The Neveragaine Strikes Back, Revenge of the Killer Ada Options

[Helena]

Since I'm apparantly allowed more than one fanfic at once here, I decided to take advantage of it and start posting my latest fic, 'The Neveragaine Strikes Back'. Bear in mind that this is the sequel to 'The Neveragaine' (covering the events of Tribunal), so it's best to read the original story in full before starting on this one. Updates will also be a lot slower on this fic, as I've only just started writing it.

So, onto the prologue:

Prologue: Trouble In Paradise

As a fighter, I was always taught that you should never let your guard down. If things seem unusually quiet, it’s often a sign that the enemy’s just getting prepared and all hell is about to break loose. If I’d only remembered that, perhaps none of this would ever have happened.

After more than six months of living as the Nerevarine, I was still struggling to get used to being Vvardenfell’s hot new celebrity. For the first few weeks it was fantastic: everywhere I went there’d be people bowing and scraping, saying things like “Almsivi bless you, Nerevarine,” and “how may I serve you, Incarnate?” and “please may I lick your boots clean for you, Nerevar-Born-Again?” But after a month had gone by, and people were still collapsing into stammering incoherence whenever I so much as spoke to them, the excitement was starting to wear off pretty quickly. I even considered visiting Telvanni areas just for the novelty of being treated with polite indifference (or even not-so-polite indifference).

Things just got crazier as time went on. Before long there were people turning up at Bal Isra for pilgrimages – yes, honest-to-goodness pilgrimages. Some of them even seemed to believe I had mystical healing powers of some sort, and could heal their sick friends and relatives just by touching them. I had enormous trouble convincing them that I was just an ordinary mortal rather than some sort of divine being.

“No, seriously,” I would plead. “I’d love to help you, I really would, but I’m useless at magic. You need to go and see a healer.”

I felt so guilty about disappointing them that I usually paid for a healer’s fee, and of course, word quickly got around. Eventually I caved in and learned a couple of spells to cure diseases and suchlike. I managed to persuade the Temple to install a healing shrine so that I wouldn’t have to cure everyone personally, which was not how I planned to spend the rest of my (potentially eternal) life.

Indarys Manor itself was doing quite well. I’d made quite a nice little pile by selling off the Sixth House artifacts I’d collected at Red Mountain (and hadn’t blown all of it on expensive gowns imported from Cyrodiil), so there was plenty of money for improvements. The population had grown to around twenty (plus guards), and we even had our own silt strider port going to Maar Gan and Ald’ruhn.

Things in House Redoran had also improved quite a bit since the fall of Dagoth Ur. The Blight was gone, and ashstorms were a lot less frequent now, making the Ashlands a much nicer place to live in. Arethan Mandas – the ‘Mad Lord of Milk’ – was back in Ald’ruhn under his daughter’s care, and as for Hlaren Ramoran, his relationship with his bodyguard Nalvyna seemed to be progressing nicely. When things got particularly boring in Council meetings, we’d sometimes catch him staring dreamily off into the distance, humming a little tune to himself.

If only the Council business had been going half as well. When I was first appointed Archmaster, I’d dreamed of creating a new House: a House with the honour of Redoran, the enterprise of Hlaalu, and … well, I’m sure there must be something good about the Telvanni. Top of my list of ‘improvements’ was abolishing the ridiculous system of ‘advancement by honourable duel’. If someone thought they would make a better leader than me, they could damn well explain why they thought it instead of dragging me out to the Arena.

But I’d reckoned without the Redoran council – the stickiest stick-in-the-muds ever to gum up the workings of government. I’d propose some trivial change – at least, one that seemed trivial to me – and they’d look at me as if I’d suggested holding a revolution and overthrowing the Tribunal. “But we’ve always done it this way,” were the words I’d come to dread.

I soon sussed out who I could count on to support or oppose me. Athyn Sarethi was generally (though not always) on my side, and together with Brara Morvayn, we formed what I’d come to think of as the ‘liberal wing’ of the Council. Lined up against us were Hlaren Ramoran, Miner Arobar and Garisa Llethri – making a nicely-balanced three on each side, which didn’t exactly help with decision-making. As Archmaster I technically had the casting vote, but I didn’t want over-use it and turn the others against me.

It didn’t help that the other Councillors were still struggling with the idea of a human Archmaster. I wouldn’t have minded so much, except that they seemed to deal with it by treating me as a sort of honorary Dunmer. As a result I had to sit through meeting after meeting, grinding my teeth, while the others whinged endlessly about Imperials and the Empire and what a bunch of greedy honourless bastards we all were. (Not in those exact words, obviously, but that was the gist of it.)

Athyn could usually be counted on to smooth things over when they got too heated. But relations between me and Athyn were slightly strained at the moment, mainly because of Varvur.

Ah, yes. Me and Varvur Sarethi.

******

We spent as much time as we could together after Red Mountain, which wasn’t easy. I was the Redoran Archmaster, living in Bal Isra, while Varvur was training to be a Buoyant Armiger and spent most of his time in Vivec (the city, not… oh, never mind).

Even when we did manage to get together, we still had to find places where we could talk (and other things) in secret. Not to mention getting hold of sterility potions, without tipping off the whole of Vvardenfell that the Nerevarine had a lover. I eventually managed to get some from Sharn gra-Muzgob, after swearing her to secrecy on pain of having her necromantic activities reported to the Temple.

In order to see as much of me as possible on his visits to Ald’ruhn, Varvur came up with the idea of teaching me Dunmeris. After six months in Morrowind I could already understand it reasonably well, but speaking it was another matter. I’d never been much good at languages, but luckily Varvur had lots of patience.

“Conjugate the verb ‘to love’,” he said to me one day.

“I already know that one.” It was one of the first I’d learned.

“Never mind, let’s do it again.” He began to recite the verb forms in Tamrielic, and I repeated them back to him in Dunmeris. “He loves you. She loves you. They love you. We love you.” He slid his hand under the table and gently closed his fingers around mine. “I love you.”

My heart was starting to race, but I grasped his hand tightly and repeated the words in Dunmeris. “I love you.”

From then on, we were as close to engaged as we’d ever be without announcing it officially. The only problem was that Varvur’s parents still didn’t know about it. When we’d first started seeing each other, we’d held off telling them because we weren’t sure it would last – but now, in hindsight, that was starting to look like a bad idea. How would they react when they found out we’d been shagging each other in secret for months on end?

In my more optimistic moments, I told myself that it would be okay. After all, it wasn’t like I was a penniless nobody any more – I was the Redoran Archmaster and a high-ranking Imperial knight, not to mention a famous hero. I’d have been a pretty good match for Varvur if it weren’t for my low birth and – of course – the fact that I wasn’t a Dunmer. But surely that wouldn’t matter so much to people as kind and tolerant as the Sarethis?

“We’re going to have to tell them some day,” I said to Varvur, as we lay in each other’s arms somewhere in the Grazelands.

“I know,” he said, sighing. “I wish now that we had told them at the start. It would have been more honourable, certainly. But it’s too late now.”

I nuzzled up against him. “Do you think they have someone else in mind for you, perhaps? Some Redoran noblewoman?”

“I doubt it. If they had, they would at least have introduced me to her by now. I think they believe I’m too young to marry.” He paused. “Besides, you are a Redoran noblewoman.”

“Well… technically.” I knew I wasn’t kidding anyone with that one.

“And the Nerevarine besides,” he went on. “If Nerevar reborn is not good enough for them, who would be?”

I didn’t answer for a second or two. Varvur’s words had brought to mind something that had been niggling at me for quite some time.

“Varvur… doesn’t it ever bother you?” I said at last. “That I’m the Nerevarine?”

“No,” he said, looking surprised. “At least, not any more.” He gave me a searching look. “And you? Does it bother you?”

“I… well, it’s just…” I was struggling to find words to express what I felt. “Ever since Red Mountain, it’s like everyone has gone completely insane. People are treating me like I really am Saint Nerevar. And…”

“Yes?”

I took a deep breath. “I just have this horrible feeling that someday, they’re all going to wake up and realise I’m not nearly as great as they thought I was. Even you.”

“No,” he said instantly. He wrapped his arms around me and held me close, kissing me almost fiercely. “No. I love Ada, not the Nerevarine.”

I felt tears prick my eyes. Neither of us said anything else, but we tacitly agreed to put off telling The Folks a little while longer. And of course, eventually the inevitable happened and Athyn found out.

I’d gone to Varvur’s room for ‘comfort’ during one of my occasional bouts of painful homesickness, and Athyn walked in on us. He didn’t actually catch us in bed together, thank Dibella – that would just have been too much of a cliché – but he did find me sitting half-naked in Varvur’s lap, with his arms around me. He didn’t say anything, just stared at us for a moment and then closed the door again, but I think he realised we hadn’t been practising verb inflections this time.

I slid off Varvur’s lap, grabbing at my robe, and made for the door – but he caught my arm before I could get any further. “No, Ada, you go back to Bal Isra. I will talk to him.”

“It’s my job,” I said flatly, but he shook his head.

“No, let me. He’s my father, and it is my dishonour for keeping this from him. I should have told him earlier.”

Before I could protest he was hurrying off after his father, leaving me torn between following him or chickening out and heading off home. I hesitated for a few moments, then poked my head out of the door just in time to see them both disappear into Athyn’s study.

There wasn’t much to do except teleport back to Bal Isra. I felt guilty about leaving Varvur to face the music alone, but at the same time I couldn’t help feeling slightly relieved that the truth was out. Okay, so this was a slightly awkward way for it to happen, but surely a man as fair and reasonable as Athyn would come round eventually?

But my hopes were dashed when Varvur showed up at Indarys Manor the next morning. From the grim expression on his face, I guessed his father hadn’t reacted by breaking out the shein and discussing wedding presents.

“What happened?” I asked, dreading the answer.

“You know my father. He doesn’t get angry, he just…” Varvur broke off, sighing heavily. “He asked if the two of us were sleeping together.”

“And what did you say?”

“I told him that we were, of course. And then he asked why I hadn’t told him earlier, so I tried to explain – but I could see he was not happy about it.”

“What happened then?”

Varvur’s fists clenched. “He started… lecturing me. As if I were a child still. Telling me that I should be beyond the age of ‘infatuations’ with human women. That I should have more respect for you, and not make promises I couldn’t… keep.”

My jaw dropped. “Could you have believed it? I am not fourteen years old any longer! So… well, I am afraid I lost my temper a little.” He heaved another gusty sigh. “I told him that this was not an ‘infatuation’ and we were in love. And that I had made no promises to you, but that if I had, I certainly would not break them.”

“Well… that doesn’t sound so bad,” I said. “Maybe it’s just a misunderstanding. If we can persuade him that we’re really in love with each other – ”

Varvur was shaking his head. “There’s more. He started repeating lies he had heard about you – malicious gossip and slander. I would never have believed it of my father.”

“Lies?” That didn’t sound at all like Athyn. “What sort of lies?”

He waved a hand angrily. “They are not worth repeating! And so I said to him. I told him I wouldn’t listen to any more of it, and then I left.”

There was a long silence. I was beginning to see just how badly wrong I’d been when I blithely assumed Athyn would give us his blessing.

“What about your mother?” I asked. “Do you think she’ll be on our side?”

He shook his head again. “I doubt it. I don’t like to speak ill of my mother, but… she is prejudiced against humans. She likes you because you helped our family, but if my father doesn’t want me to marry an Imperial, she certainly would not.”

“So what do we do?” I said at last. “Varvur… I really wouldn’t want to get married without your parents’ approval. Especially your father’s. After the way he’s treated me, and everything he’s done for me… I just couldn’t.”

He nodded. “No, I don’t wish to either. I could never do that to my parents. I suppose we will just have to wait, and hope that they change their minds.”

So we did, and a bloody uncomfortable wait it was. We still had to meet in secret to avoid any publicity, but now we had to do it in the full knowledge that Varvur’s parents knew, and disapproved. In a way it was harder for me than for Varvur – not that he didn’t love his father, but to me Athyn was a friend and mentor, the man who’d made me everything I was today. I knew I’d disappointed him, and I felt terrible about it.

To make things worse, Athyn and I had to see each other practically every day to discuss business. He never actually said anything to me about Varvur, but I could sense the tension between us whenever we met – and to be honest, I couldn’t entirely blame him. I knew I couldn’t exactly be the daughter-in-law he’d always dreamed of.

Sometimes I found myself wondering if it was even worth it. There were so many practical problems in the way of my relationship with Varvur, and not just because of race and background. We came from totally different cultures, worshipped different gods... and then, of course, there was the issue of children. For some reason, the children of mixed-race marriages always take on the mother’s race – so any kids I had with Varvur would be Imperials, not Dunmer. They would grow old and die long before their grandparents, let alone their parents.

In the end, it might have been easier for both of us if we’d just given up and gone our separate ways. The only problem was that I loved him.

Things couldn’t go on like this, of course. Something had to give. But when the crisis came, it happened in a way I most definitely would not have expected.

[Helena]

Chapter 4: All The King’s Men

A meal and a bath at the ‘Winged Guar’ left me feeling slightly better, but no less shocked and confused. I still found it hard to believe what I’d just learned, but I couldn’t ignore what was right there in front of me. Vules’ dying words, the note, the “His Majesty” remark… they all added up to the same thing, yet it didn’t make any sense.

For the life of me, I couldn’t imagine why the King of Morrowind would try to have me killed. The only explanation I could think of was that it was some sort of ‘House Wars’ affair – he was a Hlaalu, after all. Maybe he was worried that Redoran would get too powerful with this uppity new Archmaster in charge. Though I couldn’t think why, since sod-all had changed in the six months since I’d become Archmaster.

Whatever his reasons, I thought grimly, he was going to regret it. Alone in my room, I wrote a short note to Athyn Sarethi and stamped it with the House Redoran seal. Then I went off to meet Calvus Horatius in the Plaza Brindisi Dorom.

Only Calvus wasn’t there. We’d arranged to meet in one of the grassy ‘garden’ areas at the side of the Plaza, but when I arrived, the only person there was a grizzled-looking Nord. I might have suspected him of being one of Helseth’s agents, except for the fact that he was stark naked.

“Um.” I cleared my throat, rather lost for words. “Could I ask – ”

“What are you looking at?” He was giving me a filthy look. “No, I’m not paralysed. And I’ve never even met a witch, much less been asked to escort one anywhere!”

The sense of déjà vu was overwhelming. “Er – ”

“Why am I naked?” he snapped, before I could get any further. “Because it’s too damned hot here! You people think that every time you see a naked Nord barbarian, he’s been tricked by some witch. So narrow-minded. Now leave me alone!”

He stalked off just as Calvus approached from the other direction, looking as confused as I felt. “What the…?”

“Don’t ask,” I said with a sigh. “He’s too hot, apparently. I think there must be something in the water around here.”

Calvus just shook his head. “Anyway… what are we going to do now?”

“Go to the palace, like I said. I need to teleport back to Vvardenfell and deliver a letter to someone… and then I need to… ahem.” I gritted my teeth. “Consult with King Helseth.”

I turned towards the Palace gate, but Calvus wasn’t following. “Ada… I know you’re in charge here, but are you sure you want to just march in there and confront the King? I mean, how do you know he’ll even agree to see you?”

“I think he will,” I said coldly.

“Really? You seem awfully sure about that. I don’t think the King of Morrowind is going to grant an audience to just anyone.”

I could have made the obvious retort, but I wasn’t ready to reveal my background to Calvus just yet. “Do you have any better ideas?” I asked, shrugging.

He paused for a moment, thinking it over. “Well… perhaps. I expect you’ve heard that Helseth and the Temple aren’t on good terms?”

“I remember someone mentioning it, yes.”

“There’s a man at the Temple called Fedris Hler. He’s the Chief Steward of Almalexia, and the head of Her Hands – that’s what the Goddess calls her personal guard.” Calvus glanced around to make sure no one was close enough to hear us. “There are rumours that he used to be an assassin himself, and I’ll bet he knows quite a bit about the Dark Brotherhood. If you went to him and told him the King was after you, he might be willing to help.”

I mulled it over for a few moments. “Maybe,” I said at last. “But I think I’ll try to see the King first. I don’t suppose you know who I should see at the Palace to ask for an audience with the King?”

He shrugged resignedly. “I guess his guard captain would be a good place to start. Tienius Delitian is his name. This time of day, you’ll probably find him in the throne room of the Palace.”

“OK. I’ll deliver my letter, and then we’ll head up to see Tienius.”

We set off for the Palace, where I asked the mage Effe-Tei to teleport me back to Ebonheart. In the Council chambers I found Llerar Mandas, the House Redoran representative on the Grand Council. Llerar had always been friendly to me since I rescued his granddaughter, Delyna, from Divayth Fyr and his weird ménage à cinq. I wondered if he’d heard about what had gone down in Ald’ruhn – but if he had, there was no sign of it.

“Good day to you, Archmaster,” he said cheerfully, and then his warm smile faded slightly. “I heard about the attacks. I trust there have been no further…?”

“None recently, no. In fact, that’s what I came to see you about.” I glanced around to make sure we were alone. “I’ve been poking around a bit in Mournhold, and I think I know who ordered the attacks.”

His eyes widened. “I have a letter here that I’d like you to deliver to Athyn Sarethi,” I continued. “It’s extremely important, so please hurry. I’ll come back later with some more evidence for you – I hope.”

Llerar said nothing more, but left immediately to deliver the letter. If the King’s thugs did get to me somehow or other, at least I knew justice would be done.

Back in Mournhold Palace, Calvus was waiting for me in the reception room. He led me upstairs to another large hallway with a seating area for visitors. Like the reception room downstairs, it was gorgeously furnished – there were even banks of exotic flowers in planters along the wall, making it look like a kind of indoor garden. Whatever else I might think of Helseth, I had to admit that his taste in décor was impeccable.

Calvus saw the wistful expression on my face, and grinned. “This is more your sort of thing, eh, Nibenese princess?”

I was determined not to let him get a rise out of me this time. “I know it must seem weird to you, Calvus. Having grown up in a mud hut and everything.”

“Snob,” he said cheerfully.

“Hick.”

Some of the guards were starting to look at us a little strangely. I turned away with an embarrassed cough, and followed Calvus towards the throne room.

The large, rectangular chamber was hung on all sides with Imperial dragon banners, and other banners showing the head of a wolf – presumably Helseth’s family crest. How appropriate, I thought. The throne itself was empty – well, that was no surprise – but a couple of men in crimson Royal Guard armour stood on either side. One was a Redguard, the other an Imperial.

After a moment’s thought I approached the Imperial, Calvus following close behind. He looked me over slowly and deliberately, but said nothing.

“Excuse me,” I said stiffly. “Might you be Tienius Delitian, by any chance?”

He nodded. “I’m the captain of King Helseth’s Royal Guards. Is this an official matter?”

“Of sorts, yes. My name is Ada Ventura.” Tienius’ eyes widened ever so slightly; he obviously recognised the name. (Well, I should bloody hope so – what was the point of being Nerevarine if Morrowind’s movers and shakers hadn’t even heard of me?) “I’m here to seek an audience with His Majesty the King,” I went on.

I could almost feel Calvus cringe, but Delitian just looked mildly amused. “Ada Ventura. Yes, I know the name.” His tone was still carefully neutral. “May I ask why you wish to see the King?”

“I think it might be best if we discussed this in private,” I said.

He frowned. “First tell me your business. Then I will decide if we have anything to discuss.”

“Fine, have it your way.” I pulled the Dark Brotherhood contract out of my pocket, unfolded it and waved it in front of Delitian’s face. “This mean anything to you?”

For the first time, Tienius’ air of calm self-satisfaction wavered a little. He drew a long breath, and pressed his lips together for several seconds before speaking. “I see,” he said at last. “On second thoughts, perhaps this would be best dealt with in private. If you’d care to follow me?”

He turned away abruptly and began to walk towards the back of the hall. I followed behind with Calvus, who was looking pretty confused at this point – not that I could blame the poor guy. I took the opportunity to quietly cast a few protective enchantments while Delitian’s back was turned. You couldn’t be too careful, after all.

Delitian led us into a small side-room and shut the door behind us. “I take it you wish to know who sent the assassins to kill you in your sleep,” he said, before I had the chance to speak. “A reasonable desire. I won’t deny my knowledge of it, but I believe it is more important now to speak about an official matter.”

Oh, for f*ck’s sake. Screw polite diplomacy, I thought.

“I don’t agree,” I said bluntly. “I think it’s really really important right now to talk about the fact that the King of Morrowind is trying to have me killed. Or are you going to deny that he gave the order?”

He shook his head. “No. Of course, I’ll deny it publicly. But don’t take it personally.”

“Of course not,” I said, baring my teeth in a smile. “Heaven forbid I should take it personally when someone hires a bunch of Sithis-worshipping lunatics to murder me in my sleep. I assume the King just gets these ‘urges’ now and again?”

Again, Tienius shook his head. “I can understand your anger, but King Helseth does have his reasons. You appeared to present… a threat, shall we say.”

“A threat?” In the astonishment of the moment I forgot to be sarcastic. “He must be off his rocker. Until yesterday morning I’d never been within a hundred miles of the guy.”

“Perhaps not, but there were other factors which raised the King’s suspicions. Certain… recent events, for example.”

My jaw dropped. He had to be joking, right? The King had somehow got the idea that this whole Nerevarine business was me manoeuvring for the throne?

“Oh dear gods. You cannot be serious.” I shook my head slowly, trying to wrap my head around the sheer lunacy of it. “Helseth thinks I want to be Queen of Morrowind? I’ve enough trouble just keeping House Redoran in order.”

“Perhaps mistakes were made,” he said calmly. “But you can prove they were mistakes, if you can prove your loyalty to King Helseth. So. Are you interested in helping me with my problem?”

For a moment I was literally speechless. ‘Mistakes were made’? MISTAKES WERE MADE? I’d just confronted this guy with the fact that the King had tried to murder me, and he was asking me to prove my loyalty?

A sudden white-hot rage tore through me. It was as if months of frustration and disappointment had finally come to a head. Had I battled ash vampires, killed a God, clawed my way up through the ranks of House Redoran, to be treated like I was still Ada No-Name just off the boat from Cyrodiil? Would Nerevar himself – or Bolvyn Venim for that matter – have put up with this crap?

No. No, they wouldn’t. In fact, I was betting that if either of them were in my place, Tienius Delitian would be scraping his smug, arrogant face off the floor right now. I’d had it with this guy.

I took a step towards him. “Do you have any idea who I am?” I asked, in a voice so pregnant with menace that even Tienius looked taken aback.

“Apparently not,” I said, before he could recover. “Either that or you’re too bloody stupid to understand what it means, so let me spell it out to you: I am NOT your f*cking errand-girl. I’m the Nerevarine – you know, the one who killed Dagoth Ur? – and the head of House Redoran. Which makes Helseth’s attempt to murder me an act of war. Do you understand me?”

Tienius said nothing. The brief flicker of surprise had vanished from his face, leaving it expressionless. Calvus, for his part, was gazing from one to the other of us in utter bewilderment.

“I’ve killed the King’s Dark Brotherhood lackeys,” I went on, “and I’ve already told the Redorans who’s responsible. If anything happens to me here in Mournhold – mysterious illnesses, ‘accidents’, you name it – they’ll declare war. The Temple will find out who killed their Living Saint, and they’ll declare war. And I’m sure the Morag Tong will be very interested to know about his ‘contract in perpetuity’ with those filthy Westerners.” I took another step towards him, my face only inches from his. “If the King wants to turn me into an enemy, that’s his problem. Have I made myself QUITE CLEAR?”

“Abundantly.” That irritating half-smile was back on his lips. F*ck him, I thought. Let’s see if he was still smirking when the Redoran army came marching over the hill.

I turned towards the door, but Delitian hadn’t finished. “Perhaps we have been approaching this the wrong way,” he went on, in that infuriatingly calm tone of voice. “I’m sure King Helseth would rather have you as a friend than an enemy. And the King is known for rewarding his friends.”

“Is he.” Like I gave a sh*t.

“Indeed he is. And I’m sure he’d be willing to reward you suitably, should you choose to help me with the little matter I mentioned earlier.”

I swung round to face him. “No, I won’t. What the hell am I, a kitchen-maid? Tell the King he can find someone else to run his errands.”

“Then we’ve nothing more to discuss,” he said, shrugging. “If you change your mind, I’ll be here.”

Yeah, right. I wasn’t even going to waste time answering that one. I flung open the door, beckoned Calvus through after me, and slammed it shut with a force that made the palace walls tremble.

Poor Calvus, for his part, looked like he’d been whacked over the head with the business end of a warhammer. “Excuse me,” he said weakly, as soon as we reached the reception area. “I think I need some time to digest all this.”

“Take all the time you like,” I said shortly. “I have to go back to Ebonheart again anyway.”

I sat down on a bench to write some more instructions to Athyn, then carefully folded them up and sealed them along with Helseth’s contract. Effe-Tei transported me back to Ebonheart, where I handed the second package over to Llerar Mandas. I could tell he was itching to see what was in it, but he didn’t ask – maybe the expression on my face warned him off.

By the time I got back to Mournhold my boiling rage had simmered down a bit, but that didn’t mean I was any less angry with Helseth and his lackeys. If anything, I was getting more furious the more I thought about it. Not only had they tried to kill me for no reason – putting my friends’ and servants’ lives at risk as well, I might add – but they also had the breathtaking nerve to demand favours from me, as if I ought to be grateful for the King’s attention. Just how stupid and arrogant could this guy possibly be?

Mistakes were made, indeed. Oh yes, he’d made a mistake all right. By the time I got out of Mournhold, King Hlaalu Helseth was going to know exactly how big a mistake he’d made by trying to have me killed.

I was still clenching my fists as I walked out into the courtyard. Calvus was waiting for me there; the colour had come back into his face, but he still looked slightly stunned. “You might have told me you were the Nerevarine!” he hissed, as soon as we were out of hearing.

I shrugged. “It didn’t come up. Anyway, what difference would it have made?”

“I – ” He paused. “Well, I’d have offered to buy you a drink, for a start!”

“You could still do that,” I pointed out. “Right now, I think both of us probably need it.”

We bought drinks at the Winged Guar, and took them into my room where we could talk privately. Calvus took a long draught of ale, and mopped his brow. “So… you really are the Nerevarine?” He seemed to be having some trouble grasping this.

“The one and only,” I said.

“But… wow.” He shook his head. “And the head of Great House Redoran?”

“That too.”

“How the heck did you manage that?”

“I can tell you if you’re prepared to sit here all afternoon,” I told him.

“No, I’ll take your word for it. Those scars… and I suppose I should have guessed you were someone important, what with the King himself sending contract killers after you.” A wry smile spread over Calvus’ face. “Gods. I really should have asked you for a bigger fee, shouldn’t I?”

“That’s fine. Ask away.” I sighed. “I really should have offered you more to start with. In fact, if you want to pull out of the contract, I won’t hold it against you. I’d no idea we’d be going up against the Royal Family when I asked you to guard me.”

But Calvus shook his head. “No. We made a deal, and I’ll stick to it. But it’s kind of you to make the offer.” He hesitated. “So… pardon me for asking, but does the Redoran boyfriend really exist?”

“He does, yes. But like I said, things aren’t too good right now.” I swallowed hard. The memory of Varvur’s shocked, angry face always brought a lump to my throat, but I’d be damned if I’d let myself get teary-eyed in front of Calvus.

“But if you’re the head of the House, then…?”

“I’d prefer not to talk about it.”

He nodded understandingly, and we sipped our drinks in silence. “So what now?” he asked eventually. “Do I just keep guarding you and hope that His Majesty took the hint?”

“For the moment, yes. But I’m not going to let him get away with this.” I thought for a minute, an idea slowly forming in my mind. “What was the name of that Temple guy you mentioned? The assassin?”

“Fedris Hler. Are you thinking of…?” An evil smile was spreading over my face. “Stendaar help us. I hope you know what you’re getting yourself into, Ada.”

“Well, I’m not going to rush into anything,” I said. “I’ll just… talk to him. Explain about the Brotherhood, and find out if there’s anything he might like me to do for the Temple. I am technically one of their Saints, after all…”

“Really? Standards must be slipping.” I scowled at him, fighting the urge to stick out my tongue. “OK, suit yourself. Would you mind if I took a nap now, while you go to the Temple? I’ll need to get some rest if I’m going to be guarding you tonight.”

I agreed that this was a good plan, so Calvus settled down to sleep while I prepared to go to the Temple. He looked rather sweet, lying there curled up on the bed without his armour. He was a good man, I thought – and that made me suddenly remember Marena Gilnith.

Might Marena be interested in Calvus? She hadn’t said whether she’d be willing to date non-Dunmer. I decided to play it safe and assume she wasn’t – I knew all too much about the kind of problems involved in human-Elf relationships. I’d just have to keep looking.

I didn’t want anyone to see me going to and from the Temple, so I set a Mark and used my Amulet of Shadows before casting Almsivi Intervention. The Mournhold Temple was a beautiful building, vaguely triangle-shaped with elegant pointed spires at each corner. The walls were made of marble, and the roof of some white shell-like material that shimmered slightly in the sunlight. The grounds were attractive as well, with tidy, well-kept lawns that reminded me of the Imperial Palace grounds – no expense spared there, I bet.

Once inside the Temple I slipped through a side-door and waited for the Chameleon spell to wear off, then asked the first person I met – an elderly, white-haired Dunmer woman – where I could find Fedris Hler. She directed me to a small office along one of the corridors, and sternly ordered me to make sure I kept the place clean. Hler wasn’t in the office at that point, so I had to wait.

A few minutes later, a middle-aged Dunmer entered the room. He was dressed in a priest’s robe, but wore glass pauldrons on each shoulder, like a pair of tiny green wings. His face was horribly scarred, as if someone had swiped a sword right across his left eye. The moment he saw me he looked up sharply, his one good eye boring into me.

“Ah,” he said after a moment. “So you’re the one who has recently arrived in Mournhold from Vvardenfell? I was told of your arrival. I understand you had some problems with the Dark Brotherhood.”

Bloody hell, news travelled fast in this place. Drat that Meryn Othralas and his stupid Players. “If you mean the King sent them to kill me, then yes, I do,” I said, deciding to cut to the chase.

Hler – assuming this was Hler – raised his eyebrows a little. “An interesting group... and usually rather effective. I’m surprised you’re still alive.” He shook his head. “Perhaps you have potential… or they sent incompetents.”

Potential? Gods, this guy was almost as bad as Delitian. “Or maybe I was a bit too competent,” I said, swallowing my annoyance. “Fedris Hler, I take it?”

“I am. So you believe the King was behind the attacks?”

“I don’t just ‘believe’ it,” I said. “I have cast-iron proof. I found the contract, and Helseth’s guard captain outright admitted it – and then he tried to blackmail me into running errands for him in return for stopping the attacks. I told him to get stuffed.”

“Hmph. A bold move, if not exactly subtle.” Hler stroked his chin for a moment. “What do you want of me?” he asked suddenly.

I shrugged casually. “Just wondering if there was anything I could do to serve the Temple while I’m in Mournhold.”

Hler’s brows shot up, but he nodded, a thoughtful look on his face. I suspected he might be a little quicker on the uptake than Tienius.

“I’ll be honest with you,” he said at last. “Helseth is a foul man, unworthy to sit on a throne. Still, he holds right of succession. The Lady must keep an ever-watchful eye on this King, though, lest he do something that would be detrimental to the Temple, our fair city, or perhaps all of Morrowind.”

“What sort of thing?”

“Currently, there are concerns about some new recruits that Helseth seems to be training.”

“Recruits? You mean like an army?”

He nodded. “Something of that kind. A standing army is nothing new in the city, though it is largely unnecessary. Mournhold is protected by her walls from the outside, and by our Lady Almalexia from within – none would dare mount an attack here. But we believe that Helseth is raising quite a different sort of army... a goblin army.

I nearly fell out of my seat. “Goblins?! Good gods, are you serious?”

“Quite serious.” He screwed up his face in disgust. “Foul, vicious creatures. No wonder Helseth has chosen them to be his foot-soldiers.”

“But… but why?” I’d fought goblins before, and Hler was absolutely right: they were the nastiest, most vicious little creatures imaginable. I’d never known anyone who’d even managed to speak to one, let alone train them. “Why would he even want an army of goblins? They’re just as likely to attack him as anyone else!”

“I have no idea,” he said. “But I know that the goblins are being trained nearby, though not where, exactly. Ask around the city about goblins – someone will know. I wish for you to find the location of goblin training area, and kill the warchiefs – there should be two. You might rid the city of their Altmer trainers, as well.”

Altmer trainers? Well, that might explain things a bit. They were probably using some kind of Illusion or Conjuration spells to keep the things under control. I didn’t want to think what might happen if the creatures managed to break free, and got loose into the city.

“Complete this task, and the Lady will be pleased,” Hler told me, as I wrote down his instructions in my journal. As I stood up to leave, he suddenly held up a hand. “One moment. Did you say that Tienius Delitian also asked you to perform a task for him?”

“Yes, but I refused – ”

“Yes, yes, I know. Let me think for a minute.” He paused. “I think you should go back to him, and tell him you have changed your mind.”

“What? But – ” I broke off as I realised what he meant. “You’re saying you want me to be a double agent,” I finished, rather more quietly.

“Well, it would certainly help to divert any suspicion that might fall on you. As well as helping our Lady to keep a closer eye on King Helseth.”

I didn’t answer. He had a point, I had to admit that, but the absolute last thing I wanted to do was go back and grovel to Tienius. I’d look like a complete idiot – if he even believed me. Surely even a guy as arrogant as Delitian would have to be suspicious of my sudden change of heart?

Then again, if he was dumb enough to believe I’d work for him in the first place, maybe he was dumb enough to fall for a trick like this. I sighed. Gods, I hated deceit and spying and political intrigue. I’d hated it back when I was working for Caius Cosades, and I hated it now.

“I’ll think about it,” I said eventually. I certainly wasn’t going to promise anything – who knew what kind of ghastly things Delitian might ask me to do?

“Good.” He smiled thinly. “Few are worthy to serve our Lady Almalexia. But if you can win her favour, the rewards are great.”

As I left his office, looking for somewhere private to cast my Recall spell, it struck me that Almalexia herself must be somewhere here in the Temple. Would I end up getting an audience with her, as I had with Vivec? I had to admit, I was a little curious to see what she was like – even if she had killed her husband Nerevar. I always thought it was a bit unfair that the Imperial goddesses all got boring girly spheres like ‘love’ and ‘nature’; a warrior goddess, who had fought and defeated the Daedric Prince of Destruction, sounded a bit more interesting.

As for Helseth, I was quickly coming to the conclusion that he must be completely insane. First he took it into his head that I, of all people, was trying to usurp his throne; now it seemed that he was trying to create his own private army of goblins. Goblins, I ask you. The guy must have more screws loose than a rusty Dwemer centurion.

Would a guy as paranoid as that be willing to trust me? I doubted it. Did Fedris Hler trust me, for that matter? For all he knew, I might actually be Helseth’s double agent, come to keep an eye on him.

I heaved a wistful sigh as I thought back to Ald’ruhn and the other Redoran Councillors. No matter how much they might frustrate me at times, at least I didn’t have to play these kinds of games with them. I didn’t have to be constantly second-guessing their motives, watching over my shoulder in case one of them tried to stab me in the back.

Now that I’d had a chance to cool down a bit, I found myself strongly hoping Helseth didn’t do anything to make me carry out my threat. I could only imagine the expression on the Council’s faces when I told them I’d just declared war on House Hlaalu.