Trey in Mournhold, Chapter 5 Options

[treydog]

Chapter 5

Dedicated to the memory of Jonajosa. Be at peace, my friend.

Rather than walk back to the Palace, I used an amulet to cast Divine Intervention. Mainly, I chose that means of transport because I was terribly weary. But I admit that it was also a calculated insult to the Tribunal Temple. After all, the spell carried me to the entrance of the Imperial Cult, their religious rival. Once I had been deposited in the Palace courtyard, I mentally prepared myself for my meeting with Tienius Delitian. If possible, I hoped to keep Galsa Andrano’s name to myself- betrayal did not come easily to me. Though she was a member of Almalexia’s Temple, she was not responsible for its misguided choices. Before heading for the throne room, I nipped down the stairs to the basement and exchanged my armor for a robe. While the Dark Brotherhood armor might have served as a pointed reminder of Helseth’s murderous intent toward me, I did not think it wise to appear before his guards dressed as an assassin. While the King’s paranoia might be the product of a guilty conscience, theirs was a professional reflex- one that I preferred not to test. A measure of their caution was the fact that I had yet to lay eyes on Helseth, even in his own throne room. Confronting him with my…righteous indignation was going to be difficult if all he ever did was cower in his private chambers. Of course, he would also have a hard time governing from that position, a prospect that did not make me particularly unhappy. On the other hand, my disagreement with Helseth was personal rather than political, so I rather hoped he would show his sorry face sometime soon.

If Captain Delitian was happy to see me, he disguised it quite well. Stony-faced, he stared at me and queried,

“Have you anything to report? Or have you just been wandering around Mournhold gawking at the sights?”

I was becoming used to his irritating manner, having realized that his baiting was as much an attempt to surprise me into blurting something revealing as because he genuinely disliked me. Besides that, I didn’t really care- I didn’t much like him, either. So I simply smiled blandly at his sneer and described what I had discovered regarding the Temple’s view of his precious monarch. At the end of my recital, he grunted and said,

“Of course, I had someone follow you, so I know that you spent some time with the healer, Galsa Andrano. She certainly speaks her mind, and, from what you say, sounds sincere. You handled her well. The Temple seems to recognize that King Helseth will not be content to be a puppet like King Llethan, and plans to act against us. Very good work, Trey. The king will hear of your loyal service.”

So much for keeping Galsa out of it. Well, I had tried. And perhaps there would not be a confrontation between Temple and king. Better still, maybe someday I would get over the feeling that I was a particularly low form of life that betrayed confidences.

Meanwhile, Delitian had other things on his mind. Motioning for me to follow him out into the hallway, he dropped his voice and said,

“Now you can help us with another matter. King Helseth is concerned about possible disloyalty among the Guards. I've replaced many of the former king's guards with more reliable men. But I had to keep some experienced guards, and I can't be certain of their loyalties. I will pretend you wish to join the Royal Guards. That's your excuse for talking to the guards, sounding them out, and looking for evidence of disloyalty. If you find any hint of treason or evidence of disloyalty, report it to me. Take no action. Report to me, and I will judge what action is appropriate.”

The cover story struck me as being awfully thin, although it would have the advantage of explaining my repeated visits to the captain. Hoping for a bit of guidance, I inquired as to which guards I should investigate. Delitian’s familiar scowl reappeared and he replied,

“It's your judgment I'm testing, not mine. Talk to them yourself. Form your own conclusions.”

The assignment revealed still more of Helseth’s problems- and his errors. I was practically certain now that he was responsible for King Llethan’s death. And it seemed that a number of others had reached the same conclusion- including some of the palace guards. Regardless of whether they had personally liked the old king or not, his safety had been their responsibility…and they had failed to protect him. I had no way of knowing whether Helseth was any good as a ruler, but he had a positive genius for making enemies. So far, he had alienated the Temple, the conservative Dunmer (probably including House Redoran), and some of his own guards. And, oh yes, one insignificant but highly motivated Breton. He was beginning to discover that a major problem with ascending to the throne through assassination was the ideas it put into other people’s heads. Ideas like- if one king can be killed, why not two? Actual justice is often fickle or uncertain, but watching a guilty man squirm in fear of justice can sometimes be an acceptable substitute.

None of these ruminations were getting me any closer to finding out which guards, if any, were contemplating a change in management. The only thing for it was to visit the guard quarters and spread some charm and cash. I briefly entertained the notion of trying to implicate some of the loyal guards, thus weakening Helseth, but realized that Delitian wanted evidence- not just my accusations. I again had to play it straight if I was to have any hope of gaining the king’s confidence.

The guard quarters were functional and little else- each guard had a bed and a locked chest for personal items. The room itself was open and offered no possibility of concealment. A quick glance at the chests showed that the locks were of reasonable quality. I could get past them with sufficient time or with a spell, but the idea of getting caught rummaging through a Royal Guard’s possessions did not appeal to me. My fears were given additional emphasis when a guard wandered through the room, and turned his helmeted head to stare at me. Sighing with disgust, I sat down on a storage chest to consider my options. As I idly traced the badly carved name on the chest, Ivulen Irano, my eyes fell upon a scrap of parchment that had fallen between the chest and the foot of the bed. Thinking it was probably a note inviting the guard out for drinks after work, I picked it up. After some effort to decipher the tiny and nearly illegible handwriting, I understood that it was a copy of guard duty rosters for the past several weeks. Three names were always correctly spelled -- Milvela Dralen, Ivulen Irano, and Aleri Aren -- and those watches when all three were the only guards in the Throne Room were underlined twice. My finely-honed investigative senses told me that this might be what was known in the trade as a “clue.” More to the point, I thought it might be a good idea to talk to Guardsman Ivulen Irano.

[minque]

Oh my....another masterpiece, with a dedication that nearly made me cry...I thank you treydog for your ability to "make my day" I just came home, went here and found this! what a joy......

[Konji]

I loved the description in this one..I don't know what but it just stood out. <aybe it wasa more casual tone than usual?


What happened to Jona??

[canis216]

Another great addition to the canon of Trey.

[Soulseeker3.0]

very nice Trey, I love the way you put feelings behind your character's words... also great addition that explanes how the people know you finished the quest before you tell them

[treydog]

Based on the rosters, it appeared that Irano was presently on duty in the Throne Room. So as to not be too obvious about it, I first spoke to a couple of other guards before introducing myself to my suspect. Putting on the expression of a prime candidate for the Royal Guard (i.e.-looking barely sapient), I stuck out my hand and said,

“Name’s Trey. I just came over from Balmora and heard that the king might be looking for a few new guards.”

At the mention of Balmora, Irano relaxed a bit and shook my hand. He said,

“What did Tienius Delitian send you to me for? If he wants you to be a Royal Guard, then you'll be a Royal Guard. Nothing to do with me. So you’re over from Balmora? A cousin of mine there works for House Hlaalu. He says there’s lots of ways to make money. Dangerous place, though.”

His reference to House Hlaalu gave me an idea, so I casually remarked,

“Oh, I’ve done some work for Hlaalu myself.”

Impressed, Irano leaned closer and said,

“Oh? Really? Does Tienius Delitian know that? Did you talk to Aleri Aren? You should tell her that you're House Hlaalu. Really. But don't tell Tienius Delitian. Just tell Aleri Aren.”

Of course, I had never said I belonged to Hlaalu, just that I had done some work for them. And that was true- I had killed Ralen Hlaalo’s murderer and collected a reward for that action. But I did nothing to correct Irano’s mistake. Instead, having broken the ice, I asked the dull-witted guardsman how he felt about the death of King Llethan. His eyes grew guarded and he growled,

“You hear folks say old King Llethan was a fool. Well, folks should keep their mouths shut. Maybe he was a fool, but lots of folk are fools. Maybe he had no business being a king, but that's what he was, so folk should show some respect to the old fellow.”

That statement, combined with the note on the guard rosters and the comment about Hlaalu, was probably just what Delitian was looking for. Promising to pass on his greetings to his cousin in Balmora, I took leave of Irano and left the Throne Room. It would not do to rush right over to the captain, so I made my way back to the basement to rest awhile and practice my alchemy skills.

When I judged that Irano’s shift was over (a task made easier by the copied roster), I returned to Delitian to report my findings. He scrutinized the note and said,

“This is Ivulen Irano's handwriting on the note you found. He notes the watches when Dralen, Aren, and Irano are the only guards in the Throne Room. I believe I'll change the watch schedules to prevent that. And I'll need to keep a close eye on all three. Very shrewd work, Trey. You've brought me clear evidence of disloyalty among the guards. I am also interested in this House Hlaalu business. As it happens, Llethan was from Hlaalu. Some of the nobles were not happy about his death. I need your help finding evidence of conspiracy against King Helseth among the Hlaalu nobles.”

Scratching his chin, Delitian continued,

“The old king's Hlaalu supporters haven't accepted King Helseth's accession to the Throne with good grace. Maybe they think that another candidate -- a Hlaalu candidate, for example -- would be better. Maybe they have some plan to express such a preference. If so, I doubt they would be candid about it. But maybe you should search Llethan Manor for documents, diaries or other tangible evidence of such plans.”

On the one hand, I was glad that Delitian did not seem to be contemplating any extreme measures against the guards- I really did not want their deaths on my conscience. But another part of me was becoming quite annoyed at my role as the captain’s hound. It wasn’t that I cared about the corrupt Hlaalu- I just wondered if Helseth was ever going to come out of his bolthole. The whole point of doing these “little favors” for Delitian was to gain the King’s confidence. If it didn’t work, all I was doing was strengthening my enemy. Still, no other course seemed open to me- simply standing in the Palace halls and bellowing for the king to come out and face me like a man would not work. At best, he would simply have his guards confine me or toss me out. At worst, the death of a single Breton adventurer would not cause him to lose any sleep- a fact that was already abundantly clear to me.

I was somewhat surprised to hear that the late King Llethan had maintained a house in the Manor District- I had thought that the king lived in the Palace. As I considered it though, I realized that the living arrangements reflected Llethan’s priorities- he had been House Hlaalu first and King of Morrowind second. Helseth, who was now far from his original home in Wayrest, had little choice but to live in the Palace. Besides that, he intended to be king in fact, not just in name. As I made my way to the Manor District, I tried to think of an excuse for visiting Llethan Manor. Although Llethan was dead, he had almost certainly maintained a substantial household, most of whom would still be around. Hlaalu nobles and their retainers would be much harder to fool than Guardsman Irano- if I claimed House membership, they would certainly ask for some sign or password that proved my claim. Perhaps the best approach would be to express my sympathy for Llethan’s death. That would have the advantage of being true- I was sorry Llethan was dead, even though I had never heard of him before I came to Mournhold. My sorrow was of a more personal nature- if Llethan were still alive, Helseth would not have been around to send assassins after me. Before I realized it, my thoughts had carried me to Llethan Manor. Without knowing what I was about to face, I raised my hand to knock on the ornate door.

[Fuzzy Knight]

Don't know how many times I've replied with this Trey, but another great update you have here in you're great story!

Keep it up!

[minque]

Another Trey tonight! As usual that means a good read.....so even this installment. Oh those intrigues the old chap is getting himself into.....and hopefully out of also!

Naturally you thought it was time for a cliffie huh? Just to keep us biting our fingernails till it tastes elbow....arr...

May this story never end!

[Soulseeker3.0]

Very nice Trey, Very nice. And I agree with Fuzzy, I don' t know how many times i've replied to your story... but his just gets better

[treydog]

The door was opened by a Bosmer wearing a partial set of Hlaalu bonemold armor. She was rather less than welcoming, as her greeting consisted of:

“I really don’t have time for this, so make it quick.”

When I mumbled some excuse about being there to offer my sympathies for Llethan’s death, she became friendlier, telling me that I should pay my compliments to the widow, Ravani Llethan. With that, she gestured toward an interior door and went back to her guard post. The room off of the entry foyer was obviously the library and it was an impressive one. I spent some minutes studying titles and bindings, a delaying tactic that resulted from my discomfort over my mission as much as from my obsession with books. Still, the time was not wasted, for the titles gave me some clue as to the owners of the library. Along with the more common religious works and histories there were some real rarities, including Book V of The Biography of the Wolf Queen and a well-preserved copy of The Blue Book of Riddles. Perhaps most revealing was the book that lay open on the table- The Alchemists Formulary. Considering all the talk of Helseth-as-poisoner that I had heard, that choice of reading material struck me quite forcibly. Perhaps someone in Llethan Manor had sought the recipe for an antidote or even a preventative against poisoning. Or perhaps it reflected a desperate need to do something long after it was too late. What it was not, though, was the sort of evidence Delitian wanted. With a sigh, I left the books where they were. Although I had sunk quite low, even so low as to doing the bidding of a king I despised, I had not yet reached the place where I would rob a widow.

The second door leading off of the library gave onto a small office that also doubled as a dining room, and it was there that I found Ravani Llethan seated at a small table. Even in her grief, she was an elegant Dunmer lady and I found myself in sympathy with her. Without looking up, she said quietly,

“We must endure our sorrows.”

The sadness in her voice and on her face almost caused me to turn and leave. But I steeled myself to the task at hand. If I was going to win Helseth’s trust, I would probably have to do a number of distasteful things. But if I could ever manage a few moments alone with the murderous king, all would be repaid. Therefore I bowed and told Ravani that I had come to pay my respects to her and the memory of her late husband. She brightened somewhat and thanked me, saying,

“Bless your honorable soul. Few enough have come to pay their respects. People forget their friends when the wind changes.”

How it burned in my belly that she called me “honorable”. I wondered what right I had to come and pick over the bones of her grief, no matter my reasons. Bile rising in my throat, I nevertheless asked her how Llethan had come to die. Eyes flashing, she spoke with quiet fury, replying,

“They murdered him. Helseth and his spiders. Everyone knows, and no one lifts a finger. Imperial justice! Hah! I SPIT on Imperial justice! They killed my husband, and now that wicked man is king. I curse Helseth, and all his kin! May they die tomorrow, weeping, watching their children die today!”

Although I did not doubt that she believed it, I needed to know why she thought Helseth was responsible. And so I probed further, asking,

“How do you know?”

She responded fiercely,

“Everyone knows. It's there in print, for everyone to see, in the broadside sheet called ‘The Common Tongue’. It says Helseth poisoned hundreds of people when he was in the West. If Helseth was a wicked murderer before, why not now?”

Speaking at last from the heart, I told her,

“I promise you, your loss will be avenged.”

With a smile, she grasped my sleeve and told me,

“Bless you. May fortune smile on your blade. There are those among my husband's friends who will not rest until justice is done. I shall mention your name to them.”

With that, she excused herself and stepped out into the library.

What I did next brings me no joy to relate, but I will not compound my sins by lying about them. I had my reasons- let others judge whether they were sufficient to explain my actions. Seizing on Ravani’s momentary absence, I quickly scanned the desk in one corner of the small office and soon espied a hastily scrawled letter, addressed on the outside as follows:

CODE

To my honorable cousin Forven Berano, be this delivered in haste

The contents of the letter proved beyond doubt that House Hlaalu intended some move against Helseth. The text stated,

CODE

Forven,

I cannot agree. I am a merchant, and have no skill at arms. You are a noble, and in your prime were proven on practice and tournament grounds -- though, in truth, you have never fought a duel, and have few gifts as a liar. No one can doubt Hloggar the Bloody's aptitude and enthusiasm for mayhem, but he is not a subtle man, more suited for a brawl or battlefield than an assassin's role.

And we cannot trust the Dark Brotherhood. Helseth owns them. They promise discretion, but their promises are worthless.

I am afraid we must approach the Morag Tong. I agree with you. They will probably refuse. But at least they can be trusted to be discreet.

If, in the end, we are forced to choose among ourselves, I fear it must be you. And we will have to wrack our brains for some plausible pretext that will get you into Helseth's presence.

I am disappointed, though not surprised, at lack of public outcry over Athyn's murder. The popular sentiment seems to be to avoid personal risk and accept Helseth. It's short-sighted, but understandable. I have noted, however, that the writer of THE COMMON TONGUE is sympathetic to our cause, clever and eloquent. He may be able to sway opinion. We should try to identify this fellow and try to bring him into our counsels.

your faithful servant,

Bedal Alen

Here then was all the evidence Tienius Delitian could hope for, complete with names and a plan of action. And, like the thief that I was, I took it.

Perhaps that is an unfair characterization, as a thief steals for gain or at least for the thrill of the game. When I took the incriminating letter, I had no hope of either. It was simply one more piece of the trap I was building in hopes of catching a king. Now, years later, I feel remorse for my actions; then, I was beyond morality. The reason was simple- Helseth had tried to have me murdered in my sleep. While it was true that a great many people had attacked me since the first day I came to Morrowind, this was different. When the bandits or smugglers or even Cammona Tong thugs tried to kill me, they did it face-to-face. They did not hide behind others, nor hire some shadowy group to do the deed. They may have lacked honor, but at least they had the courage to face me directly. The king, though, crouched in his chambers and sent out an order- “Kill me this man, this Trey of High Rock.” By all that I held dear, he would regret that order. He would face me one day soon.

With the letter hidden in my sleeve, I entered the library and took my leave of Ravani Llethan. Once I was back outside, I used my Divine Intervention amulet to transport me to the Palace. When I entered the Reception Area, I did not go straight to Tienius Delitian, however. Instead, I went to my temporary lair in the basement. When I arrived, I examined the Hlaalu letter again. And then I took out another letter, the letter that authorized my murder by the Dark Brotherhood. I placed the two papers side by side and then I simply stared at them for a very long time. At last, decision made, I stood up.

[Fuzzy Knight]

Don't ever stop writing, you hear me Trey!?

Once again I love you're updates and how extremely well discriptive they are and how much of Morrowind they carry in them - Keep it up!

[Wolfie]

Nice update trey
Keep them coming

[minque]

Don't ever stop writing, you hear me Trey!?

Once again I love you're updates and how extremely well discriptive they are and how much of Morrowind they carry in them - Keep it up!

yes....what Fuzzy said....must agree.....can´t drag myself away from this story.....I actually played that part with the widow..oh my.....And now Trey´s gonna deal with it....besides he might have found something out..

[mplantinga]

I particularly enjoyed (as usual) Trey's introspection and analysis of his complicated situation. The tensions in Mournhold between the powers-that-be are very strong, and I'm looking forward to seeing how Trey manages to carve a safe path through the dread swamp of Mournhold politics.

[Kiln]

Sorry for not commenting sooner Trey but as Minque and I have stated there is alot of fan fiction here now and it's hard to read all of it. I finally noticed the fifth chapter here and read it, I liked how you dedicated it to our lost friend here and the content was very well written so please continue.

[Elidor]

Gotta love this fanfic, it is honestly very inspiring Good work!

[treydog]

Sorry for the shorter than usual installment. It was a bad week at the college (finals week), plus I have been sick for the last 3-4 days. Well- at least I didn't have to TAKE any of the finals

From the calm perspective of so many years later, I can see that I actually had many choices for handling the Hlaalu conspiracy and the king. But it is often the case that it is easy to sit in a comfortable chair beside a warm fire and make a reasoned decision about events that are long ago and far away. However, in the moment that was, all I had were my instincts, my (limited) experience, and a burning desire for what I perceived as justice. In a word, all I had was myself. Recall that, in Mournhold, I had no friends, no mentors, no support. There was no Caius Cosades or Athyn Sarethi in whom to confide; and, at that time, even those two had not completely earned my trust. It seemed that everyone I met this city, at least everyone with any real power, only wanted to use me as a help in attaining their own ends. I suppose that I began to act in what I saw as my own self-interest as much in emulation of others as because that was all I could think to do. Whatever the reason, I was forced to rely own my own judgment and to live with the consequences.

In a way, the Hlaalu letter confirmed my most significant problem- it was almost impossible to get close to the king. But I was determined that I would manage the feat; more, I was driven- obsessed with the idea of forcing him to admit his crime and exacting payment for it. Even if it meant giving up the names of the Hlaalu conspirators. After all, what was House Hlaalu to me? Nothing, and less than nothing. I felt a twinge of my sadly stunted conscience over the Widow Llethan, but I rationalized it by insisting that the result would be all she desired. After all, if Helseth was brought low, would she really care how it came about? All of my self-justification did not prepare me for what was to happen. I should have seen it coming, but I was so wrapped in my own misery and anger that I did not. Having steeled myself for the deed, I presented the letter from Llethan Manor to Tienius Delitian. He looked it over carefully, even checking the watermark on the paper. At last, he gave a satisfied grunt and said,

“This letter you've found is very interesting. Forven Berano, Hloggar the Bloody, and Bedal Alen are obviously conspiring to assassinate King Helseth. This is treason, punishable by death. I will immediately draw up writs for their execution.”

His sentences fell like stones upon my soul. The deaths of these men would be upon me. But it was even worse than I had feared, for Delitian wasn’t finished. With a penetrating stare he added:

“You would do the king a great service if you would execute these traitors.”

So this was what all my plotting and planning had brought me- to play executioner for the man who had been trying to have me murdered. The irony was so choking that I could not completely hold back a sick laugh. Delitian apparently misunderstood, as he said,

“It will be completely legal- if anyone questions you, just show them the writs. Here, let me get them for you.”

With that, he went to a small desk at one side of the Throne Room and appropriated three sheets of parchment from a larger stack. In a very short time, he had returned, bearing the documents that would turn me into a hired sword for the king. I could not help but notice that the only item he had needed to write on each warrant was the name of the…victim. Was it so easy then, to hire murder done? Was that how it had been arranged for me? Had someone come to the king or his guardsman and said,

“There’s this fellow in Vvardenfell, goes by the name of Trey. Out of High Rock originally, but more recently from the Imperial Prison. He’s been talking against the Empire- probably a dangerous character.”

My mind raced as I tried to think of a way out of the trap I had built for myself.

“Fool,” I thought, “Of course they would use something like this to test your ‘loyalty.’ What better way to bind a man to you than with the blood on his hands?”

Not knowing what else to do, I accepted the writs from Delitian and left. It seemed that I was in a box this time, with no way out. But, as I made my way out of the Throne Room, I began to have the faintest glimmer of an idea.

[minque]

Ahh treydog.....you really had to do it huh? A cliffie......naturally a cliffie....Knowing my dear Trey he´ll soon have a plan....a good plan, but maybe it will drag him into trouble..again.

Thing is...I´ll have to wait for that plan...until next update, and that, my dear t-dog, will cause some severe nailbiting......until it tastes elbow..hmmm.

But if I present you with some ....ehhh raisin-bread, or cinnamon-rolls...(yup I know you like them.. ) Could that make you go to the comp, fire up Word, and ....start writing an update???

[Kiln]

Slightly shorter than usual but just as well, nicely written and with the end of the last update I really want to know what happens next so continue very soon.

I really want to know what he does so you'd better make it fast.

[treydog]

My idea was simple- I wanted revenge on Helseth; the Hlaalu nobles wanted revenge on Helseth; therefore, we should be able to work together long enough to reach our mutually-desired goal. As a result of my spying for the king, I now possessed the names of three potential allies whose interests coincided with my own. All that remained was to find them and convince them to assist me. Careful inquiries, with much use of the Hlaalu code-word “business,” yielded the following information: Forven Berano was a faithful member of the Temple and could usually be found somewhere nearby. Bedal Alen was an avid reader and spent much of his time in the bookshops. Locating Hloggar the Bloody was a more difficult proposition. The first few people I asked about the Nord simply expressed disgust by more or less demonstrative means and took their leave of me. Finally I remembered Ra’Tesh, the Khajiit bartender at the Winged Guar. He was the closest thing to a friend that I had in Mournhold; more to the point, he had sources of information about the less savory residents and visitors to the city.

When I asked about the Hlaalu retainer, the normally imperturbable Khajiit’s whiskers actually trembled. I had the feeling that his tail was lashing from side to side, as well. Picking up an already clean glass and polishing furiously, Ra’Tesh muttered,

“Ra’Tesh knows of this Hlaalu. Ra’Tesh also knows of the bad Daedra, but he prefers to not speak of them. This Khajiit believes that it is better not to think or speak of evil things lest he draw their attention. Why does friend Trey ask about this evil person?”

Because I did count Ra’Tesh as a friend, I could not tell him the true reason- to do so would put him in the position of either passively agreeing to the scheme or having to report it. That was not the sort of thing I would do to him. So I simply fell back upon the old standard, that I had “business” with Hloggar. Ra’Tesh was still not satisfied and he hissed,

“That one’s ‘business’ is killing. Hlaalu masters say, ‘this person is a problem,’ and call for Hloggar the Bloody. He comes and there is no more problem. What business could you have with such a person?”

I looked Ra’Tesh in the eye and told him,

“The sort of business that you suspect. Please, don’t ask me more. If you know where he is, just tell me. Trust that I know what I am doing.”

Ra’Tesh shrugged as if to indicate that he had done all he could and then said,

“The Nord does not stay in the inns or the houses. Some say this is because the Nord is too cheap to pay for lodging. Ra’Tesh does not think so. Ra’Tesh believes that no decent establishment will rent a room to this Nord. And so, this Hloggar, he stays down in the sewers near the Palace. Ra’Tesh has been told that people have seen a Nord camped in the West Sewers. Perhaps this is the Nord friend Trey seeks. Ra’Tesh does not know. Ra’Tesh thinks friend Trey should forget this ‘business’ with the bloody Nord and have a drink.”

That was probably the best advice I had gotten since I came to Mournhold. And, of course, I did not heed it.

According to my sources, Forven Berano should be the easiest to find, as he spent much of his time in and around the Temple of Almalexia. Although I was not happy about going back into proximity of the Temple, my need drove me. Fortunately, Berano was not actually inside the Temple, but standing on the steps. When I first approached him, he was polite but not encouraging, saying,

“If you seek money, you would do better to find honest labor, rather than begging for alms.”

When I assured him that I was not a beggar, he relaxed slightly and asked me to state my business quickly.

Glancing around to ensure no one was likely to overhear my words, I muttered,

“My business regards King Helseth and what can be done about him.”

At the mention of the king, Berano’s eyes widened, but he gave no other sign, simply repeating the standard phrase,

“Helseth is king now, long live the king.”

I knew that his words were just for show, a bit of protective coloration. Determinedly, I stated,

“Ser Berano, I am aware that you and other individuals seek some means to correct the injustice that was done when Llethan was murdered. I also intend to fight Helseth’s injustice. You should know that he is already aware of you…. Can we not find common cause?”

I carefully did not mention just how it was that Helseth had “become aware” of Forven Berano. While it was certainly relevant, it would have done me no good at all. In the end, it did not matter, for Berano became panicked and said,

“I am sure you are a fine young man, and perhaps even talented with a blade. But you would have no chance against Helseth’s guards. If he is aware of me as you say, I must flee immediately. I thank you for the warning, but if you are wise, you will leave Mournhold. Good day.”

My experience with Bedal Alen was much the same- I found him browsing the books in the shop located in the Great Bazaar. His reaction was less friendly than Berano’s. He looked me over and asked,

“You are a Breton, aren’t you? From High Rock, same place as that pile of guar droppings that calls himself a king. How do I know you aren’t one of his spies? And even if you aren’t, why should I believe that you can accomplish a feat even the Morag Tong refuses to attempt? No, boy, I’ll have none of this. You can go back to your precious king and tell him that Bedal Alen has left Mournhold. For good.”

With that, he cast an Almsivi Intervention spell and was gone. This was not working out at all as I had hoped. So far, two of my hoped-for allies had fled. And now I was left to seek Hloggar the Bloody, to return yet again to the sewers of Mournhold.