From the records of the Imperial Legion, Fort Frostmoth, Solstheim:

21 Frostfall- Granted indefinite medical leave- Agent Athlain Treyson.

A letter posted from Sarethi Manor, Ald’ruhn, Vvardenfell (a portion):

25 Frostfall

…don’t understand why you haven’t written. I know you are busy with your duties, but surely you have time to scribe a couple of lines…. You haven’t met someone else, have you? But no, you haven’t written your mother, either. Aunt Baria is worried- you really should let her know you are all right. Unless you aren’t…. Athlain, you have made a real mess of things. I don’t know what I’m going to do, but I’m going to have to do something….

‘Thyna

A letter posted from Sarethi Manor, Ald’ruhn, Vvardenfell (a portion):

27 Frostfall

To the Honorable Captain Falx Carius, Commandant, Fort Frostmoth

Dear Captain Carius,
I am writing to inquire about the welfare of one of your officers, Athlain Treyson. He is a… friend. I know that the Legion does not normally discuss the business of its members with outsiders, but perhaps you would be interested to know that my mother is Serene, Head of Great House Redoran, and a former Knight of the Legion…. I am sure she would appreciate your assistance.

Yours truly,

Athynae Sarethi

A letter posted from Solstheim to Sarethi Manor, Ald’ruhn, Vvardenfell (a portion):

2 Sun’s Dusk

Mistress Sarethi:

You do not know me, Miss, and I would prefer to keep my name out of it. I know of you through Athlain, who would be upset if he discovered that I had contacted you. Still, I feel that I must. If you care for him, or know someone who does… well, he is in need of help. I will not commit to paper the nature of the problem, as missives can go awry.

Okey now, that settles it! Someone just have to go to Solstheim, that's for sure. Thyna will certainly want to rush off immediately, but....but she's raised by Serene and Athyn, and she resembles her father in mind and common sense. She also has a lot of her mother's compassion. Besides she's definitely in love with Athlain.

I wonder....I have a feeling she will make a trip soon...she'd better pack some really warm clothes though!

Chapter 6

In the years after the defeat of Dagoth Ur, much of the Empire fell into a- call it forgetfulness. Because one great evil had been vanquished, we relaxed our vigilance and grew complacent. On Vvardenfell, the Great Houses squabbled over territory and privilege, the Legion waged an endless war on smuggling, and the Temple lost its ascendancy. The people devoted themselves to the business of living, delighting in the fact that children once again played in formerly barren streets and houses. And no one gave much thought to the fact that there were other powers still abroad in the world, other evils both lesser- and greater. So much for the blindness of the councils and king, of the leaders who should have known better. This story is not about them- it is about me- and about my own failure. When I joined the Legion, it had nothing to do with anything so abstract as “fighting evil.” I enlisted to support the Empire, to uphold the Law, and- it has to be said- to annoy my father. Ah, yes, my father. How easy it would be to claim that what occurred was his fault. After all, he had destroyed the most serious threat of his time- he had become “The Hero.” And now, all of that was over; it was old news. But Trey the Hero still lived, so it seemed only logical that if there came a new threat, he would again take on his appointed role. Simple logic seemed to imply that a crisis required a hero. Therefore, no hero = no crisis. Unfortunately, logic and truth are not always the same thing. And the logical answer is not always the right answer. And perhaps even the gods could have taken lessons in stubbornness from my father. Maybe it is even simpler than that- maybe it comes down to the fact that that we can’t depend on our parents to save us forever. Why the dissertation on the nature of heroes and evil? Perhaps because reporting the events which next occurred is painful to me, and I would rather not. In truth, I would just as soon dispatch them with a short paragraph and move on. Or talk in abstract and meaningless terms rather than take responsibility for my own actions. But to ignore those dark days would also be to ignore the bright, shining light that relieved them; to ignore the courage, honor, and strength of another. That, I will not do. But I get ahead of myself.

I stared transfixed at the vial on Carnius’ desk as if it were a deadly spider. I knew what it was- no alchemist’s apprentice or Legion recruit could fail to recognize that plague in a bottle. It was the illegal narcotic skooma, and Carnius Magius had spent the last several days making sure that I was addicted. I was seized by a storm of conflicting resolutions- first, I reached convulsively toward my mace; next, I made an abortive turn toward the door; finally, I simply stood, staring at the man who had ruined me. He seemed to read each of my reactions as I might read the leaves of a book; a faint smile turned up the corners of his mouth.

“You are correct, young Athlain. Though you are angry, it would not do to kill me. How would you explain it? And it would be a grave mistake to report this to your Captain. After all, if you accuse me of possessing the drug, you will have to explain how it is that you know. And that would most probably end your promising career, not to mention your supply. So- your best option is to do nothing. You will survive the next few days, I’m sure. You need not worry that your illness will return- skooma taken in tea actually does stop the spasms and cramping. I discovered that fact quite by accident. I don’t use the drug, myself. But I find it to be- useful- in maintaining the loyalty of my subordinates. That will be all; you may go.”

The following days were something out of a nightmare, except that there was no relief, no awakening. My craving for the drug grew with each hour, causing me to feel alternately hot and cold, ravenous and nauseous, lethargic and hyperactive. If I could have concentrated sufficiently, I might have attempted alchemical experiments to alleviate the addiction- or at least its effects. But I could do nothing except lie sweating in my bunk or pace frenetically, gnawing on a loaf of bread. And I could tell no one of my troubles, not without completing my downfall. I could not resign and cast off the uniform I had dishonored, for fear of the questions that would follow. Nor would I abandon my post, to have my name forever blackened with the epithet “deserter.” I admit that, in the depths of my despair, I gave thought to casting myself from the curtain wall or into the sea, thus ending my misery. But I could not. As the idea took hold in my mind, it was as if a window opened before me, and through that window I saw visions of home- Mother working at her easel, a frown of concentration on her face; Father in his chair, setting aside his book with a welcoming smile; my sisters with their heads together, planning some elaborate prank. Even if I could never return to my family, I could still warm myself in the glow of their love, the knowledge that they still thought of me, alive somewhere in the world. Exhaustion at last overcame me, and I slept a sodden, restless sleep.

Early on the fourth day of my ordeal, a trooper brought me a note from Magius, requesting my presence. I considered the note, knowing that I had no choice but to go to him. And the craving climbed still higher, aware that it might soon be satisfied. But I could still exert some control over my life- if I must go, I would go as a man, not as a whipped dog. Through a supreme effort of will, I took the time to clean my clothing, bathe myself, and shave. If the delay annoyed my tormentor, so be it. I would not kneel and I would not crawl. But my defiance was bravado rather than true courage. It was a brittle sort of resolve, with little strength behind it. My hands trembled as I made my preparations, and my head buzzed with desire for the drug. When I was at last satisfied with my appearance, I walked slowly to the East Empire Company office and opened the door with a hand that shook only a little.

Magius was seated at his desk and I halted before him, resolutely ignoring the kettle that steamed on the portable burner at his back. He gave me a false, apologetic smile and said,

“I am sorry that you had to suffer through these last few days, but I wanted to be sure you fully understood our arrangement- and the consequences, should you become, ah- difficult.”

With that, he turned and poured some of the infernal “tea” into a large mug, which he then handed to me. Cursing my weakness and my need, I drank the contents down in a long, shuddering swallow and placed the empty vessel on his desk. I still avoided looking at his face, maintaining my gaze at a point on the wall behind him. Seeing that I would not speak, Magius sighed and picked up a piece of paper from his desk.

“I don’t actually have anything for you to do, but Falco seems to be having some sort of problem at the colony site. Doesn’t surprise me in the least. Go out there and see what’s going on. I expect you’ll have to deal with it, since Falco is obviously out of his depth.”

My second trip to Raven Rock was quite different from the first. My earlier excitement was replaced by a numbing depression. The chill breeze that had invigorated me a few short days before now seemed simply cold and the air smelled alien- an odor of old snow and decay. The Legion armor I had learned to wear almost without thought was heavy upon my shoulders, and I constantly adjusted the straps and fittings, looking for comfort that did not come. I almost hoped for an attack by wolves or bears, but those creatures kept to the trees. Perhaps my scent warned them away, filled as it was with death and black anger. I barely saw the terrain that passed beneath my feet, dwelling instead on my troubles. But my self-absorption was finally shaken by the changes that had taken place at the colony site. The frames of several buildings rose from the rocky ground, and one finished structure loomed against the clouded sky. Yet despite the evidence of industrious labor over the last few days, the workers now simply stood around, looking worried and a bit frightened. Falco leaned against a large tree, and his hair line seemed to have receded since I had last spoken with him. Still, he greeted me warmly, and my spirits rose a little at seeing a friendly face.

“Athlain. It’s good to see you again. I wonder if you might assist me once more?”

I returned his greeting and admitted,

“Actually, that’s why Carnius sent me.”

The normally cheerful Falco frowned and snarled,

“Confound it all; I had hoped he wouldn’t catch wind of the situation! I had things under control until a short time ago. It’s that crazy Nord, Hroldar the Strange, as we’ve taken to calling him. He’s been hanging around since we started clearing the site, ranting about how we’re ruining the land, and that if we don’t stop, we’ll incur the wrath of Nature itself. I have no idea where he came from, but I can’t have him spooking the workers. He was just a nuisance, but now it looks like we’re going to have to get rid of him.”

No matter how far I had fallen, I did not like the sound of that. I cautiously inquired,

“How exactly do you intend to ‘get rid of him’?”

Falco’s response was not reassuring. He replied,

“That’s where you come in.”

This post has been edited by treydog: Nov 4 2008, 06:53 PM

Yay new update! Poor Athlain. Carnius will pay for this! And 'taking care of' Hroldar doesn't sound like it will be fun either.

Beautiful....you really have managed to let us creep "under the skin" of Athlain, his thoughts his nightmares, his feelings are all so well depicted.

Now I can't wait to see how he will handle Hroldar.....

Oh and another thing just struck my mind, if he's somewhat addicted to skooma, what will happen when the first Nord offers him mead??

This is great, you portray Athlain's conflicting needs and loyalties extremely well, I can't wait to see how all the internal (and external) conflict explodes. He's a really strong character, his reactions are just.. right.

This foray into Solstheim is inspiring. So inspiring, in fact, that I've been playing a bit o' Bloodmoon with you know who.

I feel very sad for Athlain and the mess into which he has fallen. I do hope he can find a way to break his addiction without having to leave the Legion in dishonor. But more importantly, I hope he can put this skooma problem behind him before it has severe consequences for his physical and mental health. Addictions have a tendency to effect the people around you as well, and I don't want to see Athlain accidentally hurt someone he loves because of it.

@canis: Thanks for posting that screenshot. It's one of my favorite easter eggs.

Falco either did not notice the reservations in my question or else chose to ignore them. And his muttered response did nothing to soothe my worries.

“I’m sure Carnius would want Hroldar killed. Anything standing between that man and his profits gets a death warrant, as far as he’s concerned.”

The colony supervisor shook his head in disgust and continued,

“But I feel sorry for Hroldar. It’s clear his own people have abandoned him- and I can see why. But my sympathy only goes so far, and he’s blocking the mine entrance. Don’t hurt him, Athlain; just try to talk to him. You’ve an honest face and a way with people. Reason with him if you can. If that doesn’t work, come back to me, and I’ll think of something else.”

I was only too glad to obey those instructions, and I reminded myself that not everyone was as ruthless as Carnius Magius. It was becoming hard not to see others through the distorted lens of the EEC factor’s manipulation; he held my future in his hands- and I knew he would crush me without a thought if it became necessary.

Meanwhile, there was the problem of Hroldar to engage me, and I looked forward to accomplishing a simple task. I had been blessed with the ability to talk to almost anyone- and it worked well when I bothered to exert myself. Better still, Nords were often simple folk, and this fellow probably just wanted a friendly ear. No doubt I could hear him out, all the while drawing him away from where he blocked the door. Such were my thoughts as I approached the great structure that housed the mine entrance. And then I got my first glimpse of the man I was supposed to persuade. Despite my youth, I was not a small man- I had inherited my father’s height, and Legion training had added muscle to my frame. But I felt like a child next to the figure that loomed in the doorway. For just a moment, I thought I had gone back to the days when giants had wandered the land. The man, if such he was, overtopped me by more than a foot. He was dressed in hides, and either they had not been completely tanned or else he was unfamiliar with the concept of regular bathing. Those impressions rushed in upon me as I moved closer- and then I saw his eyes. They were the ice-blue so often seen in those of Nordic blood, and reminded me uncomfortably of my father’s gaze when he was lost in memories of past events. They seemed to stare into some unfathomable distance, and gave the impression of a spirit haunted by burdens too great to bear. It was the pain in Hroldar’s eyes even more than his mighty stature that caused my steps to falter. But it did not matter; he had already seen me, and began to speak in a rumbling voice more suited to forests and mountainsides.

“You’ll not infect me with your devilry, Imperial. I am here to defend Nature, and I will do so at any cost. Now begone!”

After that pronouncement, he neither said anything more nor moved from the doorway. He paid me as much attention as a grazing guar does a wandering gnat.

I shrugged and returned to Falco, who was unsurprised by my report.

“He won’t move? Fine. I don’t have time for this. We can’t get any work done as long as he’s blocking the door.”

Falco tugged nervously at his hair and added,

“You have my permission to remove him physically. No weapons, mind you, wrestling or fists only. I want him to understand he isn’t to come back, but I don’t want him killed.”

I fought the urge to laugh hysterically and ask the colony supervisor if he had gotten a good look at the mountain of flesh and bone he had given me “permission to remove physically.” While he was at it, why not give me permission to relocate Masser and Secunda to more congenial positions? Still, I had to try. Partly, I had to make the effort because Falco was depending on me, but I had less admirable reasons, as well. If the mine stopped working, the Company stopped making money. And if the Company stopped making money, Carnius Magius would go elsewhere, leaving me bereft of my supply of the drug I hated- and needed.

I might have a chance against Hroldar, albeit a small one. He did not seem to carry any weapons- not that he would really need them- and Carbo had taught me some unarmed combat techniques. In fact, there was a type of hold, called a “sleeper,” that could render an opponent unconscious without causing any harm. I only hoped that I could apply the hold before the giant Nord squashed me like a bug. When I returned to the mine entrance, Hroldar had not moved, and he again greeted my arrival with contempt.

“Sent you to talk me out of this, did they? These devils won’t be so easily rid of me. Talk all you like, boy. The curse I place on you will be all the more painful for it.”

At that, I laughed. The laughter was from bitterness rather than good spirits. I wondered how this crazed Nord could possibly curse me any more thoroughly than I had already cursed myself. And my despair was fuel for my anger. I put all my resentment and loneliness and self-loathing into the hold I took upon Hroldar’s massive neck and shoulders. He did not fight back as I had feared, but roared his protest:

“I’ll not give in to you, you Imperial tick! Cease this violence before you bring death and destruction upon yourself!”

But I simply gripped him all the tighter, my steel-clad fingers clamped upon the nerve bundle to the side of his neck. Soon enough, the huge man went limp, crashing to the ground like a giant tree. I leapt away before I could be crushed in the collapse, and then recruited a couple of miners to help me carry the snoring madman beyond the boundary of the mining colony. I waited beside him as he slowly regained consciousness, shaking his massive head. He squinted a bleary eye at me and shook his head again.

“I don’t know what trick you used, Imperial, but I know when I am beaten. Give me a minute to collect myself and I promise I will leave.”

Falco met me as I came back to the mine entrance, and shook my hand.

“Good work. I appreciate your not being too harsh with him. Now things can get back on track, and not a minute too soon. Let Carnius know, will you?”

He reached into a pocket and produced a bag that made a pleasant clink.

“And here’s something for handling it so well. It’s not much, but I like to reward a man who can follow orders.”

Though I could always use some ready cash, the coins meant less to me than the praise- not that I could buy anything with either one on Solstheim.

And now it was time to return once more to my puppet-master. As I prepared to cast the teleport spell that would carry me to the Imperial Cult shrine, I paused. This constant shuttling back and forth was tiring, not to mention that I risked attack and injury from Solstheim’s unfriendly wildlife. More to the point, it was unnecessary. I drew out one of the paired amulets that had been hidden in my laboratory notebook back home, and contemplated the depths of the colored stone. My father’s gift would save me steps and time- if I used it. Holding the enchanted pendant, I found a clear area near the growing colony and made sure it was not intended as a building site. Next, I scribed a simple circle in the dirt with my dagger, and marked the elemental symbols for earth, water, fire, and air around it. Earth, to anchor the spell; water, to draw my physical being to the place; fire, to fuel the magic; air, through which I would travel. Such elaborate preparations were not really necessary; the amulet should function perfectly well without them…. But I was comforted by the ritual, and did not mind the extra time it took. It gave me the illusion that my life was still my own. I spoke the word that set the Mark, which meant I could use the Recall amulet to return instantly to this place. I still worried that all this teleporting might leave parts of me scattered in the Aether, but that seemed less daunting a fate than it had formerly, when my continued survival was something to be desired.

Hilarious!

Oh I liked the way Athlain "put him to sleep" very creative..hihi. But I'm a bit worried about his addiction to a certain drug.... Oh aye...

For some reason, the continued growth of Raven Rock had done little to improve Carnius Magius’ mood. When I entered his office, he asked me in a tone just short of a snarl,

“Did you solve that incompetent Falco’s latest problem?”

My answer was a polite but unadorned, “Yes.”

Magius’ response was unsurprisingly hostile, and also revealed that he had at least one informant at the colony site:

“Too bad you didn’t just kill the Nord crackpot, but fair enough, as long as the work can continue. I don’t have anything else for you right now, and it will probably be a few days before I do.”

He abruptly changed his tone, giving me a smile of false sympathy, and continued:

“You’ve earned a reward in any event. It should make the next few days more bearable.”

With that, he produced a large, nondescript flask and offered it to me. And I? I took it.

Some readers of this narrative may wonder why, if I could go for days at a time without the drug, I could not simply free myself completely from its malign influence. The best answer I can give to those well-meaning folk is that they should pray that they never become enmeshed in the toils of an addiction. Skooma took over my life; it was the first thought I had upon waking, and the last before sleeping. I measured my days by the doses I took, promising myself that I would wait an hour longer, a half-hour longer that I had the day before. But whatever promises I made (and broke), however long I managed to hold out- I eventually gave in to the craving. For the simple, awful fact was this: I felt better under the spell of the skooma than I did when my mind was clear. The drug whispered to me in the hours of darkness, promising me a perverse relief from the guilt I felt at my weakness in taking it. There is more to say, but that is enough for now. Despite the fact that my addiction had become the center of my existence, events around me continued to move at their own pace, and I still had limited duties, including standing watches and interacting with the other Legionnaires at the fort. And there was one other task, a task I had nearly forgotten, that forced its way back into my befuddled consciousness.

Garrison duty, especially in a remote outpost like Solstheim, is largely a matter of mind-numbing boredom. Small wonder that the troopers looked forward to their daily allotment of alcohol to blunt the monotony. For another fact of garrison duty is that the two main pastimes are drinking- and talking. Many of the stories I heard in those days were of the sort you often get when soldiers gather together- tales of battles, of women, of fantastical creatures encountered, of fabulous lost treasures. And of course, most of the stories bore only an accidental resemblance to reality. But one cold evening, as the snow swirled and I walked the guard posts, an old sergeant warming his hands over a fire-basket glanced at the sky and noted:

“Not much of a storm- just a dusting. Not like that blizzard a few months back- the night I saw the dragon-ship.”

He stopped expectantly, and I knew the next step of this dance. If I wanted him to continue, I would have to ask… and I would have to offer him a drink. A crafty story-teller could make one tale last through the night- and through a good many bottles as well. So I handed over a bottle of flin and prompted the veteran:

“Dragon-ship? You mean like the reavers use? I’m surprised you could spot something that far out to sea during a blizzard.”

The trooper took a healthy swallow from the bottle and smacked his lips.

“Well, you see, that’s the thing. This dragon-ship weren’t on the ocean- she was flying through the sky.”

A jolt of memory went through me- a flying ship. It was the story of Louis Beauchamp’s flying ship that had first sparked my interest in Solstheim. For just a moment, I forgot my troubles and felt the return of my enthusiasm. I nearly danced with impatience as the story-teller took another drink and looked admiringly at the bottle. Finally, I blurted:

“A flying ship? Where was it going? What else did you notice?”

He finished the flin and set the empty down carefully, saying:

“Another dead soldier. You know why they call ‘em that, right? ‘Cause the spirit has gone out of ‘em.”

He cackled at his own joke and then took pity on me.

“She was headed straight into that blizzard, to the north, and she didn’t look any too steady. I’d be surprised if she survived the storm.”

North. Unfortunately, north took in most of the rest of the island. And I was still tied to the fort- and to Carnius Magius. Still, I kept the story of the flying ship in mind, and vowed to find some way to explore whenever an opportunity presented itself. That chance came much sooner than I expected.

I woke early- there was no real dawn- not on Solstheim in the dying part of the year. But my craving for skooma kept me from sleep, so I dressed, allowed myself a miserly dose of the drug, and went out to the bailey. I was surprised to see a new officer talking to the troopers, and felt a momentary spasm of fear that my condition had been discovered and that a replacement had arrived to take my place. The newcomer wore the uniform of an Imperial Champion and her armor was a silver flame against the dull gray stone of the fort. My concern was redoubled as I got close enough to hear her words:

“…a problem with moon-sugar, and I have been sent from Cyrodiil to investigate.”

That seemed to settle it- the Legion had brought in someone from outside to deal with me. I wondered if I would simply be allowed to resign in disgrace, or if I might be subjected to a court-martial and a prison sentence. It really did not matter; in some ways, it would be a relief to confess my failure. And maybe a few years in prison would give me a chance to break free of the addiction. So I squared my shoulders and approached the senior officer. I saluted and took the time to study her as I waited for her to return the courtesy. What I saw was almost an ideal picture of a Legion Champion- a picture I had once hoped to embody myself. She was a slender Imperial, with short brown hair and intelligent eyes. Her face was too narrow and strong to be beautiful, but had a vitality that was compelling. She introduced herself as Severia Gratius and nodded to me in a friendly way that I found surprising, given the reason I thought she was there. Her explanation quickly cleared up my confusion.

“Agent Treyson, isn’t it? Glad to meet you. You’re new at Fort Frostmoth, so I guess you haven’t heard. Over the past couple of months, several people across Solstheim have been poisoned… with moon-sugar. Someone has been slipping it into their food and wine. They experience temporary euphoria, and then complete exhaustion. I’ve been charged with finding the culprit and bringing him to justice. Recently, the Cult priest Jeleen was poisoned, so it is now an official Legion matter.”

She paused with a frown of fierce concentration, then continued,

“If it were just the locals, the Empire couldn’t be bothered. But now one of our own has been poisoned! Last week, Jeleen was stricken with moon-sugar euphoria after drinking some wine. There wasn’t anyone available locally to deal with the problem, but the Legion is getting impatient. So they sent me to investigate. We want the person responsible caught. I understand from Captain Carius that you’re currently unassigned, and this is just the sort of task that calls for someone with your rank and skills.”

She placed a hand on my shoulder and said firmly,

“I call upon you, as a loyal member of the Legion, to bring the poisoner to justice. What say you? Are you ready to honor your oath and serve the Empire?”

Athlain just can't manage to stay out of trouble, and now he carried his own trouble with him. I wonder how his new addiction will impact his ability to carry out the upcoming investigation.

Good stuff. It should be interesting to see how he deals with this...

Great to see another update.

Ahhh, most welcome! Now what Athlain? You surely will help Severia, right? Well that may do you good, you can't possibly be under the bad influence of skooma while performing a task for the Legion, can you? Oh aye, can't wait to know more....

I can't seem to find chapter 3. Does anybody know where it is?
EDIT: Found it.

Great stuff Treydog. I only have to add this story to the mod now (as long as I find chapter 3).

This post has been edited by contureh: Dec 12 2008, 12:02 AM

Terrific, as usual. Is it my imagination though, or are we missing an update here compared to the official forums?

Not your imagination, BSD-IES. I've indeed seen a more recent update on the BethSoft forums.

WHAT??? oh my my.......that was most unfortunate!

Oops. I am a bad doggie. Did not mean to short-change my friends here at my web-home. Here is the belated addition:

I responded in the only way I could- I snapped to attention, gave a parade-ground salute, and declared:

“I am happy to be of service!”

Severia returned my salute and bestowed a smile upon me, then spoke formally:

“Excellent. You are a credit to the Legion, Athlain. I hereby authorize you to seek out, and if necessary, kill the person responsible for the moon-sugar poisonings. Jeleen was the most recent victim, and he actually caught a glimpse of the poisoner. It was a man, wearing a unique white Colovian fur helm. Bring me that white helm, and I’ll know justice has been served. Be sure to talk to Jeleen before you start your search. He is at the Imperial Cult altar.”

I saluted once more and turned away to seek Jeleen. Given my lack of religion, it was odd how many significant events of my tenure at Fort Frostmoth took place in or near the Imperial Cult shrine. It was almost enough to make me re-examine my unthinking skepticism. But a diversion into theology would have to wait- I had more pressing issues on my mind. My face was a picture of calm determination as I crossed the bailey, but my soul was in torment. As far as Champion Gratius and the Legion were concerned, I was acting as a dutiful officer, intent on following orders. I alone knew the truth of my motives, and that knowing burned like acid at my core.

Whatever my reasons, I needed to carry out my assignment, and so I sought the Imperial Cult altar, where I found a powerfully-built Redguard dressed in the robes of a monk. His face was lined with years and hardship, and some gray had begun to tinge his hair. Even so, his voice was deep and compelling when he asked me if I was in need of counsel or comfort. I longed terribly to shout,

“Yes, yes! Both of those. I am in desperate need of counsel and of comfort!”

But I stamped on that impulse with a ruthless heel, and said instead,

“I understand you were recently poisoned. Champion Gratius has ordered me to investigate the matter. Any information you can give me would be helpful.”

The priest nodded his understanding, and told his story as follows:

“Yes, I too was stricken with moon sugar euphoria. It was just last week, after a Cult service. I sat down to some wine, and moments later realized something was wrong. I am a law-biding man, Athlain, and have never experienced anything so...free, in all my life! The laughing, the dancing...it was horrible! And then, as I drifted off, I saw him. A strange man...old and frail -- certainly no Nord -- wearing a white Colovian fur helm. But even stranger was his silly song.”

I was uncertain of the significance of song, but decided to be thorough.

“Silly song?”

Jeleen shrugged and looked away before continuing,

“It's rather embarrassing, really. I mean, I was deeply affected by the moon sugar, and I'm not even sure I can trust my own recollections. But, well, I heard singing. It was a very strange tune, more like a nursery rhyme. Something you'd sing to a child, maybe. I only caught a little of it. Something about a workshop in the snow, and lanterns all aglow. And I remember something about candy. Oh yes, and there were lots of he he he's and ha ha ho's. It's all so absurd, I know.”

Beyond the vague description of the man and his memory of the song, Jeleen could tell me nothing more of value. But before I could leave, he stopped me with a hand on my arm, saying:

“Athlain, if you would be so kind, there is another problem I wish to place before you. I know it is an imposition, but… do you think you could find Mirisa for me?”

The request caught me by surprise, and I simply gaped at the priest for a moment, before asking, “Who?”

Seeming almost as distracted as I, Jeleen answered indirectly:

“She was headed north to preach the way of the Nine Divines. Surely she should have been back by now.”

Gathering my own wits, I spoke slowly and clearly-

“Who was headed north? And what is she to you?”

My calm disconcerted him even more than the admitted bluntness of my questions and he cleared his throat and looked around the shrine before responding.

“Mirisa. She means a great deal to me. That is, she...her work...is very important to the Imperial Cult. You are going to be exploring the island anyway, Athlain. If you could find Mirisa and return her to me, I would be most grateful. She left here over a month ago and headed north, toward Lake Fjalding. You should begin your search in that area.”


I considered Jeleen’s request briefly before agreeing. My decision was partly due to the real concern Jeleen expressed, but also because Lake Fjalding was as good a place to search for the moon-sugar poisoner as any other. Although the person the priest had seen was not a Nord, the island-dwellers might be able to provide information about his “workshop”. And that was information I was quite anxious to obtain. I would not be able to leave immediately, however; there were preparations to make. And those preparations depended on the whim of Carnius Magius. He would summon me when he needed something, not before.

I spent the interim in fruitless questioning of the garrison. None of them had seen anyone resembling the figure described by Jeleen, and I could tell that more than a few thought the priest was a bit addled. My efforts had another result, as well, one that was not necessarily welcome. The day after Severia Gratius had spoken to me, I received a summons from Captain Carius, requesting my presence in his office “at my earliest convenience.” That last bit of verbiage meant, “Why aren’t you already here,” so I wasted no time in seeking the commander. He greeted me in a friendly fashion and gave me a searching look before offering me a seat.

“I am happy to see that you are feeling better.” He paused and then cleared his throat, before continuing,

“Athlain, I understand Champion Gratius has asked for your help. Although I might have wished that she had consulted me first, Cyrodiil makes its own rules. And I expect that you will provide whatever assistance the Champion requires. Perhaps, in the course of your investigation, you could also look into a troubling matter which has recently come to my attention?”

Although, he phrased that last as a question, I knew an order when I heard one. Therefore, I responded without hesitation:

“How can I be of assistance, sir?”

He rose to pace his office, a habit I recognized as a sign of his agitation. Then he stopped and explained his concerns:

“I've noticed the store of weapons in the armory has been decreasing, and I know there is no official reason for it. My only guess is that someone is smuggling them off Solstheim to be sold on Vvardenfell. I want you to uncover this smuggling ring, and I will provide you with a bit of help.”

Of course there was no question of turning down the assignment, so I concentrated on a potential problem:

“Help, sir?”

He nodded vigorously.

“I would like you to work with another of my soldiers on this case. You have clearly demonstrated your ability to operate on your own, but a Legion officer also needs to be able to command others. It is past time you were given that opportunity. There are two soldiers available, and they are among the best here at Fort Frostmoth: Saenus Lusius and Gaea Artoria. You'll find Lusius in the General Quarters, and Artoria in the General Quarters, Upper Level. Speak with them and decide which will be your subordinate. When you have unearthed the smuggling ring, report to me. I leave how you deal with the smugglers to your discretion.”

I left the captain and took a few moments to ponder the joys of boredom, joys which I had so often disdained in the past. Now, I had almost more complications and excitement than I could rightly handle, and a definite feeling that I should have been more careful about what I wished for. Oddly enough, though, I actually required one more complication before I could proceed- an assignment from Carnius Magius.

Good doggie ! Great update as usual. Funny that, although Athlain has more than enough complications he still needs one more to continue. I wonder what this help can offer to Athlain?