere. "I'd appreciate it if you could explain the events of the past week from your perspective."

"Um." I shuffled my feet. This was distinctly unfair, I thought. I'd been planning on letting those events pass into blissful oblivion. "Are you sure you need to know?" Wait a moment. "What do you know, anyway?"

"Well," Edwinna said drily, "Just now, I received a message from Athyn Sarethi offering me his thanks and gratitude for a member of my guild aiding in the rescue of not just one but two members of Redoran who'd been held hostage by the Telvanni."

The silence stretched.

"Ah. Yes. That." I swallowed. "He's exaggerating mercilessly, you know. One of them really rescued themselves. I was more of an innocent bystander."

For some reason, this did not have the reassuring effect I'd hoped for. "Adryn, could you just-" Edwinna took a deep breath. "Let's start at the beginning. I'd asked you to pick up a potion from Skink-in-Trees'-Shade and come straight back. What happened?"

I supposed I couldn't get out of explaining.



According to the Argonian head of the Sadrith Mora guild, he'd started the potion for Edwinna but it wasn't quite ready yet. Another hour, he said. It still needed to finish reducing, he said. Personally, I thought he'd forgotten about the thing entirely and was going to rush off to brew it, but decided to keep that theory to myself. Between Trebonius, Ranis Athrys and Blowfish, I was already on bad terms with far too many guild heads. Better not to add to that number.

"You may go back to Ald'ruhn and return, or wait here," Skink-in-Trees'-Shade suggested.

Faced with two bad choices, I fought down a grimace. Although - or perhaps because - I was allowed free transport as a guild member, I tried not to annoy the guild guides by using the service frivolously. I was quite certain Erranil would be less than impressed if I travelled between Ald'ruhn and Sadrith Mora four times in under two hours. On the other hand, the Sadrith Mora guild made the Caldera guild look luxuriously spacious. All the services were crammed into a single room, and there was no sign of private spaces such as dormitories or a kitchen at all. Nor, I couldn't help but notice, a chair where a visitor might sit and stretch out their legs.

"Or," Skink broke into my thoughts, "you could help me with a small matter."

"Oh?"

"There is a guild member, Tenyeminwe, staying at Dirty Muriel's Cornerclub. She wishes to travel to Vos for her research, but she is afraid to travel to the harbour alone and has asked for someone from the guild to accompany her. None of my people have the time, but if you are waiting anyway..."

I gave the Argonian a very suspicious glance. "Exactly why is she afraid to travel alone? What does she think will happen?" This sounded like bodyguard work, something I was (needless to say) absolutely not suited to. I'd had such a nice run of purely academic work in Ald'ruhn, I didn't feel like ruining it with another guild duty that required combat skills.

Skink let out a long hiss, head-frill flattening. "Paranoia. Tenyeminwe fears she has offended a Telvanni. I have made enquiries and know that the Telvanni in question left Sadrith Mora three days past. Tenyeminwe has not listened to this."

Uleni, who'd been quite obviously listening in, snorted loudly. "Afraid of her own shadow, that one. I don't know why on Nirn she thinks she needs an escort to walk a hundred yards in the middle of the city, but she doesn't want to pay the Fighter's Guild and all of us are too busy. You'll do it, Adryn, right? I'm getting tired of her hanging around."



"So I let myself be persuaded despite my second thoughts." I decided not to mention that the persuasion might have involved a promise that Skink-in-Trees'-Shade would make a copy of the potion recipe for me. Edwinna had asked me not to bother him about it, but she couldn't possibly have expected me to truly ignore such a thing, and since he was asking a favour already...

"And to be fair," I continued, "we didn't run into any trouble on the way to the docks. However, when Tenyeminwe wanted to buy passage to Vos, we found something of a problem."



"What do you mean, you're not sailing?" Tenyeminwe's voice was shrill. No wonder - our brief walk from the tavern had made it obvious that for all the Sadrith Mora mages dismissed it, her fear was quite real. How utterly panicked she'd been was obvious thanks to the fact that I'd noticed at all, given that I'd spent most of the walk gawking at Sadrith Mora architecture (had I ever called the buildings in Balmora organic? Or the ones in Ald'ruhn strange? How utterly ignorant I'd been, considering that the Telvanni used giant living mushrooms as their architectural medium).

The captain was unmoved by the Altmer's clear distress. "Just what I said. Not sailing. Bad omens."

Tenyeminwe inhaled. I looked at her face, decided that whatever she was about to say was unlikely to improve matters, and intervened.

"Good day to you, captain," I offered in my best Dunmeris. Then, switching back to Tamrielic, "Please excuse my companion, she wishes to go to Vos quite urgently. Could you tell us what sort of bad omens are keeping you from your journey?"

The woman gave me a nod far friendlier than anything she'd offered Tenyeminwe. Overall, plan Learn Dunmeris was meeting with great success even in this part of Vvardenfell.

"I stayed at the Gateway Inn. In the middle of the night, I was woken by a restless spirit. I offered it the Five Blessings, but it would not calm. I offered it salt, flame, and blood, but it only grew angrier." The woman touched her cheek. Three parallel scratches lay on it, as though something had clawed her.

"How ghastly!" whispered Tenyeminwe. Personally, I suspected her horror had more to do with the existence of an angry ghost than its behaviour. Mine did too, but I'd gathered enough about native Dunmer beliefs at this point to suspect that the captain's reaction had a different cause.

"Indeed," the woman said, although she shot Tenyeminwe an odd look. "It is clear that my ancestors are displeased. I must pray to discover why and beg their forgiveness. I will not cast off while this hangs over me."

Tenyeminwe gulped.



"So I investigated," I explained. "The whole story smelled fishy to me, and it was clear that the woman wouldn't be sailing anywhere until we got it cleared up."

"Very diligent of you, especially considering none in the guild would have blamed you if you'd simply escorted Tenyeminwe back to where she was staying."

That thought had occurred to me. In all honesty, I might even have chosen to forego the promised potions recipe. However, there had been another matter that tipped the scales.

I'd suspected the woman would make quite the scene if forced to return unsuccessful. This would of course not have bothered me at all, except for the minor fact that quite a few of the patrons of the cornerclub had seemed... familiar. Not in person, but in nature. And then there had been the small symbol scratched into the wood of the doorframe, where I didn't know the meaning but could certainly guess it.

Having now run into a third of their lairs, I gathered that the Morrowind Thieves' Guild did much the same as we had in Windhelm, using taverns as fronts for the operation. It was enough to make you reconsider ever setting foot in a public house again. Thankfully, I was reasonably sure I'd managed to get Tenyeminwe and get out without attracting undue attention. However, I'd been far less sure of being able to do the same on a return journey, especially if I had a hysterical Altmer in tow.

Edwinna was still looking at me, eyebrow raised. Obviously, I couldn't tell her the truth.

"Oh, I felt bad for Tenyeminwe. And it still didn't seem like such a difficult thing to look into." I moved smoothly forward in my retelling, hoping Edwinna would forget about my unsatisfying reasons for getting involved. "It wasn't, in truth. I spoke to the innkeeper, and it became clear that the cause of the haunting was a Conjuration expert who thought playing pranks was an appropriate response to impoliteness."

Edwinna groaned. "Uleni."

"Exactly, any guild member could have told you who the culprit was at that point. I spoke to her and she agreed to stop." The fact that I'd been able to say, quite honestly, that Tenyeminwe would be staying in Sadrith Mora until the problem was solved, had probably gone a long way to make her willing.

Given relations between the Telvanni and the Mages' Guild, I decided Edwinna didn't need to know the fact that learning that a Conjuration expert was responsible had, in fact, required a trip to the Council Hall to speak to one of the high-ranking Telvanni there. And she certainly had better stay ignorant of the fact that when I went to report my success, another had caught my arm on the way out.

"Outlander," she'd whispered, "know that House Telvanni always welcomes those with talent and ambition. If you wish to join us, speak to the Mouths at the Council Hall." I obviously had no intention of taking up the invitation (honestly, as if Athyn Sarethi hadn't been bad enough!) but I still thought it might give the wrong impression.

"So," Edwinna said, looking rather bewildered, "you're saying nothing happened during the investigation. Then where do the Redoran come in?"

I winced. I'd hoped we could avoid this part of the tale.

"Well, after the whole thing was done with, I went to get Tenyeminwe..."



Notes: Let me know how you like Adryn misadventures, flashback edition! I'm trying to work out a way to keep them around without bringing the plot to a standstill. (Pacing: not always my strong suit.)

Your flashback technique is working well. Separating them from the current events with a line of stars is as effective as my using italics for the past events when I've done flashbacks. Interweaving past and present as you have done grounds us in the present, while giving us details on what happened in the past as if we were flies on the wall, so to speak.

May I say Adryn continues to make me chuckle with her black humor and wry commentary? Wonderful!

A funny thing happened on the way to the forum...

Tenyeminwe and Dirty Muriel's! I used her name for an Ayleid Queen in the Teresa fic.

Oh boy, one thing leads to another! I love how you pile up difficulty on top of difficulty. I really enjoyed this flashback. So keep them coming.

Yup, that was Morrowind's forte. If you pleased one faction, you inevitably angered another, and you often needed to be part of both.

That, and complicating every simple fetch quest with side-effects. Adryn does have a penchant for finding new ones of her own, too.

@haute ecole rider - good to hear it's working! I really ran headfirst into the issue where I love writing Adryn's misadventures but they often end up bringing the plot to a standstill; this was my compromise.

@SubRosa - Tenyeminwe would no doubt be pleased to hear that! It is a very royal-sounding name, isn't it? Alas, here she's a rather nervous mage who... probably doesn't actually deserve what's about to happen to her.

@ghastley - yeah, faction balance was a definite thing. (I still remember being sooo weirded out when my Temple/Redoran character resulted in the Ordinators suddenly being polite.) And it is entirely possible the side-effects have only just started...

Last installment found Adryn back in Ald'ruhn, forced to explain to Edwinna exactly how wrong this particular fetch quest had gone. Latest we heard, she was attempting to get a scared guild member passage to Vos, which so far had involved solving a local haunting which had turned out to be caused by a fellow guild member (and, incidentally, being invited to join House Telvanni along the way, not that she's planning to share that). Let's see what else can happen to keep Adryn from getting the potion she came for and just hightailing it back to Ald'ruhn!



Tenyeminwe had flatly refused to accompany me on my investigations. Probably for the best, since I suspected she'd have fainted on being asked to enter the Telvanni Council Chamber. (Which wasn't meant as an insult. I'd almost fainted.) However, I couldn't very well ask her to stay standing at the docks, the ghost-ridden captain didn't want her on board until her haunting was dealt with, and taking her back to the corner club was not an option. I silently cursed Skink for sending me in there, and was planning to give it a wide berth from now on.

Instead, I'd found a small eatery on the northern side of town that had outside seating beneath spanned tarps, with enchanted stones set in the ground at regular intervals providing warmth despite the chill of the day. Seated at a table just next to the stalk of the mushroom-tower and beside one of the heat-stones, Tenyeminwe was nearly hidden from the street and, I'd thought, able to await the result of my investigation in comfort. Approaching now, I noticed the Altmer's face was pale and her eyes darted around. Whatever Skink said about Tenyeminwe having nothing to worry about, one only had to take a look at her to see that the woman was genuinely afraid.

"Well?" she asked when I came up to her, tone snappish.

"Everything sorted," I told her. "It was a... prank, of sorts. The offender won't do it again, and I think I managed to convince the captain the whole thing had nothing to do with her ancestors being displeased. She's willing to leave dock again, at least." I decided that I probably shouldn't let Tenyeminwe in on the identity of the culprit. Her expression promised pain to the person who'd inadvertently delayed her.

Alas for guild harmony, Tenyeminwe had clearly spent enough time in Sadrith Mora to be familiar with all the guild members. "Uleni," she spat, golden eyes narrowed. "That thoughtless, juvenile little ayamindel. I should..." She shook her head as though trying to shake off her anger. "No. Never mind. It's not important. You say the captain is willing to sail to Vos?"

"Yes. Come on, I'll bring you to the docks." And then, I added silently, finally pick up the potion from Skink and get transport back to the Ald'ruhn guild. This whole thing had lasted rather longer and involved more detective work and close contact with Telvanni than I'd really planned on.

Tenyeminwe grew even more tense when we were on the streets, to the point where I was relatively sure that if I poked her she'd jump straight out of her skin. (After once again considering guild harmony, I decided not to test that theory.) "I will be so glad," she said with a shudder, "once I'm out of this horrible city. I don't think I'll ever get the smell of fungus out of my clothes."

Altmer are a strange lot. They have a reputation for arrogance which can be unfair – I've certainly met friendly, not at all stuck-up High Elves. However, even the easygoing ones often have a certain... blind spot, shall we say, regarding the time and place to share certain opinions. My theory is that it's a cultural difference regarding the value of honesty. Perhaps it's possible to wander through Lillandril loudly talking about how terrible the architecture is, how ugly the decorations, how foul the air, and the natives will simply take it as given. (It was probably a good thing for my health that I'd never gotten the chance to test this.)

If so, this trait was definitely not one the Dunmer had inherited from the Aldmer, because I could see heads turning and scowls growing at Tenyeminwe's declaration. I winced.

"Well," I said loudly, "I for one think it's very impressive. And you can barely smell the fungus at all."

Strangely, the glares did not subside at this declaration.

I was so busy worrying about whether we were about to become a cautionary tale for visitors to Sadrith Mora – oh, those two outlanders, we never saw them again – that I entirely forgot to keep an eye on Tenyeminwe. I realised this was a mistake when her hand wrapped around my arm with such force that I could already feel bruises forming.

"Hey!"

"Shhh! This way!"

I found myself summarily dragged into the nearest building.

"I feel the need to point out that this isn't the way to the docks," I said as I was towed.

Tenyeminwe didn't answer until the door had closed behind us. Then she turned back to me. The lighting in here was strange, flickering greenish mage-lights that threw dancing shadows over everything, but even with that I could tell she was ghastly pale.

"It's him," she hissed at me. Clearly my blank stare was also visible through the lighting, because she narrowed her eyes and spat out, "Madalas! The Telvanni who's after me!"

Not in Sadrith Mora, hmm? I'd have words with Skink-in-Trees'-Shade when we next spoke.

I tried thieves' logic. "Has it occurred to you that if we'd just kept quietly walking, he might have overlooked us, whereas he's almost certainly noticed you panic and run for..." I looked around.

I hadn't paid attention to where we were, and had thought Tenyeminwe had made for one of the many little mushroom-pods holding small shops that dotted the street. However, the hall we were in right now was far too large for that – would have been able to hold three of those fungus houses with room to spare. And this wasn't all there was to the building, judging by the spiral stairs cut into a root at the center of the hall, or the round corridors leading off from the sides.

There were, in fact, only two buildings on the island that could have held this entrance chamber, and I'd already seen the Telvanni Council Hall.

"...for Tel Naga," I groaned.



"Ah. I see." Edwinna paused. "How... unfortunate."

"I admire your talent for understatement." I rubbed at my temples. Edwinna's incipient headache was apparently contagious, or perhaps it was simply being forced to relieve this memory, but either way one was definitely building. It was, thankfully, a dull throb rather than the sharp stabbing pain I'd somehow become prone to of late, but I'd like to hold it off all the same.

"You must have run into trouble. I can't believe Master Neloth would be particularly patient with uninvited guests."

"At first, surprisingly enough, no – everyone left us alone. I thought about it and decided that the guards must have assumed we were meant to be there, because nobody would be so indescribably stupid as to wander around a Telvanni mage-lord's tower without permission, right?"

This line of argument (repeated at length in ever greater detail and increasing volume) hadn't made much impression on Tenyeminwe at the time. In fact, she'd flatly ignored me in favour of claiming we needed to make our way even further into the building in order to hide. Edwinna, however, blanched.

"I... take your point. So what happened after 'at first'?"

"Well," I said mournfully, "then the first Redoran showed up."



If it was luck that had let us remain unaccosted so far, it had just run out. Because the next guard we saw stopped short when he saw us. Worse, he grasped the hilt of his sword, armour clattering.

"What's this, then. More spies?"

The words were Dunmeris, the accent unfamiliar but I understood him well enough. Beside me, Tenyeminwe made a puzzled noise, clearly unable to say the same. I very quietly thanked my lessons and the smattering of truly odd vocabulary I'd picked up from my independent studies. This situation, I felt, would not be improved by me not understanding the word spy.

"Ah- a good day to you," I replied in the same language. Alas, this did not improve the man's disposition. If anything, the anger radiating off him deepened. I didn't know how to feel about plan learn Dunmeris letting me down like this. "We're not spies, we're lost-"

Wait, had he said more spies?

My eyes slid past the guard to focus on- yes, there was someone standing behind him. A Dunmer girl in plain, ragged clothes with crimson hair, probably a few years younger than me, glaring at the guard fiercely. Her wrists were bound, with a magicka-draining cuff clasped around one of them...

My eyes narrowed. Something about the knots wasn't right.

The guard shot us a contemptuous look. "Very funny, n'wah. As-" The words that followed blurred together into incomprehensibility (why did they have to speak so cursed quickly?) but I was fairly sure I could guess at their meaning: given that we were not supposed to be in Tel Naga in the first place, what else could we be?

I was silently cursing Tenyeminwe when the captive drove all thought of how we'd gotten here out of my mind. In the course of accusing us of espionage, the guard had turned his back on her, and this proved to be a mistake when she sprang into motion.

For a moment, my vision blurred and I found myself transported back in time to Vivec. Another guard berating me – another crimson-haired woman taking advantage of his distraction –

Thankfully, this time the attacker proved far less murderous. When the flurry of motion died down there was no blood anywhere, and although the guard was lying flat on the ground I could see his breath stir strands of hair that had fallen across his face.

A whimper came from behind me. I guessed Tenyeminwe was not particularly keen on this turn of events.

"Thank you for distracting him, outlanders," the girl said briskly (in Tamrielic, thank the Nine). "He wasn't giving me an opening, and I wasn't looking forward to having to escape from my cell a second time."

I looked at her. Looked at the unconscious guard. Looked back at her.

"Can someone please explain to me what just happened?"

"Certainly! I'm Nartise Arobar, daughter of Miner Arobar. The Redoran Councillor," she added in a condescending voice in response to the blank look that must have been on my face. "I was... looking for something in Tel Naga, but I got captured. They were going to use me to blackmail my father. I didn't much care for it." She shrugged. "You're clearly not Telvanni, so you're going to help me escape Sadrith Mora now."

The words were spoken like a pronouncement: this was the way Nartise had decided the world would be, so it had better follow suit. My stomach sank.



"See, like I said, she rescued herself. I had nothing to do with it. I protested quite strongly when she dragged us along, in fact."

"I'm sure you did, Adryn." At least Edwinna sounded sympathetic. "Although I have to admit, I still don't understand how you ended up at Tel Fyr."

"Ancestors, don't remind me." I buried my face in my hands.

Does anybody? I could never find the way there when it was my intended destination.

Isn't that always the case?

I am starting to see why someone might have it in for Tenyeminwe. She has a habit of not thinking about what she is saying, or who she is saying it within earshot of.

"and you can barely smell the fungus at all."


Only Adryn could fail up so well that she could accidentally, heroically come to the rescue. This is a lovely comedy of errors.

@ghastley + haute ecole rider - It's funny you mention that, since Adryn is definitely not trying to reach Tel Fyr, and yet... but yeah, I never could understand why there were zero transport connections to the island. More on that this update.

@SubRosa - yyeeah, I have some sympathy for mysterious pissed-off Telvanni! Tenyeminwe's brand of diplomacy is... special. Adryn's is... not really any less special, especially when it results in accidental rescues.

Last installment, Adryn continued recounting her adventures in Telvanni lands. These involved getting dragged into Tel Naga by the mage she was escorting and accidentally helping rescue the daughter of a Redoran Councilor who'd been held captive there. Let's see how much else can prevent Adryn from picking up her potion and heading back to Ald'ruhn already.



Initially, in Sadrith Mora, things had seemed to be going well – surprisingly so, considering how far off-track we'd gotten. Nartise had made use of the unconscious guard's armour, and the guise of escorting two lost outlanders firmly to the exit had gotten the three of us out of Tel Naga with no further ado. More, Nartise also wanted to make for a ship off the island, giving her and Tenyeminwe common cause.

Our luck ran out when we rounded a corner and had clear sight of the docks. To my relief, the ship for Vos was still there (something I hadn't been at all sure about, since the captain had seemed eager to get going). To my horror, so too were a whole troop of guards, looking unfortunately alert. They'd been joined by a dark-haired Dunmer wearing very expensive-looking robes that gleamed with enchantment. Judging by Tenyeminwe's sudden stillness, I could guess who this was.

"Right," said Nartise, "let's try something else."

Something else turned out to be a ship tied up further along, on a little solitary pier stretching into the water. There were quite a few figures waiting patiently to board. Many wore plain robes with the hoods up, and some moved with an odd shuffling gait. The general population of Sadrith Mora, I couldn't help but notice, were giving the group a wide berth – guards included.

"Are you sure about this?" I asked as Nartise stripped off her guard armour behind a bush. "I don't like the look of that ship-"

Nartise shook her head sadly, as though I were being embarrassingly naive. Given that she was, in fact, not just a pampered noble but also (conversation had proved) three years younger than me, it smarted. "Well, we hardly have a choice, now do we. The three of us need to get off this island for a while, wait for the furor to die down."

"Wait. Three of us?" I'd been planning to leave Tenyeminwe and Nartise at the docks and make my way back to Wolverine Hall...

...except that if they were watching the docks, they'd almost certainly be watching the entrance to the fort as well. I didn't know if Tenyeminwe's pursuer had seen me with her, or if I'd been connected to Nartise's escape.

It really shouldn't come as a surprise given my previous misadventures, but I still marvelled at the fact that a simple errand to fetch a potion had gone so badly wrong.

Stowing away on the strange ship was easy. Too easy, in fact. Almost as though the captain figured nobody in their right mind would want to be on board. I had the terrible feeling I should have asked a few more questions.

"Right. Passengers!" the captain barked after we'd cast off from dock. Her voice was strangely muffled, and peeking out from our hiding place showed that she was wearing a cloth mask covering her mouth and nose. Much like Tashpi had, when she was dealing with illness in Maar Gan.

My terrible feeling grew stronger.

"Next and final stop," the captain continued, "Tel Fyr. Someone will be at the docks to direct you to the Corprusarium. There, you will be cared for with cutting-edge treatments developed by the greatest member of House Telvanni, Divayth Fyr himself. You will not want for anything, and the remainder of your lives will be made as comfortable as possible."

One of the passengers choked out a sob. It trailed off into a horrible gurgling noise.

"I have full sympathy for your plight. However, I am warning you: I am a fully-trained mage with a specialty in the Destruction school. Should any of you attempt to stay on board the ship after we land, or come within six feet of me at any time, I have permission to use lethal force."

I turned my head slowly to look at my two companions. Tenyeminwe looked as confused as me. Nartise's face, however, was white with fear. I hadn't even known she was capable of that emotion.

"Care to explain what's going on?" I whispered.

"We're on a plague ship for corprus."



I couldn't help but notice that Edwinna had stood up from her desk and taken several large steps back.

"None of us actually caught corprus," I hastily reassured her. "Alfe Fyr checked us over, she had a diagnostic spell."

A very interesting diagnostic spell, because I'd been willing to swear it wasn't of the Restoration school. It had reminded me of nothing so much as a Detection spell... my variant of Detection spell, in fact. I'd wanted to ask her about it, but – let's face it – at the time we had bigger things to be concerned about.

"That's... I'm very glad to hear that." Edwinna took her seat rather more slowly than she'd vacated it, still looking a little shaky. "I apologise for the reaction, it's just-"

"No need," I broke in. "I don't blame you in the slightest. Good common sense, always good to see in a mage. Frankly, given the things I've learned about corprus in the last week, I think running screaming would also have been appropriate. Sera Fyr had some stories," I explained at the prompting of Edwinna's quizzical look.

The woman had been distinctly unimpressed by the tale of how we'd gotten to Tel Fyr, and I'd had the impression she'd wanted to drive home just how stupidly reckless we'd been and exactly what could have happened to us. Personally, I could have done without the ruthlessly graphic descriptions of how the skin began to slough off in the second stage of the illness, but at that point she hadn't seemed particularly inclined to listen to anything we had to say. I couldn't even blame her.

"Sera... Alfe Fyr, did you say? Some relative of Divayth Fyr, I presume – his wife, or daughter?"

"Something along those lines, I think. I got the impression that the details were a little complicated, and I didn't want to pry."

"'Good common sense, always good to see in a mage'," Edwinna quoted me, voice dry. "If I were to rank all the mages on this island by how little I wanted to be their enemy, Divayth Fyr would be first on the list, just above Archmagister Gothren, Skink, and Master Aryon."

I quietly made note of the inclusion of the head of the Sadrith Mora guild on the list.

Although...

"Everyone in Tel Vos seemed to like Master Aryon a lot, though."

Edwinna, who had trouble keeping her hands still at the best of times, had picked up a small gear on her desk and begun fidgeting with it. Now, the motion stilled.

"You- how on Nirn did you end up in-" Edwinna swallowed once. Cleared her throat. "It occurs to me that I interrupted you before you had finished. My apologies, Adryn. Please do continue with your story."



For some reason, the sharp-eyed humourless woman in glass (glass!) armour who'd picked up on us stowaways at the dock was, in fact, perfectly fine with the three of us simply wandering around Tel Fyr after she'd finished her interrogation. Needless to say, this did not align with my experience of rich people's homes in the slightest.

Then again, we'd also been remarkably unmolested in Tel Naga. Perhaps Telvanni were something of a special case, with the staggeringly powerful mage part taking precedence over rich person. In my experience, powerful mages also weren't too keen on uninvited guests but perhaps those mages just hadn't been staggeringly powerful enough? After all, judging by Tenyeminwe's explanation when I'd asked who Divayth Fyr was, the man was in a category all his own. She'd been appalled that I hadn't heard of him before.

Well, perhaps I had. The name had seemed familiar, after all. Most likely I'd run across him in a book in Skyrim but immediately dismissed the information as irrelevant to my life. After all, how was I to guess that one day I'd wind up on Vvardenfell with a mad Redoran dragging me to the man's home via plague ship?

"Can we please go back now," Tenyeminwe said. It wasn't the first time those words had left her mouth, and by now they were suffused with a palpable aura of despair. I had to admit I knew how she felt.

"And turn down the opportunity to investigate Divayth Fyr himself? When we've practically been given an open invitation? What sort of cowards are you two, anyway?" Ah, Nartise's Redoran upbringing was clearly shining through.

Personally, I wasn't sure I'd term it open invitation. I distinctly remembered Alfe Fyr saying something along the lines of Father finds adventurers amusing, he only incinerates three out of ten.

More to the point...

"I'm perfectly happy to be a coward, thank you very much. But... Tenyeminwe, if you can think of a way off this island, I'm all for trying to sneak back to Sadrith Mora. The question is, can you? Because I certainly can't, given that that captain didn't seem inclined to stick around."

Nor would I have bet much money on us arriving safe, sound, and with the same number of people we'd started out with. The woman had not been amused by us stowaways in the slightest – subjecting ourselves to Alfe Fyr's diatribe had seemed like the safer choice in comparison.

Which, of course, now left us in something of a bind, considering the distinct lack of any sort of transport connection to the island.

I paused, struck by an idea. "Unless one of you knows Almsivi Intervention, or the like?"

I wasn't going to admit to my own knowledge of the spell. We hadn't yet reached the point where I'd consider it worth the risk (which was another way to say that we weren't currently facing imminent death.)

Shaking heads around me, Tenyeminwe looking distinctly downcast. Nartise, on the other hand, sounded positively cheerful when she said, "I had an amulet, but they took it off me when I was captured. I guess I have no choice but to poke around the extremely powerful, mysterious Telvanni's tower to find a, a teleportation portal or something."

Tenyeminwe straightened. "That's right... they say Divayth Fyr is one of the foremost experts on extraplanar travel in Tamriel."

I blinked, shook my head in hopes it would help clear my mind. Something about that phrase, I'd heard that phrase before-

"They even say he's mastered travel to other realms!"

And suddenly I found myself distracted.

"Wait, you're saying that if we do find some... 'teleportation portal'... in here, it could land us in Oblivion? And you think this is actually preferable to waiting for a ship?" Even if the plague ship wasn't a regular event, the tower inhabitants had to get their food from somewhere. Surely it couldn't be too long before a supply boat docked...

But for some reason, the idea of being dropped straight into Quagmire or Coldharbour or the Shivering Isles made Tenyeminwe eager to go poking around, and so I suddenly found myself outnumbered. Faced with the prospect of sitting in the entry hall alone while my companions got up to who-knew-what – and not just who-knew-what, but who-knew-what which I was liable to also be blamed for – I grudgingly opted to go with them.

At least this way, I told myself, they'd have a voice of sanity along for the ride.



My justifications grew steadily weaker until they dwindled away entirely. It didn't matter much, because Edwinna gave no sign of having heard them. Instead, she had her face buried in her hands.

After a moment of silence, she looked up. I had the impression she was steeling herself.

"So. How many apologies do I need to make to the Telvanni on behalf of the Mages' Guild?"

I felt indignation flare in my chest. "None, of course. Do you think I made my affiliation obvious through any of this? Just wandered round saying hello, I'm Adryn from the Mages' Guild, now you know who to complain to if I break anything? Or rescue any prisoners?"

Edwinna visibly relaxed. "Of course not. I'm sorry, some of our members... but I should have known you had more sense than that. Do go on."

Appeased, I continued my tale. "It started out fine. Nobody seemed particularly bothered by us, probably because I managed to keep the other two from entering any areas marked as restricted. Then..."

"...you couldn't restrain them anymore?"

I squirmed. "Um. Actually, the next part was my fault. I was using my detection spell," at a very short range due to all the walls in the way, but I felt even a split-seconds' warning of people approaching would be better than none, "and I felt someone in a locked room."

Since my conversation with the Bosmer scout about how unusual my Detection spell was – and, of course, the potential for turning this into monetary gain – I'd taken the time to practice and try to refine it. To some degree of success: a month ago, I was fairly sure, I'd only have been able to pick up that the signature belonged to a person of some sort. With my new efforts in fine-tuning the results, I'd been able to tell that said person was young, female, not particularly magically powerful, and scared. Scared not in the sense of immediate panic, but in a dull, hopeless way, as though she'd been trapped in a bad situation for so long the fear had sunk into her bones.

It was a feeling I was familiar with from the inside, for reasons I didn't care to think about, and (I was forced to admit) my sympathy had overwhelmed my sense. I'd had my lockpicks out before I knew it.

"Ah," Edwinna said. "I take it this is where the second Redoran comes into the picture."



Notes: Hello! Corprus is very dangerous and considered infectious, so why are people ill with it left to make their own way across the island to try to get to a place with, as mentioned above, zero fast-travel connections? Do we really think telling people sick with it "oh, you'll just have to swim there" is going to help them self-quarantine and prevent the spread of the disease? In Adrynverse, we attempt to be a little more organised about these things... although tbh I think Adryn herself was not all that happy about this fact when she found out.

Any port in a storm I suppose. Even if this looks like a ship full of monks, or lepers.

It seems that anything Adryn does has a great potential to go incredibly wrong...

I liked the boat to Divayth Fyr's. It is amazing how role playing game designers expect people to swim across oceans all the time to get anywhere.

Good thing Adryn is there to provide a voice of sanity! Your delicious humor really makes this story sing.

I remember the ferry boat in Teresa's Universe! and yes, it's really irritating that we are expected to swim across open bodies of water in full heavy metal gear to get to a required destination . . .


Not unique to Morrowind. Not unique. At. All.

Loved how Edwinna slowly lost her interest in the story and gave way to despair. Hee!

And yet, as the player character, you get only two chances to catch corprus, and one of them breaks the MQ, so you don't want to use that one. Considering how much contact the game expect that character to have with infected people, it's a very low rate of infection. Come to think of it, that second option may involve the only character who's not either disease-free, or a fully developed victim.

On the other hand, Morrowind's PC is rather unique when it comes to corprus, so maybe that doesn't mean anything.

And Adryn is a special case, anyway.

@everyone - I know, right? Some realism please! (This is something Morrowind arguably did better than Skyrim, since the lack of fast travel meant you did actually have a decent number of boat, silt strider and teleportation connection between cities... but it made the exceptions more glaringly obvious.)

@SubRosa - Adryn has the misfortune to have a writer who thinks she's hilarious when her plans go wrong but yeah, in-universe, it's starting to get a bit ridiculous. We'll see some of the consequences of that later this chapter.

@haute ecole rider - Edwinna's internal monologue started well and ended "why did I think it was a good idea to ask. Just. Why."

@ghastley - I've never quite understood the logistics behind corprus as an illness for exactly that reason. I have a suspicion that the spread involves not just you coming into contact with an infected person[/monster], ash creature or ash statue but a Dagoth's conscious decision to infect you somehow, and so the rate of contagion is very low but there and the healers and researchers can't work out the mechanism by which it spreads. I don't actually know when I'll be able to go into detail on this in the story, but in Adrynverse I definitely contrast it with the Blight, which is "standard" contagious and definitely less severe but still bears some of the hallmarks.

Last installment, Adryn explained how in the process of fleeing Sadrith Mora she and her compatriots accidentally wound up in Tel Fyr by plague ship. Thankfully, none of them caught corprus - however, neither the captain nor the inhabitants of Tel Fyr were too amused, and now they're stuck exploring the tower because there's no boat back. Adryn protested and grumbled this mightily, but in the end did her own exploration when she detected a person behind a locked door. Let's see who she found.



The lock of the door snicked open to reveal a Dunmer girl, probably around Nartise's age, blinking at us in confusion. Her eyes went from my face to Tenyeminwe's. When they reached the third member of our group, recognition sparked.

"Nartise? What are you doing here?"

"Delyna?" was Nartise's response. "What – all right, that's definitely my line! Where have you been, your father's been going out of his mind with worry-"

"I..." A guilty expression came over the girl's face. "I was going to spy on the Telvanni for Father."

It was possibly unfair of me, considering I'd heard all of two sentences' worth of explanation, but I still felt confident that this plan had not been particularly well thought-out.

Judging by her expression, Nartise felt the same. "And you decided to start with Divayth Fyr? Of all possible people?"

"It's- I- I overheard Father worrying that he was developing political ambitions. Because his former apprentice is now on the Council – Master Aryon, you know?"

"Believe it or not, Delyna, much like any Redoran with more brains than a kwama I know the major players of House Telvanni-"

"Well, Father thought it was worth worrying about! And I'd heard that Fyr's tower is open to the public, so I thought it'd be easy to poke around a bit..." The girl – Delyna? - heaved a sigh. "It was at the start, but almost the moment I went into an area marked 'restricted' this woman caught me. Bound me with a spell before I could react. She, er, she locked me in here saying I should spend some time to think about my actions... and then they left me there. I don't actually know how long it's been."

Nartise groaned. "Leave a note or something next time, will you? I lost your trail in Sadrith Mora, thought you were somewhere in Tel Naga. Got myself... temporarily inconvenienced looking for you. It's pure luck we ended up here, really."

"Luck I could do with more of." The girl looked up at me and Tenyeminwe, who'd been following the conversation in appalled silence. "Um, hello! I'm Delyna Mandas. Thanks for rescuing me."

"I. Sure. You're welcome," I said blankly, then my mind caught up to events. "Are you- you're a Redoran, aren't you."

"Yes! My father is Arethan Mandas, I'm sure he'll reward you-"

"How do you people keep getting kidnapped."

"...excuse me?"



"I swear," I ranted, "I am going to start another class. How Not To Get Kidnapped, run by Adryn, open to all and any children of Redoran nobility. My credentials are that I've somehow managed to avoid getting kidnapped thus far, unlike what sounds like all of them."

"I'm sure it's a good idea." I couldn't help but feel Edwinna wasn't quite taking this seriously. The corner of her mouth was twitching in a rather suspicious fashion, for one. "So... that's indeed where you found the other Redoran. A good thing you picked her up as well, by the way – her father has always been a rather highly-strung sort, and gossip had it he was all set to abandon his position and run off to do something no doubt exceptionally reckless with his men-at-arms. But, I have to ask – I'm still not clear on where Tel Vos fits in."

I heaved a sigh. "Well, we ended up needing to leave Tel Fyr in... rather a hurry. I did tell them I had a bad feeling about that door, but Nartise insisted... anyway, as luck would have it I spotted a propylon index on a nearby dresser at around the time the clannfear materialized. At that point, I figured our life expectancy would be higher in some random Chimer fortress, especially when the fireballs started expanding-"

Edwinna looked as though she was going to some effort to avoid asking. "So it sounds like your study of the propylon network is coming along very well," she said instead.

"What? Oh – fairly well, yes. I'm still working out the link between them – there is one, I can feel it, even if I haven't been able to get it to react – but I can consistently use the indexes to teleport to each chamber. A good thing, too, because Indoranyon was a lot less dangerous than Tel Fyr. I mean, there was the one angry Altmer mage, but he calmed down when he saw Tenyeminwe. Apparently they knew each other from somewhere."

More to the point, there'd been a distinct lack of horrible shambling ash-beasts – although I had to admit I hadn't investigated the fortress to make certain.

"Indoranyon." Edwinna's brows drew together in thought. "That's... where is that again?"

"On Azura's Coast. Not that far from Vos, actually. Tenyeminwe wanted to go there from the start, and since neither me nor the Redorans had a better plan, we just headed there. Passed through Tel Vos on the way." Edwinna, I decided, didn't really need to know about the other detours involved. "You know, every time I feel like I've seen the strangest architecture Morrowind has to offer, it produces something new. I'm a little afraid what it's going to be next."

To all appearances, Tel Vos had started off as an Imperial fort, much like Castle Dour back in Solitude or Fort Moonmoth near Balmora... except that at some point, a Telvanni wizard had come along and decided, as I was beginning to realise was typical for Telvanni, that it would look far better with more mushrooms. Nartise had said it was considered a sign of pro-Imperial sympathies on the Master's part. Personally, the thick roots punching their way through stonework and housing pods looking down on the ramparts had struck me as more of a metaphor for Telvanni supremacy, but I hadn't argued.

"I've heard about Tel Vos, yes," Edwinna told me. "Not seen it myself because, you understand, as a Mages' Guild member I'm reluctant to go wandering around the Telvanni regions." She gave me a pointed look.

"Yes, rub it in, why don't you." I took a breath. "Although I'd like to point out that after that, there was very little wandering around at all! Tenyeminwe went to the chapel in Vos, and was I must say remarkably ungrateful for the fact that I'd escorted her not just to the docks but all the way to her final destination-"

"I can't imagine why."

"-and me, Nartise and Dal... Del... whatever the other one's name was again took a boat from Vos to Dagon Fel to Khuul, and the strider from there back to Ald'ruhn. No adventure involved, unless you count Nartise discovering she gets seasick." I was forced to admit to some malicious pleasure at the last. Nartise and I had not gotten on – it was probably a Redoran thing.

"Of course. A very uneventful trip, I'm sure. Although, for the record? I suggest you remember 'the other one's' name when your father approaches you to thank you for her rescue."

"Or he could not. Let's do that instead."

"Now, leaving your adventures aside for the moment-"

I was perfectly agreeable to this, and would be delighted to extend for the moment to for the rest of forever. In fact, my main complaint was why Edwinna couldn't have taken this stance from the start.

"-it's good you got back when you did, Adryn. I'm leaving for a conclave on the mainland in a few days and will be gone for two weeks. I'd like to make sure you're all set for duties before I go..."

Edwinna elaborated, I nodded and made agreeing noises at the right intervals. The tasks she had in mind for me were primarily academic in nature, with yet more books Edwinna wanted me to read through along with a report on the structure of the Dwemer government in Vvardenfell she'd like me to have done when she got back. I was also, she informed me, free to continue my work on propylon indexes, since I'd been making such excellent progress with them. Was I familiar with the little table in the corner of the enchanter's workroom yet? It boasted some very fine-grained magicka analysis spells, and Edwinna was certain Tanar wouldn't mind me making use of them if I was careful...

Glaringly conspicuous by their absence were any suggested duties that would require me to leave so much as the guild hall, never mind Ald'ruhn. All things considered, I really couldn't blame Edwinna for that.

Thank the Three! No more traveling around getting into *ahem* adventures!

However, the sentence just prior to that gives me a faint sense of foreboding . . .

How Not To Get Kidnapped sounds like a great idea for a class! As always, I love Adryn's sense of humor.

Handy use of an Indice indeed! Adryn sure gets around Vvardenfell!

We can only hope that Adryn is not careful, and ends up leaving the guild hall, and Ald'ruhn...

@haute ecole rider - what do you mean? Surely Adryn will just quietly and obediently stay around the guild! No adventures will be had at all! Spoilers: the rest of the story is just her Dwemer research notes.

@SubRosa - Adryn has no idea what you are talking about, this is SERIOUS BUSINESS. There is nothing funny about this. This class is vitally necessary! Have you seen Redoran kidnap rates, oh my god.

And yep, that was an index at exactly the right place and time! Propylon indices are a nice new exciting way to explore Vvardenfell, which would be lovely for Adryn if she were interested in doing that. ...also, I need to figure out if I'm going to listen to my mathematical roots and use "indices" for the plural or do the sensible thing and go with "indexes", I don't think I've been consistent.

Last installment, Adryn finished her tale of adventure on Azura's Coast, which Edwinna was clearly regretting asking about. She strongly recommended Adryn stick to academical research in the guild hall, which Adryn herself will be delighted to start on.

But before we see how that goes, she needs to sleep, and dream...



The blade whistled over my head, close enough I suspected the slash had taken some of my hair with it. I didn't wait for the Nord to recover from his lunge. My return stroke ripped into his stomach, my next mercifully slashed his throat. As he crumpled I danced away to face my next opponent.

He immediately showed himself, a figure even taller than Dumac clad in carved steel armour and hefting an axe. Gloomily, I noted that the armour included greaves and a helm. No, this warrior would not be nearly as easy to take down as his fur-clad predecessor.

Faster than I expected, he struck. I spun to the side just in time, only for him to dodge away from my follow-up stroke. Oh, this wasn't fair at all. A Nord that size clad in armour that heavy should be a lumbering brute – how was it that he was quick, too?

We circled each other, flakes of ash puffing up from our steps. The rest of the battlefield seemed to have grown quiet, the two of us in a bubble of silence all our own. He feinted; I declined to fall for it. I retaliated with a swipe – he deflected my spear-blade with the haft of his axe. Stalemate.

Then, my opponent inhaled.

At the beginning of the war, it would have gone badly for me at that point. However, at this point in time I'd spent years fighting the Nords' best, years going over each battle after it happened. Dumac and I had sat up late into the night time and again poring over their thum, their strange magic cast with the voice alone. Somewhere in my pack was a whole precious notebook full of the strange words and what they brought, each and every one learned the hard way.

As a result, I threw myself desperately to the side the instant I heard that intake of breath, too deep and too loud, as though air were being drawn into bellows the size of a centurion. By the time even FUS left the Nord's mouth, air pulsing with power, I was already well out of the way. The blast that escaped after the RO DAH missed me by feet in favour of slamming into a Dwemer who'd been fighting behind me. I winced as the woman went flying.

"He's a Tongue!" I shouted, with significantly less magical force than my opponent. "Stay away! Leave him to me!"

We'd also learned the hard way that taking on one of the voice-magicians in a group often resulted in high casualties. Far better if a single warrior took them on, one who was highly agile, with excellent reflexes and a great deal of experience fighting against the thum.

Five one thousand, six one thousand...

One of the things a great deal of experience taught you being roughly how long they needed to recover between Shouts.

Unfortunately for me, the Nord remained an excellent warrior even without his magic,
parrying my searching thrusts with ease. One stab did make its way past his guard, but glanced off his armour. The recoil sent a shock up my arms. With it, the sensation of magicka: the armour was enchanted, with some sort of strengthening spell. No wonder he moved fast in it.

He couldn't get close enough to attack, not against my weapon's longer reach, but I couldn't get past that armour. By rights, the fight should drag on until one of us made a mistake.

Except there was the one factor.

Twenty thousand, one-and-twenty... Soon he'd be ready to Shout again. I tensed, wondering what the man would throw at me next.

But when the Nord opened his mouth to speak, there was no magic in his voice.

"I didn't realise any of you fjeigvaring elves had the honour for a proper holmgang."

I would have liked to laugh bitterly, but I needed my breath. I made do with baring my teeth at the man.

"Honour? Oh, say more about honour, northman." My own, distinctly nonmagical voice should make my contempt clear, but Nords were often thick about these things and I was an indifferent speaker of their language at best. I spat to ensure my opponent couldn't miss my disgust.

Beneath the helm, I could see the eyes – far too round and an alien, icy blue – widen. "I am one of the most powerful Tongues, master of the thu'um, friend to the Braedrahjaf Joerrvaskr, a warrior of honour-"

"Oh? Then tell me, warrior of honour, for what you fight?"

The man faltered. Only for an instant, too brief to capitalise on, but I saw it and pushed my advantage home.

"You fight for burn our villages? Kill our elders and children, steal our things? Hunt the Dwemer in their homes? I cannot see the honour in this things. Cannot see your warrior gods approve to them. But, as you say," I threw the full force of my contempt into the words in hopes it would cross the language barrier, "I am only an elf, I do not understand of such things. So, northman. Please. Tell me."

The man took a step back, hands clenching around his axe. His mouth worked silently, his eyes fixed on mine-

Not on my weapon.

Quick as thought, I spun my spear up, driving it towards the unprotected skin of his throat. He was distracted, unbalanced, in no position to dodge-

FEIM!

Just before the point made contact, the man's outline blurred, becoming ghostly and transparent as though he were an ancestor spirit. My own eyes widened in shock as the spear went straight through him with no resistance at all.

Well, that was a new one.

Having seen that he wouldn't be able to dodge, I'd put my all into that strike. I was paying for that misjudgement now. There was no way to recover my balance – all I had was a split second to tuck myself in.

Here, my own armour paid off. Chitin might not offer the protection of Dwemer armour or the plate the Nord was wearing, but it was light enough I managed to turn the fall into a roll. I came back up in a crouch, hand reaching out to grasp the spear I'd dropped when I hit the ground. Still, I lost precious moments to my folly, got to my feet just in time to see the man shimmering back into the physical realm.

"Witch-elf," he growled. "Trying to enfenge me with your lies, eh. Well, I won't listen."

Witch? I'd heard heksa often enough to be sure that was the correct translation, but only one of us was using magic in this fight and it wasn't me.

Although, really, that was an idea.

Not that I could Shout in the way of my opponent. Oh, I'd tried to learn it. The rumours had it Tongues spent a decade or more learning their craft, but I liked to think I was smarter than the Nords... and there was something strangely familiar about the language, something that made me think I should be able to pick it up. To no avail, unfortunately. I suspected I was missing some key component.

But, I thought as I circled my opponent, there were other types of magic.

I discarded my birth-sign with barely a second thought. The ability was reckless enough one-on-one – if I used it in the middle of a battlefield, either the enemy would kill me or Sil would.

Sil would be expecially unimpressed as he had taught me a range of useful spells to take its place.

Careful timing would be the key here. I didn't want the man to dodge into insubstantiality again, after all. And so I waited, using my weapon's superior reach to keep my enemy at a distance, until he lost patience.

FO KRAH DIIN!

The burst of cold along my arm told me I hadn't dodged the frost blast entirely. Still, my grip on my spear held, and I could even shift it fully so that my other hand was free. A minor injury at most, to be addressed after the battle. Not enough to foil my plans.

The instant the cold faded away, I struck.

The Nord saw his danger barely in time, jerking away so that the fireball splashed against his shoulder rather than hitting his face. Sadly, it looked like luck wasn't on my side, because the only real damage seemed to be a scorch-mark. He also didn't drop his weapon or lose his stance, and the look in his eyes as he stared at me was anger rather than pain.

"Witch," he spat again. "And I thought you-" The rest of the sentence was obscured by grammar (Nordic made talking about things one didn't believe true unnecessarily complicated, in my opinion) but I got the gist. He'd thought I was an honourable warrior, and now I had cheated by using magic.

Oh, how I wished I knew their word for hypocrite. I would have to paraphrase.

"So I throw fire you, it is a cheat. You throw cold me, it is a fair fight? I admit to not understand of this." I flourished my spear so its butt tapped the cracked ground to my left, where frost still bloomed across the ground. You started it, the gesture said.

Inexplicably, that accusation broke through his guard. I didn't understand why – surely even a child, even a Nord could see the parallels between our actions – but his eyes widened, he took a step back.

"I... The thu'um is not..."

I saw something behind him and briefly had to suppress a triumphant smile. All I had to do was keep him distracted – but our conversation was doing that nicely enough.

"Not the same?" I asked, taking a careful step forward. "Same to me. Same to my people. If you to burn a Wise Woman's yurt, you think she cares if you to cast spell or shout yol?"

Those tenses definitely weren't right, but judging by the wince the Nord understood me anyway. He took another step back. I followed, taking care not to slip on frost. Come on, just a little further...

"My people do not-!"

"They do." My voice was colder than the ground underfoot. "They did. I saw them."

Back. Forward. "It's- it's different, it's-"

Back-

Even as the Nord stumbled on the ridge of rock he'd backed into, I was already in motion. A small part of me held back, ready for my lunge to connect with only air – we'd talked for a while, enough for his magic to recover, he might Shout himself untouchable again-

But the Nord realised his danger a crucial second too late, and the sweep of my spear took his teetering legs out from under him while he was still inhaling. He crashed into the ground like a felled tree, the collected power dissipating harmlessly into the air as the impact blew the breath from his lungs. Unlike me, he did not get up again.

I took a step back, gripping my spear in both hands. Readying myself.

I always found this part distasteful, but there was nothing for it – I couldn't leave him behind to come at me again. I'd have to finish him off while he was helpless-

"Nerevar!"

Dumac?



Notes: Dragon souls, Nerevar. The thing you're missing is dragon souls.

This two-part section is probably to blame for, like, three months of the delay to getting this chapter posted, because egads how do I write combat scenes I am so far out of my depth I think I'm floating over the Mariana Trench. I hope it came across as halfway plausible (I tried to research it but a lot of the time that ended in "so if Nerevar is facing a foe in full armour he's screwed, and also why do any of these people use any weapon other than spears??"). It was a bear to write but also weirdly fun, because I'd read a lot of Skyrim fic at this point and it was an interesting reversal to have all the Shouting done by the enemy.

I did make it up to myself by indulging my linguistics geek more than I normally do. "Nordic" is basically made out of taking my native German, Google-translated Icelandic/Norwegian/Swedish/Danish and the in-game names of people and places and sticking them all into a blender with a healthy dash of imagination... and I had a lot of fun with making Nerevar's dialogue reflect his imperfect command of the language.

The only good thing about getting behind with the reading is the getting to catch up... which then leaves me in the position of having to wait for more story. You just can't please some dachshunds....



And Trey would be right there trying to outbid Adryn for the first look....



These are the moments we love Adryn the most.

Starting the chapter after the events about to be described took place is brilliant ... it gives Adryn so much more space to wibble and fidget and rationalize....

And her past... experiences... with the Thieves' Guild lead to more complications. Most delicious.



Adryn as Telvanni? I think I just boggled. (Not actually sure what that involves, but it probably has something to do with the brain flopping onto its back, kicking its legs a few times and then fainting. Or else it's a word game distributed by Parker Bros.)



But the fact that she thought of the idea tells us that Adryn is not 100% reformed.....







Uh-oh?



Yes, definitely “uh-oh.�



But she wouldn't make a good Redoran- nope. Not at all. Purely self-interested....



Adryn's heartfelt indignation had me rolling on the floor. Because the best humor has a large element of truth....

And another most excellent flash-back! The combat comes across as quite plausible to me- I could see the events happening as you describe them.

I like "Indices" better than "Indexes", it just looks neater on the page.

Oooh, we know what the Fus Ro Dah means!

An exciting flashback to one of the Battles of Red Mountain. The first one I am thinking. There are so many it is hard to keep track of them. I think the second one was Dunmer vs. Dwemer. Though I could be wrong.

I liked your use of Nord words, it really added more than flavor. It made it plain that Never and the Nord came from truly different cultures, with different values and viewpoints.

It's the little things in here that I like. The way Nerevar knows that yol means fire in a shout, even though the Nord might not, since he hasn't tried using it.

And keep up the generic Nordic. I spoke fluent foreign once, so I know how much the region likes to mix the languages, especially near borders. Ever played quadrilingual Scrabble, where each player has to use words from a different language, that is not his/her own? You need a stack of dictionaries for that, but it's fun. Once you get past the arguments over which sack of tiles to use. It's a big disadvantage when one of the letters is missing, or there's an extra you can't use.

Almost forgot to update this!

@treydog - thank you so much for the detailed comment!! and I'm glad you too liked Adryn adventures, flashback edition. For what it's worth, I think Athyn Sarethi would have the same reaction as you re: Adryn and Telvanni...

@SubRosa - OK, mathematical plural it is! And I'm glad you liked the faux-Nordic - you're right that there's a huge culture clash here, and we'll be seeing more of that this update.

@ghastley - Nerevar has made A Study of Shouts, as - he'd argue - is only sensible if your enemy uses some strange magic. He probably knows more Shouts than some Tongues, at this point, and feim is going straight into the notebook after this. Also, quadrilingual Scrabble sounds great and I want to try it sometime. (I've also always wanted to try German scrabble with an English set or vice versa, but nobody wanted to play it with me. ) Parts of this section were definitely heavily influenced by my recent experiences learning Spanish, go team foreign language learning.

Last installment, Nerevar faced off against a Tongue in the middle of a battle and managed to bring him down. He was just about to kill the man when he was interrupted by Dumac. Let's see what that's about...



My fight had taken almost all my focus, with barely enough attention paid to my surroundings to make certain I wasn't about to be stabbed in the back. Coming out of the battle-rush now felt like surfacing, blinking, from a pool, as the rest of the world began to filter back in.

And, as it turned out, it had changed in the time I'd been submerged.

The sound of battle, of war-cries shouted over the clash of weapons, was gone. The moans of the wounded and dying remained, but they were mixed with broken cheers. Cheers in Chimeris, for the most part, some Dwemeris as well. And indeed, as my eyes scanned the battle-field, I found these were near the only two peoples I could see. There were only few figures left standing in Nordic gear, and all of them had their heads bent in defeat.

"We... won?"

Dumac had reached me now, a fact he decided to celebrate by one large gauntleted hand clapping me on my back with enough force to almost send me to my knees. "We did, friend! The pincer attack worked perfectly, the remnants of their army are in full retreat. It only remains to gather our wounded, the fallen... and see to our prisoners."

Our eyes both went to the figure sprawled on the ground before me.

My erstwhile opponent had propped himself up on one arm. Judging by the expression on his face, he'd been going through the same thought process as me.

"My people lost?" Then, after a pause, "I lost?"

He sounded incredulous, disbelieving. For some reason, I couldn't muster much in the way of sympathy.

"I saw the end of your fight," Dumac said to me. He didn't bother to keep his voice low – almost none of the Nords spoke Chimeris. "He's a Tongue, no? Safest to kill him now." His hand dropped to his dagger.

Generally, we tried not to kill our prisoners. Most we took as slaves. Some, those we felt certain would not take up arms against us again, we sent back. Sul had been talking about arranging ransoms, although I had to doubt the Nords were civilized enough for such a matter. The Tongues, however, were an exception – too dangerous to keep captive, or to risk their returning in vengeance, the few we'd managed to bring down we executed after the battle.

I let my eyes trail over the battlefield again. As far as I could see the dead lay strewn on the ground. Cliff-racers wheeled overhead, beady eyes trained on their meal. In places, they'd already descended. A breeze blew my way, carrying the scent of blood and feces with it.

I was so tired of killing.

It spoke to how well Dumac knew me by now that the thought had barely begun to take hold when he apparently read it off my face. Or so I surmised based on his groan. "Really, Nerevar?"

I ignored him in favour of making my way to stand over my fallen opponent. I kept a hand on my spear, a wary ear out for the inhale of the thum, but although his eyes tracked me as I approached the man didn't attack. Nor did he make any move to get up.

Any other time I'd have enjoyed the sensation of looking down at one of the Nords (one that, thanks to our respective heights, was distinctly unfamiliar.) Not now, however. It was as though there was no room left in me for more emotion, all drowned out by a strange cold fury rising within me.

So many dead, over the course of this war. So many of my own people, of the Dwemer. So many of the Nords, even, our three races alike in death.

What an utter, unforgiveable waste.

"You yield?" My voice didn't sound like mine, low and deadly. I let my spear drop until the blade was resting lightly against the Tongue's throat, kept it kissing his skin as the man swallowed.

"I... I do." Less anger than I was expecting, in its place sheer disbelief. As though the Tongue found it inconceivable that he could be beaten, the physical reality of the matter aside.

A flash of gold from the corner of my eye, the groan of metal to my left. Whatever his private misgivings, Dumac was still coming to stand beside me.

"I am Indoril Nerevar, and this is my ally Dumac." I took a deep breath. "Tell me, Tongue, why your people attack us."

At first, the man didn't respond, simply staring up at us blankly. I pressed the spear a little tighter, in warning.

"I... I have no good explanation. I thought..." I let my spear drift back a little as he swallowed, throat bobbing. A thin red line showed where the blade had rested. "I thought it was an honourable battle, a herlige conquest in Kyne's name. But if Kyne were truly in favour, why would she let me lose?"

My gaze jumped up from the Nord to meet Dumac's, both of us united in confusion. I did not expect Lord Boethiah to fight my battles for me – no, if my skill faltered, they would justly turn their back. Dumac, of course, believed only in the strength of his arms and people. Neither of us would take a loss in combat as anything more than a signal to train harder.

Well, we'd always known the barbarians had strange beliefs. The details weren't that important now... except in how I could turn them to my favour.

"So you think to fight is not just, now?" I probed.

"I must, though it be hard to slykja."

The unfamiliar word was clear from context. I inhaled, feeling more nervous than I had during the whole fight. Not that much of a surprise, in truth, because I hadn't had time to be nervous – had been forced to give my all to keep up with the Tongue. If things had gone just a hair differently, I'd be the one on the ground now.

Should I be wrong about this, I'd be releasing a very dangerous enemy.

But I didn't think the man at my mercy had much deception in him. And should I be was right...

Well. Should I be right, the payoff might yet be enormous.

"If I to let you free," I ignored the disapproval radiating off Dumac at my side, "you go tell your comrades to not fight?"

The man squeezed his eyes shut, as though in pain, but his answer came quickly. "Yes. I... we must have done wrong, for Kyne to take back her favour. We must besinjan to find the correct path."

"Very well." The nervousness was gone as though it had never been. My decision was made, my die thrown. Only time would tell what side it would show in the end. "You... what is your name?"

"Jurgen Wind-hruvir, jarl Nerevar."

A jarl was something like an ashkhan, wasn't it? A good sign, if he'd come to view me as a leader. A sign this might actually work.

"Jurgen of clan Wind-hruvir," I said as I stepped back, "I let you free for return your home. I expect you speak with the other Tongues, make them leave us alone. If you to not be honest, if I to see you fight again..." I tightened my grip on my spear, put all the frozen death of the northlands into my voice as I continued. "You regret it."

The man dropped his eyes. "I understand and obey, jarl."

Fersta og folyda. I'd heard that phrase uttered many times as the Nords trampled our lands. I'd never dreamed it would one day be said to me.

I'd planned to accompany the man out of the battlefield, to keep any of mine or Dumac's forces from attacking him, but it was not to be. He got to his feet, nodded at me while thumping his chest in what I knew to be some strange Nordic expression of respect, and then-

WULD NAH KEST!

-even as I threw myself to the side in reflex, he vanished from sight to reappear on the next ridge over.

"I hope that was a good idea," Dumac murmured as we watched the man follow after his retreating people.

"I'm skeptical too," I admitted in a voice as low as his. "But he didn't strike me as deceptive. And imagine if it pays off! You know how the Nords view the Tongues. One preaching the war is unjust – it might cut the next ship-load of warriors in half all on its own."

"In a far less bloody way than we usually cut them to size. Yes, I can see why the plan appeals to you."

I flinched. My distaste for violence was something I tried to keep under wraps, as it was not a valuable trait for the leader of what was, by now, an army. Quite the opposite – many of those who followed me would likely think twice about it, if they knew how much my heart rebelled at the slaughter of war. But Dumac knew me well enough that there was little I could keep hidden from him.

"Well, we shall have to hope that it works out. I would be skeptical, but your plans do have a way of working out even when none would expect them to." I felt blood rise into my cheeks at Dumac's faith in me. "In fact, I shall borrow your optimism and say that perhaps, there will be no need at all, because perhaps there will be no reinforcements! Perhaps we have broken them here and they will flee all the way back to their lands."

I had to grin at Dumac's words. "The great battle of Red Mountain, eh? It has a ring to it."

"One for the history books, if you ask me. Now come! Battle or skirmish, we have won a great victory today. Tonight we will celebrate, and I insist that you take part!" Dumac's eyes twinkled. "Perhaps I will even finally get to see you drunk."

I pulled a face. "I doubt it, friend. Especially as before we celebrate, I must see to the casualties, the wounded-"

"-and a healer. Don't think I haven't noticed you favouring your left arm."

I'd been trying to put the angry ache that had replaced the freezing cold out of my mind. But- "It's just a minor wound," I told Dumac. "The healers have more urgent work to do."

"Perhaps, but after the cave-in incident I'd like to hear that from someone with training-"

"That was one time!"

Arguing, we made our way back towards the rest of our armies, putting the Tongue out of our minds.



Notes: Given Jurgen Windcaller's backstory, I simply could not resist bringing him into the flashbacks in order to get Nerevar's point of view on the whole thing. This also made the fight scene harder, because I had to have Nerevar not just win but win in such a way that Jurgen would respect, so that he could end up with his entire worldview overthrown and wander off to found the Way of the Voice. I discarded a lot of magical strategies because of that, and did still end up with Nerevar luring Jurgen into a trap - just one that Jurgen would accept as fair play!

Also, apologies for my unabashed Dumac favouritism. I promise soon we'll see a little more Tribunal in these things.

I quite enjoyed these flashback sequences (thought technically they're not flashbacks as they're not Adryn's experiences but those of a long gone historical figure). It was neat to see Jurgen Windcaller here, and interesting to see him defeated and reconsidering the Way of the Voice. I wonder if that started him on the path to recreating the Way of the Voice to something we are familiar with from TESV?

Please continue updating this story! I love it!

I quite enjoyed these flashback sequences (thought technically they're not flashbacks as they're not Adryn's experiences but those of a long gone historical figure). It was neat to see Jurgen Windcaller here, and interesting to see him defeated and reconsidering the Way of the Voice. I wonder if that started him on the path to recreating the Way of the Voice to something we are familiar with from TESV?

Please continue updating this story! I love it!

Is Scrabble actually possible in German? Most of the fun words I know run off the edge of the board, and take more tiles than you're allowed to have at one time.

---------

At this point in the story, I'm not sure whether they count as flashbacks or not. If Adryn is a potential Nerevarine, then they could become flashbacks later? And do prior lives count, even then? Only the author may decide.

As for Jurgen, well, somebody had to do it. And the big event of the era is the most likely time and place. If we take his self-confidence as well-earned, then it would take a Nerevar to bust him out of it. And maybe a Dumac, too.

Now, what going on now? Adryn usually has these musings just before doing something that proves ... interesting.

I was starting to suspect that Nord with the tongue might be Jugsy Windmaker himself. That was an exciting battle, with an uncertain ending.

It says a lot about Nerevar that he did not want to kill the prisoners on simply moral grounds. Jurgen himself comes out much the poorer in comparison. Not because he lost the fight. As Nerevar himself mused, it could have easily gone the other way. But because he simply cannot accept failing. He strikes me as one of those people who have always been gifted, and because of that never had to really apply themselves. Never failed, and failed again, and failed again, and learned that it is not the end of the world. A lot of people really do crumble when they come to that, if they have not learned the hard way to persevere.

I enjoyed the obvious friendship between Dumac and Nerever. It will make things all the more bitter when things fall apart between them.

@haute ecole rider - it's interesting you and also ghastley say it's not clear they count as flashbacks! Something I focused on at the start but have admittedly been taking for granted recently is that all these scenes are occurring in Adryn's head at night and feel like they happened to her (or would, if she could consciously remember them). So, like, on the one hand they're technically not her experiences... but on the other, they really are. If that's been lost to the reader I might need to make it a bit clearer in another scene. Anyway, to me this was 100% the scene that started Jurgen Windcaller on his path to creating the Way of the Voice - it's said that he started that after he was shaken by his defeat at Red Mountain, and I couldn't resist making that personal.

@ghastley - I congratulate your astuteness, noticing that these flashbacks tend to be relevant to what's going in Adryn's life! You're on point, as the next scene should show.

also, I know your comment re: Scrabble was a joke but actually I find the differences between German and English scrabble really interesting! In German Scrabble, you can do a lot more building off existing words by extending them via prefixes/declension/conjugation/etc., but you have far fewer short two- or three-letter words and therefore can't build as compactly. I also get the impression the rare letters can be harder to use. All in all, it makes for a fairly different playstyle.

@SubRosa - indeed, I couldn't resist bringing Mr. Nerevar-made-me-rethink-my-entire-life-philosophy in here. I think you're fairly on-point with your analysis of him, coupled with the fact that he had this very simplistic "we are righteous and therefore we will win" worldview. Nerevar managed to attack both of those things at once - making him seriously doubt whether they were righteous, then beating him in fair combat - and that shook him to his core.

And don't remind me about the way Dumac and Nerevar are going to end! I really love their relationship - like, it sounds like they managed to hold the First Council together mainly through the power of their friendship for four hundred years - and writing the end of it will break my heart. (I mean. I'll still do it, and break yours in the process, but )

*looks up* SO ANYWAY it seems I'm in a chatty mood, which fits because you're also getting a longer-than-usual update - no good break points this time. Further updates may be delayed, as the next chapter is still missing bits and I've been having trouble focusing on writing of late, but I'll do my best.

Last installment, Nerevar defeated Jurgen Windcaller and decided, in the end, to let him go as he seemed genuine in his desire to reflect on what the Tongues had done wrong. I'm sure that's not going to shape the face of Skyrim for millennia to come or anything. Now, back to Adryn...



"Watch your feet," Jamie reminded me. My gaze flicked from her down to the ground to confirm – yes, my feet were indeed in an awkward position. I quickly righted them, the toes of my boots digging into the sand.

"Footwork is the foundation of any fighting discipline," Jamie lectured. "If you don't make sure to position your feet well at all times, your battle is lost already. Now... you were doing well on the blocks and strikes earlier. Are you ready for a basic spar?"

My knuckles were white on the staff. "I don't suppose 'no' is an option?" I tried.

Alas, it was not.

After hearing of my latest adventure, Jamie had insisted I needed to undergo basic combat training. It had been the firmest I'd ever seen her about anything, and I'd found myself in the private Sarethi training grounds before I really knew what was happening. Needless to say, I was less than keen on this turn of events, but all protest had been in vain.

"It'd be downright irresponsible of me to let you keep running around Vvardenfell with no way to defend yourself, considering you're obviously unable to stay out of trouble. The staff is a good choice – cheap, versatile, easy enough to pick up, a classic mage's weapon. Neminda agrees with me, don't you?"

I was also less than keen on the audience. It seemed the Redoran steward Neminda and Jamie had struck up something of a friendship in past weeks, and my doom was sealed when the two started egging each other on regarding my lack of combat skill and how such a thing must be remedied immediately. Athyn Sarethi had professed himself curious, and considering that we were borrowing his family's private training hall it was hard to argue against his presence – I should probably be glad Varvur hadn't shown up. Why Methal was attending, on the other hand, was entirely beyond me, but he was watching the goings-on with every evidence of entertainment and had ignored all my attempts to get him to go away so far.

"All right. Careful, now. Imagine I'm a bandit on the road, and you need to defend yourself from me."

If I met a bandit on the road, I would do the sensible thing and run away, but arguments to this nature had had no effect so far and I wasn't expecting them to be successful now. With a sigh, I shifted back on my heels and watched Jamie warily.

Jamie struck at me with her own weapon. She did not make a particularly convincing bandit, as the strike was slow enough it would probably be insulting to anyone with any combat ability at all (an august group that did not include me.) I tensed, ready to bring my staff up in the block we'd practiced earlier-

-except that that was straight out of the beginners' exercises, and would leave me in no good position for an attack of my own after. I didn't care to leave control of the fight in my enemy's hands, not when the woman was moving so slowly she was begging for it to be taken away from her.

The woman – the mercenary, perhaps? She was no Nord, not with her strange dark-brown skin and black hair tamed into countless short braids, so what was she doing in Resdayn? I'd try to take her alive to question her, I decided.

I side-stepped, swung my spear to strike at her arm in a bone-breaking move I'd learned from Almalexia-

The world spun. My spear was too light and too heavy at the same time, my limbs too short, my muscles weak and unresponsive as though centuries of training had vanished in an instant, my whole body was wrong-

My opponent drew back, dark eyes wide. She shouted something-

"Adryn? What's wrong?"

-shouted something in a language I'd never heard before as I lost my balance and fell.

I blinked up at the cavernous ceiling of the Sarethi training grounds. "Ow."

Jamie's face swam into view, wearing a concerned expression. "Are you all right?"

I levered myself into a sitting position and took stock. My head was spinning, but the sensation was already fading and when I ran my hand through my hair (and why did I have the strangest feeling it should be shorter on the sides?) I found no lumps or sore spots. "Just bruises," I told Jamie.

"Well, that's a relief. But what on Nirn happened?"

Answering this question proved harder than it should have been, because my recollection of the past minute was unexpectedly fuzzy. "I... I tried to dodge, it was a reflex," I said slowly. "I must have gotten myself tangled up somehow and fallen."

Yes, that must be what had happened. Even if it was still puzzling – along with the power of paralysis, my birthsign gifted me with increased agility. I was used to all things requiring balance coming effortlessly, to say nothing of the fine control over my movements I'd learned for the purpose of stealth. My body hadn't let me down like this in years.

"I suppose." Jamie sounded a little skeptical. "Well, let's try that again. I'll move more slowly – try to parry my attack with the block I showed you this time."

I stood, gritting my teeth. Much though I didn't particularly think these lessons were necessary, it still bit at my pride to be defeated by my own feet well before Jamie even got near me with her weapon. I swore to myself it would go better this time.

It didn't.

Nor did the next, nor did it when Neminda came to take over from Jamie. My reflexes were apparently really quite something, because no matter how much I reminded myself of the blocks we'd practiced, as soon as someone came at me with a weapon of their own I tried doing something else. Inexplicably, 'something else' always ended with me stumbling over air, stepping on my own feet, misjudging the weight of my weapon and smacking myself in the face, or otherwise removing myself from the fight before my opponent could even try. At one point, Athyn Sarethi himself came down to assist, brow creased in concern. His soft voice and calm, clear explanations gave him, I thought, the air of someone who was probably quite a good teacher. If so, it was sadly not enough to outweigh my complete and utter hopelessness.

Only Methal stayed sitting the entire time, watching me flail around with an unreadable expression.

After what felt like half an eternity, I found myself lying on the ground, grit digging into my scalp, feeling rather as though I'd been worked over by a giant. My new nemesis, the stabbing headache, had also made a reappearance.

"I give up," I told the ceiling. "The bandit has defeated me. He can have my money, provided he carries me back to the guild."

My eyesight blurred. For a moment I thought I saw three Nords, clad in carved steel armour, axes at their sides, pale eyes staring down at me with identical grim expressions. Then I blinked, and the eerie figures were replaced by Jamie, Neminda and Sarethi.

"Magic, perhaps?" Sarethi suggested. "I don't like it – I think everyone should have a thorough grounding in basic physical combat skills – but it's become clear Adryn has some... unique challenges in that regard. Training in Destruction magic would at least not leave her defenseless."

Perhaps, I considered, this was all a dastardly plot. Because a few hours ago, if Sarethi had suggested I learn to fling fireballs at something I would have protested just as vehemently as I had the staff combat lessons. However, now – with my body one solid bruise – I'd welcome any activity that mainly involved standing still.

"I wouldn't recommend it." A figure in robes joined the others – it looked as though Methal had decided to involve himself in matters after all. "Relying solely on magic in combat is difficult. One hears tales of long-lasting armour spells, among the witchmen or the Psijics, but nothing credible has made its way to us. As such, the pure mage has close to no defensive capabilities and relies on killing or incapacitating his enemies before they can reach him. Not something anyone at novice or apprentice level would be capable of, needless to say."

"I'll take your word for it, Diviner, as I'm not particularly well-versed in magical combat."

"Of course, Councilor." Methal's lips quirked. I'd have called it a smile, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. "As it stands, Adryn has proven quite capable of getting herself out of trouble via... creative problem-solving, thus far. Perhaps it would be best if we left her to it, as the more conventional methods don't seem to be the best of fits."

"Thank you," I chimed in from the ground. "Exactly what I've been saying since this started."

There was a crease between Jamie's eyebrows, and a moment of hesitation before she responded. "I still think it would be good if you could fight at least a little if worst came to worst... but you're right that it certainly doesn't seem to be working." She sighed, a sound signalling defeat on her side, triumph on mine.

"It's all right." Now that it seemed clear no more people would be coming at me with sticks, I gingerly got up. It was a process involving a lot of winces and careful movements, even with Jamie giving me a hand up. I promised myself a detour by the hot springs for a long soak on the way back to the guild. "It's for the best, really."

"Oh?" Sarethi asked lightly.

"The thing is," I considered how to word this, "if you know you can fight your way out of trouble, that's always going to be an option for you. If you know you can't, then you have to find an alternative no matter what. And maybe that means you discover you can actually talk your way out of a situation after all, where the fighter would never have tried. I don't know about you, but personally I think less violence in the world is a good thing."

Sarethi frowned, silent, but Methal – who'd been listening with evident curiosity – responded. "An interesting theory. Do let me know how it works out for you."

I found myself distracted by magicka rushing over me, a brief wave of power that took the worst of my aches and pains with it when it subsided. I turned to look at Jamie in surprise. Healing other people was said to be more complex than healing oneself, and that had been a strong spell. I vaguely remembered her telling me she was good at Restoration magic, but given how poor her other magical skills were I'd assumed that still meant apprentice level at best. Unjustly, it seemed.

"Thanks," I told her. Then something occurred to me, and I added, "You couldn't have done that any earlier?"

My voice was just this side of a whine, but Jamie treated the question seriously.

"It's not the best of ideas to use magical healing when you're training. It keeps you from properly building up muscle, so you'd generally only use it if an accident results in a major injury. That goes for both spells and potions. However, since it sounds like you won't be continuing," Jamie's mouth twisted, "there's no reason for you to suffer."

Yet another reason to leave my combat skills the way they were. What a hard decision this was, truly.

"Come," Jamie told me. "I'll walk back to the guild with you. You still look a little shaky to me. Magic can only do so much, I guess."

I nodded my acceptance, resigning myself to the idea that this probably meant no hot springs tonight. Jamie was shy of the place, and she wasn't likely to let me head there alone. When it came to her friends' health she could be as fussy as Sotha Si-

My headache decided this was the opportune moment to prove Jamie's words about the limitations of magic true, seeing as despite the spell it was still capable of launching white-hot needles through my eyebrow straight into my brain. I cringed and rubbed my forehead. I didn't know what was causing these headaches – something in the air, perhaps, since I'd never had them before coming to Vvardenfell – but I was getting heartily sick of them.

I tried to distract myself by looking over the others. Neminda and Sarethi were gathering up the equipment we'd borrowed to practice (Neminda not looking particularly happy about the fact that her superior was getting his hands dirty) but Methal was still looking at me with a considering expression.

It reminded me of something I'd been meaning to bring up the next time I saw the man, something that had been driven clean out of my mind earlier through the threat of combat lessons.

"Say, Methal? Do you know when Ervesa is expected to be in Ald'ruhn next? There's something I was hoping to ask her." Or, to put it another way: I didn't know who else I could ask other than Ervesa.

"I really can't say." Methal spread his hands in apology. "The itinerary of a Buoyant Armiger is only known to them and to Lord Vivec, I'm afraid. That said, she's heavily involved in the investigation into the ash statues, and that's centered around Ald'ruhn. She's almost certainly going to be passing through regularly for the forseeable future – I can let her know you'd like to talk to her when she's next here."

"Thank you, I'd appreciate that."

Methal coughed. "If you don't mind indulging my curiosity, may I ask what this is about? I might be able to help myself, or be able to forward the message to Ervesa more quickly."

Breath coming in ragged gasps as I braced myself against the heavy wooden door – Tenyeminwe's terrified face when a shadow detached itself from the wall to float towards us – the figure's hood casting a deep shadow but I could still make out the fleshless skull beneath-

"It's about something that happened on my recent travels through the Grazelands." I paused. "It's... a private matter."

Not true per se, but believable enough, I hoped. Ervesa was the only person I knew who I trusted to have both an in-depth knowledge of local beliefs and customs as well as sympathy for a newcomer unfamiliar with them who might accidentally transgress. I was a little more wary of Methal, in the matter. One didn't get to a high Temple rank by petting kittens.

Methal's mouth pressed into a thin line at my rejection. It made him look much older, and surprisingly threatening. I took a small step back.

"Ah yes, your recent travels." Sarethi, who it seemed had been successfully driven off by Neminda, chose this moment to interrupt via resting a hand on my shoulder. His voice was cheerful, but his grip was tight. "I admit I'd been hoping for the opportunity to talk to you about them, Adryn... and it sounds as though you'll be in Ald'ruhn for the next while, yes?"

"Ah... yes." I eyed the appendage currently trespassing into my personal space. How to remove it without causing offense to the very important noble on his own property, with his subordinate watching? "No plans to go elsewhere. Er, could you maybe-"

"Excellent! I'll expect you at dinner tomorrow, then. First bell, just let them know your name and the door guards will let you in." Sarethi gave my shoulder one last squeeze, then released it. "Now, Diviner, I admit I was hoping to speak to you about the state of things at Falasmaryon. Would you care to join me in my study for a drink? The wine shipment from Cyrodiil got in only last week, and there's a case of Tamika from '99 – an excellent vintage."

Methal was silent for a long moment, then nodded. "I believe I'll take you up on that, Councilor." He looked back at me. I shivered; for all his typical friendly demeanour, for a moment something in Methal's eyes made me feel like an insect pinned down for examination. His gaze softened almost immediately, leaving me to wonder if I'd imagined it. "Adryn, I hope to see you back in the Temple soon, with or without Ervesa present. We could always use more ingredients, and I do enjoy our conversations."

The two men swept out, leaving me and Jamie alone. I spent a moment indulging in relief - neither of them were particularly comforting to be around. Then what Sarethi had said caught up to me.

"...did I just agree to dinner at Sarethi Manor tomorrow?"

"You did, and I don't think you'll manage to find a way out of it in the next day, not after you told Athyn you have no pending duties. Chin up, will you?" Jamie could really be more sympathetic when it came to my imminent doom, I thought. "It's just dinner, and it's not like he's going to murder you. Athyn likes you, you know." A pause. "Also, if you're worried about your table manners, consider this: I don't think it's actually possible for you to embarrass yourself in front of him any more than you did today."

"I hate you," I told Jamie. "I'm going back to the Guild to ask Edwinna if she can please find me a magical emergency for tomorrow evening."

Oh no, this is so not good. It’s bad enough the Nerevar is invading her sleep at night, but now messing up Adryn’s combat practice? As a medical professional I’d say the disease is manifesting new symptoms. As a writer, I’m sensing a huge foreboding development to come . . .

Throughout I’ve continued to enjoy Adryn’s abundant sarcasm. I had to chuckle when Methal pointed out Adryn’s number one survival skill - creative problem solving!

I am looking forward to more!

Adryn is truly incapable of staying out of trouble! Good thing she is learning the (wo)manly art of self defense. Once Adryn learns to Tesser, she can go to Earth and January can teach her all sorts of dirty tricks from Krav Maga.

Well that was a nice, slow, realistic sparring session. At least until that pesky Neverman showed up and hijacked Adryn's mind.

Less violence in the world is a good thing? Does Adryn know where she is?

So is it true that Buoyant Armiger's float? I heard they all float down here...

Methal seems to have some ideas about what is happening to Adryn. Maybe he has had some experience with previous Neveraines. Which is not a good thing, seeing as he is from the Temple. I also have the sneaking suspicion that Athyn was rescuing Adryn from him, either because he has his own suspicions, or just because he could sense Adryn was uncomfortable being around the priest.

Hi all! I hope everyone who celebrates is having as happy an Easter as possible, given the circumstances. I've been having a bit of trouble focusing on writing (I wonder why), and then got sidetracked onto making a virtual Easter egg hunt for my niece since we wouldn't be able to see her in person this year, but finally managed to kick chapter 21 into shape.

@haute ecole rider - I'd say that your instincts both as a medical professional and a writer are on-point! Let's see where the whole thing will end up, and rest assured that wherever it does we will be accompanied by Adryn's sarcasm the whole way.

@SubRosa - yeah, Adryn knowing self-defence would definitely be a good idea and it's good to know people both in her universe and others would like to help her with that... there is just the one, pesky problem called "Nerevar". :/ And yep, Adryn would be appalled to know what sort of game she's from, I'm sure!

Re: Methal and Athyn - very good theorising about Methal. I am just going to say . Re: Athyn, I think he mainly picked up Adryn being uncomfortable, and possibly some weird undercurrents. He's very observant, but he's fairly hampered by the fact that he was raised to be really respectful of the Temple and, I think, knows and likes Methal. Add that together with him really not having all the facts, and it's hard for him to understand what's happening here.

Last chapter, Adryn recounted her adventures in Telvanni lands to Edwinna - featuring the accidental rescue of two Redoran (how does this keep happening to them, Adryn asks. They are like helpless baby chicks. Who lets them outside.), involuntary contact with corprus, an involuntary expedition to Tel Fyr, a trip to a new propylon chamber, and further events Adryn declined to tell Edwinna about which I'm sure will not be important at all. She then got dragged into basic combat practice, which went swimmingly up until the point where her past memories overwhelmed her. To the outside observer, this was mainly visible as Adryn falling flat on her face whenever she tried to fight, although since one of the outside observers was Methal it's possible he got a little more information from that.

We left off with Adryn, trapped by Athyn Sarethi, agreeing to dinner at his place the next evening. Let's see whether she manages to wind her way out of that.



Edwinna stared at me.

"You're looking for a task?"

"Yes."

"That will take you out of the city tonight?"

Was something wrong with her? My work with her had proved that Edwinna was whip-smart, capable of taking the bare hint of a theory, fleshing it out and taking it to its most far-reaching conclusions even as you watched. I'd never had to slow myself down for her, so this repeating what I'd just said was most uncharacteristic.

"Yes," I confirmed again while eyeing my guildmistress cautiously. The way she rubbed her temples only supported my sprouting theory of a head injury, I noted with concern.

"Adryn, I'm taking a great deal of comfort from the idea that none of your duties will take you outside so much as the library in the near future. Please don't spoil that for me - I'll have to try to come up with other death-defying escapades you could possibly find yourself on, and I'm not sure my imagination is up to the task."

Somehow, although I couldn't quite figure out why, this line of argument struck me as manifestly unfair.

"I'll be careful, I promise." I paused long enough to grow indignant. "Besides, I'll have you know that I don't always get dragged off on, on, on adventures and the like! I've done things that turned out just as expected, no teleportation accidents or kidnapped Redorans or ransomed pilgrims or anything involved."

"Oh? Name one."

I opened my mouth.

Closed it.

I was sure to think of one. Any minute now.

Alas, Edwinna didn't care to give me the time. "You see," she said after I'd been silent for only a few moments, with a tone indicating she considered the matter settled. "I, for one, would like to spend this conclave in the happy knowledge that all the apprentices and journeymen of my guild are safely where they should be, and none of them are off gallivanting across the island. And thus."

"I don't gallivant," I protested that description. "And won't you consider-"

"Guildmistress?"

The voice was hoarse and whispery, as though the speaker were suffering from an inflamed throat... and had then spent the night at the local tavern attempting and failing to sing with a great deal of energy and enthusiasm. I was torn between wincing in sympathy and shifting away in case it was some sort of contagious illness.

"Oh." Edwinna glanced past me, and then her expression closed down. It was quite a shock, to tell the truth - she'd been frustrated with me just now, yes, but I'd still never seen her with quite this stone-faced mien. "Tiram."

"It's good to see you too, guildmistress," Throat-Ailment said. Looking back proved him to be a nondescript Dunmer man in heavy brocade blue-green robes. "I do hate to bother you, but there was a matter I believe you can help me with. One of our guild member is complaining about one of her books having been mislaid."

Back in Windhelm, cramped living quarters and an intemperate climate combined with work that primarily took place outdoors had meant most of the guild was suffering from one cold or another from Frostfall to First Seed. Lack of funds for a proper healer had meant I'd gotten quite good at whipping up remedies for coughs and sneezes, phlegm in the lungs, congested sinuses and - of course - inflammations of the throat. Listening to this man talk made me itch to brew my special juniper and jazbay tea, steeped with dried mora tapinella for the regenerative effect and sweetened with enough honey to hide the taste thereof, and pour it down his throat. I had to remind myself quite firmly that as a guild member, he must be a capable mage in his own right and if he hadn't sought out a healer there was almost certainly a reason.

Also, I should probably pay more attention to the conversation, because Edwinna had just gone very pale.

"Mislaid, you say?" she asked weakly.

"Yes, Sirilonwe has been missing Chimarvamidium. Imagine my surprise when I heard someone mention they'd seen you with it."

"Oh, that." Edwinna, I noted with interest, did not do a particularly good impression of innocence. "I was just borrowing it, I must have forgotten to let her know-"

"I'm certain." Even obscured by the rasp of the man's voice, I could hear the irony in those words. "And I'm certain that you were going to return it to her before leaving for the mainland."

"Of course I was." This time Edwinna sounded almost believably affronted. Almost. "I've just been - busy, I haven't gotten round to it yet-"

"Believe me, I understand fully. Of course, a guild head has many demands on her time. Therefore, I would be honoured if you would accept my offer of assistance." Throat-Ailment's smile was a thin-lipped thing just on the verge of being a smirk. "I would be happy to return the book that you'd... borrowed to Sirilonwe for you, no need to bestir yourself."

Edwinna heaved a sigh. "All right, fine," she said with clear ill humour. "Wait here, I'll get it for you."

And before I knew it, I was left alone with a stranger, wondering what exactly I'd just observed.

"Don't mind Edwinna," Throat-Ailment said, as if following my thoughts. "She's an excellent head of guild, she can just be a little... overzealous when it comes to her research, and from what I hear she's never gotten on with Sirilonwe. Hasn't taken to me either, for that matter. But she hasn't tried to strangle me yet, so things could be worse." The smirk-smile reappeared, as if the man were laughing at a private joke. I had a horrible feeling I knew what had happened to his voice.

"I've never had any difficulties with her," I said, my own voice taut.

"I'm glad to hear it. You're... Adryn, correct? The newest Apprentice?"

"...Yes?" My reply was cautious. I'd gathered from Masalinie and Ajira that I'd somehow become a subject of guild gossip, something which I didn't like at all. The fact that a stranger from... whichever guild he was from... knew my name served as proof of the matter.

"I've been meaning to meet you for a while, I just couldn't make the time," the man - I couldn't very well refer to him as Throat-Ailment if he really had sustained an injury - continued. "I am Tiram Gadar, assistant and advisor to Archmage Trebonius."

Really?

"That must be an- um- interesting job," I blurted out, with just enough presence of mind to replace the adjective I'd originally been going to use. Needless to say, it would have been significantly less diplomatic.

"It has its moments, yes." I couldn't actually tell if Gadar was responding to my actual words or the implication. In any case, he continued without giving me the time to think about it further. "Among others, I get to meet all sorts of people in the guild and hear all sorts of stories from them. Folms Mirel, in particular, had quite a few things to say about you."

I groaned.

I'd been fortunate enough to avoid the Caldera guild, but overheard snippets - never to mention my faithful spy Ajira filling me in - made it clear that when it came to my research in propylon indices, Blowfish had left angry behind a while ago and was rapidly approaching incandescent. I was honestly a little worried about what would happen once he heard I'd picked up a third one. Could I be blamed if the head of the Caldera guild actually exploded from sheer rage, I wondered?

"The purpose of the propylon chambers is one of Vvardenfell's well-known mysteries, I hope you realise, not on the same level as the disappearance of the Dwemer but quite respectable all the same. I've always been very interested in Folms' work, but you seem to be making far better progress. Is it true you've managed to activate the indices of three separate fortresses?"

I'd have bristled at the questioning, but there was a spark of real interest in Gadar's eyes that made me think he wasn't just after gossip. "Yes," I offered instead. "Falasmaryon, Hlormaren and Indoranyon. Falasmaryon was an accident."

"Fascinating!" Gadar's eyes lit up. "I'd be grateful if you could tell me more at some point. Although..." He frowned. "Indoranyon? Isn't that in the Telvanni regions?"

Oh, how I wished the answer to that question wasn't yes.

Gadar must have read it off my face, because his frown deepened. "Apprentice, I hope you realise that the guild advises its members strongly against spending time in the Telvanni regions. The House as a whole is hostile to outlanders in general and the Mages' Guild especially, and there's little Imperial presence in the area - meaning no place to go for help. In fact, quite a few of the residents don't even speak Tamrielic-"

I tried to fight back a groan. Alas, I was unsuccessful. "I know, all right? I'd have kept my distance, but Tenyeminwe needed to be escorted to the docks, then there was the whole thing with Tel Naga and the corprus ship, and I don't even want to remember Tel Fyr, and then... well, I'd really rather not get into it. It was an accident, and I don't plan to repeat it - that's the important thing."

Gadar still looked rather skeptical. I decided a change of subject was called for. And, luckily for me, I'd spent enough time in the guild to learn how to distract my fellow members.

"But you were asking about the propylon indices, weren't you? I'd love to speak with someone more knowledgeable in the area of Mysticism about them, honestly. I don't know much of the theory, and although I have made progress sometimes I'm making the terminology up as I go along."

There - I was dangling the prospect of intellectual discussion and academic advancement in front of the man like a mouse in front of a cat. A mouse who'd rolled around in catnip, if I knew my fellow mages at all.

And indeed, Gadar's eyes lit up. I mentally patted myself on the back for good people skills. What I'd said even had the advantage of the truth - probably inspired by my duties for Edwinna, I'd been having fun inventing vaguely Dwemeris-sounding words for the various magical properties I discovered in the indices. I should probably switch to the proper terminology at some point, although actually I'd been planning to see if I could catch Masalinie. Using partial truths to my benefit- Ingerte would have been so impressed to see I'd learned something from her after all-

Don't think about Ingerte, Adryn.

"I'd be honoured. Unfortunately, I expect Edwinna will be back with Sirilonwe's book any moment now and at that point I'll need to head back to Vivec. Perhaps another time?"

I hadn't actually planned on having the discussion, but at that an idea came to me.

"How about tomorrow evening, would you be free then?" Let no one say I wasn't willing to go to lengths to escape dinner at the Sarethis.

But alas, luck was not on my side, because Gadar was shaking his head. "I'm afraid I've promised to help Malven with inventory - there was an incident where it turned out we had the Wabbajack in the guild store-room among the free staves. The whole thing was dreadfully embarrassing, especially when that poor Associate spent three days as a rabbit until we managed to work out how to turn her back. So Malven and I want to go through the other storerooms and see what we have. I expect it'll take up the whole day."

The words well, that's a shame, it was nice to meet you were on the tip of my tongue, but the man wasn't done.

"How about the day after, though? I'll definitely need a break from inventory by then."

I'd have liked to refuse, but I didn't actually have any conflicting appointment and couldn't quite think of a good enough lie. And it would be hard to turn the man down flat when I'd made it clear I would have been open to such a meeting the day before.

Which was how, by the time Edwinna finally got back carrying a thick tome (from the length of time she'd taken and the fresh ink-stains on her fingers, I suspected she'd taken the opportunity to make some last notes), I found myself having agreed to both dinner with Sarethi and a chat about propylon indices with a complete stranger the day after. I supposed it wasn't really my day; the best that could be said for it at this point was that I hadn't had any teleportation accidents stranding me in the monster-infested wilderness.

...perhaps, I decided, it would be better not to mention that thought aloud. I didn't want to give the universe any ideas.

*clearing throat of tea accidentally inhaled*


I loved that Edwina, bless her common sense, is so reluctant to send Adryn out on a "task" to avoid dinner with Athyn because of all her escapades, and Adryn's total failure to think of one - one single time she managed to complete a task without -*ahm* - complications. That little interchange had me chuckling through my tea.

But then her *lightbulb* moment with Tiram - maybe I can get out of this dinner after all - totally ignoring her propensity to turn such innocuous events into world shaking adventures - messed up my breathing and swallowing coordinations . . .


Sooo, dinner and a date?

Adryn saying "I'll be careful." is the funniest thing she has said yet!

Uh oh, somebody lost their chimp book. Wow, I thought Adryn was going to have to hie off to some farthest corner of Vvardenfell to find it, and get in one adventure after another along the way.

Why do I think Throat-Ailment sounds like every male Dunmer in the game?

I suspect that by now, everyone in the Vvardenfell Mages Guild has heard of Adryn. This is before radio, and reality TV, so keeping up on her escapades is most people's only form of entertainment!

Throat-Ailment may be a little smarter than certain other members of the Guild *cough, cough* Folms *cough, cough*. Adryn might actually find an ally in him, if she plays her cards right. Oops, now she is going to have to get all academic with him.

So many dead, over the course of this war. So many of my own people, of the Dwemer. So many of the Nords, even, our three races alike in death.

What an utter, unforgiveable waste.

Most excellent building of Nerevar's character and also giving Jurgen's history.

If I met a bandit on the road, I would do the sensible thing and run away, but arguments to this nature had had no effect so far and I wasn't expecting them to be successful now.

Oh dear, Nerevar's muscle memory tries to take over. Good thing it was in a training situation....



Pure Adryn.



Trigger words, anyone?



We only have Adryn's word for that... Along with the demeanor of most every officer of the Temple anyone has ever met....



So nice to have friends.

Adryn's interactions with Edwinna always leave me paralyzed from laughing. And Tiram... deep waters, there. Not to mention Methal's eagle-eyed interest.

@haute ecole rider - glad you liked! Edwinna is indeed clever enough to realise that Adryn should not be left to rampage unchecked. Alas, Adryn hasn't quite made this connection herself.

@SubRosa - I think you're right about Mages' Guild gossip! Adryn: The Latest is better than any soap opera, and many guild members try to tune in regularly.

@treydog - I have to say, it's interesting seeing the difference in reaction to Tiram between those who have played the game and those who haven't. And re: Methal - to some extent, Adryn is assuming based on other major organisations she knows. But people's reactions do seem to indicate there's something to it, don't they?

Last installment, Adryn completely failed to get out of dinner with the Sarethis as Edwinna decided it was much safer to keep her to guild-bound duties. Her attempts, however, did end up with her accidentally agreeing to meet up to talk about propylon indices with one (1) Tiram Gadar, Mages' guild member and assistant to the Archmage, who I'm sure anyone who's played the game will agree with me is not important in any way whatsoever.

But before we get to that, Adryn is now officially out of excuses to avoid dinner with Athyn Sarethi. Let's see how that goes.



Dinner had proved rather awkward. To start with, it had involved enough cutlery to outfit an army. Some of it had looked vaguely familiar from my time at the orphanage, in particular from interminable lessons with Sister Isanne. Of course, her hopes had been that we'd become maids, not nobles, so the actual use of any of the utensils still remained a mystery. I tried to copy what the people born to this sort of extravagance were doing, but judging by Sarethi's wife's looks, I didn't always succeed. All in all, I left the table convinced that there was no valid reason to need more than a single fork at one meal, and whoever had decided four were necessary deserved to be subjected to Sister Isanne's remedial etiquette lessons - a torture I'd thought I would never wish on anyone.

Then, of course, there had been the natives. One native, in particular. I really didn't know why I was surprised that Varvur strove forth to prove that he was more immature than his four-year-old sister, including the time she attempted to build a saltrice catapult out of the third-smallest spoon and two of the forks. (Her mother had been surprisingly calm about it, muttering something about supporting a budding interest in siege weaponry which led me to remember that everyone around me was completely insane.)

The child had been the most interesting conversational partner, really. Varvur, needless to say, was no competition, but if I'd had any hopes that his parents would take mercy on their intellectually challenged son and the poor innocent subjected to his idea of wit, they were quickly dashed. Sarethi's wife had spent most of the conversation looking rather bored, while Sarethi himself mostly seemed to be stifling laughter. All in all, I found myself regretting it deeply when little Meryni abandoned the table to go play heroes and monsters with a small stuffed dragon. I'd have joined her, but I had the impression Sarethi wouldn't have been entirely impressed, never to mention that I couldn't just let the nonsense Varvur was spouting pass unremarked.

All in all, the deliciousness of the food had been thoroughly overshadowed, and by the time the last of the cutlery armoury was taken away by a frowning servant, I felt I was more than due an escape. Sarethi, it seemed, did not agree as he invited me to join him in his study. Just as for the invitation for the dinner, it was clear that "no" was not an acceptable answer.

The study itself would probably have been interesting in any other context. The style of furnishing was completely different from the dining room or what I'd seen on my way in. The room was dominated by wood carved in flowing lines and rich fabrics embroidered with intricate geometric patterns. Low benches replaced the high-backed chairs that had been present so far, with tasselled cushions scattered around. All in all, the decorations reminded me of how Charon had decorated his room after we'd moved into the inn, even if Sarethi had clearly had far more money to throw at procuring Hammerfell-style furnishings. I'd have been curious as to the reason for Sarethi's unusual choice of decor, except that I was preoccupied with contemplating a break for the exit.

As if following my train of thought, Sarethi closed the door firmly. I drooped.

"I find a good glass of flin is the perfect close to a good meal," Sarethi said. "Would you like one? I also have sujamma and greef, or several wines if you'd prefer something Cyrodiilic."

It said something about how the evening had gone that for a moment, I was almost tempted.

"Do you have anything nonalcoholic? Wick water, comberry juice, tea, kava? I like to keep my head clear," I explained at Sarethi's considering look.

"I'm sure I can arrange something."

'Arranging something' meant opening the door to have murmured words with someone, shortly followed by another servant coming in with a tray bearing a teacup and pot. Sadly, neither occasion involved the door being left open long enough for me to make my escape. I particularly regretted this fact when I took a closer look.

The teapot was flawless porcelain, painted in delicate swirling patterns. Like the furnishings, it reminded me more of Hammerfell goods than what I'd seen of Morrowind. The steam that rose from my cup smelled not of hackle-lo, scathecraw or any other native plant, but of ginger and something floral. Both tea and crockery must have been imported... which made them expensive. Not the easiest goods to fence, true, but a professional with contacts-

I didn't think I'd ever felt so out of place as in this room.

I squashed the feeling down. I'd survived the village, the orphanage, the Warp, Markarth and Windhelm, I told myself. No one had wanted me, no one had made room for me - perhaps I'd thought Fjaldir or Do'kharza would once, but it had become obvious that other things were more important to them than a single orphaned girl. I hadn't let it bother me, had always made my own way. I refused to let a nobleman who was being actively welcoming discomfit me so.

I took a careful sip of the tea. "Thank you," I told Sarethi. "It's delicious."

"I'm glad to hear it. Gingerrose tea is hard to come by, here, but I developed a taste for it and have my sources." I felt pinned down by Sarethi's considering stare. I was sure he saw more of how I felt than I'd really have liked. "I do hope you weren't offended by Domesea, at dinner. She doesn't have much time for anyone who can't keep up with her with a sword, I'm afraid." His tone was fond.

"I didn't mind," I told him honestly.

True, Sarethi female edition - Lady Sarethi, I suppose she was - had looked at me as though I was some sort of performing animal and she wasn't quite sure how I'd found my way into their house. But that was simply the course of things, the way that nobility looked at ordinary people the world round. In many ways, her attitude was more comfortable to be around than that of the man sitting across from me.

"Well. If you say so." A pause. "Truly, it's a pity the combat lessons didn't work out. I'm aware you prefer to avoid violence, but they have uses far beyond the obvious. Especially in Redoran, it is far easier to gain respect and power if you're a capable fighter." Sarethi took a sip of his own drink. "After all, as they say: political power grows along the blade of a sword-"

"-thus spake Frandar Hunding," I finished automatically.

Sarethi's eyes widened. I had the feeling that, for the first time since we'd met, I'd managed to surprise him. "I didn't expect you to be familiar with the Book of Circles," he said after a moment.

It was a fair point. Why should a Dunmer girl, half from Skyrim and half from Daggerfall, be aware of such a peculiarly Redguard work?

"I had a friend from the Alik'r."

Once in the Reach, I'd been more than happy to shake the dust of Daggerfall off my feet. In contrast, the Warp separating him from his people through both time and distance had only made Charon cling more strongly to their ways. I'd never fully understood why this had to involve frequent quotations from a book that couldn't make up its mind whether it was about swordsmanship, philosophy or poetry. Dirij Tereur, especially, had made for a dreadful time every year. Protest though we might, Ingerte and I found ourselves dragged into a small chapel on the outskirts of Windhelm to listen to hours of the stuff while kneeling on cold stone. The lavish supper afterwards had not made up for it, and last year I remembered quietly praying that I'd be able to avoid the event in future.

This year, the holiday had found me in a cell in Vivec, so occupied by the fact that I was suspected of murder I hadn't even realised what the day was before it passed. Charon would never twist my arm into going to a Dirij Tereur celebration again. Be careful what you wish for, indeed.

"Had," Sarethi repeated thoughtfully, and I realised with a start that I'd used the past tense for Charon without even thinking about it. The realisation felt like ice-cold water trickling down my spine.

"I- he-" Blood on my hands. My mind was full of green light and I had no idea what I could possibly say.

Something of what I was feeling must have been writ upon my face all the same, because Sarethi sighed. "I am very sorry for your loss." A pause. "Should you want to perform a mourning rite for your friend, you are welcome to use the space Neminda set up near the armoury. I'm certain she would be happy to assist as well."

Everything seemed far away, as though I was seeing the world through warped glass. Dreamlike, the thought crossed my mind that if we did not stop talking about this now I would shatter into a thousand thousand pieces.

A change of subject was clearly necessary.

"You're very familiar with Redguard customs. How come?"

A little too direct to be polite, but at this point I honestly did not care a whit. Sarethi himself thankfully didn't seem offended either.

"I grew up in Hammerfell. In Rihad, near the border to Cyrodiil - I moved there when I was only a child. House politics." The last words were spoken as though they were an explanation in and of themselves. "If one is a guest in someone's home, one needs to follow their customs - it's the proper thing to do. So I learned." He shrugged. "It's how I met Neminda, and my old teacher Shardie - she's at the Legion fort now."

To my accounting, that made Sarethi the only other Dunmer I knew who'd spent much of their life outside Morrowind. My mouth opened without my brain's input to ask, "Did you find it hard to adjust when you returned?"

Sarethi shot me a knowing look. "Yes. Not as hard as you're finding it, I'm certain, since I did still have contact with my family and tutors from Morrowind... but all the same, it wasn't an easy transition. Our people can be very intolerant when someone's past is not quite as they think it should be, no?"

There was a wealth of sympathy in the man's voice, but even more than that, the thing that made me begin to relax was the way he said our people - as though it went without saying that I belonged. "They really can," I agreed. "Some people I've met, I'm not sure they realise 'outlander' isn't my name."

"Allow me to apologise on their behalf. And, of course, offer my services." Sarethi put his glass on the table with a small clink in order to lean forward, eyes fixed on my face. "Should you ever have any questions about living in Morrowind, or any difficulty due to your history, I would be more than happy to help. The assistance you have given my family and my House more than entitles you to that."

I let my own eyes fall to the teapot in order to avoid Sarethi's gaze. Really, he needed to stop it with these grand gestures of support - I was hardly going to take him up on them, and the whole thing was getting embarrassing.

Although, come to think of it...

"...there was one thing, that happened in the Grazelands while I was there," I said slowly. "I was going to ask Ervesa about it," who was my go-to person for such questions as a Morrowind native very familiar with the local customs who'd never called me 'outlander', "but she's not in Ald'ruhn and they don't know when she'll next be here. I didn't want to ask just anyone, because it's about an ancestral tomb and I'm... not sure I observed all the appropriate rituals when I encountered it. I'd hate to offend someone."

"I assure you," Sarethi said smoothly, "I'm at your disposal."



Notes: Hope no one's too disappointed I elided the actual dinner in question - I felt it was better left to people's imaginations.

I have to admit that I was curious about the dinner, but it sounds rather unremarkable based on Adryn's description of it . . . So okay, I'll take her judgment for it.

Interesting that Sarethi is familiar with Ra Gada ways! That's more than I can say for Julian of Anvil! I also had visions of my own ESO Redguard homes dancing in my head as I read through the description of his study. I have to say that I have a particular fondness for Redguard furnishings - they all look so comfortable and only need a good book to complete their atmosphere!

I do not mind you avoiding a blow by blow account of every pea and carrot consumed at the dinner. It is enough to know that Varvur managed to get some good engineering experience...

I love Adryn thinking about fencing the teapot!

I like all these little flashbacks to Adryn's past, and the people in it.

If Athyn had to spend his childhood in Hammerfell, I am guessing that was because he would have been murdered by assassins if he had remained in Morrowind. House Politics indeed.

That is probably as good a summary of the dinner as we need.



And she can't help evaluating the tea service as a target for... hmm.... redistribution of wealth? Well, perhaps Athyn owes her something for all her trouble....



And then there are moments- more than a few- where, amidst the humor, you give us beautiful words like those.

A most satisfying meal- at least for us readers, if not for Adryn.

@haute ecole rider - Athyn Sarethi having grown up in Rihad is actually from the in-game book The Hope of the Redoran. I couldn't resist running with it, especially as it does give them a point of commonality. But worry not, Julian - Jamie, from Kvatch, is 100% with you here and could not tell Crown from Forebear from a hole in the ground. Adryn also sympathises, as she didn't exactly grow up immersed in Dunmer culture.

@SubRosa - I'm glad you like the little flashbacks. I started off subtle about it, but Charon, Ingerte, and what went down in Solitude have a huge bearing on what Adryn is doing and who she is now, and this isn't the last mention we'll have of them. Re: House politics - you are 100% right, as the link up there shows!

@treydog - Adryn has her instincts! She's refraining from acting on them so far, but who knows, Athyn might yet push her too far one day. And I'm very glad to hear my regular trips from humour to seriousness with an underpinning of tragedy (because what happened to Adryn in Solitude was, in fact, terrible, and one day she's going to have to confront it properly) work for the reader.

Last installment, Adryn underwent terrible tortures, also known as dinner with the Sarethis. Athyn Sarethi wasn't even kind enough to let her make her escape afterwards, instead dragging her into his study for a talk. All this in succession apparently did work to bring down Adryn's defenses slightly, though, because when he offered his assistance yet again she realised that he might be able to help her with something she'd been planning to ask Ervesa about. Apparently something strange happened to Adryn in the Grazelands earlier...



"Who in - Oblivion - lets Daedra - loose in - the wilds?"

Tenyeminwe wasn't letting the fact that she was gasping for air stop her from expressing her displeasure at the current situation. I fully and completely understood her feelings on the matter - indeed, I agreed in every detail - but still felt this was not the time to verbalise them.

"Less talking. More running."

I'd recovered more since being released from prison than I'd expected. It appeared my various misadventures had raised my endurance from "laughable" to "paltry", enough to keep up with Tenyeminwe (who clearly had the common mage's attitude that any time spent exercising was time that could be better spent in the library.) It was not, sadly, enough to outdistance the eerie golden-skinned figure some ways behind us. Nor was it enough to outlast said figure; I could already feel myself begin to tire, while a glance backwards showed that the Daedra was not slowing down.

I cast a desperate look around. Rolling hills covered in wickwheat, swaying in the slight breeze. Red Mountain in the far, unobtainable, irrelevant distance. No sign of Nartise or the other Redoran rescuee, curse their faithless hearts. No sign of anything else that might save us from imminent death.

My hand inched towards my pocket. That Altmer mage wouldn't be too impressed if we ended up at Indoraryon again, and it left us in no better position than we started, but it would be preferable to brutal dismemberment-

Wait. What was that shadow, on the side of the hill...

"There!"

I made for the doorway with Tenyeminwe hot on my heels. Dust rose in clouds as we flew into the antechamber. Tenyeminwe slammed the door shut behind us, purple light flaring - I suspected some sort of reinforcement spell.

For a long moment, the two of us waited with bated breath in the darkness. I swore I could hear footsteps outside, coming closer... closer...

Stopping.

I pressed my back against the stone wall, frozen like a rabbit hiding from a wolf. The door was old wood, and if Tenyeminwe were a great mage we wouldn't be in this situation in the first place. I wouldn't bet on her spells against a Golden Saint.

Then, finally, footsteps again. Receding.

I didn't know whether the Daedra legitimately didn't realise where we were, whether it decided it had successfully chased us from its territory, or what else might be going through its alien mind. In this case, I decided I didn't particularly care: I wasn't one to look a gift horse (or, in this case, a gift not-getting-disemboweled-by-Daedra) in the mouth. When the footsteps vanished into the distance, I slumped in relief, letting my eyes fall shut. I didn't open them even when light bloomed red through my eyelids. Tenyeminwe, I guessed, with a light spell. Let her explore the place if she wanted - I'd rather bask in the feeling of not being dead for a little longer.

"Adryn."

The hissed whisper could only belong to my companion, and it managed to convey quite the sense of urgency in only one word. Reluctantly, I cracked open my eyelids, ready to tell her off for interrupting my (I thought) well-earned break from reality.

The words froze in my throat at the sight that greeted me.

Tenyeminwe's light was weak, leaving anything more than a few feet distant in deep, flickering shadows. It was, however, handily enough to illuminate the figure in front of us. It was clad in a brown robe glimmering with enchantment, hood pulled low over its face... but not low enough to hide the fact that said 'face' was in fact a bare skull. The four (I quickly recounted - yes, four) skeletal arms were another hint as to the distinctly undead nature of our new companion.

I opened my mouth, but the only thing that came out was a squeak.

The thing floated closer. I could see two pinpricks of blue fire deep within its eye sockets.

Like the phantoms in Daggerfall, advancing on me in absolute silence in the falling darkness while I beat on the door-

I lost precious seconds to panic until I managed to push the memories away. Then, more as everything I'd managed to work out about the Dunmer attitude to undead and barrows flashed through my head at once. The image of the trader in Maar Gan, trembling and shaking after his rescue, was particularly prominent. As was the fact that not just he but all my companions had considered him lucky the tomb guardians hadn't just torn him apart straight off.

Fjaldir was very unlikely to come to my rescue this time, and given the presence of a Golden Saint outside we couldn't escape out this particular door. The only remaining option was talking my way out, although I had to admit I wasn't particularly optimistic as to its chances of success.

I managed to find my voice. "A- a thousand pardons for our trespass, most... erm..." terrifying undead monster, "...honoured ancestor. I promise we mean no harm or disrespect and will be out of your hai- out of your, er, handsomely polished skull as soon as we can-"

The thing was directly in front of me now. It reached out one of its too many arms...

Fingers of bare bone brushed my cheek.

I'd have leapt back, except my back was already pressed against the wall and I sadly had not yet worked out a way of turning intangible. I did spare a moment to desperately wish I could flee back to Indoraryon - but even if I could break free, the skeleton was between me and Tenyeminwe. There was no way I'd be able to live with myself if I abandoned her to a crypt filled with undead inexplicably aspiring to spiderdom.

For a long moment, the thing didn't move, simply touching - cupping - my cheek, the eerie blue flames that passed for its gaze pinning me in place. The only sounds were mine and Tenyeminwe's panting breaths as I tried to stand straight under its scrutiny. This, of course, was easier said than done when my skin was trying to crawl straight off my body.

Then, it dropped its hand (I had to resist the urge to scrub at the place it had touched, reminding myself firmly that being a half-arachnid undead monstrosity was not catching) and drifted back. Its head bowed, its lower arms dropped to its side while its upper ones spread out to indicate the passage deeper into the tomb. It was unmistakeably a gesture of welcome.

"What in Julianos' name-"

Fast as a striking snake, the skeleton spun to face Tenyeminwe, the blue of its eyes burning brighter. The resemblance to a snake only grew with the rattling hiss it let out as it raised its lower arms again. Most ominously, red roiling light began to grow in one of its hands.

It objected to Tenyeminwe, but did not object to me.

The thought had barely crossed my mind before my feet were moving. I sprang in front of Tenyeminwe, my own arms spread to mirror the skeleton's, although empty of magicka. (I didn't think that particular contest would end well for me.)

"She's with me!"

For a long, terrifying moment I thought I'd miscalculated and the two of us were going to get roasted. Then, like a Dwemer automaton switching out of alert mode, it resumed its previous peaceful posture.

"All right," I whispered to Tenyeminwe. Whispering was good. Whispering made it less obvious how much my voice was shaking. "Just- just stay behind me."

"How did you do that?" Tenyeminwe whispered back. She was, apparently, deciding to prove her mage credentials by making clear the how and why of what was happening was more important to her than, oh, the possibility of getting torn to shreds by an angry undead monster. Sometimes I wondered how any of them - all right, us - managed to survive to adulthood. "Are you a necromancer?"

"No!" I brought my indignant shout down to whisper volume just in time. "Obviously not. Did you see me cast a spell? More importantly, have you lost your mind?"

In High Rock, necromancers were frowned upon. In Skyrim, they were ostracised. In Morrowind, I'd learned by now, necromancy carried the death sentence. Call me a killjoy, but given that context I was not amused by her accusation.

"Well, then explain why it's obeying you!"

Tenyeminwe's voice had risen, but it didn't seem to disturb the skeleton any. It stayed floating where it was, as though waiting for me.

"Honestly?" I told Tenyeminwe. "Your guess is as good as mine."



"So we stayed there for a while, until we figured the Golden Saint had gone," I told Sarethi. "Stumbled across a Velothi camp no longer after we left, and ran into Nartise and what's-her-name not long after that, and... well, let's just say we all had enough other things to worry about that I'm not sure Tenyeminwe even remembers the whole thing. I didn't want to bring it up either. But... that's not normal, is it? For a- a guardian to ignore someone like that?"

I'd figured Sarethi had enough sense not to react like Tenyeminwe, but I'd been a little worried about his reaction all the same. I had the impression that people here frowned heavily on messing around with the Morrowind equivalent of barrows, no matter the circumstances. Thankfully, though, his promised tolerance seemed to be holding; rather than reacting angrily, he was stroking his chin with his eyes narrowed in thought.

"It isn't," he confirmed. "Tomb guardians will typically attack anyone who trespasses on their domain. There are cases where they can be appeased, temporarily... but this usually requires the appropriate rites of obeisance, and the guardian will still make quite clear that they are displeased and any stay granted is purely temporary." I remembered the expression of the rescued trader and nodded to myself.

"However," Sarethi continued, "there is a situation that would match your description." His voice, which had taken on something of a lecturing note, became more animated.

"Oh?"

"It's simple. The guardian wouldn't act against you if it didn't see you as a trespasser."

For a moment, I was lost in confusion. What did it mean, for the guardian not to see me as a trespasser? After all, I was certainly a stranger to the place, had never even been to that corner of Vvardenfell before.

Then, the realisation hit me. The process felt a little like being struck by a large, heavy rock dropped from a great height.

"You can't mean..." My voice trailed off. Somehow, I couldn't bring myself to put this particular thought into words.

Sarethi had no such compunctions. "If you're a member of the family in question, no spirit within the ancestral tomb will attack you - and they'll spare your companions as well, if asked. I can't think of any other explanation."

If you're a member of the family.

Somehow, I realised, although I'd thought I was learning Morrowind ways, I'd only let them touch me on the surface. I'd learned something of the importance people here gave to clan and heritage. I'd even told myself I understood the concept...

...but I hadn't been able to apply it to me.

As a child, I'd dreamed of having a family of my own. There had been so many hours I whiled away in daydreams of my unknown parents coming back for me, in speculation about how they might have come to lose me through no fault of their own. The memories were there, of fantasies and theories and a strange, formless yearning for family. Of perching in the window seat of the orphanage with a copy of the kingdom census - Fjaldir and the rest had needed it for something, I remembered, and no one had noticed when I'd made off with it after - tracing the exotic-sounding names of the few Dunmer who resided in Daggerfall and wondering...

Yes, the memories were there, but they felt distant and unreal, like they belonged to a different life. As time went on I'd moved on, found greater dreams trailed by greater wounds. By now I'd made my own family and lost it twice over, and the fact that I had no blood kin was a simple truth stripped bare of emotion, one no longer worth a second thought.

"I..."

I didn't know what to say, what to feel. This turn of events had left me completely blindsided, and Athyn Sarethi was looking at me with an expression of deep consideration.

All right, I knew one thing I wanted: I wanted to leave. Go back to the Guild, curl up in the dormitory bed I'd claimed with the curtains drawn shut and allow myself to have whatever emotional reaction I was going to have without a nobleman watching my every twitch.

Sarethi sighed. I suspected he'd gathered something of my current feelings, proving my point about the level of observation.

"As you know, my door is always open to you. If you ever need my assistance, in this matter or any other, you need only ask. For now, I believe I've kept you long enough."

Yes. He really had.



Notes:

I thought the same thing almost right away! Blame the Vvardenfell chapter of ESO for educating me on tomb guardians - even though my toon may not be Dunmer, or be of Vfell origin, they still remained untouched by these creatures. It's a pretty cool piece of lore, and I really enjoyed you adding this to Athyn's story. Somehow I'm not surprised . . .

I am still looking forward to the next installment, waiting to see what happens next!

So now Adryn has generations of family feuds just poised to drop on her. And probably before she even knows where they're coming from.

And if not, I'm sure she can start some of her own.

"Less talking. More running."
Sounds like a Dr Who episode!

We are back to Adryn's adventures in the Grazelands I take it. Uh oh, I suspect that Adryn's refuge might not be quite so safe as she hopes. My first guess is tomb.

A friendly Bonelord? I wonder if this is Adryn's ancestral tomb?

Morrowind is funny about necromancy. They have no problems animating the dead to guard their tombs. But if someone else animates them, well, that's an abomination.

It seems Athyn has come to the same conclusion. It looks like Adryn has found her family. If she knows whose ancestral tomb that was.

What an excellent addition to Adryn's story! And the humor that is pure Adryn again shines through. She seems to be at her best when she is terrified....



Also, I know Trey (and possibly Athlain) identify with the problem of.... "Inappropriately-Timed Excursion into Morphology, Natural History, and Other Really Interesting Things to Discuss- SOMEWHERE ELSE". Perhaps it is a result of Trey's Breton inherent magic affinity? So- it is one of those "chicken-egg" conundra--- are all mages inclined to delve into unhelpful and downright suicidal lines of inquiry because they are mages- OR is that inclination the thing that causes them to BECOME mages?

And, even though Adryn sees it quite differently, Athyn Sarethi again shines in your depiction of him.

But most of all- like others- my inquiring mind is inquiring as to which family's ancestral tomb that happened to be....

So much Adryn goodness packed into one installment. Lovely!

@haute ecole rider - interestingly, I hadn't actually realised Bethesda made this official lore! In Morrowind, all the tomb guardians attack you straight out, but I deduced how they should work from in-game conversation etc. Good to know I'm on track! (And your comment reminds me how badly I need to get back to playing ESO, because I never managed to get that far into Vvardenfell but there is a lot in there that might be very relevant for Adryn.)

@ghastley - ha! I assure you, Adryn does not need anyone to give her family feuds, she is perfectly capable of creating enough of her own. (Would her clan actually want her, is possibly the question...)

@SubRosa - it is probably a sign that I have spent *way* too much time thinking about Morrowind culture that the Dunmer answer to this immediately popped into my head: necromancy to create tomb guardians etc. generally involves the willing collaboration of the ancestral spirit who wants to keep safeguarding their descendants, while unsanctioned necromancy is an abomination involving the forcible enslavement of a spirit up to forcibly turning them against their clan. Completely different things! Mind, I don't think all tomb guardians were willing, but that's a "punishment for betrayal of the family" thing that is also, in Dunmer minds, justifiable.

This story is doing weird things to my brain.

@treydog - this is an excellent question! I think we should discuss it in detail while in dangerous territory, potentially while running away from a Golden Saint. (Adryn: but why.)

And I'm not going to lie: Athyn Sarethi is indeed one of my favourite characters. He particularly shines when you compare him to the Hlaalu patron

Last installment, Adryn related an encounter with an ancestral tomb to Athyn Sarethi. Her ancestral tomb, it turns out. Adryn was not sure how to feel about this. She is still not sure how to feel about this, which is why she's calling in reinforcements.

(Longer installment this time as the meat of the scene is at the end.)



Turdas evening found me in the Ald Skar Inn, nursing a wick water and taking advantage of their house special of glazed scrib legs with a scuttle and firefern dip. Despite the fact that it wasn't yet the weekend the place was surprisingly crowded, probably because the cold had set in to the point where outside seating was only useable by the truly masochistic. We'd lucked out and managed to snag a table in the corner, but it was still a tight fit.

"I prefer the Rat in the Pot," Llarara grumbled. "There aren't as many people, and sometimes they have dancing."

I winced. I was the one who'd vetoed the Rat in the Pot, and on the surface, it was hard to see why. After all, the style and ambience of the place - never to mention the price class - were far closer to what not just I but likely the others as well were used to. There was just the minor, unimportant detail that the Rat in the Pot was the local Thieves' Guild headquarters and I should stay far, far away from the place as a result, but that was really the sort of thing my companions didn't need to know.

Which left me with an explanation that would have been difficult to manage even in a language I spoke fluently.

Luckily, Ervesa took care of the matter for me. She'd swept into Ald'ruhn late morning with dented armour, a bulging pack, and a broad smile on her face, and seemed determined to protect her good mood from grumpy friends. "Come on, Llarara! The-"

At that point, Ervesa clearly forgot that, study aside, I was still a beginner at Dunmeris. My best guess was that she was saying something about the food, but given that I could understand maybe one word in four I couldn't rule out the possibility that she was praising the music, talking about her travels, or proposing marriage.

I sighed and intoned the words that had been among the first things I learned in class. "Slower, please?"

"Oh. Sorry, Adryn. The food here is better, and I know Llarara likes the duunei rivillarys. Glazed scrib legs," she repeated in Tamrielic on seeing my blank face.

I nodded, filing the words away. When I'd started learning Dunmeris, I'd tried to focus on learning only the vocabulary I expected to be useful. However, my memory seemed to take a gleeful pleasure in latching onto the most obscure terms, and the episode in Sadrith Mora had taught me that it could be hard to know in advance which words one would need. After all, where would that have ended if I hadn't known the word for "spy"? So my taste in vocabulary had grown steadily less discerning, and by now no new Dunmeris word was safe from my gluttonous appetite. Who knew, maybe at some point soon I'd find myself negotiating a truce between warring tribes through the power of shared culinary culture, and glazed scrib legs would form the cornerstone of my argument. It wouldn't be the strangest thing that had happened to me on the island.

My moment of whimsy was interrupted by a very familiar voice joining the conversation. "Ajira herself does not like dancing-"

I was distracted enough by the third person (which sounded even stranger in Dunmeris than in Tamrielic), that I lost the rest of the sentence. Something involving ash yams?

Then events caught up to me.

"Ajira! You..." I suspected that literally saying you made it would result in puzzled looks and Ajira asking what exactly she'd made. Expressions, I'd discovered, didn't translate well.

"You're here!" I said instead, taking refuge in stating the obvious.

I didn't get to see Ajira nearly as much as I would have liked, these days. She and Masalinie both had advised me to avoid the Balmora guild while Ranis Athrys was around ("our esteemed guildmistress may not have known what to do with you, but she still didn't take you escaping from under her thumb particularly well," Masalinie had said with a roll of her eyes), while Ajira's duties both professional and parental mostly kept here there. She didn't even always make it to the Ta'agra classes, which was quite sad when one considered why they'd started.

As a result, when Ervesa got back into town and suggested going out as a group, I'd responded more eagerly than was my wont (although her dumbfounded expression when I agreed without arguing had still been unnecessary, in my opinion - I wasn't that much of a misanthrope, thank you very much). I didn't even mind that she insisted on dragging my Dunmeris teacher into things. I'd known who I wanted to invite.

"Ajira thanks her friend for the invitation," my friend was saying now as she pulled up a chair, "and that it was for Turdas."

I gave Ervesa a triumphant grin. She'd originally suggested tomorrow, but I'd managed to argue her into submission. I'd known that Ma'Zajirr's return from the Imperial school would make it very unlikely Ajira would be able to join us on a Fredas.

"I'm happy to see you," I told my friend with an embarrassing amount of sincerity; I'd have to remind myself not to make a habit of it. "Do you know if Jamie comes?" Wait- that wasn't right, was it? I was asking about a one-time event, not habitual behaviour, which called for progressive aspect. "Is coming?" I quickly corrected myself. Out of the corner of my eye I could see Llarara's approving nod.

But Ajira was shaking her head. "She cannot, she told Ajira earlier today. She has dreynduas-"

"-business," Ervesa translated,

"-in Balmora. She wishes to meet another time."

"May Almsivi make it so," Ervesa responded, a rote phrase I'd learned early on. "For now-"

In stark contrast to Ajira, Ervesa was a scourge to poor innocent language learners like myself. She couldn't remember to speak slowly for more than a sentence at a time, and the concept of "keep it simple" was lost on her. So it was now: the rapidly accelerating flow of words that escaped her left one staring in awe, and the few bits and pieces I made out led me to suspect she was definitely using grammar we hadn't covered yet.

Was that some form of conditional? Had Sheogorath taken her mind?

Bereft of verbal communication, I was forced to resort to contextual clues. In this case, the deck of cards she was flourishing. Given the way we'd met and the excited tone of the incomprehensible flow, I deduced that she was proposing a game.

It seemed I wasn't the only one who'd played cards with Ervesa before, because Llarara's eyes narrowed. "No cheating," she said sternly, then repeated it in Tamrielic for good measure. "I grew up with you, I know your tricks."

Ervesa pouted, making for a rather unbelievable sight. "But what if I-"

"No. Cheating."

"Fine." Her tone was grumpy, but her hands were already busy shuffling the deck.

An hour or so later found us deep into the game. As requested, both Ervesa and I had refrained from cheating, although I had to admit it had been hard - more than once I'd found myself reflexively tucking a card up my sleeve, or faking a shuffle, and only just caught myself in time. I'd worry about what this said about the groups I used to play in, except that Ervesa was clearly having just as many problems with the concept. Honestly, one or both of us would probably have succumbed if not for Ajira's periodic warning glances.

"Methal said you wanted to talk to me about something?" Ervesa asked now... in Tamrielic, mercifully. I suspected it to be intended as a distraction, to make her and Ajira's imminent crushing defeat at the hands of me and Llarara a little less so.

Sadly for us, it worked, seeing as it made me remember the conversation I'd had with Athyn Sarethi in Ervesa's stead. I'd been strenuously trying not to think about it of late because I simply couldn't figure out what I thought about the subject or what I wanted to do about it, and the whole process just left me feeling ill and achingly empty. Still, the memory lurked just beneath the surface of my subconscious, where it could ambush me with little warning.

"Adryn?"

Sometimes, when I was younger, I'd get into a rut with my thoughts, spinning round and round in circles without making any progress. It had always helped tremendously to talk through them with someone. Charon-

I hadn't had anyone I trusted that way for a while.

I looked round the table. Ajira was probably the closest friend I had. I liked to think Ervesa qualified as one, too. Llarara I didn't know as well, but she was nice enough - and Ervesa clearly trusted her. That had to be worth something.

"If you don't want to tell me, can you at least keep playing?"

"Sorry," I said, glanced at the table, and dropped a card that let me take Ajira's ace of rings for an extra point in the end scoring. I heard her let out a low groan. "I was just thinking." I took a deep breath. "It was about something that happened when I was in the Grazelands..."

At the end of my tale, I had independent confirmation: all my companions agreed with Sarethi's estimation.

Surprisingly enough, it was Ajira who was most emphatic on what to do next. "There is no question about it, no question at all! Friend Adryn must find the tomb again, discover what clan it belongs to. Perhaps she has kin who will be delighted to welcome a lost one home! And of course she must return to bring offerings to her ancestors, this is the most important thing of all."

I wasn't the only one taken aback by this sudden outpouring of spiritual fervour. Ervesa was also blinking at Ajira in surprise. "That's... I must say, I weren't expecting you to be so devout in this regard, Ajira. Most... Khajiit..."

Ervesa's voice trailed off as she realised she was on dangerous ground, but too late. Ajira's ears lay flat against her head, her pupils narrowed into slits. "Oh? And why should Ajira not give honour to her ancestors? Who else should care for a Khajiit, after all, in this land far from Elsweyr's gods? Ajira makes offerings to her grandmother Tsraina and grandfather Jo'mizhrin, who were lucky enough to escape from slavery, clever enough to stay free after. She makes offerings to her great- grandmother Nisaari, who was wise enough to teach her son what he needed to seize opportunity when it came. She respects her great-great-grandmother Ajadhi for her strength to survive being taken captive. Perhaps these ancestors will smile on her, will lend her their luck and cleverness, their wisdom and strength. That they are the only ones she knows to call upon, that is not Ajira's fault."

Silence. The three of us stared at Ajira, card game completely forgotten. I'd never seen my friend this angry, her teeth bared, her fur bristling.

"Excuse me? Is everything all right here?"

We looked up to find a Redoran guard standing beside the table. He'd doffed his helmet, which made it easy to see that the guard was an older man with short spiky dark hair, tattoos spreading over his cheeks and wine-red eyes that were fixed on Ajira. At his side, his gauntleted hand was clenched around his mace.

Ajira shrank. There was no other word for it; her fur went flat, her shoulders hunched, her tail drew close to her body until I was ready to swear that my friend was six inches shorter than she'd been a mere few seconds ago.

"Many apologies, honoured guard. Ajira was so involved in her friends' debate that she forgot where she was. She did not mean to disturb anyone." She cast a desperate glance around the table.

This situation was familiar, in an oddly warped way.

"Yes, well... see that you keep yourself under control from now on, citizen. An honour, Armiger." The guard gave Ajira a short nod, Ervesa a much deeper one, then turned and left.

The food I'd eaten churned uneasily in my stomach. There were plenty of far more rowdy groups in the inn. At the table two to the left, a man had actually drawn a knife, resulting in several very tense seconds before his companions managed to talk him down. Ajira hadn't even raised her voice that much, speaking intensely rather than loudly. Why single her out?

I asked myself the question, but the truth was that I already knew the answer. It was the same reason that I'd always had to be on my absolute best behaviour if we went out in Windhelm. Although some of the natives had looked on Ingerte with suspicion for her Falkreath accent, it was still nothing compared to their treatment of a Dark Elf in their midst.

I wasn't sure whether I was disappointed to discover Morrowind was just as bad, or intensely uncomfortable to suddenly find myself in Ingerte's shoes.

It wasn't clear to me if Llarara or Ervesa had picked up on the unfairness of what had happened, or if they were just still shocked by Ajira's outburst. At any rate, the silence lengthened, grew steadily more awkward. I was about to open my mouth to say something – anything – to break it when Ervesa cleared her throat.

"Um. Sorry, Ajira. I didn't mean to assume." This was the most subdued I'd ever heard her.

Ajira gave a jerky nod. She was still hunched in on herself, a sight that made my heart twist. "It is all right, perfectly all right, Ajira should not have lost her temper. Now, the score was three more points for Llarara and Adryn?"

The game ground back into motion from there on. The conversation followed suit, but haltingly, as though we were all being careful to tiptoe around an obstacle.

"For what it's worth, I agree with Ajira," Ervesa said as she shuffled the deck in a smooth, practiced motion. "It's- it can't be coincidence, it's a gift of the gods, to have the chance to name your ancestors after all."

I could feel my shoulders go up defensively. I hadn't expected quite this much pressure. "How unfortunate for me that the gift in question is in the Daedra-infested wilderness in the middle of Telvanni lands, and I've been warned specifically to stay away because it's too dangerous."

"Ajira is forced to admit friend Adryn makes a good point."

I was about to capitalise on Ajira's reluctant agreement when another thought struck me. "Wait. If my... family..." the word felt indescribably strange leaving my mouth, "have a tomb in the Telvanni regions, does that mean they're Telvanni? Because that would be... awkward."

Speaking of understatements.

"Not necessarily, actually! Many of the tombs are from the Chimer era, but most clans have moved around since then. It's not that unusual for a mainland Indoril family's tomb to be in the Molag Amur, or for a Hlaalu clan that's lived in Balmora for generations to travel to the Deshaan for their rites." Ervesa paused. "It might be worth asking Methal about it, actually. I know he's familiar with that area – he might have an idea of what tomb it might be."

I frowned. In truth, I'd still been deciding whether I wanted to investigate further, but I'd assumed that if I did choose in favour, the investigation itself would be straightforward. "You mean there aren't, I don't know, lists or maps or the like?"

Both the native-born Dunmer in the room looked uncomfortable. "Perhaps the Telvanni Council Hall would have some, but..."

"...what Ervesa is trying to say is that many families consider the location of their tomb to be a closely-guarded secret," Llarara jumped in. "There's really no need, these days – it's a hold-over from the time of the Chimer, when clans in conflict might target each others' ancestors." Her voice dropped as she spoke, as though she were recounting some unspeakable horror. "We were far less wise then. The Tribunal put a stop to such things, but the memories persist. And so your clan's tomb might not appear in any public records."

It was probably a sign of how much I'd acclimatised to Morrowind that the idea of attacking someone through their family's ancestral tomb made an odd sort of sense to me. I wondered if I should worry about that.

But, more importantly...

"So you're saying my options are to hope Methal happens to know about a single tomb in the middle of Telvanni lands, or to return there myself and start wandering around at random?"

"Well..." Ervesa hesitated. I had the distinct impression she didn't think I'd like door number three. "You could join the Temple."

Ervesa knew me very well.

"Excuse me? Did I hear that correctly?"

"It makes sense," Llarara jumped in – again. I was beginning to think that one of the professional vices of a teacher was always thinking you could explain something better than others. Since I was now technically part of that group myself, I'd need to keep a very close eye on myself to avoid succumbing. I was resigned to my faults of tactlessness and impetuosity, but obnoxiousness was where I drew the line.

"Foundlings and the lost are known phenomena, if uncommon ones." Indeed, her voice had taken on that lecturing tone again. The danger was real. "We've developed kinfinding spells and rituals to aid them- aid you. However, they're fairly involved and take a lot of resources from the Temple. After the incident with Tevys of the Hundred Clans, it was decided that we'd only offer them to the initiated."

Tevys of the Hundred Clans? That sounded like a story I wanted to hear... but later.

"Thank you for the information. Unfortunately, as I'm still not religious, I'll have to decline."

"If that's your decision, I'll respect it," Ervesa said. "But you should know that becoming a lay member doesn't actually require worship."

I paused. Turned that thought over in my mind.

"Did I understand that correctly? A religious organisation doesn't require religious belief of its members, isn't that a contradiction in terms?" I was used to everyone around me being mad, but all the same this was going a little far in my opinion.

"It's only the first level. To advance to novice you'd need to profess your belief to a Temple priest. But lay membership is open to anyone sincerely interested in learning more about the faith and Almsivi." Ervesa paused. "I think it was introduced during the time of the Ebonheart Pact. There were many outlanders in Morrowind then."

"It was," Llarara interjected. "The decision was made at a Council meeting not long after the alliance – Second Era 575."

"Thank you, Kena Omayn," Ervesa said wryly – using the honorific for someone esteemed for their wisdom and knowledge, no less. I was clearly not the only one who'd noticed the way Llarara had succumbed to her teacherly vices. "Anyway, you can become a lay member without committing to anything. All you have to do is complete the Pilgrimages of the Seven Graces. You can even decide afterwards that you're not interested in becoming one of the Temple faithful and give it up again – my father did. And, of course, you'd gain access to basic Temple services, the kinfinder being one of them."

That all sounded surprisingly reasonable. However, I couldn't forget that I was dealing with two faithful here myself. Best to see if I could get a more neutral opinion.

"Ajira, is that in line with what you know?"

My friend had been quiet and subdued ever since the guard had come over, watching the conversation in silence. She startled a little when I adressed her.

"Ah... yes. Everyone knows the Temple takes the curious as well as the faithful. Ajira even has friends who joined, although," her whiskers twitched, "none who completed all the pilgrimages."

So the information was accurate.

I drummed my fingers on the tabletop, mulling it over. It was true that I wasn't in any way interested in converting...

...but hadn't I been curious about the local religion for a while? For one, it was clear understanding it would be a huge help in understanding the culture here, and although I'd pieced together a lot I knew I was still missing things. For another, something about it still struck me as familiar, the names Vivec and Almalexia and Sotha Sil ringing a faint bell in my memory, like an itch I couldn't quite scratch. This would be an excellent way to learn more without committing to anything.

And if- if- I decided I wanted to know more about a certain ancestral tomb in the Grazelands once I was done, I'd be in the right position to investigate. If not... well, that would be no one's business but my own.

"...Can you tell me more?"

Ervesa smiled.



Notes: I could not resist porting my favourite card game into Adrynverse! Our four are playing a Morrowind version of Doppelkopf.

EDIT: and after saying I'd do a long installment I accidentally posted only half of it /o\ brb fixing, and now I have to fix all the format problems that happen whenever you edit a post on here...

And here I thought the gang was playing bridge!

Poor Ajira! Being singled out for being different is nothing new to me, unfortunately. And Alise certainly empathizes with her, having spent more than a few decades in Skyrim as a lone Dunmer in Falkreath Hold (in 4E, not 2E).

Interesting discussion about how to go about identifying which clan that tomb belongs to -- of course I thought that was the next step for Adryn during her conversation with Sarethi. Why oh why do so many Dunmer have names that begin with ATH--?? I'm having a very difficult time keeping everything straight. I don't blame you, Kaz, because I know of Beth's tendency to make things too simple.

So joining the Temple would be a good way for an atheist like Adryn to learn more about her kin? I'd be wary, but I have no problem jumping in with both eyes open!

The card game- along with Adryn's ongoing problems with her supposed "native" language- was wonderfully engaging. More significant, as Adryn kinda, sorta recognized without fully acknowledging, is that she has gathered a loyal and formidable group of friends. Of course, considering what we know of her previous experiences with getting close to people, her resistance is quite understandable. The ways Ajira reacts to unthinking bias are also perfectly rendered. Anyone who has experienced the "We aren't going to have any trouble, are we?" from an authority figure- while doing nothing more troublesome than... occupying space- can feel her pain. Adryn in the Tribunal Temple... what could possibly go wrong?

This is a very interesting thought. Would it be reasonable to assume that the Dunmer would have two different words to distinguish between the accepted practice and the illegal practice? Or even three words in the event of the punishment scenario?

It sounds like a nice girl's night out, without any Thieves Guild complications.

I was thinking the card game was whist. That is what I get for doing a Horatio Hornblower marathon recently.

I appreciated Ajira's Angry Black Man moment, and the instant response it garnered from the law. This is the kind of thing that I fear many people with privilege will never really understand.

Hmm, I am liking the idea of wandering around the Grazelands myself...

Looks like Adryn is going to get some of that old time religion.

@all - ha, fun to see everyone's card game assumptions! Doppelkopf does have distinct similarities to bridge and (from reading the Wiki) whist, but there are distinct differences. The main conceit is that you usually don't know who you're playing with at the start of each round, which makes for fun strategy. I once almost broke a group of bridge-playing friends by trying to teach them - not long after "so the two players with the Queens of Clubs are playing together and the Ten of Hearts is the highest trump" they were begging me to stop.

@haute ecole rider - yeah, Ajira has a somewhat precarious existence in Morrowind. Some of it, Adryn understands from her own Skyrim experiences. Others, I don't think she does, although I'm fairly sure Dunmer in the Grey Quarter in the Fourth Era would.

Re: names, I admit I got hardened here from Silmarillion fandom. Tolkien has no mercy as far as names are concerned, and after trying to keep Finwë, Fingolfin, Finarfin, Findis, Fingon, Finrod and Finduilas straight, you can even deal with Bethesda. It helps of course that Athyn Sarethi is a fairly major character if you've ever done the Redoran questline in Morrowind - a number of the NPCs I pull up are very minor (Ervesa, Jamie and Methal for instance) but Athyn is fairly important.

@treydog - yes, this was one thing I wanted to show - Adryn has built up a circle of friends again, although she doesn't much want to admit it. And yeah, being Khajiit in Morrowind is... not always fun.

@macole - thinking about it, I'd say absolutely! In fact, I'm sure there a number of highly respected Temple mages who create tomb guardians and help maintain the Ghostfence and the like who would be shocked and appalled if you accused them of practicing necromancy. (Outlanders: "but... it's the same spells...")

@SubRosa - glad the Angry Black Man moment resonated! It struck me that this would happen when I was writing... there's a lot of ways that Ajira has to be careful that a Dunmer will not be able to understand. (Adryn understands parts but not all). As you say, privilege... aside from that, Adryn would like to note that wandering the Grazelands is a last-resort plan.

Last installment, Adryn talked about her brush with her ancestral tomb with some friends. This conversation led to her agreeing to try joining the Tribunal Temple as a lay member in order to be able to investigate - after a lot of reassurance that doing so wouldn't be committing to anything. This means she has to perform the pilgrimages. Let's see how that goes...



Vivec proved much warmer than Ald'ruhn, although judging by the complaints of the natives they still considered it weather straight from Oblivion. I shrugged, secure in my status as a survivor of northern Skyrim who had the right to call inhabitants of all other regions of Tamriel pampered, never to mention in my new nice, thick, fur-lined cloak. It was most definitely overkill for the current temperatures, but cozy enough I hadn't put it away. I mainly hoped I wouldn't be forced to cut this one up.

After Ervesa and Llarara had said they'd assist me with the pilgrimages that were required to join the Temple, I'd expected them to keep me company all the way to the Temple district, but not long after we crossed the bridge to Redoran canton Ervesa gave me an apologetic wave and turned towards Arena canton, saying she'd catch up with us at the High Fane. Thankfully, Llarara stayed with me. I didn't know the priestess particularly well – last night aside – but I felt something of a bond due to our mutual endeavours in language teaching, never to mention that after my prior experiences I was uneasy travelling through Vivec without a native at my side. Llarara proved engaging company, and we compared and contrasted pedagogical techniques on the way to the Temple district, half in (slow, thank the Divines) Dunmeris and half in Tamrielic.

She also gave me something else to think about, because the Nine had apparently decided I didn't have enough already.

We were walking along a long boardwalk between St. Delyn and St. Olms cantons, Llarara picking her way around gaps and loose boards with enviable ease (she didn't even look down!) as I did my best to follow suit. The topic had meandered its way from the Temple over to childhood experiences with religion (it turned out that Llarara was from a Temple family, with many relatives among the clergy, and was fairly contemptuous of the Nine) and from there to childhood in general.

"So you don't know about your early childhood?" Llarara asked.

I bit down the instinctive reaction to change the subject. If I was going to give real consideration to the prospect of identifying my clan I'd need to be able to discuss my early days, little though I liked doing it.

"Exactly. The earliest I remember is when I was five or so, and living in a village near Daggerfall. But..." I thought back. A lot of this I'd forgotten and only learned again from Do'kharza years after the fact. "I didn't grow up there. Apparently I just – showed up in the town one day, saying something about how someone had asked me to wait there for them... but nobody showed up. The innkeeper took me in," if grudgingly, I didn't say, "since I'd clearly been abandoned. I don't remember any of it myself."

"Interesting," was Llarara's comment. I noted with a frown that there was no note of surprise in her voice – rather, one almost of satisfaction, as though I'd confirmed an expectation of hers. "That ties in well with a theory of mine."

Called it.

But what theories was she making about my childhood? The back of my neck itched at the thought.

"Oh?" I prompted her, trying to shake the unpleasant sensation of being watched.

"Your Dunmeris. It's coming along extraordinarily well." A meaningful pause. "Too well."

I stopped, feet braced across a gap, to take that in.

It was true that I'd made significant progress even in the short time I'd been taking classes. I'd moved into a more advanced course not long before my trip to Telvanni lands, and could now converse fairly well as long as my partner spoke slowly and the topic of conversation remained in the realm of concrete happenings. The grammar had come easily to me so far, and most of the time I only had to encounter a new word once in order to engrave it in my memory. At the start, I'd thought that the others in the course simply weren't sufficiently dedicated. My own stint as a teacher – in particular, seeing the effort Ajira and Jobasha put into their studies – had put paid to that notion, so I'd ended up ascribing it to native intelligence. Silently, I could admit a little bit of preening had been involved in the last.

All of which left me with no idea of what, exactly, Llarara was driving at here.

"Er... I promise I'm not faking, for what it's worth? I really have never spoken the language before, I swear."

"Actually, I'm starting to wonder about that." Before I could take offense at this slight on my honesty, Llarara moved to explain.

"A few years ago, I had another outlander in my class who also learned very quickly. When I asked her about it, she told me that when she was very young, her parents had spoken Dunmeris with her, but they'd stopped after moving to rural Colovia in order to fit in better." Llarara's face twisted at the thought – it was clear she had no understanding of why anyone would make that decision. After my experiences, I had a little more sympathy for the stance. "Children are odd, you know. They soak up new languages in a way adults can only dream of, but they forget them as quickly. When that woman came to me, she couldn't speak a word of Dunmeris... but when she started learning, it began to come back."

I cocked my head. "It's interesting – I didn't know that about children forgetting languages." And could apparently be thankful that Do'kharza had spoken Ta'agra with me, keeping the tongue alive in my mind. My knowledge of it must have come from that forgotten early childhood, leaving it at great risk of being lost.

But now wasn't the time to analyse my language skills, because I was clearly missing something here. "I'm sorry, though... what does it have to do with me?"

Llarara's stride faltered. She shot me an incredulous look, the one she'd used to pin down a fellow student who'd forgotten the Dunmeris for book for the fifth time in a single lesson. It was a look that said the giver was being exceptionally patient with one's complete and utter denseness right now. I'd never had it turned on me before, and it smarted.

"What I'm suggesting," Llarara said, very patiently, "is that you used to speak Dunmeris as a young child, likely with your parents. Then something happened, you were separated, nobody around you spoke the language and so you lost it. But the bones of it are still there in your mind, ready to be reawoken."

"Oh."

The sound escaped me involuntarily, small, almost ashamed. Now that Llarara had pointed out, I had to admit it was the obvious explanation. It truly was unusually dense of me not to have realised what she was getting at...

...but I knew why. In fact, the concept still sat uneasily with me, like a rock in my stomach, my body unable to absorb it. It had been a long time since I'd stopped thinking about my past, since I'd taken my origins as a given. Rationally, I'd known I must have had parents at some point, that I hadn't simply sprung into existence in that village one day. My recent brush with my apparent clan had only served to confirm that. But...

But it was different, I thought. A tomb, a strange skeleton, the possibility of a name – those weren't people. The thought of actual parents, possibly even still alive, of someone out there who might be my close flesh and blood, it was – too much, too alien. I didn't know how to handle it.

Entirely too many things I didn't know how to handle had been happening of late.

I squeezed my eyes shut, banished the beginnings of panic I could feel flickering in my stomach.

Well. Llarara's theory was interesting, but at the end of the day it was just an unproven theory, one which had no impact on my life as it stood one way or another. There was really no need to think more on it. I might be considering an investigation into my origins, but I could leave it at the level of clan names, of dusty tombs and overly-friendly undead. I'd sat with those concepts for a while now and had come to the conclusion I could probably just about deal with them. There was simply no need to add more complications on top.

Decided, I changed the subject. "So... about these pilgrimages?"

Llarara gave me a piercing look, making me squirm. I suspected she knew exactly what I was trying to do here.

Thankfully, she was merciful, because after a moment she went with it.

"There are three shrines in Vivec proper, two at the Palace and one at the High Fane. I suggest you visit that shrine first..."



The priestess and I stared at each other. The air between us crackled with tension.

To the side, Ervesa let out a loud, demonstrative groan. Both of us ignored her.

"I would be very grateful if you could explain to me precisely what makes a home-brewed potion unsuitable as a shrine offering." I did my best to mimic Ingerte's most icy politeness, the one that had broken down an Imperial tax collector to the point where he apologised to us for the inconvenience.

Alas, my imitation was clearly imperfect, because the priestess didn't seem fazed. "Offerings must be of a certain quality to be acceptable to Lord Vivec. In the past, we've found home-brewed potions too variable, running the risk of offending Him if we permit them."

I gritted my teeth. "That's perfectly understandable, but as I've told you multiple times now, I'm a freelance alchemist who supplies multiple stores in Ald'ruhn, including one of your Temples." With ingredients, not potions, but given that that was due to lack of equipment and not of capability I felt the point stood nonetheless. "My potions are professionally brewed and of high quality, and your insistence that I should buy from you instead makes me wonder if this is some sort of racket." I let my eyes trail over the vials on the stand. "Especially given what you're trying to sell. Are those supposed to be potions? Because they look like someone bottled swamp water and decided to call it a day."

The priestess went blotchy.

"Adryn." Ervesa, vanquisher of kagouti, rescuer of alchemists in distress, all-around dashing hero, sounded afraid. I didn't realise she even deigned to recognise that emotion. Perhaps she was ill? "Adryn, please. I will buy the potion for you, all right?"

"It's the principle of the thing!"

"Swamp water?" The priestess had apparently finally caught up with the conversation. "I've never been so insulted in my life!"

I blinked. "Really? Given that I wasn't even trying, I can definitely change that for you."

Ervesa pulled at her hair. "Adryn, I will pay you to stop-"

"I'll let you know my potions have been certified by a Master of Alchemy-"

"Was he possibly drunk at the time?"

A high-pitched whimpering noise escaped Ervesa. A quick glance showed that she was covering her eyes, as if trying to block out the sight before her. Puzzling, since there was really nothing going on to cause such a reaction. Perhaps she wasn't feeling well?

"What exactly is going on here?"

Ervesa, the priestess and I turned around as one to find a second priestess, older and bearing far more of an air of authority, looking at the three of us sternly. She looked familiar, I thought. Wasn't she the priestess I'd spoken to after the ash statue incident? What had her name been – Lura? Lora?

"Sister Lloran!"

Yes, that had been it!

"Sister Lloran," the priestess broke in before Ervesa could continue, "this- outlander-" the intonation on that word made it clear it was standing in for one far less polite, "is demanding she be allowed to use home-brewed materials in a shrine ritual! I cannot possibly allow her to contaminate the-"

Lloran held up her hand, causing the priestess's mouth to snap shut. Her eyes met mine. "Adryn, isn't it?"

She, I noted with annoyance, had no difficulty at all recalling my name. Well, perhaps it wasn't much of a surprise – it couldn't be every day someone was (wrongfully) arrested for murder in your office. "Yes, ma'am. And I'm just-"

The hand went up again. My mouth shut without consulting my brain first.

"I wasn't aware you were seeking entrance in the Temple as a lay member."

All right, her remembering my name was understandable, but this was more of a puzzle. Why would she expect to be aware? Why should she care about what I was doing at all?

"It's a recent decision," I said warily.

The woman's mouth smiled. Her eyes, I noted, did not. "I'm delighted to hear it. Sister," she turned to the priestess, "the aspiring lay member Adryn is known to us as an apothecary and alchemist. Her potions are of an acceptable quality for the ritual. Let her use them."

It was really, truly annoying that I couldn't properly enjoy the noise the priestess let out at that, because it was a thing of true beauty. Really, I would have liked nothing more than to indulge in a touch of malicious enjoyment at the sight of her being smacked down by her own superior like that. Alas for my gloating, it sadly had to come second behind a slow, creeping feeling of worry.

Why on Nirn would this woman care about the alchemical goods supply for Ald'ruhn Temple, to the point of knowing who one of the suppliers was? Or care about me to the pont where she knew my professional aspirations? We'd met all of the once, and even if it had been a memorable occasion she clearly had other worries.

I'd try to explain it away, except that this was the second high-ranking priest who was taking an inordinate interest in me. My leading theory for Methal was that he was bored and had latched on to me as an outlet for idle curiosity – but Lloran, too?

"Well, outlander?" A voice cut through my musings. "Are you planning to actually complete the ritual at any point?"

In my distraction, I'd missed Lloran leaving. Now, the priestess she'd so unceremoniously cut to size was glaring daggers at me. In the background, it looked as though Ervesa was trying to become one with the wall.

"I was simply reflecting," I told the woman. "Cleansing my mind of negative emotions. I may only be an aspiring lay member, but it was my understanding this is an important part of the process. Have I misunderstood?"

If she kept grinding her teeth like that, she'd need to see one of the specialist healers for reconstruction before she was even middle-aged.

Still, although I'd mainly said it to avoid apologising, there was a grain of truth to my words. This was really not the right place or time to be worrying about the Temple hierarchy's strange interest in me. I pushed my questions down, promising myself to consider them later tonight, and knelt before the triangular stone with my vial in hand.

Staying calm proved difficult not just because of my lurking doubts but because I could feel the priestess's eyes burning into my back. I persevered nonetheless – I might not intend to actually convert, but when it came to religion it always paid to be respectful. I did my best to ignore the sensation of someone trying to set me on fire through the power of sheer hate and focused on the text engraved on the stone.

When Sheogorath tricked Baar Dau to hurl itself upon Lord Vivec's city, the Poet-Warrior froze the rogue moon with a single gesture. Overwhelmed by his courage and daring, the moon swore itself to the eternal service of the Tribunal and all its works.

This sort of thing would be much easier to cynically dismiss as empty bragging if not for the floating rock right there above me.

I focused on the feeling of awe, uncorked the vial, and poured my potion into the basin in front of the shrine. The instant it came into contact with the stone, the liquid glowed blue and vanished.

All right, enough awe, it was time for smug victory. I could feel a wide smile spread uncontrollably across my face. "See? I told you, my... potions..."

It became very difficult to focus on gloating when I felt my feet leave the ground.

"...what?"

I glanced downwards. Sure enough, I was hovering several inches above the stone of the courtyard, my feet outlined in purple light just as they had been back in Arkngthand.

But I definitely hadn't drunk the potion-

"Er, is this supposed to happen?"

I directed the question at Ervesa, but it was the priestess who answered. "Obviously, outlander. All the shrines confer blessings. Fancy not knowing that!"

There was condescension mixed with a good dose of malice in her voice. Just a minute ago, I'd definitely have taken that as a cue to escalate further, but right now I was more concerned with other things.

"And... how long does it last?" My hand crept to my throat. The Slowfall amulet itself was tucked away beneath my shirt, but its chain crept out from under the collar to loop around my neck. I grasped it now to reassure myself.

"An hour or so." This time Ervesa responded, sounding distinctly frazzled. "It wears off slowly, though, giving you plenty of time to get back down to ground."

I considered this silently.

"Er... I'm sorry I didn't warn you, Adryn. Discovering the effect of a shrine is a rite of passage... you're not upset, are you?"

"Upset?" I repeated, confused.

Between teleportation accidents and my exploits in Arkngthand, I'd spent more time than one might expect (in other words: any time at all) floating in midair since arriving in Vvardenfell. However, all my previous experiences had involved enough fear for my life that I hadn't been able to properly react to the situation. Here and now, I was not about to be turned into a pincushion by bandits, nor about to have my internal organs forcibly distributed across the nearby landscape. I was, in short, free to enjoy a sensation dreamed of by many.

"Obviously I'm not upset. Ervesa, I'm flying!"

If, at a later date, Ervesa were to claim that I let out a high-pitched wheeee as I shot up into the sky, this would be a perfidious lie.

Oh my Lord did Adryn just try to pick a fight with a Temple priestess?? If she keeps this up Vivec is going to notice her! And I"m not sure Adryn wants Vivec to notice her . . .

Flying? Indeed. Flying can be quite enjoyable when you're not worrying about your life.

What a chuckle worthy installment which I enjoyed immensely!

So it looks like Adryn grew up hearing her parents speaking Dunmeris. But it was so long ago she lost most of it.

I have forgotten all of the French I took in high school. So it is not only children who forget languages!

My guess is that the Temple does not make any money from a home-brewed potion as an offering?

Swamp water! Adryn is using that charisma of hers to good effect!

Well that is one way to phrase Baar Dau being thrown at Vivec. Another is that Vivec is such a bag of dicks that it prompted someone to throw a giant rock at him, and he left it floating there so that if the Dunmer ever kicked him to the curb, it would finish its descent and kill them all. But maybe I am just being cynical?

Adryn is flying high again! January most definitely approves!

Wait, Adryn is comfortably hovering just a few inches above the ground, when she could be banging her head on the ceiling? The world's going going sane!

Should we panic?