The bards with their plenty of songs played, gave way to the group of Altmeri troubadours from the Summerset Isles who eagerly sought attention. The age-old tune of mainstream Cyrodiilic drum and flute were placed by harps and violins. Instruments of a more sophisticated note, arguably rare in taverns.

As a patron of the arts and a supporter of elven style and an enthusiast of high cuisine and exotic music, Irvana’s attention was momentarily diverted to the high elves who took the side of the tavern to begin playing. The snobbish expressions on some of their faces were not missed, and it even turned the focus of others away in spite from their coming performance.

Irvana sat herself down in the nearest corner, hands clasped together, chin just above her interlocked fingers. Her golden eyes keen on the elven group. They began to play.

The song was soothing but somehow out of place in a tavern such as this. Irvana guessed they must have been employed by wealthy Breton from High Rock to support the festival with their song. Even so, Irvana enjoyed their songs.

This is music.

She never recalled hearing such thing in common taverns, first because she hardly ever set foot upon them, and secondly, the type of music only attracted different minds. This is something she’d been familiar with in castles or the Tiber Septim hotel that hosts special events on certain days. The Imperial Palace was no different either.

For Irvana, the Imperial City surpassed her expectations. Many years of traveling and adventuring in the provinces as an ambassador had given her flavor for the high life, and Cyrodiil was a spot not simply where her darkest desires could be fulfilled, but also where she could put her his unique talents to the test.

The Wobbly Goblet, with this festival full of people of all different stripes and walks of life, was just the same. While it was a lure for those lacking world-altering skills or promise, the heart of it was also a place of potential for those with overflowing coffers and connections.

Irvana looked across the room for an instant to see the nobleman, Draken, converse with a group of similar-minded people. Scions of wealth that, for some reason, stooped to the bottom of the chain in search for profitable results for their daily lives.

As a noblewoman, she only had the common thought that a coterie of cronies and servants of above average intelligence would be best suited for the task. For what need does a nobleman or a noblewoman have to be standing amidst less reputable members of society? The habit of blue-blooded individuals in the dance of rivalry was nothing more than everyone striving to outdo one another. The need that they only must dress well, dine in the appropriate places, associate with the proper company, and so forth. This was acceptable, of course. At the same time, however, she understood that in these times she could be almost as anonymous as she desired, simply by travelling up or down, garbing herself up or down, mingling with merchants and bards rather than politicians, or consorting with the purveyors, hawkers, shysters, and scam artists that populated the lower echelon of Cyrodiil’s society, as well as the genuine ones. In the end, coin is as useful as the secrets they can buy.

The key, of course, was to live incognito. To this degree, she was a legendary doyen.

She leaned back, took a few sips from her drink, and remained focused on the music players.

“You appear to be enjoying the wine.”

Irvana glanced at her side to see a tousle-headed youth with brown hair, stand near her table with eyes looking down on her. The faint smile on his face, the forced body language and almost dramatic tone in his voice suggested he was trying too hard to capture her interest and hold it.

He wasn’t physically imposing but she could see beneath his plain brown shirt that he sported a slightly muscular body which he seemed eager to display with the puffing of his chest.

“Exquisite,” she said, holding the man’s gaze for a fraction longer than might have been called for.

With a spreading smile, he interpreted her ready expression as permission to sit beside her. “Not too sour?”

“Scarcely a trace of bitterness.”

“I love your clothes. I saw you from afar and I must admit your sense of fashion is captivating.”

Clothes? She thought. He chooses to spend his introductory breath on the fabric of her clothes. Nothing about her lustrous black hair, that in this current weather, was a wonder why it was so straight and lively. Or her eyes that seemed to reflect the deepest fiery pools the skies of certain pockets of oblivion. Or her teeth that was white as snow.

She didn’t respond to his admiration. Certainly with the Telvanni insect-liquid upon her flesh, he would conjure more courage than to compliment her on the silk that hugged her body.

“Are you here for business or pleasure?”

Irvana smiled, but with her eyes on the inefficient fingers of the Altmeri violinist.

He missed a note. Terrible.

“As I would have it, both.” Irvana said, patting her inviting lips with a napkin.

“Same. Business has concluded, I’m afraid, so I’m just looking for pleasure.”

In the corner of her eye, unaware to his perception, she could see his gaze lower to her exposed neck, down the sharp division down her chest and to her legs, which thankfully, spared any lecherous men the sight of her long legs.

She turned abruptly in time to catch him moistening his dried lips. His eyes flicked from the area just between her legs to her eyes. She pretended she didn’t see that.

“What business would that be?”

“I sell horses. Festival brought in heavy numbers. I made lots of coin off these happy travelers.”

“Good for you, I suppose. Coin these days is hard to come by with honest work. Most seek the easy way. Thievery, murder, deception and treachery.”

Easy, sometimes, is synonymous for essential. But she had no need or desire to tell him that.

“Hmm. What kind of work do you do?”

“As of this week? A connoisseur of exotic cuisine. You may label me as a true oenophile, as well.” Irvana allowed herself to chuckle.

“Ah, so it is mostly pleasure, then?”

“Sometimes they are one in the same.” Irvana’s tone came light, as did her subtle shifting in her seat.

“That, we both share. I love to sample exotic tastes, too. Tell me, you’re not local, are you?” inquired the fellow with a firm touch above her knee that seemed to linger more than necessary. A tight squeeze followed. This, accompanied with the bold suggestion, struck Irvana as the results of the growing effects of the Telvanni bug musk. No matter her coldness toward him, he would only seek to thaw the ice with his advances. If she gave him any other indication of interest, the man would sooner climax in the spot than to continue to try and get her in bed.

How powerful something so . . . seemingly harmless can be.

Irvana was going to respond when a missed note struck in the assembled troubadours. That same Altmer with fingers too clumsy to properly play the violin. One single missed thread in the entire performance rendered the rest of it a catastrophe. To the commoners, such a thing went unoticed. But to those with keen ears, small scoffs and eye raises followed.

What in perdition's name was that?

Irvana bit her lip, placed her hand on the man’s hand that still lingered on her leg, and rose from her seat. “Pardon me for just a moment,” she said with a casual smile. “I’ll return.”

She passed through the crowd of people, some of which had interest to strike a conversation with the striking Imperial woman. But for Irvana, such things had to be perfected.

Before the group assembled to plan another song, Irvana approached the leader, a golden-haired Altmer with aquiline nose and wide eyes of the same color of hair.

“Hmm, yes?”

“I have a request.”

“We’re accepting requests after this next song.”

“No,” she said with a light touch on his arm and a disguised movement of her neck so that the bug musk could do its work. Of course, she didn’t require the smell alone. Persuasion and natural looks often helped, but this time the results would have lower chances of failure. She was sure of it. “I request to play a song.”

The altmer’s forehead seemed to lift and his eyes along with it. “Say, what? Young woman, have you even touched a violin?”

“I have. I have a song I wrote in mind.”

The altmer, entertained, gave her an amused look that reached his other comrades. They looked at him with curiosity and asked what he was smiling about.

“The girl here wrote a song and wants to play.”

They all chuckled. Irvana smiled with enthusiasm as she reached for the violin of the song-butcher, and grabbed hold of it. Before any words of actions of protest she began to play a small part of her song, which seemed to give them all surprised looks and slow nods of approval.

“Could you accompany my lead? Surely you’re talented enough, yes?”

The harp players and the violinists muttered amongst each other and nodded. Being led by an Imperial was something a high elf would frown upon, but with the soothing tone and gentle and majestic movements of her arm in that short piece, all prejudice was erased.

Most eyes of the tavern went to the sole Imperial woman amongst a group of pointy-eared Mer. Irvana began to play her own song she created years ago. Her movements and her subtle wiles and abilities also affected the players around her, and the music came out in a melody.

The Goblet silenced with the exception of a few whispers and one skinny brown-haired Breton who wiped away at his robes from a recent accident, who attracted had few curious eyes on him as well.

“Does Tamika’s white suit you?” Darnand asked.

Something in his voice penetrated her concentration, and her eyes turned towards him. Realization struck her like an arrow. Oh gods…

His eyes were on her as he poured, oblivious to the excess wine now spilling onto the table.

“The wine!” she called. It startled him into motion and splashed her with some of the wine.

Before she could react, Darnand was dabbing at her arms and then her chest with his sleeve. She was stunned when he dabbed over her breasts. “What—!?” she began.

Her objection was cut off when Darnand’s sleeve caught the goblet and chilled wine poured into her lap. The sudden cold made her gasp.

She felt his hands all over now, dabbing at every part of her body. She moved her arms and legs to impede his progress, curling them over her body. “Stop!” she managed and pushed one of his arms away from her. The wine bottle on the table tipped with a hollow clunk, and the rest of the wine watered the grass beneath them.

She sat on her chair, knees at her chest and arms wrapped around her legs, staring wide-eyed at Darnand. I’ve just been felt up by Darnand.

He stood and started shaking his robe. “Just trying to get myself dry,” he said. “Oh gods.”

Oh gods, Aravi’s mind repeated, still shocked.

Darnand

Aravi wrapped herself into a defensive ball on her seat, staring up at him in shock.

Darnand found himself remembering the day they fought the spider daedra. He had fallen against Aravi and grabbed onto her for support. Onto her strong, armored hips. And her supple tail, so soft as it slid through his fingers…

Then she punched you in the head. Get a grip on yourself, man!

Abiene stopped at their table. Her face looked like a thundercloud, and her voice could freeze a man at twenty paces. “Darnand,” she gritted out.

Darnand followed her gaze with his own. To his horror he realized that he did indeed have a grip on himself.

Before he had a chance to pray for immediate removal to the Dreamsleeve, a miracle occurred. Abiene’s eyes snapped to Aravi. Her face flooded with concern and affection.

“Oh my dear Aravi,” she murmured, sliding into the seat he had recently vacated. She picked up the Khajiit’s hand and began to stroke it. “What did he do to you? I’m certain he didn’t mean it,” she shot a look at Darnand that should have flayed him on the spot, “and he will surely apologize right this instant!”

Darnand’s jaw dropped open in astonishment. He had seen Abiene dig her heels in on some issues, but hers was the way of sweet reason. Who was this terrifying creature?

Suddenly Abiene was at her side, stroking her hand. Aravi leapt from her seat and put the chair between her and the Bretons. The three of them had the eyes of the crowd, and more than a few of them settled on her in particular.

“I had no idea this would happen, I’m so sorry,” she spoke in a rush. “I need to go now!”

She turned toward the inn and fled through the crowd, weaving and ducking through people. When she got inside, she was greeted by fine violin music. Irvana was playing with the accompaniment of some Altmer. The music was lovely, but more importantly to Aravi, Irvana was the focal point of the room. None but the closest patrons paid her any notice as she moved through the inn.

Aravi made her way over to the bar counter unmolested where she could get a room and a bath. Her clothing was a mess of spilled wine, and she needed to get the bug musk off.

She went to her room and waited for Hethilion to appear. When he did, he seemed less affected by the musk than other people were. It wasn’t until the water was filled that things started to go downhill.

“No I do not want any exotic messages, thank you, please leave,” she said as she gently pushed the man out the door. She locked her door, and realized that it might not be enough to keep the housekeeper out. He probably has a key.

She dragged a solid wooden chair to the door and propped it against the door handle. Then she looked towards the window. I don’t have to worry about that do I?

She decided no, and just pulled the curtains closed before entering her bath.

Kayla slid out of the bathtub, freezing cold, her lips blue, but rid of the bug musk. She wrapped a warm towel over her tall, toned body, her hair still dripping, and dabbed some of her vanilla oil on her wrists and neck.

Ahhh. That's the scent I'll enjoy for a while.

She walked out of the bathroom to see Laegon still lying languidly on her bed, a pleased smile on his face.

"Clean now?"

She nodded.

"Ready for round two for me?"

"I don't know if I could stand a-"

She felt an odd sensation in her core, and her pupils dilated. Her lips parted, and Laegon's lustrous black locks slid past his shoulders like a cascading waterfall of shadow as he sat up. His eyes, amber pools of liquid honey caressed her figure as she dropped the towel and climbed on all fours onto the bed.

"You smell it, then?" He asked as she sat on his hips, still covered by her sheet.

"Smell...what?" She murmured. Her hands were everywhere, his face, his neck, his chest, lower. He let out an enthused grunt when she gripped lower.

"The bug musk!" he gasped as she began working. "Oh, my dear!" He said something in...Kayla couldn't exactly remember the name of the language Altmer speak, but it was lilting music to her ears as his cries grew louder. He finally spasmed between her hands and she buried her face in his neck.

"What did you say earlier?" she asked. His chest still rose and fell rapidly as he recovered.

"Bug...musk..."

"Is this how you felt when you saw me?"

He nodded, his breathing going back to normal. She still felt a tugging at her core. She crushed his lips with hers as she pulled him closer. Their looks suddenly matched as they eyed each other with intense looks of lust.

"I think I got some on you."

"Fine by me."

---

"I think we dented the wall." She remarked in a breathless voice. He checked, and sure enough...

"No one will notice. Where did you get this musk?"

"Dunmer merchant named Thals. I think I put too much."

"As did I."

"You put on enough for the both of us." She laughed. "I got some of yours on me."

He smiled down at her and gently patted her cheek.

"You can sleep if you want to." Kayla offered. "I've got friends out there, and I dont want them worrying about me."

She briefly pulled him closer, thankful for the brief sense of intimacy he was invoking. She let him go, knowing it wouldn't last very long. She put on her clothes from earlier after cleaning up once more, her hair still wet from her bath. She put on more vanilla oil, dabbing it on her neck and wrists before drying her hair off. with a smile, she slid out the door.

Gods, I'm insanely hungry. She wiped her palms on her pants, then rubbed her arms nervously. She walked back downstairs and headed out the door, unaware of the heads she turned as she slipped out the door.

I think the musk wears off after a bit. She thought to herself. She hoped. She saw her group of friends sitting at some tables, Abiene comforting an obviously distruaght Aravi. Kayla's face lined with concern as she began to approach the table, but felt an invasive hand grope her breast.

"Hey baby, we should-"

He didn't finish the sentence as her elbow knocked a few teeth from his mouth. He gripped his mouth and made another advance on her, his face unreadable to her as he reached out, blood dripping from his lips. he was a big, dark-haired Nord with meaty hands. He outweighed her by several stones, his chest three times her width. Her eyes narrowed as she slid under his grasp, grabbing his wrist and using her foot to trip him. His own weight toppled him as he fell forward, and she pressed a knee into his spine once he fell.

He cried out in pain as he thudded heavily to the ground, and she looked around, wild-eyed and hoping for help. He sputtered on the ground, angrily blowing dirt in puffs and coughing when he inhaled it.

Darnand

As Aravi fled Darnand took the seat beside Abiene. He gripped her arm hard enough to bring her attention back to him.

“I should think that Sanguine himself has taken an interest in this celebration,” he said.

The anger slowly faded from Abiene’s eyes, replaced by that familiar warmth and humor. “Or perhaps Sheogorath.” She took his hand and pressed it between hers. “I need to speak with you, my friend. Will you pour for us?”

This time Darnand’s hands were steady on the task. They shared a moment in silent enjoyment of the wine. Then Abiene leaned forward and spoke softly near his ear.

“Did you notice the Dunmer man who wears a black hand on his face? He’s sitting over there with that striking Imperial woman. She has to be his wife.”

Darnand nodded. He didn’t need to look.

“I told you I had been poisoned,” Abiene continued. “The threat has been removed, so we needn’t go over the details. And frankly I’d rather not relive them.” She took a sip of her wine. “You know Maxical and Eyja, of course. I told you I would be dead if not for them. Well, that man is Sethyas Velas. I want you to know of him, because he is the Alchemist who saved my life.”

Darnand watched Abiene’s face as she spoke. Her tiny lift of brow on the word Alchemist told him more than her words, though he was sure she had not intended it.

He picked up her hand. “This ring is not known to me. May I read the enchantment?”

Abiene gave her assent. When he finished they spent a long moment in silence. He would not ask what she hadn’t told him. If she was at liberty he would already know.

“He would say there is no debt between us,” Abiene said, “but you know my heart.”

Darnand wanted to hold her, shake her, and stride across the tables to demand answers as to what had occurred. The shadows under her eyes told him she was still troubled. This could not be the cause. Abiene possessed great pride in her skills, but she also had the humility to accept help when she needed it. She would not lose sleep once the matter was done, even though her life had been at stake. She would simply extend her help in return whenever and however it was needed.

“I understand,” he replied, his tone matching hers. “If ever I may aid him, I will do so.”

Abiene looked into her goblet for a time. Darnand waited for her thoughts to arrange themselves.

“Regarding souls,” she finally said. “What would it look like if a person’s soul was taken while they still lived? Is such a thing possible? I know ‘you are not a necromancer,’ but you still visit that awful leech in the Imperial City who makes you sell yourself for access to his library, do you not? I thought perhaps you might have learned…” Her voice trailed off. She already looked contrite.

It would take the rest of the day and then some to explain all of the ways she was wrong in her thinking, so he took the most expedient approach.

“Yes,” he agreed, “and as ever I have quite recovered.”

Abiene chewed her lip. Her knuckles showed white as she gripped the goblet.

And now I know. “Abiene…” Darnand took her hand again. “There are many ways a soul can be stolen upon a mortal’s death. Most often it is simply the energy that holds the sprit to this realm that is trapped, without which the consciousness is transported to another place entirely. However, the spirit can be bound to the soul at death and both taken. What you ask is outside my learning, and certainly not what I have personally experienced.”

Abiene’s eyes glistened with unshed tears. She looked utterly lost. “I can’t rest. I can’t forget what I saw.” She shook her head. “I don’t even know if I saw it! To think that you…”

“That is not what happens to me. His… feeding is an affront to Arkay and all that I believe in, but it is reparable. Abiene. Whatever has occurred, you must face it. I will stand by you. Do not add my troubles to yours.”

She nodded, lifting her chin and blinking her eyes to clear them.

Then she managed a smile. “That roast smells delicious. Will you share a plate with me?”

A struggle nearby brought them both their feet.

“Kayla!” Abiene cried out in surprise. Then she suddenly sounded furious. “Leave her alone, you ruffian!”

Darnand glanced around to see if the Nord had any friends about to come to his aid. Kayla was tall but not heavy. The Nord would shrug her off easily once he regained leverage.

Darnand readied a spell to paralyze him as soon as Kayla dismounted. If he used it now they would both be affected.

The Nord was on his belly spitting dirt and blood. Abiene dropped to her knees and took his big face in her hands. “There’s no need for such a fuss,” she told him. Her voice sounded like cool water. “See, doesn’t that feel better? You seemed to have fallen down. Don’t worry, it happens.”

She glanced up at Kayla, eyes a little wild.

She cast that spell I made for her, Darnand realized. Charm and Calm together. Abiene called the spell ‘Brawl Breaker.’ He privately titled it ‘Jackass.’ He had used it on Jerric more than once.

Sethyas saw a large Nord apparently getting ready to manhandle the birthday Altmer, and was quick to rise and unsheathe his dagger.

Serene's eyes followed him as he got up, wondering where he was going so quickly, only to follow up with seeing to where he was headed.

A man attacking a woman, shameful. No wonder he's going crazy. She knew that over-protective aspect of him all too well. While she herself was fortunate enough to not have seen the lengths he would go to when pushed, she had heard the stories.

Abiene and her friend seemed to get the situation under control quickly, and he sheathed his weapon. No need to add further to his crimes here, or to spill blood at an innocent festival.

We're all just here to drink and celebrate... He chided himself.

He returned the sudden glance of Abiene with a nod, and walked over to them.

"Everything all right here?" He asked, staring at the Nord.

Kayla looked from Sethyas, to Abiene, to Darnand, her eyes still wild. She relaxed as the Nord did, knowing that whatever Abiene did to him, he wouldn't try to buck her off like an untamed horse. She reluctantly released him, untwisting his arm from behind his back and standing up and slipping through the crowd, embarrassed again.

She crossed her arms and ducked her head, her face red as she tried to shrink to the height of the Imperials and Bretons she was pushing through. Her vision was blurred as hot tears streamed down her face.

You're a grown woman. Stop crying.

Her eyes disobeyed her as the droplets stained her shirt. She walked away from the festival, away from the people, further from the inn towards the woods.

Abiene

Abiene stood, brushing off her skirt. Thankfully Darnand had not summoned his daedroth when the Nord got rough with Kayla. She had heard enough stories about his disobedient summonings to not want to ever see one in action.

A Nord woman shouldered through the crowd. She glared at the dark-haired man as Kayla climbed off of him. Her face wore the universal expression, ‘You are a dead man.’

Sethyas had appeared. Abiene realized her eyes had sought him out in her panic. Now she gave him a look of rueful appreciation.

“Everything all right here?” Sethyas asked, looking at the Nord.

Abiene took a quick breath as Kayla ducked away through the crowd. Her head and shoulders remained visible despite her efforts to disappear.

“May I present Darnand Penoit?” she said to Seth. “Darnand is a dear friend. I was just telling him how you helped me.” She turned to Darnand. “This is Sethyas Velas, the Alchemist whose potion brought me back to health.”

Both men’s eyes were still on the Nord couple. Abiene bit the corner of her lip. Kayla appeared to be heading for the woods.

“I am pleased to make your acquaintance,” Darnand said to Seth. “You have my eternal gratitude. If ever you need a mage at your side, I would be honored to assist you.”

You might get your chance right now, thought Abiene. The Nord was on his feet. It was obvious that he had lost some teeth. His woman might haul him away first, but when her spell wore off he would not be happy.

Sethyas nodded and smiled to Darnand and offered a hand in the Cyrod fashion.

"It was nothing outside the realm of my expertise." He replied to his gracious offer. "What kind of person would not offer their assistance if one's life was on the line? Especially if all it was boiled down to boiling a few ingredients in a pot?" He smiled at Abiene.

"If anything the favor was returned when they made some of Maxical's coffee, we're even and then some: that coffee was fantastic."

The Nord had his significant other show up and give the requisite cold stare he'd suffered himself from Serene on more than one occasion.

When they took off and the man turned around for one last look Sethyas threw in a look of his own to him.

Try me.

Serene rose just enough to see where Seth was heading, of course he wanted to be of some help..as always she yhought with a faint smile.

She decided to head over to the table where the Breton couple were sitting, apparently Seth knew them and she thought it would be appropriate to introduce herself.

When walking over she noticed the tall Altmer woman, the one who was attacked and skillfully wrestled down the Nord-brute, rapidly walk away

Serene stopped...she could feel the woman's distress, something was not completely ok with her

A name popped up in her mind..."Kayla..." She was susceptible...she had to be Serene could feel her distress so closely.

Instead of walking over to the table as intended she ran after the Altmer...

Kayla! wait...I want to talk to you! she sent trying to reach her mind

"Kayla!!!"

The nobleman shook the hand of a property-owner of the nearby farms. Once more, quicker than anticipated, the deal was nearly complete.

“Are you ready to make coin, Lord Draken?”

“Rather than be a casualty of it,” the undead man told him.

The gentleman grunted in amusement. “Well said, young sir. Needless to say, many are counting on you. You have done great things in the past.”

Draken smiled. “Better many than all, because you know we cannot please everyone,” he tapped the old man on the shoulder and politely excused himself. "I'd sooner burden you when we're more sober. Enjoy the festival, my friend."

He felt at home in the tavern, where entertainment was usually costly and life was cheap. He mingled with the crowd but with grace and proper etiquette, unwilling to be swayed by the effects of the drinks. His height alone was enough to draw attention, and his clothes and of course his face that might have been familiar to many. Getting imbibed was not part of his plan.

After extensive hunting, seduction and invitations to his personal abode Draken was lured by the sound of music rather than the blunt suggestions of women.

The instrument playing was the violin and the harp, and he did notice the Altmer group take place earlier but this song was too familiar to him. He only knew one person who played it flawlessly.

Irvana.

He turned to see the woman at the center, drawing sleepy and curious eyes from the tavern. There was admiration there, secret applauds, and of course the lingering gazes of lecherous men.

Draken averted his attention from Irvana and back into the crowd. In the short distance he spotted a woman whom he’d expected to be gone by now. Kayla.

Perhaps I will . . .

Draken saw the sight unfold before him. A commonly large person of the north, too drunk to make sense of the repercussions of his actions, felt the dying need to touch the breast of a woman. A woman who he has seen fight before.

My, aside from being doomed to stand as Meridia's eternal walking lamp she is she cursed to fight men all her life, as well?

As expected, Kayla retaliated and it resulted in the overfed man on the floor coughing dust with blood on his lips. Served him right. Any fool who doesn’t know how to properly handle a female deserves every bit of a woman’s retribution. Any son of Molag Bal knows he either dominates her mind with seduction . . . or simply gets her from behind. Both, perhaps, is either acceptable.

Draken took a step forward but held it there as he saw another woman and her Breton companion help Kayla. The woman knelt to the injured man and muttered a few words, and the man was utterly calm.

Clever, he thought. She used a charm spell.

Any Nordic brute too bold to make two advances on a woman and to make a show of unsheathing his blade would be brave enough to continue to seek bloodshed out of frustration of a rejected [censored]. But he was allayed by the Breton’s powers.

And Kayla . . . well Kayla fled from the scene and even brushed past him with tears moistening her eyes, unwilling to confront anyone in that moment.

Beneath all of that womanly bravado lies a fragile heart . . .
From his brief time with her in those caverns she tried to save his life more times than he deserved all the while he was writing plans for her death in the parchments of his mind.

The man got to his feet and turned to leave but offered the Dunmer one last glance, a threatening one. Almost as if the spell was somehow diminished. Draken took the cue and headed toward him.

Cold fingers bedecked with ancient rings touched his shoulder, and the man nearly jumped from the touch. “Excuse me, good sir,” Draken said politely as he walked past the man and blocked his view from the Dunmer, breaking any attempts for a rage-induced brawl.

The man left for now, and Draken seized the opportunity to approach the group that was acquainted with Meridia’s champion. Draken’s mask smiled to the Breton woman.

“This may seem out of place but I wanted to personally let you know that I found what you did a brave and noble thing. It is a pity that most other taverns would erupt in violence if such similar situation transpired but you prevented that.”

To ease the abrupt approach, Draken let himself chuckle lightly. “I’m afraid I’ve been around too many taverns and each new experience yields the same results; bloody noses, cracked lips, blackened eyes and so forth.”

Kayla's vision was blurred with tears, so she took a moment to halt her running and wipe her eyes with the collar of her shirt.

Kayla...

She looked around and saw she had reached the edge of the wood.

Kayla! I want to talk to you!

Kayla whipped her head around, confused. She turned to see a few people milling about, but no one else seemed to have heard the call. She turned to see a beautiful Imperial woman jogging towards her. The warmth of the air made her running a bit more strenuous, her dark hair sticking to her forehead with sweat. Kayla wiped the moisture from her eyes and forehead, then onto her pants. she waited for the Imperial woman to reach her.

The Altmer woman slowed down and stopped at last...Serene approached her, panting from exhaustion(sp?), she stood a few seconds to catch her breath..

"I'm Serene Catraso-Velas, you have already met my husband Sethyas I presume?" She continued; "You're Kayla, right? I apologise for approaching you like this but I got this feeling you maybe need some help or something?, I saw the assault on you and....well I'm a Mage and...and I can ..sort of...sometimes know what people are thinking"

"I hope you're not offended..." Serene stopped talking, hoping the young woman would understand....

"wonder if Seth has told anyone he's married to a mind reader"

Kayla stared at Serene for a brief moment. She chewed her lower lip in thought while studying the Imperial woman's face. She saw no treachery or anything to make her distrust her.

But she can read minds. What type of magick is that? She thought to herself in Nordic. Can she understand Nordic? Does it matter? Does that translate over? Stop being silly and ask.

"I-"

She clamped her mouth shut, still giving the woman an odd look. "You're Sethyas' wife? You're lucky. He's attractive for a Dunmer." She turned red and covered her face. "Not that Dunmer are unnattractive, just they're not my type. Not that Sethyas would be my type-" She sighed and shook her head, giving the woman a helpless look.

"I seem to always have my boot in my mouth. It's like I can't stop myself from saying stupid things. I'm sorry."

Serene smiled
"You're not saying stupid things! gah Here I burst in on you, probably scaring the shit out of you by telling you i can read minds!..But all I want is to be of assistance to you, if you let me"

"oh and Dunmers have always stolen my heart, Sethyas is the second dumner I've married"


" oh and I do understand Nordic,..."

Abiene

Abiene looked for Kayla as Sethyas and Darnand spoke. The Imperial woman she assumed was Seth’s wife had taken off at a run after her.

Perhaps they are already acquainted. She decided not to interfere.

Sethyas guided the talk away from the assistance he had provided. Darnand followed his lead though he was no doubt choking on his questions. Abiene smiled at both of them. She had known she could trust Darnand’s discretion.

A good-looking Imperial man approached them. Very good-looking she amended as he drew near. “This may seem out of place but I wanted to personally let you know that I found what you did a brave and noble thing,” he said to Abiene. “It is a pity that most other taverns would erupt in violence if such similar situation transpired but you prevented that.” He continued, speaking of the injuries that one often witnessed in taverns.

Abiene returned his smile. “It’s such a glorious day for a festival, I should hate to interrupt the celebration for bloodshed.” She nodded at the wrestling pit where an unknown number of brawlers were engaged in mangling one another. “Apart from the violence that’s agreed upon, of course.”

She hesitated. The man’s clothing was among the finest at the gathering, and his manner and jewelry suggested he held some rank in Cyrodiil’s nobility. It would be presumptuous for her to introduce herself even though he had approached informally.

Darnand raised a brow at her. Abiene realized she had not acknowledged the man’s compliment.

“Thank you,” she said to him. “What a lovely thing for you to say.” She included Sethyas and Darnand in her smile. “It is easier to act boldly when one has the support of friends.”

Kayla's tight-lipped expression suddenly turned sunny. "You do?" She asked in Nordic. "It's so hard to find someone who isn't from Skyrim to understand Nordic!" She walked closer and firmly grasped the shorter woman's hands in a friendly manner, still smiling, white teeth showing.

"I'm just startled, not scared. I knew a man in the College of Winterhold who could...well, the closest he got to what you can do is make people think thy were hearing voices. Is this a natural gift or a spell? How long have you been able to do this?" She squeezed the woman's hands a bit tighter, then let go.

"I'm sorry. Tell me to shut up if I'm being nosy."

Irvana finished her song with majestic grace and bowed to the assembly of people. There was a thunderous applause from those near her that did not compare to the earlier conclusion of the last song.

The altmer troubadours themselves received a bit of gratuitous sums from the people because of the last performance. Irvana truly did not believe it was that extravagant. Her playing was as simple as she could be. No true effort was put into it and yet it was something of interest that turned heads away from a small brawl of Nordic men fighting each other playfully.

Irvana handed the man’s violin with a smile and thanked him. For a moment they exchanged information. Even others whom she had not met came to greet her.

“I must say! Impressive work of music. Where have you learned this?”

Irvana regarded all of those around her with a charming grin. “My mother used to play the violin in High Rock and the Summerset Isles, many years ago. I learned everything I could from her.”

“You’re mother was a talented woman and blessed to have such a skilled daughter. Would you be willing to play in the tavern at Skingrad?”

“I’m afraid you mistake me for a bard, good sir.”

One of the altmers studied her from head to toe, not seduced to her lustfully yet but out of intrigued curiosity. His eyes began looking at the black ring in her finger with the family insignia. “You’re not just any noblewoman,” he said almost gasping. “You’re - -“

“Yes,” she said. “I am Irvana.”

One of the high elves nodded. “I had a feeling I had seen you from somewhere. The Imperial City. You were part of that play at the Elven Gardens District: A Hypothetical Treachery. You played the part of Inzoliah!”

“Yes. That was me.”

“Never have I seen a human woman play the role of a dark elf so well. And now you surprise me against with the violin.”

The human man among the mer appraised her openly, and then arched an eyebrow. His tone changed from admiration to something more. “You come from a privileged family. You should truly be proud. You’re line has accomplished so much. You yourself has funded many of the chapels in Cyrodiil and helped the beggars of the Imperial City. All one-hundred and seven of them! I nearly wept when I read the Black Horse Courier. My oldest sister often told me of you all this time and I never imagined I would meet you, here of all places. I am inclined to believe you may be the only woman with relation to the High Council that may be able to make a positive difference.”

“You do me too much honor.”

Irvana turned to answer the question of a woman that came along, only to notice the same man looking at her more than required. Irvana turned to him, wondering if her own gaze might help the man realize his social behavior.

“Excuse me for staring my lady, but the descriptions and accomplishments said of you led me to expect someone much older.”

So it wasn’t just the bug musk.

“I disguise myself well. My age, that is.”

“Either way,” he added. “A talent required by your position.”

“An ignoble truth, good sir. But I strive to remain faithful to my conscience.”

“Hold tight to that, young lady, dabbling in politics will surely test your resolve.”

Don’t I know that?

With a spark in her eye, she answered. “And I am inspired to face whatever circumstances of the field throw at me.”

“Just a curiosity. Why here, my lady, of all places to stride about? Most nobles wouldn’t give a single concern of walking among the lower-class citizens.”

“I believe we’re all people and that I shouldn’t allow my title to inflate my head to the clouds. Sometimes it the less privileged people who often need more attention. I am here to enjoy new customs, that is all. And to meet the wonderful people the festival brings.”

“Well, as I’ve said, I admire you. It isn’t wise to proclaim your true station, though. There are people in the world looking to harm those who do not deserve it.

This she knows, too. All too well.

"My lips are sealed. I make great efforts to protect myself."

"From the bottom of my heart, I hope you do. Be safe out there, my lady. And may the gods bless you."

“Gratitude.”

Irvana was conjuring words to excuse herself to the others when the same brown-haired horse-seller came to her once more. Unlike the others, this one’s desires was heavy with lust. She could see it in his eyes.

Oh . . . how should I deal with this?

****

Draken nodded in partial agreement to her words and acknlowged the two men around her with a gracious nod. “Indeed. Society can be a difficult place to endure, but friends make it worth it.”

He cleared his throat. “Pardon my manners. I have not properly introduced myself: I am Draken Decumus.” He extended a hand toward her. “And who might you be?”

He wasn’t entirely sure if the telvanni bug musk was working its properties, but he could detect the smell of it lingering nearby, changed by the body scent of another. The Breton man’s favorite bits seemed to be a bit . . . extended, but Draken hid the fact that he noticed this. Not to mention the increased rate of blood flow in his body as well.

That merchant has been running rampant with his wares, has he not?

With his hand out in waiting, Draken's eyes in that same customary almost cold stare, picked up the woman's features. The brown hair, the eyes . . . something seemed familiar. She bore resemblance to a social climber in the Leyawiin court sometime ago when he was tasked with keeping eyes on the border of Black Marsh and conflicts with the Whet-Fang Sodality. He was given opportunity to meet many important figures of the region, such as the Metonne family. Though holding no rank they were well-known and respected. This woman looked just like a certain woman who'd met of that family, but one with less signs of age upon her skin.

Not only that, she also seemed to share in likeness to a young woman named Sidette, which he had to confess to himself was more desirable. Sidette, like her mother madame Metonne, was involved with society just as he was.

Hmm, can it be that this is her other daughter?

"You wouldn't have any relations to Madame Metonne, would you?"

Abiene

Decumus. Abiene had heard the name before though she couldn’t place it. As handsome as he was, she would have remembered meeting him. Especially those eyes.

“You wouldn't have any relations to Madame Metonne, would you?” Draken asked.

Abiene didn’t try to contain her surprise. “Why yes, she’s my mother. My goodness, do you know her? How did you meet? Forgive me, I’m Abiene.”

She took the hand Draken had extended. It felt cold on hers, as if he had just set down a goblet of chilled wine.

“Abiene.” Draken’s words came out smooth as silk and sweet as honey. He brought her warm hand to his lips and kissed it. He released it gently and saw the surprise in her eyes upon discovering the fact about him and her mother. “I am pleased to make your acquaintance.”

He knew she was related. Their appearance was so close that there was no other explanation to it.

“We’ve met on seperate occasions, yes,” he told her. “I met her and a few other aristocrats at Castle Leyawiin sometime ago in both dinner and certain affairs. Ambitious woman, you’re mother. I have seen your sister just about everywhere there, quite the social one. I truly did not expect to meet a Metinne here.”

She looked at the Breton and the Dunmer, and then right back to Abiene. “Might you introduce me to your friends, here? I trust these are the ones who emboldened you to take your stand against possible violence, if so I must also congratulate them as well.”

His hand extended to them, too. It would be disrespectful to exclude a woman’s company in the conversation.

Aravi toweled herself off, relieved to be rid of the bug musk that caused so much trouble. I will never wear it again!

She brushed her fur so that it would lay flat and then dug into her pack for something more suitable for a festival than the traveling armor she wore previously. She reflected that it was fortunate she delayed changing, else her nice dress would be ruined. Leather armor was relatively easy to replace. A dress tailored to suit a Khajiit was more difficult to get. It was a deep green, and made of velvet. The sleeves were sheer and it was trimmed with lace. As usual, she wore no shoes. She left her weapons behind.

She set out from the inn at a much more sedate pace than she entered it. I need to find Darnand and Abiene and explain what happened.

She made her way to the table she last saw her friends at. On the way, she spotted a table selling wine, and on a whim, turned towards it. She wasn’t knowledgeable of wines and simply selected a white that was relatively expensive. Hopefully this will be sufficient replace the one lost while Darnand was… fumbling. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, and let it out slowly.

When she made it to the table, she was relieved to see her friends still there. Sethyas is with them, and who is this? A well-dressed Imperial was with them as well.

Aravi approached cautiously, “May I join you?”

Abiene

Draken’s mouth on her hand sent a shiver straight through her. He’s so tall for an Imperial, she noticed. His hair looks so silky… She felt a flush warming her cheeks. And elsewhere.

Of course he remembers Sidette. Abiene immediately felt guilty at the trace of sourness that often accompanied thoughts of her beautiful and vivacious younger sister.

“I’m afraid I don’t share my mother’s interest in Leyawiin society,” Abiene confessed. “Nor Sidette’s. Like my papa I’m more concerned with my own occupation.” She laughed. “Ambitious, that’s one way of putting it.”

Abiene turned and introduced Darnand and Sethyas. She saw Aravi as the men were shaking hands.

“May I join you?” Aravi asked.

“Oh, Aravi, you look beautiful,” Abiene murmured, low enough so as not to draw the men’s attention. Her friend wore a velvet dress that set off her slender build and lovely coloring, even bringing out the green of her eyes. “We must keep an eye out for Jerric’s return. I should hate to see you soaked in whatever horrendous mess he has surely coated himself in by now.”

At the appropriate moment she gestured to Draken. “May I present my friend, Aravi? Aravi, this is Draken Decumus. We have only just met.”

“Thank you,” Aravi whispered to Abiene. “I’m sorry about earlier and I’ll explain later.”

She set her burden on the table. Her hands were wet from the sweaty bottle, and she quickly wiped her hands together to dry them.

She was introduced to the Imperial. Draken Decumus.

“Good to meet you,” Aravi said. She found it difficult to take her eyes from him; something drew her attention like a moth to a lantern. He's tall, like Kharjo, Aravi noted. She felt like his eyes were drawing her in.

Draken held her gaze as she spoke about her personal differences. She wasn't ambitious as her mother, or a social creature to the degree of her sister. Her focus was to her own occupation. What was that? An illusionist? A healer, perhaps?

"To each their own," he said. "We would live in inspid times if each of us held the same interests."

The four-century nosferatu was going to press for more information on the woman and her companions when another woman entered his line of sight.

The woman was a lithe fur-dotted khajiit garbed in a green dress, she also had a painfully obvious scar by her cheek that no doubt came from battle. Like Abiene, she did not seem to take her eyes off of him for the passing seconds.

Draken often had a habit of thinking how one might taste. Each race had their own distinct flavor, most khajiits he'd fed on had a sweet taste, almost as if their blood were mixed with sugar. There was a small comparison to rats, vermin he had to survive when boarding ships to other provinces.

He looked down on Aravi, and reached out to shake her hand as he did Abiene. "A pleasure, Aravi."

He studied her green clothes and nodded in approval. "My, you look fabulous in that dress!"

Bringing his wine cup to his mouth, he took a sip from the blood-red liquid and allowed it to give flavor to his tongue before swallowing it down. "You mentioned concerns with your own occupation. What might that me?" he asked Abiene, and then looked to Aravi as well to show he was also quite interested in what she did for a living.

Serene, talking to Kayla

She's beautiful....she has marks of life in her face, Oh I like her...really

"Well" Serene answered in Nordic "I wouldn't call mind reading a spell..it's rather a gift, and I'm sure I got that from my nordic ancestors on my mother's side, I think I always have been able to read minds.

Serene squeezed the tall woman's hand

"Now i can shut it off, some doesn't like me poking around in their heads, Sethyas for example, he used to get totally furious with me, so I had to teach him to block me"

"Gah, now I'm ranting, I felt some uneasy waves emanate from you, and I would very much like to help ...that is if you'd let me. Or I can be your friend,... If you need protection Sethyas and i will be there for you"

Serene looked her straight in the eyes.....

Kayla smiled genuinely at the woman and grasped her shoulder gently. "I'm not in any danger, I just get embarrassed. I can defend myself pretty well, even without a sword. I didn't mean to cause a fight, and ruin the party."

She sighed and looked back at the party, untouched by her inner hysteria. "Maybe we should get back. I'll walk with you."

Serene nodded, she couldn't exactly figure out what the problem was but she was happy to walk back with Kayla...maybe it wasn't such a big deal....but still!

She's good at this....

"Ok then let's walk back" Serene smiled, Sethyas already knew this woman, maybe he's better suited to help her

"Damn it, I hope she will be my friend" Serene thought....in Nordic

Abiene

“I’m a healer at the Chapel of Stendarr,” Abiene said, nodding toward Chorrol. “I’m here at the festival to celebrate Harvest’s End, though, not on business.” She lifted her goblet with a smile. “I certainly hope it stays that way.”

Draken’s manner put her at ease, but Abiene didn’t want to monopolize the conversation or bore everyone with healer’s talk. She took a sip of wine and glanced at Aravi.

Kayla navigated through the brush off the beaten path with Serene, a small smile on her face at the meeting of a new friend. Once their footwear hit the gravel of the path she spoke to Serene in Nordic.

"So, you're Nordic on your Ma's side? Ever been to Skyrim?"

Aravi shook Draken’s hand, and she was struck by how cold it was. Something in the back of her mind took note and decided that there was something wrong.

But then the alarm she felt faded away as he spoke. “A pleasure, Aravi.”

“Likewise,” she replied.

Then he complimented her dress and she felt her cheeks heat up. Had she been of another race, a blush would have been visible. “Thank you!” she managed to say without stammering.

What is wrong with me?

Before she could compliment the gold trimmed finery he wore, he asked another question.

Aravi waited while Abiene answered and then provided her own.

“I am a vampire hunter. I used to work for a small order that based itself in the Imperial City. Now I live in Skyrim.”

She didn’t mention that she was almost turned into a vampire herself and that’s what prompted her relocation. She still occasionally had the nightmares. The wolf keeps those away for the most part, but then it brings its own problems into the mix, doesn’t it? She still had doubts that she made the right decision, to accept one curse to be rid of another.

Serene smiled and answered also in Nordic:

"Kayla my dear I live in Skyrim, or rather Seth and I do, we live in Markarth. Actually I kinda felt like coming home when we moved there"

Serene went silent for a short while, she wasn't quite sure how to explain to Kayla the fact that she actually wasn't completely sure about her maternal heritage, it was just some features that she had that those who know had told her she has to have nordic blood in her veins. And as she very well knew, her fathers bloodline was solely imperial warriors.

Her amethyst blue eyes were the most obvious thing that was unusual about her....

"You live in Markarth? I live in Whiterun." Kayla said, grinning at Serene. She saw the odd expression on the shorter woman's face and pursed her lips. "I was raised by Nord parents after my own Altmer ones abandoned me. No one knows what happened to them." She sighed. "I don't even consider myself an Altmer, just a very tall, thin Nord." She covered her mouth and barked a small laugh.

Serene laughed, "A very tall thin Nord! oh aye you certainly are, but you are strong and fit like a Nord and you aquired much of the straight honesty that Nords have...ehh btw you drink Mead right? I love it, and that must be proof of my nordic blood ...I hope!"

The two women had now come back to the others, Serene took Kaylas hand and headed for the bar

"you think they have Mead?" she asked smiling

In the corner of her eye she spotted Sethyas, giving her that "look"

"come on silly assassin, join us for Nirn's sake, and yes I'm poking around in your head right now"

Kayla followed Serene to the bar, thankful that her face wasn't red anymore. They had their attention on someone. Kayla followed their gaze.

Drathen!

She wanted to leap up and hug him, or slap him, or something, but her concern seemed out of place somehow.

I thought he was crushed beneath the cave-in. The guards must have found him.

She shot him a wide grin and waved. He saw his gaze flicker to her, yet there was something different about it.

He doesn't recognize me.

I DO have all of my clothes on this time...

Serene noticed Kaylas reaction on a very good looking imperial man, she raised her eyebrows..

Hmm those two have a history...I wonder..


Then she decided to just sit calm and see what's going to happen.

"can I have a mug of Mead please" she asked the barkeep

“I’m here at the festival to celebrate Harvest’s End, though, not on business.” With a smile, she lifted her cup. “I certainly hope it stays that way.”

Draken's lips widened to a grin. "My dear Abiene, if you continue to prevent violence rest assured it will be so."

Aravi seemed flattered by his comment. As she should be. If he saw clothes he liked, he would make no effort to conceal his true opinion. He didn't think much of the woman, not until she revealed her life's work.

Vampire hunter.

Draken would have frowned at the two words but centuries of discipline and previous encounters with these people only created a genuine smile. Though loathsome as these mortal murderers may be, Draken and his elite kin could not deny the usefulness of these people and he would be a hypocrite not to admit he was also a seperate breed of vampire hunter, too. He's hunted his own lesser barbaric kin for the safety of his people's identities and of course to prevent food shortage. Like them, he wanted what is best for those who deserve it.

There was a popular saying for any vampire of the clan. Want your enemy dead? Put a two-bladed sword in his hands. Want to rid yourself of your enemy? Outlive them. Why raise a finger against them when they can be the instruments of their own downfall? Or be victims of the real enemy; time.

The small order Aravi mentioned stationed in the Imperial City could've only been the Order of the Virtuous Blood, a vampire hunting faction who he has funded before with coin for weapons to fight off vampires. Numerous occasions had he also fed them information on rumored locations of vampires in the Imperial City sewers and other places, though the faction itself were commited to rooting out the undead blood-drinkings in the city.

Amateurs, at best, failing to detect Jakben Earl of Imbel and his nest of broodlings, or Seridur, a vampire hiding in plain sight. It was tragic as it was humorous.

Draken had nothing to fear only because wasn't the same blood of those wailing monsters dwellling in caverns. With that reality, he could put the vampire hunter's anger and hatred for his kind to his and the Order's benefit by using them to hunt rivals or baser creatures who taint the name.

These hunters never realize that a vampire can manipulate them into hunting other vampires . . .

He regarded Aravi with a less warm look and more of a icy stare. "A vampire hunter. I'm a bit of an expert on the subject of vampirism myself."

He cleared his throat. "The Order of the Virtuous Blood," Draken said to her. "If I am not mistaken, of course. I funded the organization to further aid them in their crusade against the vampire menace. Truly an honor to meet one member who yet holds her work to heart. The vampires in the north are no jest, of course."

This was true, but they weren't the only ones with pureblood running through their veins. He, too, was descendant of Lamae, and given the gift by Molag Bal himself. He'd paid the heavy price just to acquire such eternal blessing.

The Imperial lowered his wine cup and saw in the reflection someone in the backround waving at his direction. He turned, brow raised, lips curled. It was Kayla. She's returned, free of evidence of her mawkish behavior.

If that creature so much as has Dawnbreaker by her side, I'll send Meridia my regards.

Draken did not wave but after awhile he did smile at her with an inviting smile, one sprinkled with shock and pleasant surprise.

Was it, that she and Aravi were acquainted already? Two vampire hunters in a single area? This could be both dangerous and useful, as they could eliminate the infected brethren all about the caverns. He didn't doubt they would've been used to kill other vampires already . . .

With the other half of the Order present.

"My applaud goes to both of you, for such work makes this world more tolerable." He sighed, and looked at Kayla. "My, there is Kayla!"

He did recognize me. I guess it wasn't that dark after all. She waved at him, then grabbed a mead like Serene. She sippsed it, the chilled, honey-sweet liquid cooling her throat.

Ahhh.

She walked over to Drathen with Serene in tow.

He was with me in the caverns of Hackdirt, she told Serene in her head. The innkeeper forced us to share a room, them had us dragged below where we were to be sacrificed to soe sort of underground god. i thought he was crushed beneath the cave-in, but he escaped somehow. He can't fight at all. She briefly allowed the scene where she was being gutted by the Brethren play in her head and he just watched with his icy stare. He was in shock. Useless in a fight.

She smiled at him and gave him a brief squeeze on his shoulder. "I'm glad to see you made it out alive! I thought you'd died!" Her eyes showed true concern as she looked at him. She realized they were eye level.

"How did you escape? I asked the guards to go back and look for you, but..." she shook her head. "No one's told me anything."

Sethyas did not like people he liked immediately.

The features, clothes and mannerisms of the Imperial were impressive, and he suspected that his baser instincts were being manipulated towards social attraction. Perhaps some of the Telvanni bug musk that Thals had been selling.

Sethyas was also no one's fool. He read body languages as keenly as one's words. He made his choice on how to deal with people based upon his observations, rarely upon instinct. Everything about Draken Decimus spoke of high-breeding and constant refinement to achieve elegance in everything from speech to a simple gesture of a hand.

It was those hands that began to rile his suspicions. There were always tell-tale signs in any mortals hands. The ever so-slight tremble that was involuntary. Draken did not seem to have it. Indeed, his movements seemed to be as rigid as they were fluid, like a fulcrum.

The light of day was plain, so he threw out his suspicion of Vampirism. He'd never heard of a strain that could walk in the day without a great deal of pain and smoke. In fact, he'd killed his fair share in Morrowind, and they had three clans that constantly fought for dominance. The Quarra, Berne and Aundae Clans, each specializing in steel, shadow and spell, respectively. Despite this, he was no vampire hunter.

Rather, he must be a mage. Very old. Much older than the pretense he'd put up. Likely dabbled in Necromancy a bit. If the Telvanni Mage-Lords could live several millenia, there was no reason to suspect that an Imperial would not have also learned some craft of a similar; if not identical nature.

His observance of Abienne's and Aravi's reactions to him furthered his suspicions of the man. No one spoke and moved the way he did without a lifetime of practice. A certain swagger that men just didn't have until they reached a certain age, or level of experience.

Kayla and Serene walked past and his wife sent him a telepathic message.

Come join us you silly Assassin.

He gave her a look that was a mixture of annoyance and concern.

There is no reason to feel unsafe...but Draken reminds me of a wolf among sheep. He thought in private.

I didn't just go through the last two days to see more victims.

Sethyas stepped forward and offered his hand to Draken.

"Forgive me, Sera. Sethyas Velas, Alchemist. The wife and I are visiting old climes down here from Skyrim."

Abiene

While Aravi and Draken spoke about their common interest, Abiene took a moment to situate herself. Darnand wordlessly took her goblet while she fiddled. The incident earlier had brought pickpockets back to mind. It would not do to have Jerric’s jewelry stolen while in her keeping. She slipped his ring onto her thumb and dropped the necklace over her head. The claw pendant fell between her breasts. She tucked it under her gown.

Darnand’s face wore the polite mask that told her part of his mind had wandered away. He was rarely a willing participant in large social gatherings. It was a testament to his friendship that he had lasted this long without a strategic withdrawal to the library. I’m sure he’s pleased to see Kayla and Aravi, she thought.

Seth’s expression was similar, but she suspected he was engaged in their surroundings rather than some internal landscape. Just as she couldn’t help mentally diagnosing the possible afflictions of passersby, she imagined that he didn’t stop watching for danger just because he was at a party.

When Darnand handed back her wine his fingers brushed against hers in silent camaraderie. His quiet smile brought lines to the corners of his eyes. How I’ve missed you, she thought, smiling back at him.

Kayla approached the mead table with the Imperial woman at her side. Up close she was even more beautiful, dark-haired with unusual eyes that looked like amethysts. She exchanged a look with Sethyas.

Abiene glanced away into her goblet, then quickly back up as things suddenly got more interesting.

"A vampire hunter. I'm a bit of an expert on the subject of vampirism myself," Draken began. He cleared his throat and continued about The Order of Virtuous Blood. He then spotted Kayla and commended both of them.

An expert he says? I wonder what he does? She would have liked to ask, but the window of opportunity closed when Kayla appeared and spoke to him.

He was involved with the Order? She looked at him in a new light. They attracted his type, she admitted to herself. While she was away doing the bloody work, the “experts” sat inside their lavishly appointed estates and did… What? She never really knew what they did. She never observed them doing anything more important than drinking and gossiping, and yet they always seemed to know where a scourge of vampires had set up. Not one of her assignments had turned up dry. Always blood.

And yet they had all been clueless about vampires. She learned more on her own than she found from them. You could learn what they knew from anyone on the street. They had been wrong on nearly everything that wasn’t already common knowledge, except where to find them.

She began paying attention again, and learned that Kayla already met him. When Kayla was done speaking, Aravi gave her a smile and a wave. Aravi didn’t want to interrupt.

Sethyas introduced himself and Aravi mentally smacked herself. I didn’t even notice him! So absorbed she was in this… handsome Imperial.

She stepped back from Draken as he had lots of people demanding his attention. She stepped over to Abiene and Darnand. She gestured to an adjacent table, close that they could participate in the unfolding conversation if they wanted to, but far enough to afford a small amount of privacy. She whispered to them, “Care to join me there?”

Without waiting for their decision, she recovered her replacement bottle and sat, listening.

Draken was on the verge to shake the alchemist's hands to properly introduce himself to him when Kayla rushed in to speak with him.

"I'm glad to see you made it out alive! I thought you'd died! How did you escape? I asked the guards to go back and look for you, but..." head head shook. "No one's told me anything."

His eyes showed fear, perhaps a sign or something that might have been regret. Then, after a moment, they shifted bright to show joy and surprise. "I honestly believed you dead all this time. You had me worried." He said, and then replied to her question. "When the ceiling crumbled I was able to crawl my way to freedom through the caverns that led to a small cave just outside Fort Carmala. I warned the guards of what happened and told them you were there after I failed to find you." A chuckle came. "It would seem you escaped that dreadful place quicker than I have."

He touched her shoulder this time. "It matters not. We are both here, drinking and socializing, eager to put that dark mess behind us. I refuse to allow such thing to tramautize me."

He looked at Abiene, Darnard, Sethyas, Aravi and lastly Kayla again. "It has been splendid meeting you all, but I apologize for my haste. I must tend to something right now. If we could continue this conversation another time . . . I would be delighted. Farewell."

Draken said, and parted from the group.

Abiene excused herself from the group without interrupting Draken and Kayla, turning aside to Aravi. Her friend had apologized for the earlier incident and promised an explanation. From what Abiene had seen of Darnand’s hands all over her right before she fled, it was the Breton who owed the apology.

She gave Darnand a sharp look as he turned away with them. He looked miserable, caught between curiosity at Kayla’s announcement and the remembered humiliation of his earlier performance.

Abiene schooled her own expression. Listen first, she scolded herself. You have no claim on him and no grounds for judgment. Jealousy is not just cause for anger.

When the other two joined her, she saw that Draken was already leaving. She waved to him and then turned her attention to her companions.

Darnand looked miserable, and Aravi suddenly felt uncomfortable as well.

She spoke to both of them in a quiet tone so that others would not overhear. She did not wish for word to spread.

“Darnand’s behavior was my fault,” she began. “Kayla and I met Irvana at a trader’s stall. Do you remember the one we met with Sethyas?”

They nodded and she continued. “We went there to look at the armor he had mentioned, and while we were there, Irvana convinced us both to buy Telvanni bug musk.” She paused to let that sink in.

“I put some on; I didn’t remember the effects of it being so strong. I began to attract… attention from random people. I didn’t feel safe. I wasn’t thinking when I spotted Darnand and went to him.”

She turned to Darnand. “I’m sorry I put you in that situation. Can you forgive me?”

Then she gestured to the bottle of wine she had been carrying. “I brought this to replace the one that you spilled.” She didn’t really know what she had bought, except that it was white and fairly expensive.

Abiene

Telvanni bug musk? Abiene’s hand crept up to cover her open mouth. I wonder who else is wearing it?

“I,” said Darnand, “uh. Gods. Apologies!” He pinched the bridge of his nose. Then his eyes widened as he absorbed the rest of Aravi's meaning. “You sought me out when you felt unsafe? Aravi, I… deeply regret having fallen short of your trust, regardless of the circumstances.” He waved his hand in a vague gesture. “Please, let us forgive ourselves and one another and put it forever behind us. And I beg of you both by all we hold dear, let no word of this incident pass to the Nord.”

Abiene thought through the folk she had spoken with, trying to remember if any had seemed unnaturally attractive. Too many to consider, she though ruefully. Stress has gotten the better of me. Thankfully I managed not to lift up my skirt. She glanced toward the wrestling pit, a flush heating her neck. I wonder…

Darnand placed his parcel on the table and accepted the bottle from Aravi. His features were relaxed again in the expression that on other faces would be a broad smile. “An excellent choice, and much appreciated. I hope you will allow me to pour.”

Abiene seated herself at an angle that invited the others to join their company if they should wish.

“Shall we discuss our common goals?” Darnand said, handing out the goblets. “I have some gems to fill, and it occurs to me that a supply of Welkynd stones would also be welcome. You have the funds for the project you outlined,” he said to Abiene, “but not for the additional purchase of Welkynd stones.” He glanced over at Aravi. “Any ideas where we might go hunting?”

If there was anything that peeved Lycus to the bone, it was poor leadership and the lack of reverence for the hunt. True, there was no rule that stood against the act of bringing many men into a single hunting trip. Hircine himself hunts with his hounds in oblivion. But this?

This is ridiculous, Lycus thought as he eyed each and every of the ones eager to join. Three bosmeri archers, four Redguard spearmen, a hammer-wielding orc warrior, five men of the north, two Imperial mages and approximately ten simple folk. There was nothing against the men personally and only a few of them seemed capable enough to join the hunt with Khan and the giant Nord. But the rest . . . the number was bad enough.

Around twenty-five men . . . Piss on that. There's to many men for a single hunt in the Great Forest.

Hjalbir spoke out his thoughts before Lycus could, and the Imperial found himself agreeing with him on every front. He's right.

I will not lie," the Nord said to Khan. "Most of us seem well-suited for war rather than hunting prey."

Well-suited is something. Being capable is something else. These men wouldn't hit water if they fell out of a ship.

Though Lycus stood in agreement, the mages who the Nord spoke against seemed to think otherwise. One of them, obviously drunk by the way he moved and the glassy eyes that were to slow to move as a sober person would, began to brag about his magic powers, and summoned a fiery projectile that exploded from his hands and through the air, nearly burning Lycus' face if it had a few but a foot.

The heat and smoke that passed by his face was enough to tell him the danger he was just in.

"I, uh, sorry. I meant to aim it upwards," he said. "But I can surely burn the living blazes out of the game."

Lycus had enough. "You'd ruin the meat."

"Oi, what do you mean?"

"Plenty of ways to kill prey," Lycus said gruffly. "Plenty of ways to fell the animal before it can even realize what happened. You send one of your flaming spells, you'll burn the animal alive. Its fear and stress sours the flesh as its muscles tenses. You'll be feasting on gamy remains."

"Not my problem."

Lycus angled his spear. "It will be if you plan on ruining the sport for others."

The second mage chimed in. "What's your problem, Imperial?"

"The problem," Lycus began. "Is this lot for simple game. You think a deer won't sense your presence, mage?" He pointed at the four redguards. "And you four? That armor of yours will slow you down and will make your steps heavier. You'll frighten the animals." He turned to the others, specifically one of the imbibed Nordic men. "You smell of mead, too much of it. You can barely hold onto your own cup, let alone run a few paces before you'll eat dirt. You'd pass out in the middle of the hunt, alerting all potential prey to our location and even slowing us down."

"Bah, you think you're a good hunter, half-naked man?" one of the drunken mages asked. There was a deep challenge in his voice and though he wasn't completely overwhelmed by the beer, he was still affected by the alcohol. He still retained much of his conscious.

"I'll give you a heard start and you'll find out." Lycus managed to say in a threatening voice. His eyes flicked to the other men, the archers and the large group of lowborn. He didn't believe their lowly status meant they were terrible hunters, for he was a farmer and a peasant himself and yet every week he brought home game.

The problem lay in their incapability for responsiblity. They'd sooner poke their own eye out or injure another man than kill their quarry.

Khan, having issues with having his leadership challenged, stepped up to confront the Nord about making perfect sense.

"Do you not trust my judgement," he spoke with contempt, "sellsword?" "If you wish I can fight you right now, you uncultured rebel scum."

Lycus sighed in frustration, keeping his rage in check. First, he summons a pack of swine-herds and a mob of peasant sots and now what does he plan to do? Bring down a giant mercenary? Has he found his bravery after shedding tears a night ago?

What is he doing?

"What in sixteen hells has gotten into you?" Lycus seethed. "You want to spill blood here, is that it? Has the Legion fallen so low?"

He knew the answer to his latter question. Men of the Legion sometimes never held any honor and were more corrupt than thieves masquerading as heroes. He'd known this since before he was beaten by a group of them and stuffed into a ship to be sold in Morrowind, and days after when a group of former legion soldiers held him a mock trial for the justificable massacre of the Crimson Dinner and for crimes he did not commit such as the assault on a Dunmeri orphanage.

Despite the sour mood, he would still hunt, though without these men. He would not waste his time and devotion to a single trip with men who'd both pose a danger to others as well as ruin his own efforts.

Khan looked slowly away from Hjalbir, turning to Lycus. He walked toward the Imperial, his movements full of purpose. He calmly stepped in font of him and crossed his arms. He spoke in a voice that was almost a whisper, but his pupils were still dilated with rage. "I understand your taking issue with these men. You must understand, this was only a preliminary recruitment, I put a notice on the door and asked men to show up. Whether or not they shall qualify is another matter altogether. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have some business I wish to settle."

Khan walked back over to Hjalbir, threw down his helm and lance, and laid his hand on his sword hilt. "I"ll kill you here and now, if you wish. Shall we settle this like men, or are you going to correct me to death?"

Serene

Serene stayed in the background, letting Kayla reconcile with the Imperial. Seth actually did join, introducing himself to the stranger. She took one more step backwards.

There is no reason to feel unsafe...but Draken reminds me of a wolf among sheep Serene could hear Seth's thoughts, apparently he forgot to block his mind

So that's why I feel awkward in his company she thought and decided to test the man a little bit. Since noone introduced her she stepped forward;

"I'm Serene Catraso-Velas, mage and healer" she said.

The good looking man didn't take any notice of her..so she started to reach out for his mind, just a tiny subtle try to get in, normally her "victims" didn't ever notice her trials...so it should be safe.

Slowly she went into his mind.....and found NOTHING!! Just a grey mist...

Serene gasped and immediately stopped..

Something is wrong with this man

Then realization struck her....

Salyan

The day had been a good one, the festival that had roared and seethed with intoxicated joviality around the Wobbly Goblet, wrapping it in a boisterous swaddling, and for one of her trade, it had been perfect. Her performances, busking by stalls, playing her lyre and singing, had netted Salyan a bounty of coin and with her spoils in hand, she headed into the actual tavern itself. She had earned herself a good meal, she decided, and with that in mind, she decided not to head to the stage at the far end of the room just yet. She glanced at it, where a pair of Nords with flutes were making an attempt at The Gambol of Lord Kulvin, and shook her head. Amateurs, the pair of them, and they had the gall to play drunk, too.

She decided that showing them how to do it could wait, and headed to the Tavern's bar. It was busy, heaving with people, and she glanced at one of the Bills of Fare that had been pinned to a wall.

"Could I get the slaughterfish and the comberry wine, please?" she asked as soon as she was able to shoulder her way through the crowd, placing the coin she needed on the counter, a small portion of the day's spoils. In response, the drink was placed down almost immediately and the food slid across to her scant moments later from where hot plates were waiting fresh from the kitchen for the crowds. The breton behind the bar was gone already, tending to another customer amongst the horde, and Salyan blinked at the sheer speed of the service. "Erm, thank you?"

The inn was packed, the long tables filled with people, but she spotted a gap, next to a small gathering of an altmer, a khajiit, and two people who were either bretons or imperials; at the current distance it was impossible to tell for sure. Balancing her plate and wine goblet in one hand and carrying her lyre case, precious instrument tucked within, she made her way over to the small group.

"Hello there!" she smiled as she approached. She nodded to the small gap where she might sit. "Is anybody there right now? I can't find a seat in the house."

Kayla had slid into a seat next to Aravi and across from Darnand. She saw Serene slipping into the crowd, blending in easily. She bit her lower lip and frowned, then listened quietly as the others conversed.

"Any ideas where we might go hunting?" Darnand asked.

She wouldn't press for details. If they wanted her to come along, she figured they would ask. Anything she touched lately seemed to crumble beneath her fingers; the mission to Hackdirt, the bug musk, even the mission to the vampire caves where Vera drowned the thrall. She patted Aravi's hand and gave her a brief and friendly smile.

She listened to the details of the mission for a moment before a brown-haired girl came up. She indicated the spot next to Kayla and asked if there was anyone sitting there. Kayla smiled up at her and shook her head.

"No, please, go ahead and sit. Is that slaughterfish? It looks delicious." She took a drink of her mead and smiled at the girl again.