Season Unending, The Children of Kyne, Vol. III Options

[Kane]

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Content warning: this story should be considered 18+. Sexual content is present, but never described, and I don't shy away from foul language (though it seems to be censored). There is also darker content further in regarding sexual assault.

Prologue
It could be said that Skyrim was a cold, harsh land, unforgiving to outsiders and barely tolerant of anyone but a true Nord. Fortunately, those times have passed, and the sun shines brightly upon a healing landscape. The scars of civil war and dragon crises fading to memory as a new High King and his court sought to pull the land up from the depths of a crumbling Empire. An Empire in name only, its once powerful alliance spanning the entirety of Tamriel, now relegated to Cyrodiil (or the Heartland, as the Nibenese and Colovian nobles preferred to call it), High Rock, and, of course, Skyrim.

But now Skyrim stood to rise above the rest, and usher in a new era for a floundering society that still scurried from the inevitable boot of the Aldmeri Dominion. Hope began to inflame the hearts of men, for the Dragonborn King was rumored to be setting his sights upon the Ruby Throne, and the weak Mede Dynasty that occupied it. From his palace in Solitude, forces were directed and diplomats dispatched as the pawns of war moved slowly but surely. The Dominion was forced out of Skyrim with an ultimatum, and the land was finally back under the full rule of the Nords, as it ought to be.

The year is Two Hundred Twenty-nine of the Fourth Era, and the gears of war have started to turn, as the land braces itself for the Second Great War that was always to come. It was also the year that a mid-level member of the Anvil chapter of the Fighter’s Guild was loaned to the storied Companions of Jorrvaskr, in the city of Whiterun. This talented young warrior of Redguard descent suddenly found himself sailing to a strange land and leaving behind the only home he ever knew. Little remained for him in Anvil after the passing of his mother, so he looked forward to a new chapter of his life, far from the painful memories of home.

The first mate, a stout Imperial named Janius, approached the young Redguard with a roll of parchment and a quill. “Name?”

“Cain. No surname.”

“No surname?” inquired the First Mate. “How can that be, young man? I have it here that you were born and raised in Anvil, and joined the Fighter’s Guild when you came of age. Your mother is listed as Ariessa Janeel, also of Anvil. Do you not share her name?”

“In the absence of my father, she did not bestow it upon me.”

“Bastard then, eh? Unfortunate, but I see it all the time. What is your business in Skyrim?”

“On loan to The Companions. For what reason I do not yet know, but I will follow my orders from the guild and my future employers.”

“An honorable attitude for a young warrior, mister Cain. It’s a long voyage to the port of Solitude, so all we ask is that you remain civil and pitch in a helping hand when required.”

Cain nodded and the first mate moved on to speak with a different passenger. It was indeed a long voyage, filled with many sleepless nights while the ship bobbed and rocked on the choppy waters of the sea. The occasional storm would blow in and everyone from the captain to the lowest deckhands were grim-faced and determined as they struggled to keep the passengers safe from the onslaught of high waves and powerful winds. Nearly a full month passed before they sailed beneath the great arch of Solitude and nestled the ship into the port. All hands helped to moor the ship before the passengers eagerly disembarked in a new land.

A tall Dunmer man of middle years stood in wait on the pier, clad in worn hide armors with a longsword slung across his back. Years of experience lined his weathered face, eyes deep set and wary as he scanned the faces off all those who set foot off of the ship. When Cain approached the man, he flagged the Redguard down and directed him off to the side.

“You must be Cain,” he said. “Fresh from Anvil, yes? My name is Athis and I’ve been sent by our Harbinger to retrieve you. The Companions welcome your aid, but we have a long journey to Whiterun yet. Ordinarily I would accompany you south on foot, but we are already short-handed and will be taking a carriage.”

“Nice to meet you, Athis. Lead the way �" this is a strange land for me and I defer to your judgement.”

They shook hands and departed the port at a quick trot. A carriage sat in wait along the road to the capital city, and soon after Athis handed the driver a bag of Septims, the were trundling along the road to Dragon Bridge, headed for the southern road to Whiterun Hold and Jorrvaskr �" the legendary mead hall of The Companions. Despite being in an unfamiliar land, Cain found himself excited at the prospect of these new horizons and the change of pace from the last few months of misery that followed the death of his mother. He bowed his in prayer for her before striking up a conversation with Athis.

“So, what’s it like being in The Companions?” he asked. “Are things much different from the Fighter’s Guild?”

“Oh yes, quite different. Every man or woman in The Companions is their own. We have no leaders, just a Harbinger who is wise in counsel and offers a guiding hand. There are no ranks to elevate to and no coveted positions to fight for. We take the jobs we must and your shield-siblings will be ready to stand with you. Honor is valued above all else.”

“Interesting. I must admit, the lack of politics seems hard to believe. Everything is so much about rank and station in the guild that often times our true purpose is forgotten when the infighting picks up. Jobs go unanswered in the chaos and brawls turn deadly over simple differences of opinion. I might end up staying here for a long time if life is to be more peaceful in that regard.”

Athis chuckled. “While we do strive to rise above such petty squabbles, you’ll soon find that Jorrvaskr is anything but peaceful. However, our brawls usually end with hearty pats on the back and consuming copious amounts of mead, rather than misery and death!”

“Sounds like a dream come true, Athis.”

“That’s a very Nordic attitude, young one. Are you sure you’re a Redguard?”

“The color of my skin betrays that,” laughed Cain. “But who knows, maybe my father was a Nord, whoever he may be.”

The Dunmer smiled and their conversation moved onto other topics. Athis went over the finer points of The Companions with him and eventually moved onto the current political climate and powers that be in Skyrim. Cain listened with rapt attention, absorbing all the he could to avoid any run-ins with local laws and to avoid misunderstandings, no matter how small they could be. Just as the sun began to set, the carriage pulled into a small village and ground to a halt. Orthar, the driver, dismounted and told them they would continue on in the morning. Cain and Athis hopped down from the wagon and followed him into the local tavern, the Frostfruit Inn.

“This is the village of Rorikstead,” said Athis. “A fine place to spend the night. Grab us some mead and I’ll see about getting a meal. No sense in sleeping on an empty stomach.”

He left the inn as Cain was ordering a few pints of mead and a loaf of bread to munch on. Experience had taught the young man never to consume spirits on an empty stomach, and so he found a table off to the side and chewed on the crusty loaf while he awaited Athis’ return. Ten minutes later, his fellow Companion reentered the tavern with a basket of fruit in one hand and a bundle of skewered meats in the other. They ate and drank their fill while continuing to discuss the ins and outs of Jorrvaskr well into the night.

Dawn brought forth cloudy skies and the smell of rain upon the air as the carriage rumbled off onto the road, resuming their journey to Whiterun. By late afternoon, the two men were approaching the gates of the tundra city, and making their way through the bustling marketplace. They passed the local tavern and ascended a flight of stairs whereupon Cain was greeted with a breathtaking sight �" the Gildegreen was in full bloom before his eyes and the immense beauty of the towering tree froze him in his tracks as the wind gently whistled through its branches.

“Aye, a sight to see, eh?” remarked Athis. “Little matches the serene beauty of our mighty tree, blessed by the Goddess Kyne herself. That’s her temple there and the priestess' maintain the tree and those who seek her guidance within.”

“It’s amazing,” sighed Cain. “There is nothing quite as lovely in all of Cyrodiil.”

“Yeah, well, the Imperials already think too highly of themselves. Divines know they don’t deserve such a wonderful symbol as our Gildegreen. Let’s move on now �" Jorrvaskr is just over there.”

Continuing on, Cain and Athis soon stepped through the solid wood doors of the legendary mead hall and were met with the raucous din of the main dining area where shield siblings dined heartily and drank merrily, roaring with laughter and swapping exaggerated stories of their noble deeds. Athis steered him through the hall and down a small flight of stairs to a much quieter living area, with bedrooms lining the underground corridor. The walls were adorned with centuries of decorations ranging from trophy kills to impressive weapons to woven tapestries and ancient, tattered flags. At the far end of the hall two men sat around a small table and were deep in conversation, only noticing their approach at the last minute.

The smaller of the two large men rose to greet them. “Athis, I see you’ve returned with our new shield-brother!” He turned to the Redguard and offered a hand for Cain to shake. “Cain, yes? Welcome to Jorrvaskr! I’m Vilkas, Harbinger of The Companions, and the silent one here is my brother Farkas. He may look intimidating but I promise he is more bark than bite!” Vilkas roared with laughter and sat back down as Farkas greeted Cain.

“Pleasure to meet you, brother,” rumbled the towering Nord. He sat back down and resumed his stony silence while Vilkas spoke again.

“No trouble, then, Athis?”

“None at all. The land seems quiet for a change.”

“Good, I’m glad to hear that. But it’s getting late now �" you two head upstairs and eat. We have a long day ahead of us tomorrow!”

Athis and Cain took their leave of the Harbinger, and his silent brother, and headed back to the dining hall for a good meal and plenty of mead. All in all, Cain was looking forward to being counted among the ranks of such proud, jovial warriors. Jorrvaskr was everything the Fighters Guild was not, and his mind was made up in short order �" tomorrow he would pen a letter to his chapter leader and tender his resignation. But the night was still relatively young, and after stowing what little gear he had under a vacant bed, Cain met Athis upstairs in the great hall.

They ate, drank, and sang well into the night as Cain made the rounds and was introduced to his shield-siblings. More than a few were young like him, and he could not help but eye up some of the female warriors among the ranks, especially Thea, a tall blonde Nord that shared the same birthyear as Cain. He lingered next to her the longest and was in awe at how much mead she could knock back with the rest of the burly men seated around Jorrvaskr. By midnight the two of them had slid out the back door and were getting to know each other better in the moonlit gardens.

The next day came earlier than Cain, still sleeping off the merriment and escapades from the night before, had expected it to. Farkas strode into his room just after sunrise and threw a dossier at him before barking out the Redguard’s first orders.

“Read that and then come find me in the mead hall. You’re heading to Falkreath today and we need to find you a shield-sibling to watch your back, and see what you can do. Don’t tarry, it’s a long walk to Falkreath and the sun is already up.”

Cain sat up and rubbed the sleep from his eyes before leaving his warm bed and heading for the bathroom. He checked himself in the mirror before leaving and sighed at the long scratches Thea had left on the side of his face. Farkas had likely noticed them, too, but it was probably nothing new to the seasoned Companion. He splashed some water on his faced, headed back to general quarters, got dressed, and went upstairs for his first assignment.

This post has been edited by Kane: May 6 2025, 01:14 PM

[Kane]

Chapter XXXIII – Infiltration


Vilverin is a decrepit Ayleid ruin lying on the outskirts of the Imperial City. Overrun with bandits, most travelers tended to sneak past it under the cover of night, rather than be extorted by the miscreants for exorbitant sums of gold. Unfortunately for said miscreants and highwaymen, it also happened to be located directly across from a nearly forgotten entrance to the Imperial Prison Sewer system. And so, the last of those very same bandits fell to Cain’s sword beneath the ruddy evening skies of another spent summer day.

“Why don’t the guards do something about these scumbags?” asked Anska. “I expected the roads to be safer in Cyrodiil, but at this point I’d rather take my chances on Skyrim’s roads!”

“Most likely because Mede no longer cares,” said Cain. “It takes resources and dedication to improve the lives of his citizens, and that is something he seems to lack. The roads back home are only safer because my father saw firsthand how dangerous the lands were and he actively chose to make things better when he became High King. From what Linn said, riffraff like this was only too happy to sign up for guard duty or enlist in Skyrim’s defense forces. They just needed the opportunity presented.”

“I remember those recruiters traveling around,” replied Anska. “I was tempted to join myself, but life in the village sounded much more peaceful.”

“Well, I’m glad you weren’t tempted. Or we may have never met.”

Anska blushed and gave him a quick kiss before gesturing to the small dock at the edge of Lake Rumare. “Shall we?”

Cain agreed, and together they clambered into the ramshackle rowboat tethered to the pier and shoved off, paddling hurriedly towards the sister dock just across the narrow lake rim. The sun had fully set when they docked near the sewer entrance, and headed back onto dry land. Checking their gear one last time, Anska tightened the strap of her waraxe belt loop, and then they yanked open the rusty grate and climbed inside the foul-smelling tunnel.

Pulling out the map Anilay had given him last night, Cain briefly scanned it under the light of Anska’s torch. “It looks like we have a small cave system to navigate. The actual sewer system ends further in.”

“Where is Anilay meeting us?”

“There’s a secret door in one of the prison cells,” said Cain, pointing at an area circled on the map. “He’ll be waiting on the other side.”

“Alright, then. I’ve got the torch, so you follow me this time. And try to keep up.”

“Oh? This is a new one,” winked Cain. “Do me a favor and hitch up that tasset, yeah? If I’m going to follow you, then I plan on admiring that ass.”

“[censored]’s sake,” sighed Anska, rolling her eyes. “Get us through this alive and you can do more than admire it, you perv.”

She set off confidently into the dark cave tunnel with Cain at her heels. They wound their way through the twisting labyrinth for nearly an hour until they heard odd chattering and guttural noises from a room just ahead. Cain pressed an ear to a poorly constructed wooden door that barred their path and listened to the noises coming from the other side.

“Goblins,” he whispered to Anska. “They aren’t a threat to us, but neither will we be able to reason with them. When you’re ready, kick the door down and charge in with your axe at the ready.”

Anska was raring to go and after a swift kick the door stood forcefully ajar and they rushed into the room beyond. About half a dozen goblins shrieked in alarm and started lobbing roughly hewn spears and wildly swinging their short swords at the two Nords, but they were all cut down in a few moments. Wiping the blood from their weapons, Cain and Anska moved on, rifling through the odd cache of goblin loot illuminated by her torch. The caves were mostly empty after that initial scrap and all that could be heard was their echoing footsteps, and the gentle pitter patter of water seeping down from the earth above.

The caves eventually ended and gave way to a rundown sewer system full of dark corridors and dank cisterns. Only the occasional rusty grate hindered their progress, but they were easily forced open with another kick, or a gently spoken word of Unrelenting Force. Around midnight, Cain and Anska came to a dead-end. A solid block wall stood before them, with no discernible signs of entry stamped into it.

“This must be the place,” said Cain. He withdrew the silver sword from its sheath on his back and rapped on the stonework with the pommel, causing a dull thud to echo around them.

Seconds later, another thudding sound answered in kind, and just after that came the clanking of heavy chains, and the rhythmic grinding of old iron gears. The wall in front of them rumbled once in protest against years of disuse, and then it slowly sunk into an aperture on their left, revealing a narrow passage that led into an empty prison cell. They hurried through it and were greeted by Anilay himself, who waited patiently by the cell door.

“Right on time,” said the High Chancellor. “Let’s move – Mede’s private chambers are near the top of the tower.”

“Won’t the prisoners see us?” asked Cain.

“Not to worry. They’ve all been… persuaded to sleep for a few hours. I’ve also arranged for most of the guards to engage in a friendly sparring competition in the barracks. Only a skeleton crew remains on patrol and they can easily be avoided.”

“What of Mede?” said Anska. “Should we be watchful for him?”

“He’s in Bravil on business for the next three days,” said Anilay. “If all goes well, he’ll never know you were here.”

“Anilay, you still haven’t explained why you need us for this job,” noted Cain. “If the Emperor is absent, why can you not simply sneak in to his study and rummage through his private documents? Are you afraid of being caught in the act?”

“Not at all. Er, one moment please.” Anialy stepped out into the hallway and peered through a few cell doors to make sure the sleeping effect was still in place. Then he returned to Cain and Anska who waited impatiently for him to continue. “I need you because his chambers are magickally sealed against all others. Only the Imperial signet stamped into his ring allows passage through the protective barrier. Or so he believes.”

“I think I see where you’re going with this,” said Cain. “My birthright as Dragonborn will let me pass through, won’t it?”

“That is my theory, yes,” nodded Anilay. “The signet he carries is a relatively new measure to access the chambers. By all accounts, the old magick is still in place, so you simply ought to be able to walk in unimpeded.”

“How convenient,” said Anska. “It’s no wonder you were trying to find us.”

“Indeed. Now, we really must get a move on. Keep a few paces back and watch for my signals.”

They followed Anilay into the dark corridor and made their way out of the prison and outside into the White-Gold Tower grounds. Clouds had moved in during their time underground, blanketing the land in a murky darkness. A ball of magickal energy burst into prominence above the chancellor as he strode purposefully towards the nearest tower door. Cain noted the lack of guards on patrol and prayed silently to Kyne that it would stay that way.
And for the most part, it did. There were only two or three instances where Anilay raised a hand for them to halt while a guard marched down an empty hall and out of sight. The tower was otherwise devoid of activity at such a late hour, and they soon reached the central staircase that led up to the lofty apex that could be espied from just about anywhere in the Heartland. They came to a halt at the foot of that grand staircase and Cain let out a low whistle.

“Um. That’s a lot of stairs,” mused Anska, agreeing with her fiancé’s summation. “Is there not an easier way up?”

“There is, but the magickal lift dissipates at a certain hour to discourage ne’er-do-wells like us from attempting what we are attempting. During the busy times of a normal day, one can step into that sigil on the floor and be born aloft to whichever floor they desire. But tonight, we climb.”

“Are you sure you can’t sprout some dragon wings and fly us up there, love?” Anska asked Cain jokingly.

“Hah. I wish,” he said. “If there is a Shout for that sort of thing, Linn didn’t teach it to me. I’d settle for an actual dragon to ride though. I’ll forever be jealous that she got to experience that twice.”

“As much as I’d enjoy hearing those stories, we really must continue on,” said Anilay. And without waiting, he extinguished his magelight spell and started the ascent with one hand on the ornately carved wooden railing that spun upwards from the center.

Falling in line behind him, Cain and Anska plodded up the seemingly endless stairs to the highest reaches of White-Gold. It took nearly thirty minutes of non-stop climbing up the carpeted stairs to reach the highest floor, and Anilay paused at the top and took a seat on a small bench to catch his breath. Cain glanced down the short hallway at a set of looming doors inlaid with the Imperial Dragon crest. It seemed to him that a shimmering haze awaited their approach.

“That’s our destination,” confirmed Anilay. “But I need a few moments. It has been many long years since I made that climb.”
Anska fished a spare canteen out of her bag and handed it to the winded Imperial. “Here, take a few swigs of this and rest. We’ll go when you are ready.”

A few steps away, Cain continued to stare down the hall at the imposing set of doors. He somehow felt drawn to the energies emanating from the barrier that stood between the three of them and their long sought-after answers. Closing his eyes, he tried to clear his mind the same way he had weeks and weeks ago in Blacklight, when he first connected with his dragon spirit. And then he felt it – a subtle, near undetectable whisper of warning from a force far beyond the mortal realms.

Danger lay ahead, but it was too late to turn back. Of that, he was now certain.

“Listen to me,” he said, glancing at the others. “All is not what it seems. We must go on, but everything will be different afterwards. Anilay, once we enter Mede’s chambers you must stick close to Anska and I at all times. We need to be ready to leave at a moment’s notice if we are all to survive this.”

“Leave?” asked Anilay. “How exactly do you propose we do that?”

“Hon, what’s wrong?” said Anska. She rose to her feet and took his hand in her own. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost. What’s happened?”

“I can’t explain it,” said Cain. “I felt a whisper of sorts, playing at the edges of my awareness. It was a warning… and yet also a reassurance? It started when I was staring at those doors, and the energy around them. This may sound crazy, but I think it was a message from Akatosh himself. There was a certain feeling of kinship within it.”

“Wait, you can actually see the barrier?” Anilay inquired. “If so, you will definitely be able to pass through. It’s invisible to all others.”

“Then it’s time we go,” said Cain. Anska was still gazing worriedly at him, so he leaned in and gave her a reassuring kiss. “We’ll be fine. Just stick to the plan. Anilay, stay as close to us as you can manage once we get inside there. You asked before how we can leave? Well, it’s time we let you in on a little secret: I’ve mastered a Mark and Recall spell that can teleport us away at the first sign of danger. Stay within our reach and we’ll all vanish from here without a trace at the proper time.”

The Imperial nodded, not bothering to hide the impressed look on his face, and followed behind Cain and Anska. The Dragonborn led them purposefully down the hallway to the impressive chamber doors and swung them open easily, as if he was always meant to be there. The empty quarters of Emperor Titus Mede II were sparsely lit in his absence, and linen sheets were draped over the furniture to ward off any accumulating dust.

There were several doors leading off in different directions, so Cain deferred to the High Chancellor on which one to enter. “The one on the left leads to his study,” said Anilay. “We’ll start there.” He led them to the indicated door and pulled it open, ushering them inside.

Mede’s private study was far vaster than Kirin’s humble office in the Blue Palace. A large desk stood at the center, and each wall was lined with towering bookshelves, and beautifully carved wooden cabinets. Another door led out onto a balcony high above the city below, and several windows allowed in what little moonlight penetrated the dark clouds in the sky above. For the next ten minutes, the three of them sifted through the overstuffed cabinets and bookshelves, along with the desk drawers, and a large iron safe clad with a golden alloy.

“There’s nothing here,” said an exasperated Cain. “Nothing but mindless operational and political documents, missives, letters, and notes. I don’t think any of it is even very secretive! Did either of you find anything worthwhile?”

Anska and Anilay both shrugged and said they hadn’t. Feeling even more frustrated, Cain took a break from searching and leaned against Mede’s desk, his eyes scanning around the room for anything they could have missed. He was about to tear through the desk one more time when he noticed something odd about one of the bookcases. It stood slightly apart from the others, and the books and objects lining the shelves seemed more decorative than functional.

Cain was just about to search it again when Anska called over to him. “Don’t bother, I already looked through the few notes laying on those shelves.”

“It’s not the notes I’m interested in,” said Cain. Instead he focused on the wall behind it, and felt a satisfied smile forming on his lips when he noticed the scuff marks on the paint. “Come here you two and help me - I think this bookcase is a false wall.” He started grabbing at random books and decorations while the others joined him and did just the same. A few minutes later, they’d turned up nothing once again. “Damn, I’d have bet a fat sack of gold that we’d find a switch of some kind.”

“Wait one moment, please,” said Anilay. Hurrying over to the desk, the chancellor crawled underneath and examined the area just beneath the writing top. “Aha! There it is!” A small Imperial Signet was etched into the woodwork. He brushed a couple fingers across it and was rewarded by a sharp cracking sound and a whoop of delight from Cain.

“That did it! How’d you know to look there?”

“I noticed the mark earlier,” answered Anilay. “But I didn’t think anything of it at the time.”

He ushered back over to the bookcase and helped Cain and Anska swing it out of the way. It glided effortlessly on well-oiled hinges and came to a noiseless stop, revealing a small antechamber just off of the office. They stepped through and found themselves in a nearly empty room, save for a small table adorned with a mysterious cask inlaid with strange inscriptions that seemed to glow a deep crimson in the dark air around it.

“What is it?” asked Anska.

“I don’t know,” said Cain. “Any ideas, Anilay?”

The Imperial was staring open-mouthed at the object. He had indeed seen this object before, and had even attended several briefings on its origin and how it came to be in the Empire’s possession. But how it got here was a different matter entirely.

“By the Eight!” he exclaimed. “This shouldn’t be here! It was supposed to have been destroyed at the end of the Great War! This explains much about how Mede has managed to operate independently from the Elder Council for so many years…”

Reaching down, Anilay unlatched the heavy clasp holding the box shut and gently lifted it open. Inside rested a shimmering glass orb resting upon a simple wooden cradle. The orb swirled with a mystical energy that seemed to fluctuate between a bright blueish green and the purest white. Nodding a silent confirmation to himself, he closed the lid and secured the latch.

“Our search is over, my friends. There are no missives to be found nor any mysterious agents to root out.” He picked up the cask containing the object and handed it to Cain. “This is the Orb of Vaermina – a powerful scrying tool unlike any others known to Man or Mer. Think of it as a window to view whatever your heart desires to see. With it, Mede can spy on anyone from anywhere with none the wiser. You must take it away from this place at once, for he cannot be allowed to possess it any longer. Do with it what you will, but I implore you to destroy it as soon as humanly possible.”

Cain worryingly looked over the cask, wondering how such a small thing could have caused he and Anska so many problems. He was also beyond pleased that Anilay had simply handed it to him when it could be a very powerful tool for the council. He resolved to never forget this act of trust, and extended a hand to Anilay. “Thank you for all you’ve done to help us,” he said. “This will certainly turn some heads back home. We couldn’t have done this without you, and I hope we can keep in touch.”

The High Chancellor was about to respond in kind when a rustling sound caught their attention. Three men now stood in the small doorway leading to the antechamber: two heavily armored Penitus Oculatus agents and a shorter, much older man dressed in beautifully woven robes bearing the Imperial Seal. Anilay’s shoulders slumped in defeat and Cain exhaled slowly, tensing up for a quick escape. Even Anska recognized him from the countless portraits and newspapers she’d seen or read over the years.

Emperor Titus Mede II surveyed all three of them with utter contempt.