Chapter Five: Gold
Zenoya
I greatly misjudged the time it would take us to reach the border of Skyrim. Even with our support, Hirendor wasn't able to move fast at all. I personally didn't mind it too much, as it gave us ample opportunity to talk, but he loathed being so useless. He kept suggesting we leave him whenever we stopped for a rest and apologized whenever he started to slow. The Thalmor, as sophisticated and powerful as they appeared, were by far the most dramatic creatures I had ever met.
Unfortunately for the three of us, night began to fall when we were only a short distance beyond Helgen. The tolerable cold of the day would be nothing compared to the below-freezing temperatures of the night, especially across the barren Pale Pass that gave entry to Cyrodiil. I reasoned finding a place to spend the night would be the best option. As much as I didn't want to risk their lives in Skyrim longer than necessary, it was suicide to try to travel the several miles to their supposed embassy.
“There's a cave a little ways ahead,” I called out to Avi. She had taken it upon herself to break the snow ahead to make walking a little easier for Hirendor. No one had traveled that road in a long time, so it was midway up our calves. The only indication we were on the road at all were the lanterns and road signs that were spaced every few hundred feet. She stopped and looked back at me as I continued, “We'll have to wait there until morning.”
Hirendor scoffed, “There's no point in freezing in a cave when shelter is just a few hours away. We should continue on.” Before I could protest, he added, “If you're worried about me, I assure you I can make it. No more stops needed.”
“The weather is far colder in the mountains than in the Rift,” I told him, pausing as Avi walked over to us. “It's even colder at night. Even the Nords can't survive out here very long without a fire.”
The man groaned, putting his arm around Avi as she traded positions with me. I stepped away, hearing him grumble, “We won't be able to make a fire even in a cave. Nothing around here is dry enough to catch.”
“Try to be optimistic,” Avi told him with a smile. “You'll be sleeping in a bed around this time tomorrow.”
“Try to be realistic,” he retorted. “We have to survive the night and make it through the Pale Pass without problems.” He grunted as Avi elbowed him in the ribs. “You know I'm right.”
“We'll make it,” I told him, looking around the quickly darkening landscape. I had only traveled the road a handful of times, so locating a cave would be impossible after dark. I'd just as likely get us lost, but I wasn't about to tell them that. “You two stay here. Rest a minute. I'm going to have a look around.”
Despite assuring me he would have been okay to travel, Hirendor looked relieved as he settled onto a large stone just off the pathway. Avi knelt down in front of him, checking his leg and the bandages that protected the wound. They told me he had been hurt two days prior when they were wandering the Rift's forests. A careless hunter left one of his bear traps out, and, buried under the snow, it was impossible to see. My examination of the injury had me believe he had broken the bone while infection had already set into the flesh. It needed to be cleaned and properly dressed before magic would even begin to be effective. That was only going to happen at their base.
They called their embassy “The Northern Point”, which I assumed was because it was the farthest North the Thalmor had managed to come. Skyrim was pretty much off limits to any of their soldiers, leaving only a few allies and sympathizers to wander the country and give them the information they needed. They told me The Northern Point was a “small military base”, though it had 3-4 barracks, an officer building, a mess hall, infirmary, and a courtyard large enough for their troops to gather. If that was “small” for them, I could only imagine how large their other camps must have been.
It was amazing they even had a base to begin with. Avi admitted that her faction was not having the best of luck in the previous months. The Thalmor were forced out of Skyrim- “hunted” Hirendor said- after the Civil War. The Nordic bloodlust extended beyond admitted members of the Aldmeri Dominion however. Most with High Elf blood were made targets by the Stormcloak crusades, with or without evidence of Thalmor involvement. While it did nothing to make me feel better about my current place in the world, at least it offered me a small clarity into why I was hated by so many.
Skyrim wasn't the only place they were driven from, though. I was told that for years following the Great War, the Elves successfully established embassies across all of Tamriel. As word of their removal from Skyrim spread however, all provinces began to question their strength. Whispers of revolt in Hammerfell, High Rock, Elsweyr and even Valenwood had my two Elven companions visibly shaken. Cyrodiil, it seemed, was their last steady foothold on Tamriel, but even Hirendor's belief that they could hold the country much longer was waning.
Southern Skyrim was just as much a frozen hell as the North that time of year. In some places, the snow went up to my waist. It was impossible to make out any signs of shelter in the thick fluff, let alone with the sun setting behind the distant mountains to the west. As much as I hated it, I had to return to my new friends completely empty handed. Avi's expectant eyes rested on me, which made my stomach turn as I told her, “I think we'll have to go a little further. We must not be as close to that cave as we thought.”
“Brilliant,” Hirendor groaned before the woman could speak. “I was just starting to have a sliver of hope too.”
Avi pursed her lips as she looked up at him. “We'll be fine. If this is the worst we have to deal with, I'll consider it a blessing. We aren't as bad off as you seem to think.”
“Things can always get worse,” he groaned, pushing himself back to his feet. He waited for her to stand as well before putting his arm over her shoulders. “And, things always do get worse.”
I rolled my eyes, a small smirk on my lips. I started to walk the remaining distance over to them when a distant roar echoed across the snow. I could almost hear the Divines laughing at the irony of his words as the silhouette of a great beast flew across the sky. The dragon approached us quickly, causing visible panic in the two Thalmor. “Don't move!” I shouted to them but found it hard not to run myself. “We're too small for it to notice. If you run, you'll catch its attention.”
“Divine preserve us,” Avi whispered, staring up at the growing form. I could see her trembling. Hirendor wasn't much better off, but at least he provided her some comfort.
The beast's low flying body became slightly more recognizable as he drew closer. Mundus reflected off his brilliant crimson scales and seemed to shine through his semi-translucent wing webbing. The second roar from his throat wasn't quite as terrifying, but I did feel an ache of fear as he began diving towards the three of us. “Kaalfahjoor?” I called out, though the beast did not find time to respond.
He nearly landed on top of us. I had to bolt out of the way to avoid being crushed by his massive wings. Avi and Hirendor attempted to move as well, but were quickly knocked back onto the snow-covered road. Desperate to defend her injured ally, Avi immediately drew her blade. She placed herself between the two, her hands shaking as she stared at the hulking dragon. “Groso dii rahgot!” he roared at her, smoke billowing from his snarling lips.
I heard the gurgle of the flames in his throat as I ran to Avi's side. “Don't!” I cried out, staring up at him. His angry snarl softened slightly, but his tail still twitched in annoyance. “Don't hurt them,” I told him in a softer, more respectful tone.
“You were not in Riften,” he growled to me, but I felt more relieved than anything. He wasn't angry at all; Kaalfahjoor was worried. My smile and sigh of relief did nothing to comfort him. “You said you would wait there.”
“Aye,” I told him with a nod. “I'm sorry for that. I couldn't even get into the city. The Stormcloaks were harassing my friend here. I figured if she couldn't get in, neither could I.”
“Friend,” he repeated the word, his gaze shifting to the terrified woman beside me. His eyes narrowed slightly as he studied the duo's robes and armor.
“He... He talks to you?” I heard Hirendor gasp in astonishment. “How on Nirn did you manage to get him to do that?”
Before I could answer, Kaalfahjoor snorted in annoyance. His nostrils flared in time with his growl. “She has done nothing. I talk to who I choose, Fahliil. Stin ahrk vothni dilah. You should be pleased I do not kill you now.”
I took a deep breath, stepping closer to the dragon. “They're my friends, Kaalfahjoor. If you like me, it shouldn't be too hard for you to like them.”
“Do you know who they are?” he asked me, lowering his head. “Do you know what they are?” The question caught me off-guard. “I smell the fear radiating from them. Their adornments are that of false gold. I know these two to be of the Thalmor.”
I glanced over my shoulder to see Avi had backed away enough to help Hirendor to his feet. They looked on with nervous anticipation, but their initial terror was gone. They actually looked quite astonished. “I know who they are, too,” I told him, looking back ahead.
“And yet you walk with them as if you were the same,” he grumbled, raising his head as Hirendor limped forward.
“He's... remarkable,” he muttered softly, continuing with a tilt of his head, “and yet, vaguely familiar.” I heard a growl leave the dragon's throat, but it did little to keep Hirendor from asking, “Have we seen this dragon before, Aviriel?”
She hesitantly followed, her eyes scanning Kaalfahjoor's body. “I...” She never finished her statement, cut off by a snort from the beast.
“If we have met, you would have remembered- or you wouldn't have been here to debate the matter,” the hostility of his words faded as he looked back at me. “Your bodies are weak from travel. They will grow weaker in the absence of Mundus. Where do you travel?”
“We're trying to get to their camp, 'The Northern Point'. Hirendor is hurt and they're the only ones that will be able to help him.” I held my hands behind my back, rocking slightly as I debated on asking the obvious question. “Would... would you be willing to help us get there?”
A growling chuckle vibrated the ground below him. “Los zu'u borodon?” His tail flicked back and forth. “I will not defile myself to become meaningless transportation for the Fahliil.”
I hummed. “You took me away from Ivarstead just last night.”
“That was... different,” he shifted his weight, the tip of his tail flicking slightly. “You were in danger. I moved you to a safer place.”
“Hirendor is in danger,” I argued, motioning to the elf behind me. “If he doesn't get treatment for his leg, he could die.” I took a step towards the dragon as he raised his head to inspect the three of us. “If you can't take all of us, just take him. Avi and I can make it on our own.”
“Can't?” he asked, the gasped word echoing with wounded pride. “I am a dovah! The weight of three insignificant elves is nothing compared to my strength!” He growled in annoyance, but I oddly didn't feel any sense of fear. “I will take you, if only to prove your doubts wrong.”
I giggled softly. “If that's what you have to tell yourself, Kaalfahjoor...” He leaned down to meet my gaze and I extended my hand towards him. I lowered my voice significantly to avoid accidentally hurting his pride again. “Thank you.” He shut his eyes in silent recognition and pressed his nose against my fingertips.
“Wait,” Hirendor choked. He nervously stared up at the dragon. “You're going to 'take us' to the Point? You mean... we have to actually...”
“You're going to have to climb on his shoulders, yes,” I told him, smiling comfortingly. “It's going to be much easier than walking, and we'll be there in minutes as opposed to hours.”
“You're mad,” he breathed out, stumbling backwards as he tried to regain his footing. “I don't... I can't touch the beast.”
In complete contradiction to his reluctance, Avi immediately took my offer as I motioned for her to approach. “Auri-El's Hand!” she whispered in excitement, gently touching the scales of the red dragon's neck.
Kaalfahjoor hummed in amusement. “I see that all joor have similar reactions to the dov. You all become paralyzed in fear or awe. It is rightfully so.” His head turned towards the elf who refused to approach him. “But fear... Fear is for prey.”
Hirendor hesitantly approached, his eyes not leaving the dragon's jaws. “I am not prey, and I am not afraid. I am merely cautious. Zenoya,” he addressed, “will you assist me in climbing on your... friend.”
“Of course,” I giggled, extending my hand towards him. Kaalfahjoor shifted his weight, lowering his frame to the ground. With Avi's help, we hoisted the injured man onto his back between two spikes. I then put my attention on the woman. “Your turn.”
She fidgeted in excitement, taking hold of one of the spikes and sitting behind Hirendor. The dragon grumbled, “You will do well to keep your balance. Should you fall, I will not attempt to save you.”
“That's comforting,” Hirendor muttered under his breath, watching as I finally joined them. As soon as I settled, Kaalfahjoor rose back to his full height, spreading his wings. Each beat lifted him a little farther from the ground and also drew a slew of curses from the elves' lips. “I would have rather died on the ground!” the male behind me whispered frantically.
From high above the trees and snow, the last remnants of Mundus were far more beautiful. They danced off the solid white landscape, coloring the otherwise bland substance in brilliant shades of red and orange. The frozen ponds and lakes glimmered like gems. While the night before I felt the exhilaration of flying with a dragon, that was the first time I actually got to appreciate the beauty. Kaalfahjoor circled the area a few times, likely getting his bearings and adjusting to the weight of his three unlikely passengers. It gave the other two elves enough time to overcome their initial fears and appreciate the scenery as much as I did.
As his flight path changed, I began searching for the military base. For a long distance, there were only mountains and the long, winding road of the Pass. While it looked safe enough, I could understand my allies' reluctance to travel any further that night. There were signs of small avalanches the entire stretch of the road. Small flats and numerous enclaves lined the steep walls on either side, providing perfect cover for anyone wanting to set up an ambush. It would have been dangerous enough during the day. Traveling at night- completely blinded by the dark and snow- would have been asking for trouble.
We entered Cyrodiil without any further confrontation- if anyone had seen the dragon fly over, they weren't super keen on provoking its wrath. The city of Bruma was aglow on the horizon, likely still celebrating the New Life Festival and all it had to offer. I had almost completely forgotten about the holiday with all the chaos that happened in such a short amount of time. Other than the light of torches and bonfires from that distant city, there wasn't an indication of life for miles.
“There,” I heard Hirendor breath out in relief. “Home.” I strained my eyes to see what he was pointing at. Hiding in the shadow of one of the mountains, I could barely make out a collection of buildings surrounding an empty stone courtyard. It was well off the road, hidden by bends and twists of a side road that was barely wide enough for a cart to navigate through. There was nothing to mark the significance of the camp other than a few flapping flags mounted on the tallest building and one of the lookout towers near the main gate. I would have completely overlooked the Northern Point if he wouldn't have pointed it out.
Kaalfahjoor had already angled himself downward, spotting the camp long before I had. There was enough room for him to land safely inside the courtyard, but it hadn't occurred to me how unwelcome a dragon landing in the midst of the camp would have been. I saw a couple of the guards and sentries rushing to meet us by spell-light. Weapons drawn and spells charged, they were an alarming and terrifying sight. Yet, without the slightest bit of fear, the dragon landed in the center of the courtyard. Wings unfurled and tail twitching, I almost believed he was offering a silent challenge to the Altmer within the walls.
Hirendor cursed under his breath as he saw his allies advancing quickly. “Hold! Don't attack!” His voice called out across the snow. “We're one of you!”
I felt my heartbeat quicken as I looked around. The entire camp had sprung to life with our not-so-silent arrival. From several of the barracks, half-dressed yet fully armed soldiers wandered onto the covered porches. The sentries on the walls and towers placed us in their aim, the glint of their Elven bows reflecting in the low-light. The gate guards that approached us surrounded the dragon on all sides, clearly just as terrified as Avi and Hirendor were when they first saw the beast.
“I have half a mind to believe this is some Stormcloak trick,” the head guard announced, catching my attention as he sneered at us. “You had better begin telling us exactly who you are before I give the order to kill you where you stand.”
Kaalfahjoor growled a taunt, “Can you kill a dovah, Krein Fahliil? Have you ever tried?” His tail wagged slowly from side to side, startling the soldiers who stood behind him. “How many of your kind can I devour before you draw a drop of my blood?”
“Kaalfahjoor,” I whispered softly in a warning. While I knew he could stand his ground, I wasn't particularly fond of angering the mer, especially with Hirendor still in desperate need of aid.
Avi carefully slid from the dragon's shoulders, showing her empty hands to the guard before helping Hirendor down as well. As he hit the ground with a wince, I saw the guard show the slightest sign of sympathy and recognition. “Gods, Valdoren,” Hirendor groaned. “I thought you would have recognized me. It's only been a few months.”
“Hirendor Casineer,” the man chuckled, lowering his blade. He quickly motioned for the other soldiers to stand down as well. “I would have recognized you sooner, but it's hard to focus on anything other than the beast you've brought with you.” He ignored Kaalfahjoor's growl, walking closer and grabbing the arm of his apparent old friend.
“I'm actually quite disappointed in you,” Hirendor grinned. “You didn't immediately cut us down. Has working in High Rock made you soft? I've never known you to hesitate.”
“The sight of an approaching dragon is something to marvel,” he retorted. “I suppose you should just be grateful for my reluctance.”
Hirendor chuckled, nodding his head to the guard. He glanced back at Avi and me as she helped me slide from Kaalfahjoor's shoulders as well. “I take it you remember my Judicator, Aviriel?”
He nodded, “A pleasure, as always.” She smiled, bowing to him in return. “Who is this?”
The mer started to respond before the sound of a set of doors opening across the courtyard silenced the entire gathering. Kaalfahjoor shifted his weight, lowering his head beside me as the two of us watched a tall, dark-colored Altmer walk out across the snow. Her almost white hair was braided out of her eyes and still fell to her hips. Her robes were far more elegant that the other Justiciars, appearing more like a dress than an actual workable armor. Her presence commanded attention; her aura was borderline threatening. As each soldier she passed saluted in their typical fashion, I quickly surmised she was a woman of power. That was quickly verified by Hirendor's nervous acknowledgment, “Vicereeve Ciraen.”
Her eyes shifted to the dragon for just a moment, but she showed absolutely no fear of him. Instead she scanned the anxious, waiting mer around her before uttering, “Shouldn't you all be getting back to work?” Her not so subtle hint immediately spurred the waiting soldiers back to action. “You too, Justiciar,” she motioned to Valdoren. “I'll speak with you in a moment regarding our... guests.”
The elf drew a sharp breath before nodding quickly. “We'll catch up later, old friend,” he muttered quickly to Hirendor. Then, without another word, he jogged back to the guard tower.
Hirendor watched him before saluting the woman as best he could. Avi repeated the gesture, but the Vicereeve seemed sternly intent on the man alone. “You're back earlier than expected, Hirendor. I trust that means you've met with our contact.”
He hesitantly lowered his hand. “N-... No, Vicereeve. I'm afraid I never got the chan-”
“Then why, I ask, did you dare to come back here empty handed?” her annoyed question cut him off, causing clear distress in his expression. Avi flinched as well, but made no move to interrupt the angry commander. “You do realize I don't accept failure. If you can't handle the simplest tasks, I'm sure I can find someone who will. You're easily replaceable. I might as well-”
“He's hurt!” It was her turn to be cut off. My snappy responsible immediately caught her attention. “Maybe if you took a moment to look down every once in awhile, you would have noticed his broken leg.”
The color drained from Hirendor's face. He looked absolutely terrified as the woman turned away from him to face me. “Who in Oblivion are you?” she inquired, her voice an unnerving calm. The smile on her lips wasn't much more reassuring. “You're certainly not one of my soldiers; none of them have ever made the mistake of shouting at me.”
I scoffed, crossing my arms over my chest. “You first, Vicereeve.”
She laughed softly, somehow finding amusement in the clearly unamusing situation. “I'll humor you, simply because I haven't met anyone this ignorant in a long while. I am Ciraen Farel, Vicereeve of the Aldmeri Dominion and High Magistrate of the Northern Point. Now tell me, half-Nord, what should I be calling you?”
“Half-Nord?” I questioned, narrowing my eyes. “I share no relation to men of any race, especially those of Skyrim.”
“No?” she tilted her head slightly, her smug smirk remaining. “Forgive me for assuming, then. Your ugly, muddied dialect and lack of proper manners had me believing you were a mutt.”
I felt my fist clench instinctively, Hirendor spoke up before I made the mistake of opening my mouth, “Her name is Zenoya, Vicereeve. She's a mercenary from Skyrim. She's the only reason I'm here now.”
“She saved my life as well,” I finally heard Avi say. She stepped in front of me, blocking me from the other woman's view. “I tried to get into the city, but the Stormcloaks were persistent. I never would have made it back to Hirendor without her. We owe her a great deal.”
“Is that why the two of you are willing to risk your necks for her?” She crossed her arms over her chest, eyeing both of them up and down. “I'll pardon her ignorance for the time being, but it would be best if you teach your 'friend' how to hold her tongue in the future.”
I narrowed my eyes but simply nodded. I sensed Avi and Hirendor were likely in trouble because of me; there was no reason to make it worse. “Of course, Vicereeve,” the man responded, biting the inside of her lip.
“Now then, since that is out of the way,” she looked up at the dragon, her smile remaining. “Let's talk, dovah, shall we?”
I hadn't even noticed how the dragon lingered above me until he growled in his throat. It was odd that she had no fear of him; likewise, he seemed very reserved around her. Was her presence really so threatening that it put him on edge as well? “You will not find such pleasantries in my words as you do from your underlings, Fahliil. Titles and names have little meaning; mul niraat los tul niraat.”
“Oh, I do not expect dragons to understand our ways,” she began, humming as she played with a ring on her finger, “but, I do expect them to bend to their betters. That is how you beasts operate, isn't it? The strong lead the weak.”
He bared his teeth. “When I find my better, I will gladly bend to his will.” She looked amused. “You would not be smiling if I found myself hungry.”
“It's interesting that a dragon, of all things, decided to help a simple, insignificant group of mer,” she told him. “You've bent yourself to them, have you not? What could they possibly hold over you, mighty beast.”
“I answer to no one!” he snapped at her, raising up to his full height to stare her down. She remained unmoved as he roared, “I choose my own path! Fate is unwritten for me!”
“Fate is written for all. Men, mer...” The sing-song tone made him uncharacteristically tense. “Even a dragon cannot escape the inevitable. You know it to be true... Kaalfahjoor, was it?”
Her taunting had put me at my wits end. “Whatever you're trying to prove, lay off it,” I snapped at her, walking forward to put more distance between the dragon and the woman. “I think there's more pressing things to attend to, like the fact one of your Justiciars is on the verge of collapse.”
She glanced at me and then backed up at the dragon. A knowing smile spread across her lips. “How interesting...” She ignored Kaalfahjoor's growl and looked back down at me. “Yes, you're right. Aviriel, help your superior to the infirmary.”
The woman quickly nodded. “Of course, Vicereeve.” She walked to Hirendor's side, tucking herself under his arm to support him.
He started to walk away before pausing. “Wait, I-... I promised you something in return for getting us here.” I started to protest, but he shook his head. He addressed the woman in front of him, his confidence wavering. “I wish to give her a few days of my pay... please.”
“A few days of pay,” the woman repeated, amusement ever-present in her expression. She took delight in seeing Hirendor's panic. “I... suppose I can make that arrangement, Justiciar,” she responded after a long moment of silence. She put her gaze back on me, looking me up and down. “That seems unfitting for her, though, don't you think?”
“V-Vicereeve?” he asked in confusion.
“An elf of this talent bravely went out of her way to bring you home, and you want to reward her with mere gold?” she asked rhetorically, refusing to give anyone room to answer. “I'll give you the gold if you so desire, dear Zenoya, but there are other treasures of the world that you could have requested.”
I really didn't like the woman. Besides the obvious aura of superiority, I hated the way her cocky words dripped from her lips like venom. I didn't like the passive aggressive words spoken in idle that she directed at her soldiers. I definitely didn't like the way she purred my name. I knew she wanted something from me, and she believed I was obligated to give it to her. I wasn't planning on falling victim to her little game- not until I learned the rules myself. I decided to let my silence speak for me.
She glanced at Hirendor and Avi as they lingered. “I believe you were on your way to the infirmary. Perhaps you've forgotten?” Avi bit her lip with a small nod. She started walking, leading Hirendor towards a large building to their right. “Very well,” she started, snapping my attention away from the two. “Let's get you that gold.”
Ciraen began walking back across the snowy plaza towards the large building ahead of us. I drew a deep breath as I started to follow. “Zenoya,” the dragon breathed softly. “You will be careful around the Fahliil. They are not to be trusted.”
“I've gathered that,” I told him. My smirk did very little to comfort the uneasy beast. “I know she's dangerous; I feel it in the air. The rest of them, though... I think we're safe.”
“Pusojur ko lox,” he warned, eyes never leaving the woman who was leading me inside her office. “Just because the danger is not seen, does not mean it is not present.”
I reluctantly started after the Vicereeve, bearing his words in mind. Seeing Kaalfahjoor so cautious made my heart ache. She had something on him; that was the only reasonable explanation to describe why a simple mage had him on edge. As much as I wanted to know, I doubted he would tell me. Further, the woman seemed to have her own ambitions in mind with every interaction. She wouldn't be giving me anything if it didn't help her in the end.
I entered the large, multiple floor building to be greeted with the welcoming embrace of warmth. An oven across the lounging area sent waves of heat from behind its shutters. Each of the chairs and benches were layered with exquisite fabrics and pillows. Bookshelves brimming with tomes, literature and games lined each of the walls, stopping only when a door interrupted the spaces between. Ciraen waited for me by the staircase. “It's much nicer in here than the slums of Nord inns, isn't it?”
I pursed my lips as I followed her to the next level. “It's... better than some.” I wouldn't give her the satisfaction she was desiring. Instead, I intruded, “It looks very expensive, honestly. How could you have afforded it if your faction is doing so poorly?”
She paused a moment, blinking in surprise to my question. I felt momentary satisfaction as she demanded, “Who said we were doing 'poorly'?”
“I gathered it myself,” I stated innocently, fighting the smile from my lips. “If you're sending such small numbers into hostile territory with no safe way of getting them returned, I'd say that's pretty desperate. That, or you simply don't care about the lives of your subordinates.”
She must have caught on to what I was trying to do. Her coy smile returned as she began walking. “Oh, of course,” she purred in the same skin-crawling tone as before. “Perhaps it's a bit of both, hmm?” My surprised expression coaxed her to speak further. “Getting into Skyrim has become so much of a hassle, I'm willing to try anything. It doesn't really matter what happens when they leave or return, so long as a goal has been met. We learn from our mistakes and try again.” She crossed the hallway of the second floor, one occupied by many curious mer settling in for the evening, and started up the final set of stairs. “Soldiers, like all commodities, are easily replaced. An expensive luxury, just like the items you saw below.”
Her explanation took me aback and left me entirely unable to respond. Surely she didn't truly believe lives were so easily disposable, yet, the more I lingered, I found it much easier to accept that she did. She had made her way to the top by some way or another. I hadn't pushed it from my mind that she had killed to achieve her standing. The laugh leaving her lips in response to my silence only solidified that she had an overly sadistic mind. I simply averted my gaze as she led me into the office.
A bed in the center of the room immediately caught my attention. Embroidered fabrics hung around the frame like webbing. The canopy matched the neatly folded blankets and sheets and accented the dark wood frame. On her nightstand were a pile of letters, a bottle of wine, and a beautiful array of flowers. Paintings and artwork lined the walls, illuminated by the candles and permanent mage lights. She made her way to the desk just past her bed, motioning me to follow.
“A few days of his pay,” she repeated, scoffing in amusement. The Altmer retrieved a ledger from the drawers, scratching down a few numbers and words. “I'll give you a hundred septims. Do with them what you will.”
“That's fine by me,” I told her, still looking around at the baubles and oddities. “I told him not to worry about it. I didn't mind helping him out for free.”
She glanced up at me. “Are you so easily swayed by petty cries for help?”
“I said I wouldn't mind helping him out for free,” I reminded her, keeping a steady tone. I knew exactly what she was getting at. “If I helped everyone, I wouldn't make much of a living.”
“By the looks of it, my dear, you aren't making much of one now.” Her clear insult was followed by a giggle. I clenched my jaw but once again held my tongue. I wasn't in a position to make threats with an entire military camp on her side. Instead, I allowed her to continue. “Gold... That seems to be your preferred method of payment, then?”
“Yes,” I snapped shortly. I watched her retrieve a key from one of the drawers. “If it wasn't, we really wouldn't have a reason for talking.”
Ciraen hummed in amusement as she walked over to the safe beside her bed. “Indeed, we would not.” She unlocked the steel box and produced a bag of septims. Within, I saw several more pouches, each brimming with the golden disks. Rubies and emeralds were also sorted in her safe-box, glimmering in the low light around us. “Your measly hundred septims, Zenoya,” she told me, tossing the coins my way. I caught them, still staring at her reserves.
She allowed me to watch- to admire. Suddenly, it became painfully clear what her game had been. It was a chance for me to envy what she held. Power, wealth, and luxuries were hers to command, while I struggled day in and day out to find a meal to hold me over. She knew it just by looking at my thin, bruising body what an easy target I was. I had the nerve to call her desperate...
“You know,” she started, leaning back against her safe with crossed arms, “if you're after simplistic coin, I might have some to spare. Hirendor mentioned you're a mercenary. I'm sure we could come to an agreement on payment. I promise you I'd be more than his 'few days of pay'.”
My hand clenched around the coins. There was the bait she had been waiting to drop. She wanted me to take it, to lure me in under her control. I wasn't hers to command and it must have been eating her from the inside. At least I had a little leverage in that regard. “You call coin simplistic like there's more to life than that,” I noted. “Gold buys all the luxuries you'd ever want.”
“Perhaps,” she hummed, glancing at her safe once more. “There has to be more that you personally desire, however.” Her eyes scanned me, reading all of my vulnerabilities as if they were scarred on my skin. “What about a home? What about never having to fear being marred or murdered again? What about a family- people who actually accept you for who you are?” She smiled calmly at my faltering expression. “There's much more than gold that I can offer you.”
I hesitated to respond, my mind buzzing with the possibility that she could be telling the truth. “You... The Thalmor... They aren't doing well right now. In a month's time, those could be empty promises.” She tilted her head slightly as I continued, “Unless you have some means of spinning the odds in your favor-”
“We do,” she interjected, her smile widening. “That's the beauty of this whole thing: we have already won.” She giggled at my surprise, walking over to me. “We just need someone to get into Skyrim and put the plans into motion: someone who knows their way around, who's willing to go to great lengths.” Her ice cold hand gently touched my cheek. It caressed my bruising, providing an uncomfortable alleviation from the pain. “Someone who isn't afraid to take a few hits to achieve our goal...”
I exhaled the breath I didn't realize I had been holding. The offer, as it stood, was too weighted in my favor to be true. Still, it was far too tempting to pass up. “What... would you have me do then?”
My simple answer warmed her expression. She withdrew her hand, carefully closing and locking the safe once more. “You're going to be our eyes, ears, hands, and feet in Skyrim. You live there- resiliently- so I'm sure you're an unwelcome yet familiar face to the Nords. That's more than any of us can attest to.” She turned back to me. “I need you to get into Riften- to pick up the slack that my Justiciar left there. It's easy and mundane, but if you're sure you're interested, I'll give you the details.” Her hand extended to me, an eerily calm smile caressing her features. “What do you think, Zenoya? Are you ready to work for the Dominion?”
<< Chapter Four ~ Chapter Six >>
Replies
Loving the character interactions in this chapter with Zenoya playing on Kalfahjoor's pride and the Vicereeve going after Zenoya's insecurities. Very vivid descriptions of the world as always, and at least in my opinion I don't think it messed with the pacing at all. Looking forward to more!
Sorry for the late reply! I'm glad you liked it, Ponty! I'm pretty excited to give you guys the next few chapters. This is definitely a big launching point for Zenoya.
Also, Vicereeve Ciraen Farel? I absolutely love to hate her. <3 She's going to be one of my favorites.