Now why am I suddenly thinking about the most common story told to inner-city cops? "Dude, I was just standin' on de corner minding me own bizness when somebody come along and shot me!"

And here we go with the infamous male Dunmer mystique once again!

I loved this whole thing. The story about the Breton woman and the Dunmer bandit had me laughing. I wonder how much of that is the game and how much is Ada's own experience?

I enjoyed the visit with Yakum a great deal. He sounds like a very interesting character.

Exactly my problem with playing a pure mage character! Give me a steel blade and the Jewel of the Rumare any day!

“

Ah yes, Maurrie and her bad sense of direction.



Ancestral tombs are definitely a place MW got the "atmospherics" exactly right.





Those two because they so wonderfully capture Ada's POV and personality.

Believe it or not, the 'Beauty and the Bandit' quest is taken straight from the main game (though some of the dialogue is my own).


OMG those tombs. The Deadlands in Oblivion weren't half as scary.

Soooo many things that make me think:"Why didn't I think of that..."
(Still) Love it Helena

Chapter 7: Indecent Exposure

I took the Guild guide to Caldera the next morning. Like Pelagiad, it was a newly-chartered settlement built in the Imperial style. The town was set in a region called the West Gash, which was somewhere between Ald’ruhn and the southern regions in terms of landscape: not as dry and dusty as the Ashlands, but not as green and leafy as the Ascadian Isles.

As I was walking out to the mines, something very strange occurred. I spotted a figure up ahead, by a crossroads, who looked for all the world like he wasn’t wearing any clothes. As I drew closer I realised that the figure was a male Nord, and that he was, indeed, stark naked.

Now, I’d met a few Nords in my time whom I wouldn’t have minded seeing naked. In fact, there were one or two whom I had seen naked, and been very happy about it (just don’t tell my parents). This guy was not one of them. He was middle-aged, hairy, and possessed of numerous colourful tattoos which did not enhance his beauty.

He called out to me as I approached, not seeming at all embarrassed. “Hail and well met, stranger! As ye can plainly see, I require some assistance, if ye be kind enough to grant it.”

From his heavy accent and dialect I guessed him to be a native of Skyrim, rather than Cyrodiil or some other part of the Empire. “Here, take this,” I murmured, handing him one of my spare shirts from my pack while trying not to look at his groin area. “No, don’t try to wear it – it’s much too small. Just … wrap it around yourself or something.”

“Thank ye,” he said agreeably, tying the shirt around his mid-section. I wouldn’t be asking for that one back. “Now, I need help finding the festering witch who has robbed me blind and left me for dead.”

“A witch?”

He nodded. “A witch she had to be. I was on my way to Caldera when I met her. She was a stranger here like myself, and she was quite friendly, and, well, y’know, we set up camp together.”

“Yes, I get the idea…”

“But that night,” he went on, “she revealed the witch inside. Cast a spell on me. I couldn't so much as blink! Stole everything, even me worn out clothes, but most importantly, she took my prized axe Cloudcleaver!” He clapped a meaty hand on my shoulder. “Join with me, stranger! And let’s find her and extract her entrails together!”

I looked at him in exasperation. “But I’m here on a job! Oh, all right,” I sighed reluctantly, seeing the anguished look on his face. “But you’ll have to wait until I finish my mission for the Fighters’ Guild.”

He nodded enthusiastically. “I knew you had the bloodlust in you, stranger! Just… try to hurry up, will ye? It’s a bit chilly today.”

I eventually found the Telvanni agents holed up in a cave not far from the mines. Not being trained fighters, they didn’t pose much of a challenge, and the fight was nasty but short. No doubt the Thieves’ Guild would be pissed off with me if they found out what had happened, but if they were hiring themselves out to the Telvanni as saboteurs, they had only themselves to blame.

Afterwards I rejoined my Nord friend, whose name turned out to be Hlormar. “Onward, friend!” he cried. “We must find this witch before she moves again. I can feel Cloudcleaver calling out to me to rescue it from the clutches of evil!”

We set off down a path leading north-west, which was the way Hlormar thought the witch had gone. After walking for some time, I spotted a robed woman off in the distance. Hlormar let out a roar. “That’s her! That’s the witch!”

We ran off in pursuit of the woman, who turned and stared at the sound of Hlormar’s angry voice. “Oh. It’s you.”

“Excuse me!” I panted, somewhat out of breath. “My friend Hlormar here claims that you stole his axe.”

She let out a bark of laughter. “Ha! A right funny story that one is! Tell me, did he inform you that his name is actually ‘Hlormar Wine-Sot’?”

“Oh?”

“The true story,” she explained, “is that I took Hlormar on as a travelling companion for protection. Along the way he was getting entirely too friendly for his own good, so I had to cast a sleep spell on him. Just to teach him a lesson in manners, I stripped him and left him by the road.” Her lips curled slightly. “And to be sure he didn't come after me for retribution, I took that Cloudcleaver he's always fawning over as well.”

This drew a cry of rage from Hlormar. “Lying witch! Are you going to help me, friend, or are you believing the lies spilling out of that witch's face?”

I looked from one to the other, and threw up my hands in despair. “Sort it out for yourselves! I’m not getting involved.” I walked off, leaving them yelling at each other. Sheesh!

Since I was already part-way there, I decided to walk the rest of the way to Ald’ruhn. Unfortunately I had rather misjudged the distance, and it ended up taking a lot longer than I had expected. If I hadn’t had the sense to bring food and water with me, I don’t know what kind of state I’d have been in by the time I reached the city.

Coming into the Ashlands region, I rounded a corner and stopped short, struck by a powerful sense of what the Bretons call déjà vu. There in the middle of the road, a short way ahead, stood yet another axe-wielding Nord man – tall, hefty, bearded, and completely naked. Actually, I tell a lie: this one wasn’t completely naked. He wore leather boots, gauntlets, and some kind of fur helmet.

I blinked a couple of times, wondering whether I really was going mad. Had I been starved of male companionship for so long that I was starting to hallucinate naked men everywhere I went? If so, you’d have thought they’d be a little more attractive.

As I walked up to the man, I could see that he was looking extremely angry. “You!” he roared. “You will speak with me now, or you shall feel the bite of my axe!”

I raised my eyebrows. “Yeah, OK. You might want to put some clothes on first.”

“Grrrrrrr.” The Nord ground his teeth. “When this enchantment wears off, Hisin Deep-Raed will shed some blood!”

“Enchantment?” I clasped my hand to my forehead. “Don’t tell me. You ran into a witch, right?”

“That I did,” he admitted, calming down slightly. “That foul witch has given me some enchanted disease, leaving me rooted to this spot! She called it Witchwither.”

I couldn’t suppress a choke of laughter. “Well, with a name like that, I guess it could have been worse…”

“Foul temptress!” he snarled. For a moment I thought he was addressing me; then I realised he meant the witch. “I had been her escort; she was a big woman, friendly... you know. Then the damned witch ensorcelled me – leaving me at this spot, nearly naked, to display my shame to the world!”

“Okay, calm down,” I said, fighting a powerful urge to giggle. “Let’s see what we can do about this. You say she gave you some kind of disease?”

He nodded. “Well, I’m not much of a spellcaster,” I went on, “but I might have a Cure Disease potion here somewhere. Just let me take a look.” I managed to resist the temptation to ask him exactly how he had contracted the disease; that would have been a little too cruel.

Hisin looked gratified, and a little surprised. “You have honour, stranger,” he acknowledged. “I am a man of standing among my people. My father and my father’s father, and his father before him, have had songs sung of their deeds, and I shall be no different! Treat me fairly, and I will reward you.”

Once again I found myself struggling not to giggle. “Well… let’s hope this particular deed doesn’t end up in the songbooks, hmm?”

I managed to find a Cure Common Disease potion in my pack; it was one of the ones I’d purchased from Aurane Frernis in Vivec. I had to hold it to Hisin’s lips for him to drink, as he was completely unable to move. As he gulped it down, I saw the rigid muscles in his arms and chest relax slightly.

“Yes, yes!” he cried. “I’m free of this enchantment! Hisin Deep-Raed calls you friend, er…”

“Ada.”

He removed the fur helmet from his head. “Take this, my family’s helm, Icecap. It was worn by my father, and his father, and his father before – ”

“Yes, I get the picture,” I interrupted hastily. The helmet stank of sweat and unwashed barbarian, but I could see the faint glow that indicated an enchantment. “Is that a Resist Frost enchantment on it?”

He nodded. “It will protect you from the coldest of nights. Wear it with honour. And now, I must go kill that witch!”

I caught him by the arm as he was about to run off. “Um, Hisin?” I held out another of my shirts to him. “Perhaps you’d like to, er, cover yourself a bit first?”

Hisin’s face turned several shades redder. He snatched the shirt from me without a word and tied it round himself, before stomping off down the southern path. “Filthy witch!” I heard him growl to himself. “I’ll feed her entrails to the nix-hounds!”

I walked on, shaking my head. Akatosh, what was it with all these Nord barbarians getting seduced and robbed by witches? I’d have to hope I would get to Ald’ruhn before I ran into any more of them, not least because I was starting to run out of shirts.

To my immense relief, I didn’t come across any more naked Nords (or anyone else) on my journey to Ald’ruhn. It was late afternoon when I finally arrived, and the sun was still high in the sky. I had to admit that the place didn’t look quite as bad in bright sunlight, but there was still a thick coating of ash over the parched ground. Dunmer children jumped around in the dust and threw handfuls at each other, while older residents stood outside their doors, sweeping it into neat little piles.

Before going to Skar, I decided to pay a visit to the Ald’ruhn Fighters’ Guild to repair my weapons and armour. In the lower hall I was greeted by an intelligent-looking Imperial, probably in his early fifties, who introduced himself as Percius Mercius.

“I used to be the Master of the Fighters Guild,” he told me. “But I took the opportunity to retire here in Ald’ruhn. The current Guildmaster is Sjoring Hard-Heart, over in Vivec.”

Ald’ruhn certainly wasn’t the place I’d have chosen to retire to, but each to his own, I guess. When I explained that I was a member of the Balmora guild, Percius raised his eyebrows. “Working for Eydis, are you? Well, if you need any advice on orders you’ve been given – anything that seems out of the ordinary to you – let me know. I'm more than willing to help out.”

My mind flashed back to the Caldera mine mission and Sottilde’s codebook. “Okay, thanks. I will.”

“Things have really gone bad since I was the Master of the Guild,” he said with a sigh. “Sure, Sjoring’s a good fighter, no one disputes that. But I've heard – ” He stopped suddenly.

“What have you heard?”

Percius shook his head. “I’ve said too much already. Maybe when you’ve proven yourself we can talk again.”

I got the distinct feeling that whatever he had to say, I wasn’t going to like it. Gods, I hate Guild politics.

It was getting a little late to be heading over to the clothier’s store, and I didn’t want to arouse any suspicions, so I stayed the night in the Guild building. Sleeping there for the first time was a rather strange experience, as – like most buildings in Ald’ruhn – it was mostly built underground. I kept worrying that I’d run out of air and suffocate, until I remembered that I’d slept in caves plenty of times with no ill effects.

The next morning I hurried over to Skar, anxious to get my mission over with as soon as possible. Was it my imagination, or did the patrolling guards look even less friendly than they had on my previous visit? It had to be the former, but that did little to reduce my paranoia.

My fears turned out to be groundless, as the meeting with Bivale Teneran went very smoothly. She was alone when I entered her shop, so I simply handed over the scroll to her. “Yes, as I expected,” she said, after a quick glance at it. “Tell Nileno Dorvayn that I received the scroll and understood the message. Oh, and why not take this outfit?”

She handed me an exquisitely-tailored shirt and pants. I stared at them in amazement, scarcely able to believe that she would just give away these lovely clothes. “For… for me? Really?”

“Of course,” she said, smiling. “A present for my efficient courier.”

“Wow. That’s… really kind of you,” I stammered. “Thanks ever so much.”

As I was walking back to the bridge after leaving the store, I saw a Redguard woman walking in the other direction. It was Neminda, the Redoran retainer whose orders I’d intercepted during my first Hlaalu assignment. There was no way for me to avoid her, and I very nearly panicked – until I realised that there was no possible way for her to recognise me or guess what I’d been doing here.

“Greetings, stranger,” she said with a friendly nod. “Nice to see another human in Ald’ruhn. Are you new here?”

I nodded. “Just arrived in Morrowind a week ago.”

For a moment I was afraid that she would recognise my voice, but if she did, there was no sign of it. She simply held out a hand in greeting. “I’m Neminda, a drillmaster for House Redoran.”

“Ada Ventura, of Imperial City.” I tried to think of something else to say, but my mind had gone blank. “So, uh… you’re a Redoran?”

“That’s right,” she said with a smile. “We are true and noble warriors, the hereditary defenders of Morrowind. Were you thinking of joining the House? You look like a fighter.”

“I can’t,” I said, with genuine regret. “I’ve already joined House Hlaalu, I’m afraid.” I was beginning to wish I’d taken the time to do some research into the Great Houses, rather than blithely signing up with Hlaalu the moment I arrived in Balmora. From what I heard of Redoran, it sounded like it might have suited me rather better, but it was too late now.

Neminda arched her eyebrows, and while she refrained from commenting, I could see that I’d sunk a couple of notches in her estimation. “I see,” she said, in a voice that was still polite, but a little less friendly. “Well, no matter. Enjoy your stay in Ald’ruhn, sera.”

She went on her way, and I hurried back to the Mages’ Guild, relieved that I seemed to have got away with my little impersonation. Even so, I had no intention of staying any more nights in Ald’ruhn – no doubt Neminda was aware of the trick played on her by now, and you never knew when she might suddenly make the connection.

When I got back to Nileno Dorvayn, I found her looking somewhat harassed. “Ah, Ada!” she exclaimed. “Have you delivered the scroll? Good. I’m promoting you to Retainer, effective immediately.”

“Oh. Thanks,” I said, a little surprised by her abrupt manner. “Is something the matter, Nileno?”

She let out an exasperated sigh, massaging her temples with her fingers. “A Hlaalu noble has just been murdered.”

“Murdered!”

She nodded. “Ralen Hlaalo was a noble who lived here in Balmora. Here, take this key and go to Hlaalo manor.” Her expression was grim. “When you find out who murdered Ser Ralen, kill them. Make sure no ever dares raise their hand against a Hlaalu noble again!”

Thus I found myself playing detective for the second time in little more than a week. I wasn’t complaining, though; it made a nice change from spying, looting ancestral tombs, and other assorted skulduggery.

Ralen’s body was still lying on the floor of Hlaalo manor when I entered; he must have been killed only hours earlier. Needless to say, the place was a mess. A pool of congealed, sticky blood surrounded poor Ralen – who, from the look of him, appeared to have been attacked with an axe or something similar. He lay on his back, his pale face gazing up at the ceiling with blank, sightless eyes.

I couldn’t see anyone else around, though overturned furniture and smashed crockery suggested that some kind of fight had taken place. Surely there had to be witnesses? I found it hard to believe that a struggle like that could have taken place without anyone seeing or hearing anything.

I bent over the young man’s body, searching for clues, and looked up to see a middle-aged Dunmer woman watching me from the foot of the stairs. When I straightened up, she gripped her skirts nervously and retreated a couple of steps. “It’s OK,” I told her. “I’m a member of your House, here to investigate the murder.”

After a brief hesitation, she nodded and beckoned me closer. “It’s just terrible,” she whispered. “Ralen Hlaalo employed me for years. What will I do now?”

“Could you give me a description of the murderer?”

She nodded, her eyes darting nervously around the room as if she feared that someone might hear us. “I saw him with my own eyes. He was a young Dunmer with red hair in a tall row over his head, as is fashionable these days. He wore bonemold armour and wielded a Dwemer War Axe.”

“Any idea who he was?”

Another brief pause. “No, I do not know more than that. I am sorry.”

The slight hesitation, combined with her reluctance to meet my gaze, was enough to tell me that she was lying. Clearly she did have at least an idea who the murderer was, but was too afraid to tell me. Given that she’d just seen her employer hacked to death with an axe, I couldn’t entirely blame her.

“I’ll find the guy,” I promised. “Don’t worry.”

She gulped and nodded. “I wish you luck.”

I spent the next hour or so asking around town to see if anyone recognised the description, but it was hopeless. I saw clear signs of recognition in the faces of several of the Dunmer I spoke to, but when I pressed them for information, they all insisted that they didn’t know anyone who looked like that. Finally, in despair, I went to the Fighters’ Guild in hopes that someone there might be willing to talk.

After collecting my pay from Eydis, and picking up my next orders – some sort of debt-collection job in a town called Suran – I asked various Guild members whether they knew any red-haired Dunmer men. I wasn’t too hopeful, but rather to my surprise, an Imperial woman named Flaenia seemed to recognise the description. “Hmm,” she said thoughtfully. “That sounds like Thanelen Velas over at the Council Club.”

The Council Club! Well, that certainly explained why everyone had been so reluctant to identify the guy – he was Camonna Tong, of course. I should have guessed.

After turning it over in my mind for a while, I decided to enter the Council Club, but with extreme caution. I was well aware that one false move could leave me with an axe embedded in my own skull. As luck would have it, the first person I met there precisely matched the murderer’s description, and was alone. He was sitting on a small table, staring absently into the distance while chewing on some kind of leaf.

I waved a hand in front of his face. “Excuse me. Are you Thanelan Velas?”

The man folded his arms and looked me over for several seconds, his expression clearly showing that he wasn’t impressed. Finally he said, “What’s it to you?”

“I represent House Hlaalu,” I told him. “A Hlaalu noble was murdered last night, and you fit the murderer’s description.”

Rather than getting angry or defensive, the man just shrugged, a bored look on his face. “You are mistaken. It was Nine-Toes who killed him.”

Hang on, ‘Nine-Toes’? Apart from the fact that that was clearly an Argonian name, I was pretty sure he was one of the Blades trainers that Caius had recommended to me.

“So Nine-Toes is a red-haired Dunmer, is he?” I asked. “Because the witness I spoke to was pretty clear about that part.”

“And who was the witness?”

“I’m not telling you,” I said. “All you need to know is that they saw you leaving the house after the murder.”

Thanelan was too smart to fall for this, however. “Well, they cannot have seen me, because I was not there.”

“Why did you kill him, Thanelan?” I said quietly. “Was it over money? A woman?”

A brief flash of rage in Thanelan’s eyes told me that I had hit very close to home; however, he wasn’t about to give up so easily. He slid off the table and stood up, looking me directly in the face.

“I did not kill him, outlander,” he said, slowly and clearly, as if talking to a child. “It was the Argonian, Nine-Toes.”

We faced off for several seconds, doing our best to outstare each other. I was almost sure that he was the killer, but what could I do? I had no proof. If I attacked him on the spot, I’d be arrested for murder myself – not to mention that he probably had friends down below who’d come running at the first sign of trouble.

“All right,” I said at last. “I’ll carry on gathering evidence. Don’t go anywhere in the meantime, will you?”

His only answer was a snort. As I turned to leave, gripping the hilt of my sword, I heard him mutter, “N’wah”.

Gritting my teeth, I went back to Nileno, who was busy with some kind of paperwork. I got the impression that the Hlaalu councillors often left her to handle tasks they should really be doing themselves. “Yes, what is it?” she said irritably. “Have you found the murderer yet?”

“Yes, I think so,” I said. “He’s a Camonna Tong member named Thanelan Velas.”

“And is he dead?”

“No.”

“Well, why not?”

“He’s Camonna Tong,” I hissed. “What am I supposed to do, wipe out the entire Council Club? Besides, I don’t have any actual proof.”

Nileno flung down her quill in exasperation. “Then find some proof,” she growled. “Or find another way to kill him. Or bribe a guard. But whatever you do, Ada, I want Ralen’s murder avenged. Do I make myself clear?”

It was on the tip of my tongue to ask her why the hell she didn’t just kill him herself if she thought it was that easy. Somehow, sanity prevailed and I forced myself to remain calm. “All right, I’ll try,” I said grudgingly. “But it may take a while.”

She shrugged and went back to her paperwork. I left the hall, barely resisting the urge to slam the door behind me.

Since I couldn’t immediately think of a way to deal with Thanelan, I instead went to Vivec to look for a bank. By now I had far too much money to simply carry around with me, and my current solution – keeping it locked in a chest in the Fighter’s Guild – was not a particularly good one. After finding a place to deposit my gold, I visited an enchanter in the Foreign Quarter to pick up more spell scrolls, and was just preparing to leave when I heard a loud commotion outside.

“What’s that?” I asked. “Why all the shouting?”

Miun-Gei, the Argonian enchanter, scowled darkly. “That annoying fool! Did you not see him as you entered? It is that Marcel Maurard. Outside my shop he stands all day, selling ridiculous wares.” He sighed. “Get rid of him I would like to, but the law says he is within his rights. Perhaps you might find a way?”

I considered this for a minute. The silt strider to Suran didn’t leave until evening, so I didn’t exactly have a whole lot else to do right now. “I suppose I could try.”

He nodded enthusiastically. “Make him go away, and I will have rewards for you!”

I went outside, where Marcel Maurard – a handsome but rather effeminate-looking Breton – was hawking his wares to largely uninterested passers-by. “Excuse me,” I said. “Would you mind doing that somewhere else? You’re scaring people away from Miun-Gei’s shop.”

“Leave here? I could not! It is the finest spot in all Vivec from which to sell my wares. Otherwise, I'd have nothing upon which to support myself.” He heaved a melodramatic sigh. “A man in my line of work must find a way to make a living!”

“And what line of work is that?”

“I am an actor!” (He pronounced it ‘ac-tor’, with emphasis on the ‘or’.) “Or at least I hope to be. I am the poor player who struts and frets for a while on a stage and then has lunch. I am full of sound and furiousness! Oh, if there were but a good theatre troupe in this town, I could give up selling these baubles. Oh! Woe is me!”

I nearly burst out laughing. Was this guy serious? “Well, I’ll see if I can find one for you.”

“Oh, to be an actor,” I heard him murmur, as I walked away. “To act, perchance to earn some money!”

After asking around about the theatre scene in Vivec, I was directed to Crassius Curio, a noble in the Hlaalu canton. Apparently he was quite a patron of the arts, and was currently looking for actors to star in his new play. I took a gondola to the Hlaalu canton, which was all but identical to the Foreign Quarter, complete with those scary-looking Ordinators around every corner. How the people of Vivec could stand to have those guys watching their every move was beyond me.

I was a little apprehensive about marching into Curio’s splendid top-tier mansion and asking to see him, but when I explained that I was a member of House Hlaalu, things went pretty smoothly. A Dunmer servant directed me to Curio, who was ‘busy with his writing’ in his room below. In hindsight, I guess I should have found it a little strange that he chose to receive visitors in his bedroom.

The moment I saw Crassius Curio, I felt that there was something faintly sleazy about him. He was almost a stereotypical Imperial noble, decked out in elegant Western-style clothes and jewels that were perhaps a little too flamboyant. I stiffened a little at the wolfish grin he shot me when I entered the room, but I was determined not to let it bother me.

“Crassius Curio?” I asked, looking him straight in the eye.

“Yes, I’m Crassius Curio,” he said with a smile. “But you can call me ‘Uncle Crassius’.” Uncle Crassius?

“I heard you were looking for actors for a theatre troupe,” I said, trying to ignore the ‘Uncle Crassius’ remark.

His eyes lit up. “A company of players, yes! But there are so few in the area that are willing to act, even for a good price. I need an actor with wit, grace, charm, and a firm...oh, never mind.” His eyes roved over me in a way that made me feel deeply uncomfortable. “You wouldn't be a bad choice, muffin.”

“Me?” I said in alarm. “I can’t act!”

“Ah, well,” he sighed. “If you see someone else who fits the bill, send them to Uncle Crassius.”

“Actually, I do know someone who might be interested,” I said, and gave him a brief description of Marcel Maurard.

‘Uncle Crassius’ nodded thoughtfully when I’d finished. “Yes, he sounds exactly right for my new play, The Lusty Argonian Maid. A rather bawdy tale, but I think it will play well with the people.” He gave me another of those rather disconcerting smiles. “You do like plays, don’t you, pumpkin?”

“I love plays,” I admitted. I’d often snuck out to see plays when I lived in the Imperial City, particularly the ones that my parents didn’t think were ‘suitable’. “In fact, I had an idea for a play once.”

“Did you indeed?” His eyes sparkled with amusement. “And what was your idea?”

“Well…” I wasn’t entirely sure I wanted to share it with him.

“Come on, sweetie, don’t be shy.”

I hesitated, then plunged ahead. “Well, there are these two noble families that have been feuding for generations. Say… one from House Hlaalu and one from House Redoran.” He nodded. “Anyway, a boy from the Hlaalu family falls in love with a girl from the Redoran family. But of course, their parents won’t hear of it.”

“Ah, forbidden love!” he exclaimed. “Do go on.”

“So they marry in secret,” I continued, warming to my theme. “But then, the man accidentally kills another Redoran in a fight, and has to flee the city.”

Crassius’ eyes widened. “My goodness! What happens next?”

“Well, in the meantime, the girl’s parents have arranged a marriage for her. But of course, she can’t tell them that she’s already married. So she goes to the local alchemist, and buys a potion that’ll make her appear to be dead – ”

“Ah, I see it now!” he breathed. “The fair Dunmer maiden, swept off her feet by the handsome Crellius… Caro, mad with despair – ”

“Well. Um.” I hesitated. “I suppose the hero could be an Imperial. But… I think it would be more effective if they were both Dunmer.”

“But it all ends happily, of course?” he continued, appearing not to hear.

I took a deep breath. “Actually… I was planning to have both of them die at the end. You see, the point is – ”

“Oh, but you can’t have a sad ending, poppet!” He shook his head, chuckling. “Got to give the punters what they want, eh? No, I’ll tell you what happens: The girl has a saucy Argonian maid – or maybe a Khajiit – who carries her messages to her lover. When he hears about the marriage and the potion, he returns to the city in disguise. Then all you need is a few more misunderstandings, a mix-up with a false moustache, feuding parents see the error of their ways, and all ends happily. Much better, don’t you think?”

I opened my mouth, then closed it again. “I… suppose so.”

“I shall start work on it at once,” he declared. “That is, once I’ve finished The Lusty Argonian Maid. Here, take a look at the work so far – I think it’s scrumptious!” He pressed a copy into my hands before I had time to answer.

I dutifully opened the manuscript at a random page and glanced at the dialogue inside. It showed an excerpt from ‘Act IV, Scene III’:


Lifts-Her-Tail: Certainly not, kind sir! I am here but to clean your chambers.

Crantius Colto: Is that all you have come here for, little one? My chambers?

Lifts-Her-Tail: I have no idea what it is you imply, master. I am but a poor Argonian maid.

Crantius Colto: So you are, my dumpling. And a good one at that. Such strong legs and shapely tail.

Lifts-Her-Tail: You embarrass me, sir!

Crantius Colto: Fear not. You are safe here with me.

Lifts-Her-Tail: I must finish my cleaning, sir. The mistress will have my head if I do not!

Crantius Colto: Cleaning, eh? I have something for you. Here, polish my spear.

Lifts-Her-Tail: But it is huge! It could take me all night!

Crantius Colto: Plenty of time, my sweet. Plenty of time.


Yes. Well. I probably wouldn’t be rushing to see that one on opening night.

“I think it’s marvellous,” I told him, anxious to make my escape. “But I really have to go now. I’m sure Mr. Maurard will be delighted to hear you have a place for him.”

“Goodbye, my little sweetroll,” he said, with a wink. “Remember: Be sweet to Uncle Crassius, and there’s something in it for you, sweetcakes.”

Ye gods, this guy was creepy even by the standards of theatrical types. Just talking to him left me feeling like I needed a long bath. I left the place hoping fervently that I’d never have to see him again, play or no play. Oh, if I’d only known…

The Ada Ventura Tour of the Naked Nords of Vvardenfell- you'll see sights you can't get out of your head with bleach!







And the even more traumatic first meeting with "Uncle" Crassius.



We also discover Ada's hidden literary talent, with the synopsis of her unpublished masterpiece "Romalen and Galuro."

Then there is more foreshadowing then even she realizes with Thanelen and the Council Club.

Wonderful as ever, Helena!

Hwut he said!

I honestly can't think of anything to add that trey has already commented on - he noticed much the same things I did!

Loved it!

It is official. I HATE Trey - the ... the... COMMENT-STEALER!!!!

Well, that leaves only the polishing of the huge spear to comment upon...


... oh. Been there. done that.


And now all those who haven't read Helena before will discover why her writing is addictive...and giggle-worthy...

This is truly glorious.

The whole tone and set up, the foreshadowing, and the in-jokes...

I love it.

Chapter 8: Larrius Varro’s Little Story

Marcel Maurard was delighted when I returned to him with the news about Crassius’s new play. “Then I must go to see the noble patron!” he cried. “Thank you my friend; you will not be forgotten! Yes, yes! The play’s the thing, wherein I’ll catch the purse strings of... that guy!”

The enchanter Miun-Gei seemed equally happy to be rid of the tiresome Breton. “You’ve done it! I admire your persuasiveness, friend. Allow me to give you this as a token of my appreciation.”

To my astonishment, he handed me what appeared to be an enchanted spear. I blinked. “This? Really? Seriously, a couple of free scrolls would be fine...”

“No, no, take it!” he insisted. “It has a Shock enchantment. Very useful.”

I wasn’t entirely sure what to say. The truth was that I had no skill at all with spears, and it was far too large and heavy to just carry around in my pack. I could sell it, since it was obviously valuable, but I didn’t want to do that in Vivec in case Miun-Gei got to hear of it and was offended. So I ended up having to take the damn thing with me on the silt strider to Suran.

Suran was a small coastal town built in the same style as Balmora. It wasn’t too far from Vivec, so I arrived there in time for a late supper, but it was too late to tackle my Fighters’ Guild assignment – or at least, I thought it was. My ‘target’ was a woman named Helviane Desele, who owed some money to a Fighter’s Guild client. For some reason everyone kept sniggering when I asked where she could be found; it wasn’t until the next morning, when I arrived at ‘Desele’s House of Earthly Delights’ and saw the red light outside the building, that I realised it was that kind of establishment.

There weren’t many ‘clients’ inside at that time of day, of course, but somehow that just made it seem even more tawdry. The barmaids were all topless, wearing only skirts and a skimpy undergarment, and the three female dancers – all humans, I noticed – wore almost nothing at all. I wondered just how desperate I would have to get before I’d consider going into that line of work – not that anyone would ever be likely to hire me, of course.

I was surprised to discover that one of the shirtless barmaids was in fact Desele herself. She greeted me politely, while obviously a little confused as to what I was doing there. “Welcome to my house, Imperial. Make yourself at home.”

“I’m not here for pleasure, I’m afraid,” I told her. “Could we talk in private for a few minutes?”

She nodded and led me to an upstairs room, where I got straight down to business: “I’m from the Fighters’ Guild. I’m told you owe money to our client, Manos Othreleth.”

I hadn’t exactly expected a warm welcome, but neither had I expected the look of outright fury that flashed across Desele’s face. “Oh, that’s it, is it?” she snapped. “I try and run a respectable business and the Camonna Tong keeps asking for this money ‘for my safety’. Well, I’m not paying it!”

“Whoa! Hold on!” I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. “Are you telling me this guy is Camonna Tong?”

Desele nodded, grinding her teeth. “ ‘For my safety’, indeed. What is it really for? To keep me safe from Orvas Dren’s thugs, that’s what it’s for!”

I had no idea how to respond. If she was telling the truth – and she certainly seemed genuinely angry – why on Nirn were we taking contracts from the Camonna Tong? I hadn’t joined the Guild to end up working as an enforcer for the local crimelords. Did Eydis know about this? And if so, what the hell was going on?

I remembered what Percius Mercius had said to me about things having ‘gone bad’ in the Guild under the new Guildmaster. Suddenly I was starting to see what he meant. The only option I could think of was to go to him and ask his advice on this contract, as he had suggested.

“Okay,” I said at last. “I’ll go check up on this, and if you’re right… well, I’m sure it’s just some sort of misunderstanding. Sorry to bother you.”

Desele merely huffed and returned to her place behind the bar. Making to leave, I nearly tripped over the legs of a man who sat slumped in a chair, clutching a mug of ale. He was clearly extremely drunk, and from the look of him he’d probably been there all night.

“Well, hey there,” he mumbled, giving me a little wave. “S’fine place this is, huh? Good place for me to jusht forget about my troubles. No use thinking about them. Stupid slaves. Why they gotta run, huh?”

I’d been planning to just ignore him and walk on, but those last few words caught my attention. “What was that about slaves?”

“Bah! I hate ’em all.” He took a long swig from his tankard. “ ’Specially the ones I can’t find, know what I mean? Been looking for this one, Haj-Ei, for months now. Can’t find him, though. Always running and hiding. Running and hiding.”

From this rather confused narrative, I gathered that he was a hunter of escaped slaves, and that he hadn’t had any luck tracking down the one he was currently looking for. Needless to say, I didn’t have a lot of sympathy for him. I was about to walk away in disgust when I suddenly realised that if I could find this slave ‘Haj-Ei’ myself, I might be able to help him escape.

“Poor you,” I said, trying my best to sound sympathetic. “Do tell me all about it.”

“How’s a man supposed to earn his keep? I’ll tell you how! Running and looking, that’s how.” He took another swig. “Even got myself a guide, I did – good ol’ Hides His Eyes. Kind of a stupid name if you ask me. Anyway, he’s been showing me around here for a couple of weeks – fat load of good that’s done me!”

Hang on. This guy was hunting an Argonian slave, and he was being helped by another Argonian? It was possible, I guess – it’s astonishing what people will do for money – but something about it didn’t sound right. “And where is this ‘Hides-His-Eyes’ now?” I asked, as casually as possible.

“Seems to like the tradehouse in town,” he said, shrugging. “I’m happier in this place. Another drink here!”

I left him to his ale and went to the general store opposite the House of Delights, where I bought a light chitin bow in exchange for my unwanted spear. (If I hadn’t been able to sell it, I guess I could always have donated it to Crassius Curio as a prop for his new play). After that I wandered around Suran for a while in search of the tradehouse, past groups of chatting housewives and giggling teenagers, and a wild-eyed shirtless guy mumbling something about ‘Red Mountain’ and ‘the Incarnate’. The town was built on the lower slopes of a mountain, so when I mounted the last of several long flights of steps, I could turn and look out over the whole town to the bay below.

I found Hides-His-Eyes in an upper room of the tradehouse, but he couldn’t give me any more information about Haj-Ei than my ‘friend’ the drunken slave-hunter. When I mentioned the name, he just shrugged. “Yes, the escaped slave. Hunted for many weeks, we did. Took the bounty hunter all around this area looking for him. Never caught him, though.” He shook his head thoughtfully. “No, never caught him.”

I looked hard at him. It can be difficult to for humans to interpret Argonians’ expressions, since their facial structure is so different, but I could swear I saw his lips curve up slightly at that last sentence. By now I had a strong suspicion as to where Haj-Ei might be, but I had no proof.

On one of the lower floors, one of the patrons directed me the slave trader Dranas Sarathram, who was apparently an expert on Argonians and their language. I hadn’t realised Suran had a slave market, and was a little shocked to find something like that in such a pleasant, cosmopolitan little town. Nevertheless, I made my way there in search of Dranas.

When I entered the building it appeared to be empty, but off to the side I could see several doors with small, barred windows in them, like the door of a prison cell. I walked to the centre of the room in order to see inside them, and immediately wished I hadn’t.

The two rooms I could see from here reminded me strongly of the prison cell where I’d served out my jail sentence, only smaller, dirtier and more cramped – closer to animal pens than cells. Inside each one, a thin, listless-looking and nearly naked Argonian sat slumped in a corner. Hearing my footsteps, one of them raised his eyes to look at me for a moment and then quickly lowered them again, obviously taking me for a potential buyer. I felt sick.

Quickly I turned away, and found myself face to face with a male Dark Elf. It was a real struggle to conceal the disgust I was feeling and force myself to smile pleasantly.

“I am Dranas Sarathram, the slave trader here,” he said, returning the smile. “Can I help you, sera?”

The next few minutes felt more than a little surreal to me. I had honestly never imagined having a polite conversation with a slave trader. I’d always considered them the scum of the mortal plane, right up there with torturers and child-killers. Finding this one to be a friendly, courteous man, who clearly thought he was just doing a job like any other, was almost as disconcerting as the sight of the slave pens.

We chatted about this and that for a minute or two, and then I casually asked him whether he knew someone called ‘Hides-His-Eyes’. “Don’t know him,” he said. “Argonian, right? Sounds like an Argonian name. Not his real name, of course, but that’s the way of things.”

“Really?” I asked innocently. “Not his real name?”

“Well, of course – it’s just a translation from the Argonian.” He thought for a moment. “That would translate to something like Hajeekius… Hajesheeus… maybe Haj-Ei. Most folks don’t bother to learn the language of these savages, but for me it makes business a little bit easier.”

I nodded understandingly and then told him that I had to be going. After promising to ‘think about it’ when he asked if I’d like to buy a slave, I left the building as quickly as possible, highly relieved to be getting out of there at last. I didn’t think I’d forget the sight of those slave pens for a long time.

I hurried back to the tradehouse and Hides-His-Eyes, who looked a little suspicious to see me back again. “What do you want?”

“I need to speak to you in private.” He followed me into a back room and shut the door behind us, now looking even more suspicious.

“Well, what are you here for?”

“I’m here to tell you that you’re an idiot… Haj-Ei.” I threw up my hands. “What the hell did you think you were doing, pulling a stunt like that?”

Hides-His-Eyes raised his eyebrows, clearly realising that the game was up. “You found my secret, you did? I’ll not try to hide it from you. Yes, I am the one the bounty hunter seeks.” He fixed me with a defiant glare. “He would take me back to the slavers. That is not for me. So I dragged him around the wilderness for a while... what of it? Does he not deserve it, the drunken fool?”

“He may be a fool,” I whispered, “but the local slave-trader isn’t. Did you know that he speaks your language?” His eyes widened. “If he ever gets to hear the name ‘Haj-Ei’, you can bet he’ll put two and two together. It’s a miracle you’ve got away with this for so long!”

Hides-His-Eyes looked somewhat shaken. “No, I did not know this.” He paused. “So, now you know my secret, what will you do with it? You… will not tell, will you?”

“No, I won’t tell. But you need to get out of town now.” Suddenly I realised that he might not have anywhere to go. “Is there anyone who might help you?”

“If I can reach the Argonian mission in Ebonheart, they will help me.” He nodded slowly. “You are a good friend – I thank you.”

“No problem,” I said, shaking my head in exasperation. “Just be more careful in future, okay?”

He nodded. “I will let others know what you have done for me today. Have you seen the Twin Lamps?”

I blinked, confused by this sudden turn in the conversation. “Twin… Lamps?”

“They light the way to freedom,” he whispered, and hurried off.

Okay, I was still confused. But at least I’d managed to help a slave escape, and hopefully in a way that wasn’t likely to get me into trouble. The silt strider would take him straight to Ebonheart, so why he hadn’t just hopped on it straight away was beyond me; maybe he was one of these people who enjoyed living on the edge.

I left the town myself early in the afternoon, not keen to spend any more time there. As the silt strider ambled away from the port, I couldn’t help glancing back a little guiltily at the building housing the slave market. Locked in a vault in Vivec somewhere, I probably had enough money to buy and free at least some of those slaves – but I needed that money in order to get back to Cyrodiil. I knew it sounded horribly selfish, but I’d never get back home if I set out to free every slave in Vvardenfell.

When I arrived back in Balmora, it was getting dark and I was tired and frustrated. I’d gone all the way to Suran and back without accomplishing my Fighter’s Guild mission, and what was more, I still didn’t have any idea how to deal with Ralen Hlaalo’s murderer. So I set off to do what any bold adventurer would do in this situation: drown my sorrows in a tavern.

The Eight Plates was full of well-dressed young Dunmer; clearly this was where the children of the local nobs hung out. I ordered a Cyrodiilic brandy and settled down in a corner, letting the conversation float over me. Although most people there were Dark Elves, there were a few outlanders present as well, so much of the discussion took place in Tamrielic. All the Dunmer there seemed to speak it fluently, and I envied them their ability to switch easily between their own language and the common Imperial tongue (I never was much good at languages myself).

One particular discussion caught my attention, apparently concerning the local magistrate. “Everyone knows Nolus Atrius is on the take,” one man was saying. “Thieves, thugs, and murderers are getting ridiculous sentences, or paying a drake and walking free. But he’s got fatcats and family back in the City to cover him.”

“Well, I hear the Legion Champion over at Moonmoth Fort has sworn an oath to stop corruption.”

There was a general roar of laughter at this. “Larrius Varro?” spluttered the first man. “If so, he should start with his own soldiers first. Honestly, that’s like the Camonna Tong swearing an oath to wipe out organised crime.”

“The Legion is the worst of the lot,” said one of the women.

“No, they’re all as bad as each other.”

The others nodded in agreement. “How do you think it was that bloated Imperial plutocrats got the charter to exploit the Caldera ebony deposits, and not a native Great House or local colonist? Big fat bribes, I tell you. And friends in high places.”

I squirmed a little in my seat, feeling the back of my neck grow hot. Okay, so a lot of what they were saying was probably true, but we weren’t all corrupt. Seriously. And given that most of these guys probably belonged to House Hlaalu, the words ‘pot’ and ‘kettle’ sprang to mind.

At that moment one of the Dunmer happened to glance in my direction, and saw me listening intently with arms folded. A look of horror crossed his face, and he nudged his friend sharply in the ribs. “Hey, Meril! Keep it down!”

Everyone looked round at me. “Carry on,” I said, giving them a little wave. “Don’t mind me.”

The man who had just spoken gave a rather embarrassed cough, and turned back to his friends. “Well, anyway, he’ll never get anywhere working through the system. The syndicates have got their people covered coming and going.”

“Then he’s going to have to go around the system,” said someone else. “Or through the system. Like, straight and hard through the system.”

There were murmurs of agreement, and the conversation gradually drifted on to other topics – but the talk about Larrius Varro and going ‘through the system’ had given me an idea. Granted, the kind of mildly crazy idea you tend to get after downing several glasses of brandy, but still an idea.

The next day I took a quick trip to Ald’ruhn to talk to Percius Mercius. By now it was becoming second nature to use the Guild Guides, despite how nervous I’d been at first, and yet again I found myself wondering why such a great idea hadn’t made it to Cyrodiil. In general, we Imperials are past masters at stealing other people’s ideas, incorporating them seamlessly into our own culture, and pretending we thought of them all along. Maybe it was one of those petty regulations that the Mages’ Council dreams up every few years, just to remind everyone that they still exist.

Percius looked grave when I told him about Desele and the Camonna Tong. “Yes, Manos Othreleth works for Orvas Dren, so I suspect this may not be a legitimate contract.”

“So what should I do?”

“Well, if you don’t want to get the money from her, I guess you’ll have to pay it yourself.” He saw the expression on my face, and shrugged. “Sorry, but that’s all I can think of.”

I really wasn’t happy with the idea of my own money going to fund the Camonna Tong, but it was better than having to bully Desele into paying them protection money. I returned to Balmora with a heavy heart and went to the Fighters’ Guild, where I handed over two hundred drakes to Eydis (without telling her that it was my own money, of course).

“Good work, Ada. Here’s your share.” She gave me back half of the money. I still wasn’t happy, but hopefully this would head off any more threats to Desele’s ‘respectable business’ (snort).

“Now,” Eydis continued, “I have a bounty contract for the Orc Dura Gra-Bol. She’s an outlaw, living openly in a house here in Balmora. I have a contract here that says 250 septims are yours if you bring her to justice.”

I agreed to the contract – making a mental note to check it with Percius first – but instead of going straight off to deal with Gra-Bol, I left town and headed for Fort Moonmoth. Inside I met Radd Hard-Heart, the Nord soldier who’d taken my Dwemer coins after my visit to Arkngthand. “I’d like to speak to Larrius Varro,” I told him.

He looked rather surprised, but waved his hand towards one of the staircases. “Down the stairs and to the right.”

Larrius Varro was dressed like a typical Imperial guard, but I could tell immediately that he was more than that. When I introduced myself, his brows shot up and he gave me a hard, appraising look. “Greetings,” he said at last. “I’m Larrius Varro, Legion Champion of Fort Moonmoth. I may have some work for you, if you’re interested.”

“That’s what I’m here about, actually.”

“Really?” He nodded slowly. “Well, Ada, the truth is that I’d been hoping you might come by. Through various channels, I’ve learned a bit about your situation.”

“You have?” It was my turn to be surprised. Was Larrius involved with the Blades somehow?

“I’d like to tell you a little story,” he continued. “When I’m done, you can ask me some questions – and then, maybe, you might decide to go out and do some things. Or you might not. That’s your affair.”

“Go ahead.”

Larrius glanced around, making sure we were alone, then laid an arm around my shoulders in a confiding manner. “Very well, here is the story: Once upon a time, there was a bad magistrate who took gold from criminal organisations to reduce the sentences and fines of criminals. Everybody knew he was doing this, but nobody could prove it – because even if it could be proved, the bad magistrate had important friends, and proof is not as powerful as important friends.”

“Quite,” I said.

“At the same time, there was a good officer who enforced the laws because he thought laws made people happy and safe. And it bothered the good officer that enforcing the laws did no good, because the bad magistrate let the criminals go as quick as the officer caught them.”

“But then, the good officer said, ‘Say. Wait a minute. What about the bad people who are bribing the bad magistrate? They haven’t got important friends. And if they aren’t around, then the bad magistrate can’t get any more bribes.”

By this time I was trying not to smile. “So what happened?”

“Well, the good officer suspected that the bad people who were bribing the bad magistrate were probably criminals themselves. So he made a little special prayer that there would be a little bloodbath to wash the bad people away.” He smiled. “There, isn’t that a nice little story? But maybe it isn’t over yet…”

“It’s a great story,” I said, still battling to keep a straight face. “Tell me, where could one find these ‘bad people’?”

“Oh.” He looked surprised. “The bad people are the Camonna Tong – I thought everybody knew that. Well, all I know is that they are a scout, a pawnbroker, a savant, a thief, and a smith, and they are in Balmora.”

“Would one of them be named Thanelan Velas, by any chance?”

Larrius shook his head. “I can’t give you any names. It’s against the Code to tell officers things. But I bet if you asked the Thieves Guild, they would cheerfully tell you who the bad people are and where to find them.” He thought for a moment, frowning. “I warn you, though, these bad people are very tough. Tougher than you, I’m afraid.”

Unfortunately, this was probably true. I’d improved quite a bit since my release from prison, but even at my peak there was no way I could have taken on five Camonna Tong thugs at once. Still, if I could find another way…

“Tell me,” I said carefully. “Suppose, just suppose there were to be a bloodbath… what would happen to me?”

“Well, Ada, I love the law. I love the Empire. But sometimes, no matter how hard we try to keep the peace, there is going to be blood.” He lowered his voice. “If there are any problems of a legal nature, I will speak to some of my friends, and take care of it. Oh, and I believe there a nice present the Emperor wants you to have… after you do the work.”

He patted me on the shoulder in a friendly manner. I assured him that I was looking forward to receiving the Emperor’s ‘nice present’, and left.

I needed a plan, I thought, as I walked back to Balmora. It was no use just barging in there and waving a sword around; I’d be cut to ribbons within seconds. What was the name of that spell I never thought I’d have any use for? Ah yes: frenzy.

For the next couple of days I was very busy. I paid a visit to the Thieves’ Guild, visited enchanters in several different cities in search of spell scrolls, and spent the rest of the time practising my combat skills with the Blades trainers (just in case). I sent a note to Nileno saying that I was working on a plan to deal with Ralen’s murderer, and received a terse reply: “Then get on with it.” I was starting to contemplate a spot of murder myself at this point.

Finally I had everything I needed: a couple of Frenzy Humanoid scrolls and a very powerful Chameleon spell. I’d had to pay extra to have the scroll written up by the enchanter, who had no doubt wondered what I could possibly need it for. Late in the evening, when the streets were beginning to empty of people and no guards were passing by, I ducked into the doorway of the Council Club and cast the Chameleon spell.

Almost immediately my outstretched hands vanished in front of my face. I could just see the outline there if I looked very carefully, but to all intents and purposes I was invisible. I didn’t have any time to waste, so I quickly opened the door and slipped inside the building.

I walked right past Thanelan Velas on the stairs leading down to the bar area, but he gave no sign of having seen or heard me; clearly the enchanter had done his work well. Taking a deep breath, I strode towards the centre of the room – where three other Cammona Tong members sat drinking and talking – and cast off the two Frenzy scrolls in rapid succession.

The scene that followed was not pretty. The two Tong members struck by the spells immediately leapt to their feet with cries of anger, drawing their weapons and waving them around wildly. The other one leapt to her feet and drew her own weapon, shouting “What the hell are you doing?” Seconds later the three of them were engaged in a pitched battle, swinging frantically at each other with swords and hand-axes.

A woman rushed up from a downstairs area, yelling something in Dunmeris, and I ran her through from behind before she could even reach the others. Moments later, Thanelan Velas came running down the upper staircase. I stuck out my foot to trip him over and brought my own blade down on his neck as he fell.

By this time two of the first three Dunmer lay dead on the ground, and the survivor was howling in pain, seriously wounded. It was a truly horrible sight, but this was no time to be squeamish. Gritting my teeth, I seized the unfortunate man from behind and drew my blade across his throat before he had time to react.

As I stood back to survey the grisly scene, I realised that I had become visible again. The only other person left in the room was the bartender, who was curled up in a ball, whimpering in terror. I didn’t think he’d seen me, and I didn’t particularly want to kill him, so I hurried upstairs and out of the building. Hidden behind some crates in an alleyway, I wiped off my armour and changed my blood-spattered clothes for some clean ones.

Just as I emerged from the alleyway, thinking I’d made it without being spotted, a heavy hand clamped down on my arm. The shock was so great that I let out a squeak of terror and very nearly lashed out with my sword. A moment later I found myself staring into the face of a male Dunmer – not a guard, but a roughly-dressed commoner with a torch in his hand. The glazed, vacant look in his eyes was all too familiar, as were his subsequent words: “I am a Sleeper, one among thousands…”

“Leave me alone!” I yelped, looking around frantically. In the distance I could see a guard beginning to walk in our direction.

“I bring you a message,” he continued, unmoved. “Dagoth Ur calls you, Ada, and you cannot deny your Lord. The Sixth House is risen, and Dagoth is its glory.”

“All right! All right! Now get lost!” I shoved him away, as hard as I could, and made a dash for the gates. I didn’t stop until I’d made it across the bridge outside Balmora and was sure that neither guards nor the ‘Sleeper’ were following me.

Okay, this was getting downright scary. One crazy guy mumbling about Dagoth Ur I could take, but two? Who the heck were these ‘Sleepers’, anyway – something to do with the Sixth House cult that Hasphat Antabolis had told me about? Had to be.

I lost no time in going to Larrius Varro to tell him about the ‘bloodbath’. Obviously I hadn’t had time to check that I’d got all the right people, but as far as I could tell they’d matched the descriptions given by the Thieves’ Guild. As I explained what had happened, a slow smile spread over his face.

“So everything’s been taken care of,” he said. “And, remarkably enough, without creating any problems of a legal nature. You are far more discreet than I had hoped, Ada.”

“Don’t mention it,” I said. “Er, you said something about a ‘nice present’…?”

“Ah, yes! Here.” He extracted something from the leather pouch on his belt. “It seems to be a ring. A very nice ring. There was no note with it, I’m afraid, but I’ll let the Emperor know you've received it – I’m sure he’ll be pleased.”

I took the ring, which had a Chameleon enchantment on it. It was a very nice ring, and would have been incredibly useful… about two hours ago, before I’d wiped out half of the Council Club. Sheesh.

Varro wasn’t quite finished, though. “And also, because of your exceptional discretion, take this special volume from my own library, with my compliments.”

He handed me the book Biography of the Wolf Queen. I’d read it already, back when I was a good little schoolgirl in Cyrodiil, but I knew it was valuable. “Thanks.”

“It might be best for you to stay at the fort tonight,” he advised. “You can use one of the bunks. If anyone asks… you’ve been here all evening, yes?” I agreed.

When I arrived back in Balmora the next morning, there was a small crowd milling around outside the Council Club. Several Hlaalu guards were there, blocking the door and trying to keep order. “What’s going on?” I asked a random onlooker, trying my very best to look puzzled and innocent.

The woman grinned. “Looks like someone hit the Camonna Tong at the Council Club. Hard.”

“Goodness,” I said. “Do they know who it was?”

She shook her head. “Nobody seems to know what happened. Probably the Thieves’ Guild.”

I turned away, suppressing a smile. Apparently I’d managed to kill two birds with one stone; no doubt Nileno would be pleased. I just hoped the Tong never found out who was responsible, or I’d probably end up next on their hit list.

Always find my characters in the same situation- can't use it and feel bad for selling it.



Isn't that how we got here in the first place?



Larrius Varo’s “little story” has always been one of my favorite bits of in-game dialogue- and it fits seamlessly with Ada’s own dry wit. Must be an Imperial thing.



And that illustrates exactly what I mean.



Just like those Water Breathing potions you find- at the BACK end of the submerged cavern you just swam through.

Wonderful as always, Helena.

Are we sure the spear Ada received as payment isn't the same one that Lifts-Her-Tail spent all night polishing?

I enjoyed her wry take on Vivec and some of its inhabitants, and the way she dealt with corruption in the Fighter's Guild.

Nothing like a nice little gang war to liven things up!

LOL, good catch

I certainly think she'd have been more cautious about accepting one from Crassius Curio.

not that anyone would ever be likely to hire me, of course.


If she looks like your avatar....I would personally beg to differ!

Yes, Ada definately gets the job done!

Before I post the next chapter, I'd just like to add a couple of screenshots of 'Young Ada' (actually my first Oblivion character, the one who originally gave me the idea to write an Elder Scrolls fic). Here she is aged roughly 16, in her homeland of Cyrodiil:

Imperial City
Playing soldiers

I also thought I'd mention that I've just posted the first chapter of The Neveragaine Strikes Back - the sequel to The Neveragaine - over at the Bethesda forums. I'd like to post it here as well, for the benefit of people who've already read the first story, but I'm not sure if I'm allowed more than one fanfic at a time. Obviously updates will be a lot slower on this one!

And with that out of the way...


Chapter 9: He Had It Coming

Nileno was all smiles when I went to see her at the Council House, her previous bad mood apparently forgotten. “Ada!” she exclaimed. “I hear you killed Thanelan Velas. Take these 1,000 drakes as a reward for solving this murder.”

“Well, I’m glad he’s dead,” I said, “but I don’t think I should accept the money. I had nothing to do with the attack on the Council Club.”

“Of course not,” she said, not missing a beat. “I meant to say, please take these drakes as a reward for your… exceptional service to House Hlaalu. And while we’re about it, I’m promoting you to the rank of Oathman.”

“Ooh.” Clearly I was going up in the world. “Do I need to do anything else?”

“Well, once you reach the next rank I won’t be able to promote you any further. You’ll have to persuade one of the Councillors to sponsor you.” A mercenary glint came into her eye. “In fact, for a small consideration, I might tell you which one to speak to.”

Sighing, I handed her fifty drakes from the money purse she’d just given me, and then almost dropped it on the floor when she said, “Crassius Curio is the one you should speak with.”

“…Crassius Curio?” My voice came out around an octave higher than usual. “Not the one living in the Hlaalu canton in Vivec?”

“Ah, you’ve heard of him?” she enquired. “Yes, he is the most open-minded of the Councillors, though somewhat… eccentric. He is the one most likely to listen to your requests, whatever they may be.”

Oh, gods. Could I really stand having to work for that guy? On the other hand… he was clearly wealthy and influential, and could probably pull a few strings on my behalf. Surely I could put up with being called ‘pumpkin’ and ‘sweetroll’ for a while if it meant a chance of getting back to Cyrodiil.

“But before that,” she continued, “there is one more item of business.”

“Oh?”

“The East Empire Company threatened to buy ebony from House Redoran unless we lower prices.” I waited for her to continue. “Either convince Canctunian Ponius in Ebonheart to buy ebony from us, or kill Darns Tedalen, the head of mining operations in the Sudanit Mine. If you do both, there might be a bonus in it for you.”

My jaw dropped. I guess I really shouldn’t have been shocked at anything Nileno said by this point, but even so, that last part completely floored me. I knew by now that the Hlaalu were pretty ruthless in defending their business interests, but I’d never imagined they’d go that far.

“Um, sorry, Nileno,” I said weakly. “Did you just say you wanted me to murder the head of mining operations?”

“Of course not!” she exclaimed, clearly horrified. I was just beginning to think I’d misjudged her when she continued, “That would be dreadfully bad for business.”

“But…” I hesitated, trying to get myself into the mindset of someone who thought like that. “Then how am I supposed to kill him? There’ll be guards, surely?”

Nileno shook her head in exasperation. “Oh, Ada. You must provoke him into attacking you first, of course – that way it will be perfectly legal to kill him.” She gave me an indulgent smile. “You really must learn how these things work, my dear.”

My mouth was still hanging open. “Right,” I said at last, recovering the power of speech. “I… think I’ll just speak to this Ponius guy, if it’s all the same to you. Who is he exactly, anyway?”

I nearly fainted when she said, “He is the local Factor of the East Empire Company.”

Great, I thought, as I left the building a short time later. What the heck was I supposed to do now? How was I supposed to convince the head of the East Empire Company that he should continue to buy ebony from Hlaalu? How would I ever even persuade him to see me? It wasn’t as if I was anyone important.

But however impossible that task might seem, the alternative was even worse. There was no way I was going to kill an innocent man just because Nileno asked me to, ‘legal’ or not. Camonna Tong members were one thing; a guy whose only crime was to belong to a different House was quite another.

Why couldn’t we just lower our own prices, I thought, with a sudden flash of anger. Wasn’t that how commerce was supposed to work anyway? People might criticise us Imperials for our mercantile outlook, but at least we understood that!

I couldn’t immediately think of any ideas. I even said a quick prayer to Zenithar, our god of commerce (yes, we have a god of commerce – we’re Imperials, for crying out loud), but it didn’t seem to help. It wasn’t until that evening that inspiration finally struck, over yet another glass of ale in the Eight Plates tavern.

In addition to the normal spells you can learn from tutors, each race has certain ‘inherent’ magical powers that we’re pretty much born with. They don’t need any skill or cost any magicka to cast, but the downside is that for some reason they only work once a day (please don’t ask me, I don’t make the rules). One of the powers we Imperials get is a powerful Charm spell known as the ‘Voice of the Emperor’, which can persuade the target to agree to almost anything – for a short time, at least.

If I could just get in to see Ponius and cast the spell on him… I knew it was risky, as he’d probably taken precautions against that kind of thing, but using Illusion magic on people wasn’t actually illegal. The worst he could do was throw me out, and at least I’d be able to tell Nileno that I’d tried.

I spent some time sketching out a rough plan of action in my journal, and on the next morning I travelled to Vivec to put it into practice. My first stop was at a clothier’s in the Foreign Quarter, run by a woman called Agrippina Herennia. Being a fellow Imperial, she was very understanding when I explained what I needed, and even helped me style my hair into something more interesting than its usual neat braids.

“Have you thought of using some Telvanni bug musk?” she asked, as I tried on some of her beautifully-tailored clothes.

“Telvanni bug musk?” I’d never even heard of it.

“It’s a perfume made from the scent glands of Grazelands beetles,” she explained. “The fragrance is attractive to all mortal races and sexes – it can make even a barbarian persuasive. Very expensive, but well worth it.”

So I went to buy a flask of Telvanni bug musk from one of the alchemists in the Lower Waistworks. It was stupidly expensive, at 100 septims a bottle, but if it was as powerful as Agrippina said then that was hardly surprising. I’d soon find out, anyway.

A ship docked near the Foreign Quarter took me to Ebonheart, the Imperial administrative centre of Vvardenfell. It was very much a Western-style settlement, built entirely out of stone, and resembling a large castle. The plaza by the docks was dominated by a huge marble statue of the Dragon God Akatosh, chief of the Nine Divines. Out of long habit, I brushed my hand against it for luck as I went past.

I stood in front of the East Empire Company headquarters, staring up at the imposing building, and I must admit that I almost lost my nerve. I came very close to just saying “sod it”, heading back to the docks, and going back to tell Nileno that I wasn’t up to the task. After all, what was the worst that could happen? She could either accept it or kick me out of the House, and frankly, at this stage I was starting to think that might be a good thing.

Out of the corner of my eye I saw a Redguard man smile at me. “You okay there, friend?”

“Fine.” I forced myself to smile back.

“Here from Cyrodiil?”

I nodded. “Just for a little while.”

“Well, I wouldn’t hurry back.” He looked sombre. “I heard about the unrest in Cyrodiil City. Sounds like things are pretty bad there at the moment.”

My heart leapt into my mouth. I hadn’t heard anything about this. “What unrest?”

“Didn’t you know?” I shook my head. “Uriel Septim is sick, and wizards say the young Septims are just doppelgangers placed there when Jagar Tharn was Imperial Battlemage. They say the Guard charged a mob demanding destruction of the false heirs... lots of folks were killed.”

I felt a horrible sick feeling in the pit of my stomach. Cyrodiil City – or Imperial City as we call it back there – was my home. My friends were there, and my family. Not that I could ever imagine my parents joining a mob to storm the Palace, but if they happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time…

Suddenly I knew that whatever it took, I had to get back to Cyrodiil. All the time I was running around doing stupid errands for Caius Cosades and Nileno Dorvayn, my friends back in the City were in danger. I’d no idea if I could help or not, but it was my city, and if there was trouble then I ought to be there.

As the Redguard watched in bewilderment, I took my flask of bug musk out of my pack and dabbed a liberal amount onto my wrists and collarbone. Then, taking a deep breath, I marched into the EEC office with my head held high.

“Good day,” I said to the clerk inside, smiling sweetly. His mouth dropped open and he hastily got to his feet, smoothing back his hair. “I’m a representative of House Hlaalu. Would it be possible for me to speak to Mr. Ponius, please?”

“I – of course, my lady. I’ll see what I can do.” Red-faced, he hurried from the room, while I quickly dabbed on a little more of the Telvanni bug musk. It was the first and probably the only time that I would ever provoke that kind of reaction from a man, and I have to admit that it was rather enjoyable.

A few moments later the clerk returned and ushered me through into Ponius’ office, where the Factor sat at a desk. For a moment he looked a little confused, but as I drew closer and the scent wafted over him, that same stunned expression crossed his face. “Ah, a fellow Imperial!” he said in delight, springing to his feet. “What can I do for you, madam?”

“Good morning, Factor,” I said, with my most charming smile. “I’m very pleased to meet you.” I shook hands with him, and as I did so, I murmured the words to the ‘Voice of the Emperor’ spell under my breath.

What came next… well, let’s just say that it was not my sharply-honed business acumen that persuaded Canctunian Ponius to renew the contract. I flirted shamelessly, I batted my eyelashes, I did everything I’d always dismissed as completely unforgivable in a modern, liberated woman. I don’t think I even did it particularly well, but that hardly mattered – with the combined effect of the spell and the Telvanni bug musk, I could probably have stood there reciting the alphabet and had the same effect.

After securing Ponius’s compliance (poor guy, he never stood a chance), I went down to the docks and enquired about travel to the mainland. As I’d expected, I was told that ships were being turned back due to the Blight, but I did find out that a ship was leaving soon for Tel Branora – the Telvanni settlement where Maurrie Aurmine’s friend lived. I decided now would be as good a time as any to go there (not least because I was keen to put off my next meeting with Crassius Curio for as long as possible).

It was a long journey to Tel Branora, a small and isolated island in the region known as Azura’s Coast, and we didn’t arrive until sunrise the next morning. When I stepped on to the docks, all I could see was a few wooden shacks. It was only after struggling up a hill that I got my first sight of Tel Branora itself – and it literally took my breath away.

The entire village – if you could call it that – seemed to be carved out of one absolutely enormous mushroom. A huge central tower stretched up towards the sky, and around it, houses and shops were built into the mushroom ‘caps’ and connected by winding spiral staircases. Shrouded in mist, glowing faintly in the early morning light, it looked like something from a child’s book of fairytales. Say what you like about the Telvanni, they had style.

I did feel a little nervous as I walked towards the town, remembering the stories I’d been told – but while none of the locals here seemed particularly friendly, none of them made any attempt to kidnap or enslave me. I finally plucked up courage to ask directions from at a small encampment nearby, where a Dunmer woman stood with a group of heavily-armed Bosmer guards.

The woman scowled at me as I approached. Before I even had a chance to speak, she called to me angrily: “Stay out of things that don’t concern you, outlander! This affair is between myself and Therana.”

“Um, I didn’t mean to interfere,” I said meekly, wondering what the ‘affair’ was and for that matter, who Therana was. “I just wondered if you could tell me where to find someone called Barnand Erelie?”

She looked at me with undisguised disgust. “Do I look like a tour guide? Find someone else to give you directions.”

Shrugging, I left her and crossed over a narrow walkway into the settlement itself. The first thing I saw was a trader’s banner fluttering outside one of the mushroom ‘houses’, so I went in to ask the shopkeeper inside about Barnand. The inside of the weird mushroom was even stranger than the outside; an earthy smell pervaded the rooms and the walls looked moist and fleshy, like the insides of an animal. I really didn’t think I’d want to live in a place like this.

Rather to my surprise, the trader seemed relatively friendly and was happy to share information about local services. “Llorayna Sethan runs Sethan’s Tradehouse,” she told me. “That’s probably where you’ll find your friend. Galen Berer is a smith and armorer, Fadase Selvayn is a trader, and Mistress Therana in the tower is our lady sorceress. Oh, and Trerayna Dalen – Mistress Therana’s Telvanni challenger – has a camp just outside the village.”

I was taken aback by her casual attitude. “Does this happen… often?”

“Fairly often, yes,” she said. “It’s the traditional Telvanni way of settling disputes.”

Okay, maybe all those wild stories about the Telvanni weren’t so far-fetched after all.

I found Barnand in the tradehouse, as predicted. I knew immediately that there wasn’t likely to be anything between us; he was a good-looking man, slim and fair-haired, but not really my type. He seemed friendly enough, though.

“Ah...so you’re the one who brought Maurrie and Nelos together!” he exclaimed, when I told him who I was. “Nothing has been seen or heard of them since then, but the bards are singing songs of their love. Please, take these as a token of my gratitude.”

He handed me three extremely high-quality Restore Health potions. Well, I might not be getting a boyfriend out of this, but that was a pretty good substitute.

I spent some time exploring the rest of Tel Branora, marvelling at its intricate construction. No one back home would ever believe me when I told them about this. It made me wish I had some kind of magical device that could capture an image of the tower, exactly as it was, to show to my friends.

As I wandered up a spiral walkway, looking for a way into the tower, I found my way blocked by a very tall Telvanni guard. He was so swathed in heavy armour that I couldn’t even tell what race he was; only his height and ungloved hands indicated that he was an Altmer.

I was just about to turn back when he strode up to me. “Outlander. Would you like to earn some gold?”

“Maybe,” I said cautiously. “Who are you?”

“I am Mollimo of Cloudrest, Mistress Therana’s guard captain.” He pointed into the distance where Trerayna Dalen had her camp. “I want you to take care of Trerayna Dalen for me. She’s a petty annoyance, but Mistress Therana won’t let me leave the tower to deal with her. Kill her, and I’ll pay you 1,000 gold.”

Gods, did I look like someone who’d kill random strangers for money? “I’m not an assassin for hire,” I said coldly. “And I don’t want to get mixed up in Telvanni disputes.”

He shrugged. “If you change your mind, the offer still stands.”

“Could I see Mistress Therana?”

“You’ll find her in her chamber in the Upper Tower,” he said. “Easiest way is to enter through north-facing entrance to the Tower. You’ll have to fly, of course.”

I looked blankly at him. “Fly?”

“Yes, fly. You’ll have to fly, either way you go.” He paused. “In any case, I wouldn’t recommend approaching her. Mistress Therana is old and somewhat… eccentric. Her behaviour can be unpredictable.”

I wasn’t really listening. I was still trying to work out if he was just having me on, or if he was actually serious when he spoke about flying. Sure, I knew plenty of Alteration spells (or knew of them, at least), but I’d never even realised flying was possible. Surely it couldn’t be that only the Telvanni knew how to do it?

Anyway, it didn’t look like I’d be meeting Therana – and to be honest, there wasn’t really a lot else to do in Tel Branora. I’d have loved to see the tower lit up at night, but I didn’t want to hang around all day just waiting for sundown. Rather than spend another day or so travelling back by ship, I tried casting a Divine Intervention scroll, and was somewhat surprised to find myself right back in Ebonheart outside an Imperial chapel. Apparently this kind of scroll teleported you to the nearest Imperial Cult shrine, the same way Almsivi Intervention scrolls took you to the nearest Temple.

As I boarded the silt strider for Balmora, it occurred to me that I hadn’t made any progress in my pilgrimage for quite a long while. I’d joined the Temple a few days after arriving in Vvardenfell, yet so far I’d only visited one of the seven shrines on the list. I really ought to be putting more effort into it, or they’d start thinking I lacked faith (heaven forbid).

I got out my book to check the sites of the other pilgrimage shrines. Three of them were in Vivec, which was fairly convenient, but my heart sank when I saw that two others were in the town of Gnisis and the Koal Cave – both up in the far north-west, near the coast. Even if I could come up with a reason to visit that part of the country, it would still take days to get there and back. The last shrine – described by the book as one of the most difficult to reach – was at a place called ‘Ghostgate’ near the crater of Red Mountain, the large volcano in the centre of the island.

I decided I’d try to get the Vivec pilgrimages done next time I visited the city, but in the meantime I had to tell Nileno about the ebony contract. Before that, though, I went to the Eight Plates and composed a letter to my parents – my first in several years.

When I left home at the age of eighteen, I’d left a letter for them, explaining what I’d done and that I could be reached through the Fighters’ Guild. On receiving a tear-stained reply, begging me to give up this ‘silly nonsense’ and come home, I’d written back explaining gently but firmly that it wasn’t going to happen. I hadn’t heard from them since, even though I’d written several more letters, so I eventually stopped bothering – but now it was different. I wasn’t too hopeful that this letter would even reach them, what with the travel bans and the unrest in Cyrodiil, but I had to try.

I was still a little distracted when I went back to the Balmora Council Hall after handing in the letter for delivery, but Nileno didn’t seem to notice. “So you convinced Canctunian Ponius,” she said, when I told her about the meeting. “Good work, Ada - please take these 1,000 drakes as a gift from House Hlaalu. And I believe this merits a promotion to Lawman.”

I knew I ought to be pleased about this, but somehow I couldn’t work up any enthusiasm. “Does this mean you don’t have any more duties for me?”

She nodded. “You must find a sponsor among the Hlaalu Councillors. Since you are a foreigner, you should speak with Crassius Curio – I doubt any of the others would agree to sponsor you.”

I really wasn’t looking forward to a second meeting with ‘Uncle Crassius’, but I supposed I might as well get it over with. So I went to Vivec, to Curio Manor in the Hlaalu canton, and spent some time explaining my situation to Curio. I’d been expecting him to ask some kind of mildly sleazy favour in return for his sponsorship, but what happened next was beyond anything I had imagined.

“You want me to be your sponsor in House Hlaalu?” he exclaimed. “I thought you’d never ask. But first, I want to see who I’m dealing with.” He folded his arms across his chest and leaned back in his chair, smiling. “So, Ada, show Uncle Crassius what you have to offer.”

I know this is going to sound stupid, but for a moment I honestly didn’t have a clue what he was talking about. “Excuse me?”

“Come on, dumpling, don’t be shy,” he wheedled. “Just do this one little favour for Uncle Crassius.”

Was he asking for a bribe? I’d been in House Hlaalu long enough to know that the answer was probably ‘yes’, no matter how pathetically greedy it seemed. I heaved an exasperated sigh, fumbling for my purse. “All right, how much?”

But Crassius waved it away. “Now come on, sweetie, I’m sure we understand each other. No need to be coy. After all, that armour looks so hot and uncomfortable…”

And it finally hit me. For a second I just goggled at him, unable to believe he was actually asking what I thought he was asking, but the lecherous grin on his face made it all too plain that he was. What the hell? Who the hell did he think he was?

The lovely ceramic vase on the nearby table never stood a chance. With a gasp of fury I snatched it up and hurled it at Crassius, hitting him square on the nose and shattering the vase into pieces. “How dare you!”

Crassius leapt to his feet with a cry of pain. “What are you doing? GUARDS! I’m being attacked!”

Two Ordinators came running at the sound of his voice. One of them seized me and pinned my arms behind my back, while the other surveyed the broken pottery and Crassius’ angry face. “What’s going on here, Ser Curio?”

“She threw that vase at me!” Crassius was quivering with indignation. Blood was trickling from a small cut on his forehead where a sharp piece of pottery had struck him.

The other Ordinator twisted me around to face him, ignoring my furious struggles. “Why did you do this, outlander?”

“He tried to make me strip off in front of him! Pervert!” I snarled over my shoulder at Crassius. “Isn’t harassing women a crime here? He’s the one you should be arresting!”

The Ordinator regarded me coldly from behind his golden facemask. “Are you saying he actually attacked you?”

“Well, not as such, but…” I looked at him in helpless rage. “He insulted me!”

“That’s not an excuse, outlander.” The Ordinator released my arms. “You must pay for the damage you caused. How much did this vase cost, Ser Curio?”

“Eight hundred septims.”

“Eight hundred!” I squeaked.

The second Ordinator folded his arms impassively. “And a fine of three hundred drakes for assault. Pay it, outlander, or go to jail.”

“Grrrrrnnngh.” I couldn’t believe this was happening. “All right. Just take me to the bank and I’ll get the money.”

Crassius glowered at me from beneath the handkerchief pressed to his temple. “I’ll see you are expelled from House Hlaalu for this, Oathman.”

“Good riddance!” I spat, still fuming. “And if you dare go around telling people I attacked you for no reason, I’ll make sure everyone knows exactly what you need to do to get ‘sponsored’ in your House. Have a nice day, ‘Uncle Crassius’.”

I swept out of the room, followed closely by the Ordinators. Some part of me realised that there was going to be hell to pay when Nileno found out about this, and that I’d just comprehensively screwed up my chances of getting off Vvardenfell any time soon, but right now I was too angry to care. I wanted revenge, and I knew how to get it.

After paying off the fines (with a very bad grace), and being released, I went straight back to the Mages’ Guild to take the Guild Guide – not to Balmora, but to Ald’ruhn. There, I went directly to the Skar crabshell and into the Redoran Council Hall, where I’d first met Neminda to intercept those orders.

As I’d hoped, Neminda was still there and she recognised me immediately. “Hello there… Ada, isn’t it? Can I help you?”

“Yes. I want to join House Redoran.”

She looked at me in astonishment. “But you are Hlaalu!”

“Not any more,” I said grimly. “They kicked me out.”

“What? Why?”

Ah, here came the hard part. “I, er, threw a vase at one of their Councillors.”

Neminda was staring at me open-mouthed. “Why would you do a thing like that?”

“Because he ordered me to undress in front of him, that’s why,” I snapped. “Wouldn’t you have done the same?”

Her expression cleared suddenly. “Wait a second. Would this be Crassius Curio you’re talking about?”

“Yes, actually,” I said in surprise. “How did you guess?”

By now her eyes were twinkling with amusement. “But Ada, didn’t you know? He does that to all the retainers who ask him for sponsorship.”

“What, all?” I asked in disbelief. “Even the men?”

“Oh, yes,” she said, with a wink. “Especially the men.”

Good gods. Well, at least he was an equal-opportunity lech.

Neminda composed her features into a severe expression, suddenly remembering who she was speaking to. “Anyway, why should I believe any of this? The Hlaalu might have sent you as a spy.”

“I’m not a spy,” I said promptly. “But I’ll tell you who is: Bivale Teneran, the clothier. Oh, and… you might want to change your codes. All of them.”

“Hmph.” She hesitated. “Well, we would not usually accept outcasts from other Houses, but…”

“Please,” I begged. “Give me a chance. I’m a good fighter. I’ve been in the Guild for years, and I’m thinking of joining the Legion when I go up to Gnisis for my pilgrimage – ”

Her frown softened slightly. “Oh, you’re Temple?”

“Yes! Look.” I pulled out my now slightly dog-eared copy of The Pilgrim’s Path. “I’ve already started the pilgrimages.”

“Well, that is something. House Redoran values piety.” She thought for a moment. “Perhaps I should give you a chance. But – ” she frowned at me sternly – “you’re on probation, do you understand? And you will have to start all over again as a Hireling, whatever rank you had reached in Hlaalu.”

“That’s absolutely fine,” I said gratefully. So the Redorans were religious types, were they? Well, I could handle that, as long as they didn’t preach at me all the time like that ghastly Alessia Ottus woman back in Imperial City. (I hated her, but she and her husband were ‘friends’ of my parents, so as a child I’d been forced to play with her equally horrible daughter. We’d never got on, even as five-year-olds.)

“Perhaps you would like to hear the rules of the House first?” Neminda suggested.

Actually, that did sound like a good idea. If I’d only done the same for Hlaalu, perhaps I could have avoided this whole mess.

I nodded, and she quickly reeled off the list from memory. “Steal from your kin, strike your kin unprovoked, or murder your kin, and you shall be cast out from us and called our enemy. Do not break your word of honour. Know your place, serve your superiors, and do your duty to your House. Respect the teachings of the Tribunal. Defend your House, your People, and your Honour.”

“One at a time!” I gasped, scrabbling for my journal. “What was the third one again? Okay, that all sounds pretty reasonable.”

“This book may help you.” She handed me a book called The True Noble’s Code, by one Serjo Athyn Sarethi.

I opened the book and read a random paragraph. “A Redoran must show piety to the Aedra and Daedra, our creators and ancestors. For without the divine, we would not have the chance to serve. And without divine law, we would not know right from wrong. And without giving thanks for these things, we would forget out place and our purpose.” I skimmed up the page. “A Redoran noble must know the virtue of gravity. It is not the Redoran way to laugh at serious matters, for it shows disrespect. It is not the Redoran way to spread rumours, for they fester and breed dissention.”

Boy. These guys were a barrel of laughs, weren’t they?

“Fine,” I said with a sigh. “I think I can manage that. Is there anything you’d like me to do right now?”

Neminda thought for a moment. “Well, Drulene Falen has asked for our help. She says her guar herds have been having trouble with hostile mudcrabs.”

“Okay, well, I’m sure I can – ” I paused. “Hang on, mudcrabs?”

“That’s right.” She looked slightly puzzled. “Don’t you have those in Cyrodiil?”

“Yes, but… never mind.” I heaved a small sigh. Clearly this was going to be the Fighter’s Guild ‘rat infestation’ assignment all over again.

“Anyway, Drulene’s guar herd is due west of here, just over the hills. There’s no easy way to get there, I’m afraid,” she added helpfully. “You’ll have to walk.”

I copied down her directions, my heart sinking as I realised it would take hours to walk out there. On the other hand… at least it would give me an excuse to stay out of Balmora for a day or two. I couldn’t help smiling at the thought of Nileno Dorvayn’s face when she found out what had happened, but for all that, I didn’t want to risk seeing her again until she’d had time to cool down a bit. I was brave, but not that brave.

Will comment on the new chapter when I have time to read it, but I wanted to answer this question first:

You can have as many stories going as you can keep track of here... and that way I can continue to hold my breath and pout in the BGSF Fan-Fiction subforum- while still reading about Ada.

Why oh why did I know what was coming when I heard about the bug musk?

And Ada's reaction to Curio's - ahem - proposition was classic!

Good girl, she went over to House Redoran! They may be dull, dull, dull, but she's perfectly capable of teaching them laughter.

Loved it!

I see trey already answered your question.

This has to be my fave line, but there were tons!!!!





Great Write! I am also reading your new story over on the BGSF !!!

Ada's reaction to the rumor of unrest back home added tremendous depth to her character and personality.



A question I often find myself asking during the game. Everyone you meet seems to think you will be more than happy to kill some random stranger for money.

Glad to have Ada in Redoran- especially as she found her way to us by bopping Crassius. And I always saw the Drulene quest as a sort of hazing- "if you can find this hut in the middle of nowhere, we will let you into our secret club."

This post has been edited by treydog: Sep 29 2010, 10:08 PM