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Chapter Text

"Damn it. I knew I shouldn't have let you alone." A voice pierces through the haze, rudely interrupting your near slumber.

Huh? What?

"You've definitely had enough." That voice says more and despite the fact you're slugging open your one good eye, you can't really see cause you're... well. You're flat out drunk and your vision is a bloody mess of- wait. No. Isn't that leather?

Don't tell you you put your eyepatch on over the wrong eye.

Wait. Who are you again?

You are you but you don't really remember who the heck you even are.

Your head buzzes with the sweet, sweet haze of alcohol and dis... dis... the thing that makes you feel like you're not connected to your body. Dysphoria? No. Right but wrong. Dys... Dis....

"C'mere, you drunk little kitty."

And then you're abruptly lifted up from the ground and you struggle in the warm arms of a stranger who doesn't smell strange.

"Nooo... Lemme goooo..." you can't really put much up of a fight. You are flat out and out too drunk to even really-

The eyepatch is shifted away and you wince at the pain of solid light. Ah. yep. Yeah. You definitely did put your eyepatch over your non blinded eye so you could sleep through the sunlight hours.

...Ugh... Why were you drinking again?

To Forget, Right. But now that's seriously biting you in the tail.

Tail.

WAIT. YOU HAVE A TAIL!

RIGHT!

You feel it all swishy, lethargic, but it's swishy never the lessss!

You're a Cat! How did you forget that? You struggle a bit as your limbs seem to snap into focus a bit fighting against the dis... dys...

"Mrrrr what's the word again??" you groan.

"C'mon, Sereyne," The woman holding you has no fur on her face, but whiskers painted on her cheeks regardless. Her eyes are filled golden light and- eh? What's that emotion again?

Concern? Sorrow? One of those. Uh...

You still can barely move your body. Maybe you really did drink way too much.

And. Wait. Yes. The name they said.

Sere... Sereyne? Yes. That's your name.

You are SEREYNE. And you are so VERY. VERY. DRUNK.

Who's this girl though? Human, but... smells like a wolf. Breton? Were it the Bretons that smelled like dogs or were it Nords? You can't remember and you honestly really don't care to remember.

"You know, when I gave you that gold I was seriously expecting you to get out of town," whoever the lady is says, carrying you away from your nesting spot.

Help! Help! Someone help! You're being cat-napped!

ARGH! Those lazy layabouts and drunkards! They're just smiling and shaking their heads and letting you go! GAH! Don't they know who you are! You're SEREYNE!

You're the-! The---

The Stupidly Drunken can't who can't even remember what the word for that weird disembodied feeling is.

Girl smells familiar though. "I know you from somewhere?" you slur out.

"Yes, and like I told you the last time I saw you, we worked a job together. I gave you your cut."

Cut? Cut?

OH!

"Threeeehunren and seveny fish," you mumble.

"Something like that, yes," your cat-napper says, carrying you across a bridge. Her hair blows about her as golden as the desert sands which- urgh- you wrench your eye shut as the sunlight glares into it.

Completely unrelated train of thought there. Bluhhhhh.

"Wh're yuu takin' meeee?" You demand, lightly trying to bat a paw up against her chin. You miss entirely and somehow slap yourself in your own chin.

OW.

"To sober up, Sereyne. I'd splash you with water but the last time I did that you didn't like it much." Hrmf. That sounds familiar. Vaguely.

Truth be told you think you've been splashed awake with unknown fluids a bunch of times. Too many times to even count.

You're walked up to a friggin beast of a Khajiit- a sen... sench... senchal... wiched?

The Big Riddle-able Kitties. No. Wait. Um. Ride-able? Not Riddle-thar-able... What are you even saying right now?

"Oh dear," they rumble. "This your friend?"

"Yes, and she's very drunk," and then your mysterious savior dumps you in a side satchel, and has the gall to strap you in.

"Raaaah lemme goooo or I'll-! I'll----..." UrPh...

You can't really do much of anything right now because you really can't even focus-

Focus.

"MY FOCUS!" you snap awake "Someone stole my focus! Or- Or I traded it for cash or-?"

"Yes, you did exactly that. Again," and then savior dangles your focus in front of your face. "And you'll only be getting it back once I'm sure you're not going to be drinking yourself into a stupor again. And if you ARE going to keep drinking, you're at least going to be doing it where I can keep an eye on you."

"Oh, okay," you feel incredibly relieved to see your focus intact and in one piece even if it's being shoved into a magical pocket of nothingness. "That's good..."

"Glad to hear it," and then she climbs up on the Big Talking Rider Cat Thingggg...

"Pahararawalkhahramara?"

...What did you even just say?

"You are so drunk it's not even funny, Sereyne."

"I resemble that remark!" you protest. "Wait. Resemble? No, not that word. Um... Re... Re...."

"Resent?" the Senthay... Parharm... Toejamey.... ARUGH. THE TALKY MOUNT KITTY offers the right word.

"Yes! That!" you agree, and then soon you're barely aware of the up and down motion of the Talky Mounty Catty thing moving along at speed.

You still feel all... all. Dis... dis...

Oh.

Wait.

No.

DEPERSONALIZATION or DEREALIZATION.

That's it. One of those two words.

You feel all depersonalized and all kinda... not real?

Rahjin, how much did you Drink!?

Way too much. Way way way too much.

You proceed to be lulled to sleep by the rocking motion.

When you come to again it's night time and you're lying indoors on a giaaaaaaaaaaaant flat bed thing.

Your head hurts. It hurts so damn much.

Yeah. You're hung over.

Ow.

You pick yourself up and sway slightly on your- "WOAAAH!" Whump!

You couldn't even get to your feet and fell face first into the soft, plushy fabric.

BLUH.

You lay like that for a few moments until-

"About time you're awake," and then you're rolled over so you're not suffocating yourself, aaaaaand then picked the hell up off of the bed.

"Whuhappened?" you ask.

"You drunk yourself into such a bad stupor that you astral projected yourself infront of me when I happened to be going to the Stitches to deal with some diplomatic business," your savior says- the very familiar woman who you just can't remember the name of.

"I did what now?" You ask in turn. "Doesn't sound like me, contacting strangers..."

"'Cause we're not," woman says. "You'll remember later, and I'm not going to explain it again before we get some liquid in you and hydrated."

"Fffffiiiiineeeee..." you huff, and then your saviour opens a door and you're hit with the sweet scent of cool river air, and a view of a city over a wall.

Waiiiit. You know that city.

Wall. Wall... Rall....

"Rawl'kha?" you stare. "How long was I out?"

"A solid day," Your... friend? Answers as she walks onto a wooden deck and then down some stairs to a lower level. "I was pretty woried after you passed out. I've been doing my best to keep you alive with some healing spells until you recovered."

"Well ain't that a used litter box," you lament as you squint at the kitchen area set up beneath the house.

It's bright. Super bright. Four major bright fire sources that just make you close your eye tight because DAMN IS IT BRIGHT.

"Sit here, I'll get you some water and turn down the lights," your interventionist friend says, laying you down on a blank counter space and then going around snuffing lights.

This all sucks royally.

"Soooo. She picked up another cat, Eh?" A voice echoes through the air, and you cover your ears because it's not you that jerkish voice is talking about- right? "Ah, yeah, I'm talkin' to you, mate!"

"Augur! Leave her alone."

"Oh come on! If'n'when we're getting a new roommate I'd like to atleast meet them!"

You look around, and then spot the oddest thing.

A blue crystal skull sits atop a bar stool, and despite it being turned away from you, you swear it's non existant eyes are gazing at you.

"Yes! Hello! That's me! Augur of the Obscure here! Ain't you a fancy cat, able to sense me lookin' at you? Oh, right, you've had magic trainin' haven't ya?" The skull, impossibly, speaks.

"I'm so hungover it's not even funny," you lament.

"Ah, no, sorry, I'm totally real. Tell her, Mate!"

"Yes, he's real," And then your savior puts down two bowls- one filled with water one filled with milk. You immediately go to town downing as much water as you can to counter the hangover dehydration. "Picked him up as part of a thing I did with the Psijics a while back. And he stuck around."

"Like a bad rash! Wait, no, what's a good version of a bad rash? A tattoo?" The skull is thusly ignored.

You nearly choke at that and sputter for a moment, turning to look at your friend- "The Psijics!? You've worked with the Psijics!?"

"Yeeeah, something like that," she scratches at her nose.

Oh.

OH.

"Well," you swallow, staring at her for a few moments before the heavenly scent of milk draws your attention back to it. You drink it down as you consider the implications of that statement.

Your friend isn't even just an Acquaintance of the Psijics... SHE IS A MOONS DAMNED PSIJIC!

How. How crazy is that. A Psijic is here taking care of a lazy drunk like you who couldn't even cut it in the Mages Guild.

"Hey," And then she puts her hand on your back, you freeze. Don't Pet, Don't Pet, Don't Pet....  Please don't pet. She doesn't pet. She's just holding it there and keeping you steady and- you didn't realize you were shaking or swaying or- "It's going to be okay, Sereyne. Just take it steady."

You... you're so not used to any of this care that you're being shown.

You focus on drinking the milk as best as you can, and once done, you shakily focus on your breathing.

"Why," you ask. "Why do you care?"

"Because she has a chronic syndrome called 'being a hero' that makes her want to help just about everyone she meets," The skull remarks.

"Shoosh, you, or I'll leave you in Glenumbra." your friend counters. "I care because I'm seeing someone who needs a friend, and someone who needs help. And you are someone who deseperately needs both."

Friend. You keep saying that but you can't... can't even remember her name.

"I don't have friends," you meekly protest. "I got rid of them all."

"You haven't gotten rid of me," she says.

"Or me! Though this is the first time we've met. So hi, new friend!" The skull happily chimes in. You and she both ignore it.

"I don't even know your name," you admit. "I think I didn't even bother memorizing it to begin with. I don't..." You don't deserve friendship.

"Most people don't seem to remember my name anyways, so that's not a problem," she says, smiling sadly.

"What?" You ask, shocked. "That's rude of them!"

"They just call me by this title or that title, 'walker' or 'five claws' or 'Vestige', or even just 'my friend,'" she shakes her head. "I'm used to it."

To prove her point, she says her name, and it... kind of washes over your ears like a whispered secret on the wind.

But despite that, it clicks back into place. Sort of. The... The last job you did, she did the heavy lifting and recruited everyyyyyone? Whoever everyone was. You were honestly so drunk you didn't remember much of anything of it.

You think.

"Sounds like something I could drink to," you say in response.

"Yeah, you're not getting any alcohol for atleast a week," she declares.

"Aw come on, what are friends for??" you ask.

"Sobering you up and making sure you're in good health before I ever consider letting you near another bottle." She answers.

"Chronic. Heroing. Syndrome." The Skull interjects.

"The talkative relic has a point. Don't you have important heroing things to be doing?" you ask. "I seem to recall something about Dragons being on the loose. But I think that might've just been a drunken daydream."

You say it as a joke, almost expecting them to deny it. And yet...

"No, the dragons are a problem still, but there's work being done without me," she says. "They'll send a messenger when they need me, I'm sure."

"Rrrr... Fair enough, I suppose."

"And besides, I had an encounter with some spirits recently... One of them said, 'Every soul of the Ja-Kha'jay is sacred.' And sure I think they meant it in context of an ancient Lich coming back to destroy everyone, but... the sentiment sticks, doesn't it?"

You stare at her- the Vestige, the Hero unknown, and you stare and you stare and you stare and--

"What." You stare. "What Lich??"

"A Dead One," She smiles.

...You come to the startling revelation that you've inadvertently drawn the attention of a very... VERY... powerful person.

Despite the fear this should cause you don't feel as if this girl is really all that out of the ordinary. Maybe a bit... lonely, even?

It's then you spy a very curved weapon at her waist.

It's an axe, a very fancy axe, but it strikes you as... enchanted somehow.

It gleams with the light of the moons, and your magical senses feel.. feel...

Oddly at peace.

You finally just ask, "So... what happens if once I'm sober I don't want to stay sober?"

"Then I guess that's up to you. But I'm NOT letting you ever drink alone or to that excess again. Got it?" She makes that perfectly clear.

"Fine," you say. "That half-watered down swill was foul tasting anyways. I'm sure you'd have Tons better wine in stock than they did."

"Sereyne," your friend says your name in a warning tone and you roll your eye at it. The skull coughs something about a mother cat, both of you ignore it.

"Fiiine, fine. I'll let it drop. Now could I have some more milk or water? All this talking's got my throat parched."

She places down another bowl of water- funny, when did she prepare that?

No, you know better than to ask. If she's a Psijic then of course she'd know how to discretely fill a bowl of water. You set to lapping it up.

Hero types. That'll pay you to not pay attention when names are going around.

...What kind of job did you even pull OFF with her that had you drinking so much as to forget it all? You're honestly kind of disappointed in yourself for not remembering.

Unless things went south, in which case who cares about the past! You've got a friend, and... wait.

"One question," you look up at her, and fix a gauging eye at her. It's your only eye but it'll do.

"Sure, what?" She answers.

"Do I get to stay here free of charge during my enforced sobriety or do I have to pay rent?"

That gets her to laugh, and for a few moments, you're able to forget you're sitting on the kitchen counter of a Psijic Mage with a talking skull that probably got made out of the last person to piss her off.

Probably.

You don't actually know much about anything how crystal skulls can talk. So who knows, maybe it's just some other worldly math demon peering in through the veil from the Nth dimension of who knows what corner of Oblivion.

That certainly wouldn't be the weirdest thing imaginable, would it?

Still, the point remains, somehow you've garnered the sympathy of a Psijic Mage who seems to be experienced with saving the world. Now what do you do?

Chapter Text

You are Sereyne, and it's about two or three days into your newly enforced sobriety thanks in part to your new friend that she says the following.

"I'm sorry I didn't stop Tasnasi."

"Eh?" You ask, glancing up at her. "What do you mean by that?"

"I had a chance to stop her from killing that bastard and instead I let her go through with it. I let her get her easy revenge and I..." She shakes her head. "I let a bit too much sour vengeance get to me. I've dealt with enough people that I've had to just kill and it's worked out that... sometimes it's hard to remember how to be merciful."

You're not sure what to make of that, sitting out on this metal deck that she'd built out and around the back side of the house, peering out over the wall of the Sleek Creek Estate over into the river beyond.

You're sitting on a tea table, she's sitting on a bench, you're both just staring out, watching the water course by.

"I barely even remember what happened that mission. So what, do you want me to forgive you or something?" You ask. "It's not like things would have been any better if you had stopped her. I'm sure the Stitches would've torn itself apart either way- someone would've forced me to be sober again. You or Tasnasi, doesn't matter."

"But it could have been different," she says. "I can just... tell. There's something good that could have come out of me stopping her from killing him and I screwed it up."

"What's done is done," you say. "'S'not like you can't just magic up a portal through time and change your mind. Choice's been made already."

"But I still feel like I made the wrong choice there," she laments, peering out over the walls. "I've done so much and I always feel bad when I realize I've done the wrong thing. The worst part about being trained by the Psijics is that I have all these powers over time, but none of them capable of reversing it for long enough to get me back far enough to undo those choices."

"Learn from 'em, don't repeat 'em," you say. "Nothin' else you can do, I suppose. Now if I could only remember what it was I'd forgotten, maybe I'd learn better. But I'd have really rather just forgotten plain and simple so I didn't bother remembering. Maybe I'm not one who should talk here, eh?"

You swish your tail a few times just for the effort. Your limbs are slowly coming back into alignment with your mind and you're not swaying quite nearly as badly as you were before.

"Still," she ventures, "if I could go back and undo it, and Tasnasi got the Stitches in order... wouldn't you like that instead? To have stayed at that home instead?"

"Maybe," you say, "but maybe as soon as I remembered whatever it was I was forgetting I'd skip town. Tasnasi would have that uh... that brute's mess to clean up. Khasoda I think? Well, she wouldn't need mine too."

"I'm still sorry I screwed it up for you," she apologizes again.

"Nothing much you'd screwed up," you say back. "I screwed up just as bad with the teleport spell. Wait- I screwed up bad with the teleport spell!" You curl up into yourself. "Oh that could have gone bad in so many ways. Your limbs could have wound up fused to a barrel and your barrel fused to a wall! Eeesh! Just made myself queeeeezy a little."

She laughs, a bit hollowly, but she puts a hand out and taps you on the head lightly. "Teleporting magic isn't exactly my field day either. I'd have done worse. Atleast you got us moved in one piece."

"But I almost didn't!" you say.

"Yeah, but you did," she says, sighing, crossing her arms over her chest, and gazing upwards at the cloudy sky. "I fucked up worse."

"Why's this hitting you so hard?" you ask. "If it were me, I'd have told her to kill him too. I think. Maybe. Blood might've made me queasy and sick again. Probably, actually. Still. You made the call that felt right at the time."

"But it didn't," she says. "Some small part of me told me I should make her stay, and get that jerk to confess... turn things around. And I didn't listen. My heart just closed off right then and there and... I screwed it up."

"So?" you ask. "Doesn't make a difference to me either way. Not right now at any rate. If you had done that, left me to my own devices there, there's no telling what I'd do after. I doubt either way I'd be leaving the Stitches, but who knows? Maybe I'd set off on my own. Who knows where I'd show up."

"I have run into some unexpected people at times," she remarks. "Guy I knew, Jakarn, just fell out of a window the other day. Hadn't seen him in ages, but there he was, dropping right in with some adventure like it hadn't been years. And then..." She closes her eyes. "I've got so many regrets. So many people who died that I couldn't save. So many that I've killed who might've otherwise gone on to do things. Where does it end? At what point do I stop being a Hero and start being a monster?"

An image flashes through your mind- of your friend gathering ominous energy in hand, sneaking up behind one of Kash..Kharnso... Khasoda's Lieutenants, and stabbing him through the back with a Daedric blade that vanished moments later.

"Eh, we've all got our vices," you say. "Still, maybe some are worse than most."

You get up and stretch your back upwards, working the kinks out. She says nothing. You glance once more at the river, and think for a moment.

You look at her again, and she says, "I don't know what I want out of any of this except to make things right."

"Get Vols to build a Time Machine," you joke.

But she stares on ahead, and a glimmer twinkles in her eyes before she abruptly shuts them and shakes her head. "No, I can't resort to that."

You're tempted to ask what she means, but at the same time...

You get the feeling this is something far and beyond way out of your league.

She's a Psijic. She's saved the world from who knows how many disasters, a time-altering one isn't out of bounds of possibility.

Once again, you find yourself wonder what you're supposed to do about all of this, but, honestly, you realize that she doesn't even know what she wants herself.

"Whatever it is," you finally say. "I'm not gonna condemn you or forgive you. Way I see it, after a certain point, it's all water under the bridge, or flowing out into the desert, in this case."

"I suppose it is," she agrees.

Your friend heads out into Rawl'kha the next morning to get some food for the both of you, as well as the rather large abundance of pets that your friend has adopted over time, not just that, but the mounts.

By Jone and Jode, the MOUNTS!

There's a small stable built outside the house's walls, having taken over what you suspect used to be a Bandit Camp, and there's atleast Ten different species of creature here- including two shiny, feathery, deer-looking things called INDRIKS. Native to Summerset- you're told.

Among them, apparently, is a Senche-Raht that's keeping everything in line- and you recognize her as the one who was there when your friend rescued you from yourself.

"Ah, Zia sees you are finally venturing outside, little one," the Senche purrs. "As for you, Walker, today's groceries?"

Your friend goes over the list one last time to ensure that they both have everything covered, and then you just... walk into town with her.

There's a brief stop under the Fighters Guild building for your friend to sell off a bag full of drinks and potions- where did she get those and what are they, you ask?

Apparently, not anything alcoholic, it seems. Your friend just happens to know a recipe that the Brewer is willing to pay good money for having the drink in stock.

...And you weren't allowed to come anywhere near the bar counter thanks to your currently enforced sobriety. Damn.

After that you walk across town to the Stables, and your friend retrieves several large crates on a wagon.

"You want to ride back to the stable?" she asks.

"Yeah, sure, why not. Beats walking," you say, and allow yourself to be picked up and securely placed ontop of one of the crates. You hold on for dear life as your friend summons a large, spectral wolf with a whistling spell, hooks it up to the wagon, and hauls it all back across town to the local inn- pausing only to grab some paper writs off of a crafting board uncomfortably close to the Mages Guild building for your liking.

Your friend notices your discomfort, because once she parks infront of the inn, instead of heading in directly, asks you to guard the cargo, and zips off briefly towards the Mages Guild- and then past it to grab more paper writs off of another board, before returning, and heading into the Inn/Tavern.

You're left to guard the precious cargo, and muse upon your thoughts. This all seems so routine. So normal. So... busy! For a world saving hero, you mean. It's all so... Mundane.

And then she returns with a medium sized sealed crate that she adds to the cart's cargo, and you head back to the stables and the house.

Supplies are dropped off and stored, and your friend leaves you to sit on the counter and watch as she cycles through crafting stations, creating gear and requested materials according to the paper writs. Those done, she bundles them all up in an old food crate, and then takes out for the drop-off point just outside of the city.

You're once again brought along for the ride, and you watch as she hands off supplies, and receives crates in turn. There are others doing the same thing, but its done regardless.

You have to wonder what's the point, and so ask, on the way back to the house, "What's the point of all that? It's just feeding the war effort."

"Sure," she shrugs, "but you'll have someone else feeding it if not me. And the way this war's going on repeat... I'd rather feed it with armor that'll keep people alive rather than have them dead. The less bodies out on that field of war, the better."

She then adds, conspiratorially:

"Tomorrow, I go to the Pact Alliance turn in, then the Covenant turn in. They all get good gear, and a few more lives get saved because I rig my armor and weapons to negate eachother out, causing minimal damage, if any."

"That's sneaky," you say. "I didn't even notice you DOING that when you made them!"

"It's all in the trait stones," your friend tells you. "Rather... the mimic stones. I enchanted those a loooong time ago. Still burning through my stockpile of the first batch. Going to probably need to make a second... eh... maybe in a few months."

"Good grief," you say. "And what if you come up against your own armor or gear in battle?"

"Enchanted to become weak against me specifically. If they're trying to kill me, well, chances are there's a good reason for me to be killing them."

You're reminded of that ominous blade in flash backed memory once more...

"What... exactly is it you do again, besides being a part-time Psijic war hero crafting bogus armor that is weak to you specifically?" you ask.

"Oh, a bit of thieving, a bit of heroic murdering, some not so heroic murdering..." A pause. "I seem to adopt a lot of small creatures that I come across needing good homes. Not to mention large ride-able creatures too. Oh! And I like house decoration and design."

"You're crazy, and maybe I'm crazy too, because that sounds like fun," you say. "Teach me your ways, O Great Psijic Hero!"

You say it mostly as a joke, but... there's a small part of you that wants all of this. The power, the skill, the fame of being a world saver...

The hands with the thumbs that can actually cast complex spells with much finer precision than your four paws and tail.

Oh, to have been born under a slightly different moon phase!

You wonder if some version of you out there ever made it like that?

Ah, somewhere along Alkosh's scales, surely, that's possible...

"I can try, though I can't promise I'm that great of a teacher, really," your friend says, mostly serious. "If you really want me to teach you some spells, I can certainly try."

Well, you DID ask.

Chapter Text

"Well, HEY! If it isn't the Averno brothers!" A squeaky voice made the two men freeze.

"Sereyne," Iulius Averno turned to look. "Well well, if it isn't one of our most wayward customers. What are You doing so far from the Stitches?"

The one eyed Khajiiti Kitty Cat beamed up at them with an all too definitely-not-sober grin. "Only Traveling around with my bestie the Psiiiiijic Monk! Howsabout you two?"

"If you must know, our Dear Departed Uncle gifted us the Happy Averno Shipping Company," Iulius answered. "Formerly, it was one of Blackwood's main trade enterprises. With a little Elbow grease, it might be a profitable venture."

"If ya don't mind me asking, 'might' sounds an awful lot like something went horribly wrong!" Sereyne giggled, swaying from side to side a little.

"Yes, well, Uncle's affairs were more... precariously posed than described to us. many of his charters and contracts were voided by the Three Banners War. And now the Fang-Furls have done the rest, coming for everything they can steal."

"SOooo..." Sereyne hiccuped, knowing she was totally going to enjoy this. "...Need some help?"

"Not from you, you drunken cat," Scipion snapped from his nearby chair.

"Heey! I'll have you know I'm sober!" she hiccuped. "Okay, mostly Sober! I haven't had a drink since breakfast this morning!"

"Modern Miracles," Scipion remarked, frowning.

"Actually..." Iulius looked between his brother and the Khajiiti Mage. "You could help us out with something simple Sereyne, if you're sober enough for the task, that is."

"And what's that?" Sereyne asked. "And also, what do I get out of it? You gonna pay me?"

"...The Furl Fangs have a book-keeper, Lirar Droth. Steal his ledger for us. He's just a few buildings over." Iulius offered. "And maybe. Or maybe we'll forgive your debts from all the drinks on your tab from our Bar back in the Stitches."

"Weeheeelll then!! Sure, go ahead, mark this guy's house off on my map and consider this my debt to you wiped clean if I bring it back!" Sereyne grinned at them. "Nobody ever suspects the cute and sweet little kitty dressed in the cutsey robes! Hehehe!"

The Brothers watched her scamper off, somehow navigating down the stairs.

"...Why did you hire her like some common merc, brother?" Scipion asked. "She's clearly drunk if she thinks she's traveling with a Psiijic of all people."

"...It can't be any worse than asking that Breton chick who blew through the Stitches before everything exploded, can it?" Iulius asked.

"...She... Has been poking her nose around here lately, hasn't she?" Scipion mused. "Yes, probably for the best."

"Also, plausible deniability," Iulius said. "Nobody's going to believe we hired a drunken cat to steal a ledger even if she pulls it off."

Not even fifteen minutes later, their little thief of a Khajiit sauntered into their room at the Inn again, a book floating over her head encased in a magical aura.

'...By Nocturnal, she actually pulled it off,' both brothers thought, but didn't vocalize it.

"Hey, so..." Iulius began. "How'd you like to make some coin on top of wiping your debt?"

Sereyne's eye sparkled. "Now you're talkin' my language, Avernos!"

"....Care to Repeat That?" Eveli's voice had turned sharp, the perpetual cheer in her voice fading noticeably as she took on a warning tone of voice.

Argo took a moment, exhaling slightly.

The pantry was warm, and muggy, and not at all comfortable to be in, even with a dead body in it.

"Eveli, I don't think the Dark Brotherhood is behind this," Argo began, watching out the corner of her eye as Mirri pretended to be fascinated by an empty bookcase. 

They'd danced around the subject since Farrul Lupus had died. Both of them knew what the hand sign represented for different reasons. Once was concerning enough, but... now with three more bodies identified in the same way?

Eveli's eyes narrowed, her voice remaining warning, "And why do you think that?"

Argo... had been seen going into the chamber to kill King Kurog and his mother. A Dark Brotherhood Asassin in Silencer Robes had been seen performing the kill from afar. Argo claimed she'd been beaten to the punch.

Argo had claimed she'd been beaten to the punch publicly- privately, she claimed it was a tactic to protect their 'rebellion' group from retalliation from anyone who supported the King's actions.

Eveli and Argo both knew what flimsy lies those both were. They'd proceeded to pretend it was entirely the truth, even after they'd discovered that first body. But now, with a dead servant...

"The Dark Brotherhood doesn't Advertise murders like This," Argo explained, treading carefully. "The calling card is only used in select few circumstances and Killing a Servant, and not even Taking Her Clothes As A Disguise?? That's NOT one of them."

"Give me one reason I should believe you and that you're not trying to protect your little murder buddies," Eveli demanded, voice not wavering away from her warning tone. "Give me one good reason I shouldn't drag you out of here in a body bag."

"Beyond the fact you've seen me come back from dying after falling off of a waterfall?" Argo raised an eyebrow. 

"...Yeah, beyond that," Eveli's voice shifted slightly towards the amused for a moment, her lips quirking slightly upwards in memory of a particularly slippery Orsinium Waterfall.

"I'll give you two good ones and a slightly more fanciful one you'll probably be able to dismiss, but supports everything else," Argo said, moving towards the body. "Let's take a look at that stab wound first."

They knelt at the body of the servant girl, and Argo pointed at the wound. "What kind of knife would you say made this?"

"Not sure," Eveli said, "it's kinda generic. You see one stab wound you see 'em all."

"Not exactly." Argo took a breath, and summoned a knife into her hand- reverse grip, the blade held firmly in her glove's leather. "I'm breaking a lot of rules showing you this, but you need to see this."

She handed Eveli the knife. And oh, it wasn't just any knife. It was Daedric, Eveli realized as she held it, a strange, wave sort of pattern to the points, definitly something intended to kill and kill quickly and...

"This is the flimsy fanciful one," Argo began. "When we kill for the Dark Brotherhood, unless the contract stipulates otherwise, we use this Blade of Woe. That is our usual Calling Card. Not the actual handprint." Argo motioned at the stab wound on the body. "Does this Match?"

Eveli compared the blade to the wound... "Not really?"

"It hasn't matched any of the bodies found so far," Argo frowned. "I thought, maybe that was what the contract stipulated. For one corpse. But two? Three?" She took a breath. 

"You call that fanciful?" Eveli asked, eyeing the blade carefully before handing it back to Argo, who dismissed it into the shadows. "I get what you mean, though. If the Brotherhood has a usual MO, why not use it instead of the cards?"

"That's my next point, the first solid one," Argo said. "We only use those cards when we're declaring we did it for Intimidation Purposes, or for recruiting purposes. Not..." she motioned at the body. "Not this. This girl didn't have a contract on her, and even an open-ended contract..." She shook her head. "Ignoring what I know about the Brotherhood, you have to admit this feels too obvious, right?"

Eveli took a deep breath, and exhaled, annoyed. "Yeah. It is a bit heavy handed. We get it, after the first two murders, it's the Brotherhood, yea? So why keep..." her voice turned to a curious lit, as she thought on it. "Why keep signing your work like this?"

"As a subpoint on that," Argo continued, "Killing this girl wouldn't be my first option. I'd sooner raid her closet for a disguise, or knock her out. Killing her is... excessive. Unnecessary. There's a dozen other ways to get into that Watchtower that don't involve this girl, and even if I DID have no other choice..." She tapped at the damning note. "I'd never leave a note like this."

Eveli frowned. "...How many notes like that have you ever left?"

"None, personally," Argo answered. "And I've only ever received One Note of that nature- when I was recruited in. It's a warning, and an acknowledgement. And..." She sighed. "Point three, we don't have a Contract for this."

"...You're sure about that?" Eveli asked.

"I asked after what we found in Riften," Argo answered. "Nobody I've asked has heard of a contract like this, and believe me, the amount of money going into something like this would be Expensive And It'd Make Noise." 

"Targeting former members of the Elder Council?" Eveli nodded. "Yeah... that'd... that'd make noise, alright." She sighed. "Damn it, you've got some good points. But how do you know someone didn't lie to you?"

Argo fixed Eveli with a flat look. 

Eveli held up her hands, apologizing. "Alright, alright. I get it. I get it! It's... it's a frame up job. Oh Hey! It's a Frame Up Job!" She gasped. "Someone's literally trying to convince everyone it's the Dark Brotherhood to cover their tracks!"

Argo nodded, "That's what I'm thinking. This is too public, too consistent, and too..." She took a breath. "I don't like that the Councilor's notes were taken. That feels like something I'd do when trying to locate something, not cover it up."

"...This isn't about covering up the Ambitions," Eveli realized. "This is about Finding Them."

"That's what it feels like to me," Argo agreed. 

Eveli and Argo stood- the woodelf's blue eyes met the breton's bronze, and they both stared for a long moment, awkwardly. 

"We'll... talk about this Brotherhood Thing more Later," Eveli said, her tone of voice more sour. "But for now..."

"We ought to split up," Argo nodded. "You head back to Leyawiin, and Mirri and I will go warn the other Councilors. If we're lucky we'll catch our would-be assassin somewhere along the way."

"...And if it's a member of the Brotherhood?" Eveli asked, voice dipping into warning tones again, her voice cold, and sharp as steel.

"Then they'll have the Silencer who ended King Kurog to reckon with," Argo answered, voice just as cold and sharp. 
For a moment they both stared, then...

Mirri snorted. "Gods, can you two get any more dramatically cliche?"

Argo and Eveli looked over at the Dark Elf, and then they all shared a brief laugh. 

"That was right out of one of my novels, pretty much," Eveli giggled. 

"In all seriousness," Argo said, "I have a feeling if I run into any of my Brothers or Sisters out here, they're probably either investigating the calling cards, or they're locals just minding their own business. But if they are behind what's going on here..." Argo put a hand of Eveli's shoulder. "This is going too far."

"I'll... trust for the moment that you're on the up and up," Eveli said. "That this isn't just... you using the investigation to kill people, or coverup for your friends."

"We'll have that talk later," Argo promised. "I promise."

"So, I gotta raid the drop boxes and befoul some fancy alcohol? Bleh, you Avernos sure know how to push it!" Sereyne muttered to herself as she walked along the Leyawiin docks, glancing around and... "Ahha! Hello miss argonian with the foul smelling snack! What's that you got there?"

The Argonian lady looked down at her, eyes widening as if in awe. "A talking cat! Well, I'm selling the food snack that will revolutionize the world! Bilge Grubs!"
Sereyne wanted to barf as the Argonian waved the snack around. "I dunno what that is, but it smells awful and I'm DOWN! How much for a stick?"

"Ninety Nine septims."

"Highway robbery! You've got yourself a deal!"

Sereyne then promptly forked over the gold, took the smelly stick of kabob'd food, and found her target barrel. She uncorked it, stared at the shimmering surface peeking through the hole...

"Forgive me, sweet alcohol!" Sereyne said before dunking the foul food into the liquid before corking it again.

Nobody believed the Argonian's answer when she was asked if she saw anyone posioning Pungent Adder's favored wine.

"Ah, now aren't you a persistent one-- Oh, Silencer, I didn't expect to see you here."

Argo raised an eyebrow as she gazed at the masked Dunmer on the other side of the gate. "Now how did you get back there, Elam?" Her tone of voice was causal, simple, teasing...

"I... honestly have no idea what you're talking about," Elam Drals replied causally, and not the least bit trolling. He tapped a metal bar for the sake of it. It rung hollow. 

"So, just for clarity's sake, you didn't just make an escape from Gideon's prison cells?" Argo asked.

"Gideon's prison--?" Elam paused. "Ah. Yes. Those idiot guards who jumped me thinking I was on contract and locked me up."

"And you weren't on contract?" Argo asked.

"Not a murdery contract," Elam answered. "You know Matron Astara asked me to start up a new Sanctuary." He crossed his arms. "What's this about, Silencer?"

"Same thing I asked about after Riften," Argo answered. "The Elder Council Murder just became A Serial Killing."

"...All with the same damned calling card?" Elam asked.

"Yep~p." Argo answered.

"I knew those damned things would get us into trouble someday," Elam shook his head. "It's definitely not any of mine. We'd never move so blatantly while establishing a Sanctuary."

"Oh, I know that, but a lot of people I work with sure don't," Argo paused. "And there's one other who I'm trying to convince of the matter. Eveli."

"Eveli? Eveli... Ah, let me guess," Elam chuckled, uncrossing his arms. "The Woodelf girl from Orsinium who you were working with in Riften?"

Argo nodded. "We're working together on the investigation still. She... didn't quite believe me when I said this wasn't our work, so I had to tell her some things. I think she's still a bit on the fence."

"You want to have her ask me some questions directly, don't you?" Elam asked, tsking and wagging a finger. "Risky risky, Sister. If you weren't so trustworthy in the eyes of Sithis..."

"I know, Elam! Damn it I know!" Argo scowled at him. "But if I don't get some kind of proof it's not Us--"

"I understand the situation perfectly," Elam interjected. "It's not the best course of action but..." He sighed. "Well, I suppose we all take stupid risks out of some emotional vendetta every now and then." He took out a letter from somewhere in his robes and handed it over. "Here's the letter I was given. You should be able to bring your little wood elf crush to the Sanctuary for a one on one questioning. Just make sure you're discrete."

Argo said nothing, reading the letter. Then, she raised an eyebrow and said, "You set up shop inside of a Crypt with an active Necromancy problem?"

"You've been by?" Elam asked, sounding completely unsurprised.

"I was in the area," Argo answered. "Saw the door, didn't know the pass code, left it be."

"Fair enough I suppose," Elam shook his head as they heard some shouts from outside. "Well, that's my cue to go. Make it look good?"

"Yeah," Argo nodded.

Elam threw a punch through the bars, and Argo hit the dirt.

"Lessee, closest dea'drop is this island near Leyawiin... Lemme just... Hop skip and a POP!"

Magical focus flared, and Sereyne found herself on top of a startled Troll's head. "Ah, I overshot, didn't I?"

Needless to say, the Troll tried to get rid of her. 

Sereyne, however, got rid of HIM instead, teleporting him with another flare of her magic. To where? Who knew, who cared. She sure didn't want to know.

An Adoring Admirer shrieked in terror as a Troll suddenly landed in the dirt infront of him along the crossroads. A Redguard Warden swore loudly and drew out her lightning staff.

"Hmmm... So they want to take more from the Merchants in the crafting halls becuz Cultsits are messing with the operations at the docks. And OBVIOUSLY the Merchants would shove them out of power if they grew a spine I mean COME ON that's just obviuous. Now where's my next target?" Sereyne checked her map...

"Stone...wastes? UGH. That's clear on the other side of the whole territory map! I'm gonna have to pace myself for this one..."

Eveli looked startled as Argo walked into Leyawiin castle, a visible bruise on her face healing over pretty quickly. 

"The 'Assassin' punched me instead of killing me," Argo answered the questions of the various Council members when they asked. "I managed to trick them into giving me the location of their 'sanctuary' though. If they're even really Brotherhood, it's sloppy work."

Argo put on quite a show, Eveli would have believed her if not for... not for what Argo had told her in the basement pantry of that fort. 

The plan then was that Argo and Eveli would go observe the 'Dark Brotherhood,' investigate, and find any proof of their murderous activities against the former members of the Elder Council... Or, well, that was the surface matter of it.

Wading through the skeleton infested swamps of an abandoned crypt was not Eveli's idea of fun- not when the actual mission was to prove the Brotherhood's innocence. 

They'd taken such a strange round-about way to get where they needed to go, and Argo had never let anyone actually know where they were going in clear terms.

"If anything goes wrong, Mirri will let you know," Argo had said, referring to the Dark Elf girl who'd taken to following Argo around like a sarcastic puppy the last few days. Said follower was taking the opportunity to train her skills and shoot down any roving undead she could spot as they made their way through everything, remarking here and there to fill the silence, because Argo and Eveli sure weren't talking about anything in the mean time. 

It was awkward- this silence. Awkward and... unsteady.

And thus, as they stepped over the corpse of a giant, somehow transformed Necromancer whose body was long cooled down and shattered across the room....

"We're almost there," Argo finally broke that silence as they entered into some familiar, imperial crypt styled archetecture. 

"Yeah, forgive me if I'm not eager to step foot inside a den of murderers- sorry, Potential Murderers- alongside an assassin, Assassin!" Eveli snapped, a little too tense for her own good. "Is that what I call you now? Assassin? I'm not sure if 'Hero' really fits!" She winced the moment the words finished leaving her mouth, though, watching as Argo wilted slightly from the accusation.

Mirri, silently in the background, winced heavily and fell back by some distance, muttering something about keeping watch for wandering skeletons.

After giving a wincing, hazy smile to the young adventurer, Argo sighed, running a hand through her hair. "Eveli, I'd really rather everyone called me by my name instead of any random title."

Eveli frowned, looking at the Breton girl for a long moment. "...Sorry, sensitive subject?" She couldn't help but ask, her own curiosity nagging at her.

"Do you know how often people call me by my name?" Argo asked. "Almost never. 'Walker,' 'Five claw,' 'Sera,' 'Vestige,' 'Silencer,' 'Hero,' 'Assassin,' 'Thief', 'Sister,' 'Brother,' 'My Friend,' Psijic,' 'Ojel'- The freaking list goes on, Eveli!" As they approached the ominous black door, Argo stopped, gazing at it. "Even the people who used to call me by my name either stopped talking to me or went missing like my sister and- You wanna know the worst part about all of this?" Argo turned to Eveli, pain clear on her face. "I went to the Brotherhood to get resources to help me find her, and it only ever panned out in my dreams. Dreams about time travelers and freaking Dragonborns before Dragons even got let loose on Elsweyr and--!" She shook her head. "The closest I get to normalcy is this constantly drunk kitten of a khajiiti alfique mage who crashes with me at every inn and house I have when I travel and she can't even remember who I even am after some of her worse binges!"

"The-" Eveli paused. "You mean that eyepatch wearing Cat who's been skulking around the Leyawiin inn the last few days is with you?"

"I travel a lot, she likes to travel and not spend another single day in the Stitches, it works out," Argo said, quietly. "It's not bad, to have company."

Eveli considered everything for a moment.

"...You're a Psijic too?" she asked, suddenly remembering that title thrown in there. "Oh! What's next, you're not just joking about all the breaking and entering and looting we have to do as heroes when you say you're a thief either?" She then added- "Please don't say you're in the Thieves Guild either."

Argo fixed Eveli with a tired look. "Eveli. Ever since I escaped Coldharbour and had my soul stolen by the Divines Damned Prince of Domination, it's been nothing but a constant slew of Everything You Could Imagine being thrown at me." 

"...So all those adventures you told me about when we met up again after the Estate...?" Eveli trailed off. "That's not just been all fun and games for you, has it?"

Argo then said, "Not a few weeks before we ran into eachother in the Gold Coast, I'd literally watched the leader of the Grey Host rip out half the souls in the city of Markarth to feed into a magical void artifact that was so damned cold that the touch of Sithis' embrace feels like bathing in pure fire in contrast." She had a haunted look in her eyes- something eerie and green snaking around the edges of those golden-brown orbs. "I watched a dear friend of mine sacrifice himself to funnel all of those stolen souls back to Tamriel at the cost of trapping himself somewhere in Oblivion between Nirn and Coldharbour with no way back. And I'm--" She took a deep breath. "And he never called me by my name once in those final hours."

"...I'm so sorry, Argo," Eveli said quietly. The name felt... wrong on her lips. Like it was intimate and personal and Eveli wasn't deserving of using it after the way she'd been tense. "That's..." 

She didn't have the words. Didn't have the right. Eveli trailed off in silence for a long moment.

And equally, Argo said nothing as she wandered over to the Brotherhood door, and sat down on the ground, leaning back against it.

The Door clearly sensed she wasn't up for opening it, because it remained silent.

Eveli sat down next to the war-weary adventurer, but wasn't sure if she should say anything or not.

Idly, she noticed Argo's hands flexing slightly- fidgiting, really. She was picking at the edges callouses on her fingers, or around her fingernails. 

"Do you know how many people I've had to kill that were just like Kurog?" Argo suddenly asked. "People who saw me, saw an enemy, and decided I needed to die and wouldn't stop until I stopped them instead?"

Eveli swallowed, unsure where Argo was going with this. "I couldn't even begin to guess."

"Me either," Argo answered. "What about...  How many times I've made a decision based on whether or not someone's going to cause us trouble down the line- kill or spare- just to have it backfire on me?" She chuckled bitterly there. "A friend of mine had to stop her apprentice from doing something bad. We killed her- or thought we did. Told the person she'd tried to kill that she was dead and then we realized she was just barely alive and... I had a bad feeling. We had to finish the job. I told Naryu to finish the Job and she Lied To Me. She sent that girl off to Raz and he sent her to Summerset where she got picked up by a fucking Daedric Cult and I had to KIll Her and Kill Her and KILL HER again and Again because fucking Nocturnal USED HER to try and steal the heart of the Crystal-Like-Law and--" Argo hissed, hands clenching into fists. "And when that same choice came up again in the Stitches I told someone to finish the job, fearing the same thing would happen but it went wrong. I know it did. Sereyne's only with me because I screwed up bad. Because I told -- Because I said it'd be better to kill that bastard of a man because I was afraid if we let him live it'd be another case where Veya would become a problem again down the road. I screwed up their lives and I'm never going to be able to fix that."

Eveli wasn't sure what to say to that either, but she didn't really get a chance because Argo continued on.

"I haven't spoken to Naryu since that day. I never confronted Raz about Veya. I-" Argo took a deep breath. "I-can't trust that the next time I see either of them it won't all come crashing down on me again. I lost Verandis... I lost Abnur. I..." She took a wheezing, sobbing breath. "I lost my Sister. I can't... The Brotherhood is one of the few bits of stability I have left in my life and I don't trust that I can keep them- not when this is going on around us. I know it's not them, but it's not the Brotherhood turning on me that's the hard part. It's-- Someone's behind this, framing them, and if they... If we..."

Eveli reached her hands out, and grabbed Argo's still clenched fists, gently prying them open. Red notches where fingernails pressed into skin were briefly visible when she checked for blood, but ignored when none was spotted.

"Listen... if what's going on is a frame up... we'll find proof, alright?" Eveli offered. "We'll... we'll figure it out, a... Argo. We'll figure it out."

Argo gave a weary smile. "You don't have to play nice just because I'm feeling bad."

And then she stood, turned to the door, and pressed a hand to it.

The Door's voice echoed out some raspy, whispy question, to which Argo answered, quietly, unheard... even as close as Eveli was, she didn't parse it.

The door opened, and they went inside.

And then everything changed when the Waking Flame attacked.

Sereyne sat atop a pile of defeated buzzy-bugs and their brood as she pawed open a second dead drop letter. "Lesseee... Supplee Caravan was heeeeld Uhp at...BOardah Watch?" Sereyne frowned. "Wow, and I thought I had bad handwriting. 'Need to find another way to get product. squeeze teh dockwokahs. Find one wit fam troh squazeee' Blah! Write in Orccish why don't you! Or Daedric! 'brothers are raising tooth many flagz, is competition weh dont want. make an... example'?"

Sereyne blinked her eye.

"...Eh, the Avernos can handle themselves if I take the time to go get that third dead drop first."

A frame up? Obviously.

A traitor in the old Elder Council? Argo had a bad feeling about that guy from the start, apparently, and Eveli had felt rather uncomfortable by Vandacia's boisterous voice whenever it bellowed out. Something was just wrong about that man. 

Lyranth being sneaky and hiding something about Eveli's mystery book? IT was tingly, oh so tingly. 

Finding the first two Ambitions? Oh. BOY. Was THAT a plot twist that had Argo muttering to herself in an almost unhinged yet amused glee during the entire mission.

After Securing the Ambitions in Gideon, Eveli and Argo had a moment of quiet as they pondered what to do next.

"...Are you still in this, Partner?" Eveli asked, the title less a title and more a second question. 

Argo, with the weight of the world on her shoulders once more, seemed in her element now. There was Revenge to be Had. A traitor to kill. Ambitions to find and rescue... 

"I'm still in this, Partner," Argo answered.

"Well atleast they're coherent even if they're a bit smashy smashy in their font choices," Sereyne mused as she read the third letter. "Lots of talk about these mysterious cultists though. Wonder who those are? Eh, probably not my problem. Definitely someone else's problem."

A courier's letter? Mysterious.

Elam similarly being pissed about his attacked sanctuary? An unlikely ally, but one Eveli was warming up to after the attack they'd survived. 

Argo's face scrunching up cutely as she read a letter inside some wealthy cultist's house?? Oh, Eveli had to get a closer look- and read over the breton's shoulder, too.

Argo turning around and nearly jumping in her shoes shouldn't have been endearing. Neither should the faint blush on the breton's cheeks, but Eveli only managed to keep a straight face because to do otherwise would give Mirri something to tease her over later on their way to their next destination.

Another rich man on his way to a secret party with an exclusive invitation? Somehow expected.

The formal dress code...?

"Hey, over here, Hero!" Eveli called out, waving to Argo from the bench she'd been sitting on outside of the armorer shop. 

Argo looked startled- and Eveli almost tore herself to shreds remembering their earlier conversation outside of the Sanctuary. 

And then, Argo smirked, and asked, "So I'm a Hero again, eh?"

This time, Eveli was the one blushing- and no, it wasn't just because they were about to go in and try and get some fancy-wear she was going to absolutely suffer in!

Of course, Argo knew their tailor. As she handed him a sack of gold coins for their disguises, Argo asked him about how he'd been doing since Pellentine-- she knew him from there? Last Eveli knew the man came from Hew's-

"Well, it'll be just like that time in Hew's Bane, then!" Their tailor grinned and Argo laughed, nervously. 

"Hopefully it won't be anything like that disaster of a party. What even was that again, a wedding?" Argo asked. 

...Eveli wasn't going to ask, and instead focused on getting dressed for their party.

Things went kind of fast from there. They were short on time to get to the boat, but there was time for some casual banter and- well, it wasn't flirting if you were actively trying to avoid hurting someones feelings, right?

Eveli was finding it Damn hard to not think that way when Argo said she looked cute in the horribly pinchy dress that probably wasn't sitting on her right. Eveli focused on that and not how pink Argo's non-paint marked cheeks were. Seriously, the face markings-- she'd not worn them before Orsinium, but they'd been ever present since the Emperor's house until now and Eveli found their absence from Argo's face rather unsettling in a heart-racing kind of way.

"Were those the Fur-fangs?"

"The Fang Furls, yes, and they dragged those two brothers out of here!"

Sereyne swore internally as she skipped past the two debating servants to find a letter knifed to the table in the Averno Brother's room. 

"...So this Pungent Adder wants to meet me in the Ruction Ring beneath Gideon to settle things face to face, huh?" Sereyne giggles. "Somehow I doubt that's going to work out for him very well! Now, how do I wanna get to Gideon, hmm...?"

Traveling to the Deadlands to witness Vandacia's attempt at sacrificing an Ambition? Necessary.

Sweltering under a freaking ball gown? HORRIBLE! Eveli wasn't sure how Argo quick-changed out of her own gown so quickly. 

Rescuing an Ambition with a hefty dose of super stinky bugs she'd been saving as a snack? EH, there'd better be cake at the end of all of this.

Pungent Adder had hired Blackguard Assassins from Murkmire, and had them guarding the Averno Brothers as he awaited the mysterious partner of theirs that had riled up his business so fouly.

...A cat walked onto the arena stage, and the two Brothers started whispering to themselves. Yes, it was a very cute cat, with an eye patch and robes, but surely this wasn't--

Wait. Hadn't that one Argonian at the docks mentioned a one eyed cat?

The Cat laughed as magic flared up around her- "AHHAHAhAHAHA! BEHOLD THE POWER OF SEREYNE THE MAGE!!!"

Pungent Adder didn't have much time to react before the first wave of assassins were teleported out of the arena.

"What the-?!" 

The Second wave came in, about to--- POP. Nope, they vanished too.

"I'll Handle This Myself!" Pungent Adder leaped down, and as well trained, former Blackguard who'd struck out on his own after Blackrose Prison was shut down, he towered over the very probably Khajiiti mage that had come to rescue the Averno Bro-

POP

-thers??

Pungent Adder found himself several miles in the air above Gideon, and was very confused by which way was down--- until it became readily apparent which way was actually DOWN.

And THEN the Argonian screamed as he saw the spire of a stone rooftop rapidly approaching.

Argo went off with the Ambitions for a short time while Eveli worked in the background to prepare for things. Councilor Vandacia's Cult were preparing to strike.

Where-ever Argo was going during all of that, it sure had Blackwood up in an uproar every few hours. Almost made Eveli jealous from all the loud explosions coming down from Sul-Xan territory. 

When Argo returned with the Ambitions, she'd gained yet another tag-along, some Breton mage named Bastion who seemed to be having some kind of rank-order fight with Mirri in the background while Argo caught Keshu up to date on what they'd learned about the Ambitions' powers and fate...

"Debts cleared, Iulius?" Sereyne asked as she watched the two brothers climb into a carriage heading back to Leyawiin from Gideon. 

"Yes, very much so," the brother nodded, and then handed her a hefty sum of gold. "Thank you, for all your work." 

"I promise not to spend it all in one place!" Sereyne grinned. 

Scipion's hand met his face. "I can't believe you both actually just said that with straight faces."

And then they went to fight a war. And Argo, apparently in her free time, had gone around doing hero things and rallying pretty much every standing fighting force who could show up and help during the fray. Which was something alright.

Dagon appeared for a while. No big deal. Sure, a few folks died, but the vast majority of them were Dagon's own forces and, hey, there's Vandacia down for the count for good. Sure, they lost one of the Ambitions but... Hey, they sent Dagon packing back to the Deadlands!

And then there was a party, and all Eveli wanted was cake. And pie. There was a waitress going around serving cake. And there was some wine to drink and, well...

Honestly, Eveli should've known better than to drink when her brother was around and basically encouraging people to let her drink as much as she wanted because damn her little brother for knowing her vices...

She SWORE she saw two different Mirri's walking around at the Party at one point. And NO that wasn't the alchohol talkinnnnnnnng....

Or okay, maybe it was.

Sereyne was a very simple Khajiit. Find inn, drink til her heart was content, and snooze off for a while until her heart desired more.

Rinse, repeat, don't care for anything unless A: her free Psijiic ride across Tamriel said it was time to go, or B: her free Psijiic ride across Tamriel did the Hero Thing and triggered a PARTY EVENT. 

Sereyne had been to two of these shindigs so far- one in Solitidue and one in Markarth and nobody noticed the little kitty meandering around pawing for drinks except for the rare other Khajiit who may or may not be around. (Sereyne avoided them to avoid getting called out for getting into the wine and the fizzy drinks and as long as Miss Psiiiiiijiiic Order Grand Master of Free Rides was too busy being lavished by the people she helped save then she wasn't being busy trying to keep Sereyne sober.)

So, Gideon. Gideon made THREE of these fancy parties.

Three! And ooh, there was CAKE Too! So much cake.

But it was a bit smaller of an affair this time and, well. Outdoors and in a Swamp and Sereyne didn't get nearly as much free reign this time to swipe drinks... If only because the cute bosmer chick who'd been helping Argo out this time got to the drinks first and her brother was encouraging her despite how much Argo was trying to discourage her.

Sereyne was pitifully sober as a result, but it made it easier to watch the danged girl make a fool of herself and...

"Am I always like that?" She asked aloud, mostly to herself.

"...Who're you again?" some dunmer girl asked. Oh, she had Argo's scent on her too a bit... traveling companion? Also, Sulfur. Lots of Sulfur. They'd fought together, at least at that latest battle. 

"Sereyne, easily drunk mage," Sereyne introduced herself. "Also painfully sober right now."

"Ah, gotcha," and then the Dunmeri girl introduced herself as Mirri Elandis. Elaaaaanadis? Alainedish?  Ah, who cared, Sereyne would learn it eventually if she were sticking around. Probably. Maybe.

"But yeaaah, painfully sober and on the other end of watching someone get drunk outta their minds for once," Sereyne said, eyeing the Bosmeri girl with her one eye.

Argo was now making apologies to the crowd and trying to drag the girl... Eeeeveeeeliiiieeeey? Evelilliy? The Bosmeri girl away from the drinks. 

Eveli wasn't having much of it this time though and was flushed in the face from how close Argo was clinging to her annnnd...

"Woah, she just did that!" Sereyne laughed as Argo was caught completely off guard by how fiercely Eveli had gone from resisting Argo's dragging her away from the drinks to leaning into it so she could plant a huge kiss on the lips...

Or tried to, atleast.

Eveli was a bit shorter than Argo and landed her mouth pretty squarely on Argo's neck instead. 

Being drunk probably didn't help the girl's aim in that regard.

"Well, that's going to be awkward for her later, isn't it?" Mirri asked, raising an eyebrow. 

"Which one?" Sereyne asked, rhetorically.

Mirri didn't have to answer, because Eveli then passed out, and Argo flat out asked the Governor Argonian Lady if there was an inn room available in about as pathetic of a voice as Sereyne had ever heard the Psijiic ever utter.

"...I take it back, she's nothing like me," Sereyne said. "Atleast I can handle more alcohol than that without passing out!"

"That is both terrifying and encouraging all at the same time," Mirri said. "What're your thoughts on fine wines?" 

Sereyne laughed, and answered the mathemeticians answer of "YES!"

Meanwhile, for absolutely no reasons he could discern, Elam Drals suddenly shuddered as if two forces who should never meet had just indeed met. "...Hrm, must be a storm brewing somewhere," he guessed, and went on with his life ignoring it.

Chapter Text

High Isle. Vacation Home to Breton Nobility and, apparently, quite a lot of different sects of magical study- from Druids to traditional Mages, there were quite a lot of folks who studied and practiced magicka in various ways.

For a certain Alfique Khajiit, Sereyne the sometimes-drunken mage (She was working on it, honest!), her Psijic friend Argo's many travels had brought her to many fascinating places, but none of them so interesting as this island- if only because Argo had been deadly serious when requesting her to travel with her this time.

"I've been asked by a friend in the Mages Guild to meet with Magister Irin's apprentice and see if she's willing to study with me," Argo had explained. "Of course, since we're both basically a package deal at this point, I want you to meet with her too. You've had some more formal training than I have in a lot of regards- plus, you both share a common 'easy knack' for magic, so..."

"What you mean to say is we're both Khajiit, eh?" Sereyne had quipped.

"I have no idea if she is or not; I haven't met the girl yet and all I know is she's his apprentice," the Breton Psijic then rolled her eyes. "But what I mean is... According to her Magister, Magic comes to this girl like breathing. She doesn't do the formal study thing, sees by observing, and picks it up easily. Very easily. Absurdly easily. Like you." 

"S'not like I didn't have to practice either, y'know," Sereyne puffed up with pride at the indirect compliment regardless.

"Still, you've got a knack for certain magic types that comes easier to you than anything." And then she'd looked at Sereyne very seriously, and said, "And you're one of the few people I know who puts up with my lifestyle nonsense of 'official trouble magnet' and sticks around with me."

"It's the food, really," Sereyne had joked, trying to lighten the mood. "And the parties. Really! I swear."

But, really, it wasn't. The longer Sereyne spent traveling with Argo, the more she came to realize that deep down, the girl was just lonely. Even traveling companion Mirri had drifted off when her family needed her at home, and that Bastian fellow had gotten completely enamored by some strawberry-pink haired nord on Stros M'kai...

Not to mention, well, the whole everything that happened in the Deadlands. Any possible romance there between Eveli and Argo had definitely... fizzled, a bit, after the stress of yet another averted Daedric invasion.

Life was not easy, being a trouble magnet- Sereyne knew that trouble intimately, herself. 

...And then they met Ember, and oh. 

"She turned into a Guar!" Sereyne squeaked in surprise as she watched a Nord woman become a Guar.

OH. 

"Nooo! Don't run off you stupid- COW!!!" Argo shouted in annoyance as a cow-turned-human ran off at speeds away from her. 

"MARROOO!" the cow-human called out in protest.

Oh by the Eight-

"Oi!! She's doing her best to fix it and all you're doing is complaining!" Sereyne defended her fellow Mage as she glared up at the nord woman who was complaining about Ember's magical mishap. "The only person who's made any of this difficult today is YOU, lady!" 

Huldressa just complaned, meekly, "But I got turned into a Guar!"

"Be grateful I didn't leave you as one!" Sereyne wanted to glare. "I had to chase you in CIRCLES around this damned swamp TWICE when you rammed me and made me drop the Spoon of Undo the first time!"

Did Sereyne have an inkling that their newest companion would fit right in.

...But, of course, bringing three trouble magnets together was, well... an inevitably bad idea.

"Hey Goodlookin'!" A suave sounding guy announced as Argo passed by the Gonfalon Bay wayshrine.

Argo froze, glanced sideways, and remarked, "Oh. Jakarn. Don't tell me-"

"Lady A' could use your help," Jakarn had answered. "I was actually supposed to go send a letter calling for you. Good thing I found you instead, huh?"

A terribly bad idea.

"A Storm wrecked the boats?" Argo asked of the woman who looked like an older, much more experienced her. 

"Yes, and the cargo is QUITE important to retrieve..."

Sereyne kept her mouth shut regarding these endeavors, pretending to just be a normal, follow-along kitty cat while Ember stood there awkwardly, glancing this way and that, wondering just what was going on here...

Though, if Sereyne had any idea, it was world-changing in its implications.

Once Argo had her mission, she lead them to a quiet corner, and explained: "So. This is really awkward. Sereyne, remember those peace talks I told you about?"

She nodded. "Course I remember. Buncha faceless knights nearly murdered a buncha diplomats with magically tainted necklaces?"

"Yeah, this is related to that." 

"Sooo... I'm guessin' you're gonna need me to pretend to be a cat that doesn't talk a lot, eh?" Sereyne asked.

"And not get drunk on the job, please," Argo wished. "I'm going to need your help on this one, I think."

"Fine, fine, you drive  a hard bargain!"

"Thanks." And with that, Argo looked to Ember and smiled, wryly, as she asked, "So, I know it's not really magical training like we promised, but are you up for some up close, hands-on experience with Tamrielic Politics first?"

"I guess so?" Ember shrugged. "It shouldn't be too tricky, should it?"

The idea that the mission wouldn't be too tricky was quickly dissolved into 'potentially troublesome' when they uncovered a traitorous dock master, and rescued the captains of the three boats that had been wrecked by a supernatural storm.

And then that potentially troublesome situation slid firmly into 'oh this is bad' when they found out two of Lord Bacaro's servants had been ordered killed for something they'd seen. But what? That was up to them to investigate.

No more than a day later, and the trio of adventurers found themselves at yet another party of celebration- the only difference was this party wasn't celebrating anything. Infact, this party was missing three of its most prominent guests. 

Argo was mingling, socializing with the guests in the way the hero of the hour usually did- outwardly, she was smiling happily. Internally, Sereyne could see the gears turning behind the Breton's eyes.

And Sereyne? Sereyne couldn't even bring herself to drink considering she was still playing the role of the unassuming cat. Because they'd ONLY gotten the Mage. 

Sereyne wasn't a thief or a spy- she was a MAGE! But... Sereyne couldn't help but to do her job, because Argo had that LOOK in her eyes.  Trust didn't come easy, and to think they had traitors in their midst even still was...

Nobody paid attention to a cat- even if that cat had an eyepatch and some festively decorative robes on. 

"Pst," And then there was that Jakarn guy, dressed as a servant. "here kitty kitty."

Sereyne played the part, and sneaked over towards the man, meowing loudly and brushing up against his leg. Jakarn, of course, knelt down and pretended to pet her. And pretend only. She felt him slide a key underneath her collar into a sewn in pocket, and felt its weight rest against her back.

"Who's a good kitty?" Jakarn grinned, a twinkle in his eye. Out of everyone in this whole party, beyond Argo and Ember, Jakarn was the only one in the loop as to what she really was. Not just your average house cat, no siree.  The only reason for that was because of a chance encounter in Elsweyr, and Jakarn had met up with Argo then there too. But he knew how to keep a secret.

Sereyne wasn't going to ask where he got the key from, but meowled in that pointed "Tell me where I need to go" way, and then pretended she wanted to be picked up.

Of all the indignanties, he did so, and pulled her close to his chest to 'snuggle.'

"Key's to the Duchess' chambers. Get in, find anything on the Ascendant Order Investigation, get out." Jakarn whispered.

Sereyne whispered back, "Got it, and sorry."

"Sorry for wha-? YOWW!"

And then Sereyen batted him lightly across the nose- forcing the man to drop her, and Sereyne ran off.

Several nobles laughed at the 'servant's' misfortune and idiocy for picking up an unfamiliar cat, and Argo pretended not to notice her 'pet' fleeing.

Sereyne noticed Lady Arabelle Davaux and Lord Bacaro Volorus nearby- they were chatting to themselves in a corner, but Lady Arabelle was eyeing Sereyne with utter confusion. No doubt wondering why Jakarn had acted the way he had just now.

Still, she slipped into the Castle when a servant opened a door, and she made her way, unseen, undetected, towards the Duchess' chambers.

"Wasn't that your cat that accosted that servant just now?" Damard Dufort asked of Argo, watching the cat flee from Jakarn.

Argo sighed, "Such a spirited cat, that one. She doesn't like being touched in certain places." And then she smiled coyly at him. "Now, you were telling me about the Druid magic you were studying?"

"Ah, yes, for that apprentice of yours, right?" The Count eyed her suspiciously. 

'He's well informed to know I'm working with Lady Arabelle,' Argo thought to herself. 'Don't appreciate the Duchess telling everyone who I am before I even got here, but, oh well.'  Outwardly, Argo nodded, and said, "Yes, she's a bit of a handful. Nothing I can't handle, but I'm wondering if her talents lean less towards the traditional routes of inquiry."

"Well, that's..." He frowned. "Well. There's plenty of Druids on the island you could talk to, but I can say they've been extremely helpful in my own studies." He checked a nearby clock, and said, "Sorry, but I have to take care of something. Perhaps we could talk later?"

"Of course," Argo nodded. "If I have more questions, I'm sure I'll find you." And then she turned to leave, and kept a careful eye on the Count as he made his way away, first passing by Jonne Mornard, where they exchanged words briefly, and then over by Lady Arabelle and Lord Bacaro- where they exchanged some more brief pleasantries.

Argo watched him head into the castle, and then made her way to ascend the stairs to talk with Duchess Elea Dufort. 

It wasn't long before that conversation was interrupted with the ground shaking and the sky clouding over and--

It was a sixth sense. Argo grabbed the Duchess and pulled her aside down the stairs as--

KRAKOOOOM!

--A bolt of lightning struck the place they'd been standing a moment earlier.

Then the party crowd started screaming as more lightning struck at the festivities. Argo made to draw the Duchess down the stairs as Lord Bacaro came running up to meet them-

KRAKOOOOM!

Another burst of lightning struck near there, and the Lord went flying over the railing as he dove away to avoid being hit.

"Lord Bacaro!" Lady Arabelle shouted.

KRAAAAKOOOOM!

A third bolt struck the ground as Argo dragged the Duchess to safety-- and from it emerged a form as a voice roared:

"BEHOLD THE POWER OF THE ASCENDANT ORDER!" 

The Ascendant Magus had arrived.

"BOW BEFORE US AND-!"

Argo drew her knife and shield and charged the Mage. "NOT A CHANCE!"

"SHIT!" The Ascendant Magus wasn't expecting to be attacked so suddenly, it seemed. He hastily threw up a ward spell, but Argo's shield wasn't any ordinary shield.

Golden gleamed, Dwemer inclinations, a glowing gem in the center...

Spellbreaker.

Argo bashed the shield into the ward, and the Magus staggared backwards, stunned from the bash. 

Argo swung her knife- it sang of Daedric power, a subtle edge that could cut through things it probably shouldn't- a Blade of Woe.

The Magus dodged, and drew his staff. "Damn you!" He threw a bolt of lightning at Argo- 

"HAH!"

-But the shield was thrown forwards, a ward bubble forming around the Psijic and blocking the strike. 

"You--!" The Magus went to prepare a new spell--

"DON'T MESS WITH A STREET KID!" And then a golden eyed Khajiit was jumping up the stairs, throwing magical stone shards from her hand at the Magus, he was bashed upside the helmet- and the Magus saw stars, staggaring backwards in surprise- only for his feet to be bound by suddenly, magically grown crystal, and then---

"HEY! SKEEVER BREATH!" Argo Taunted. 

The Magus looked her way, and then received a shield bash to the face for good measure, followed up by a striking downwards slash that cleaved against his left shoulder.

"NOO!!" The Magus roared- summoning a burst of magic and threw it outwards, forming a shockwave that sent the two defenders flying backwards over the railing and towards the ground below.

"OOF!" / "JAKARN!"

The Magus staggared towards the railing, and peered downwards, seeing the Lady Arabelle and her disguised agent had caught the two he'd just sent over the railing-- the Khajiit, Ember, had landed on Jakarn, and sent him tumbling into a food table; meanwhile, Argo had been caught in a spell by Lady Arabelle. Next to her, Lord Bacaro was glaring upwards as he knelt, panting for breath.

The Ascendant Magus roared: "BOW TO US OR DIE!" and then he teleported away with another burst of storm magic.

"Blast it all!" Lady Arabelle swore. "The Magus escaped!"

"That... could have gone better," Jakarn groaned.

"Could have gone worse, though," Argo remarked, before pulling Ember to her feet, and leaving Jakarn to his own devices.

"Did I help?" Ember asked.

"Definitely," Argo smiled. 

Sereyne had come through with the document 'borrowing', atleast, and through the following adventures- seeking missing royal ambassadors, aiding whatever random folks they ran into who needed help, and even traveling to the Prison island of Amenos- Argo took charge, focusing on the problems at hand and trying her best to teach Ember through the difficulties of this definitely more tricky-than-expected mission.

With every passing minute, however, Sereyne was becoming sure of one thing...

Ember, the poor little kitten, was definitely a girl that Sereyne was coming to think of as her adoptive little sister. They got along well when it came to magic, and when Argo was too busy dealing with the potentially volcanic level disaster that was unfolding before them,  Sereyne could pick up the slack a bit, teaching a bit of this, or that. 

But something was itching at the back of the tiny mage's mind, and she could tell Argo was worrying just the same. 

It just wasn't until they'd rescued the ambassadors and were escaping the prison island of Amenos that Sereyne began to figure out what it was that was bugging her.

Despite, ostensibly, being one step ahead of the Ascendant Order, somehow they were still almost two steps behind with every move.

The phrase "Well! They're well informed, aren't they?" had become less and less of a begrudging respect for espionage and more and more angry and bitter every time it cropped up. The amount of secrets that were being leaked out- but only the ones that Argo wasn't keeping close to her chest. 

The stuff she'd sworn Jakarn to secrecy on- that Sereyne was being their undercover agent nobody else knew about- was being kept secret. The Ascendant Order had no idea she was important. But anything important to the investigation like where they were putting the Royals for safe keeping, or that they'd been rescued, or any number of other important things...

And the more they uncovered about HOW the Ascendant Order had sabotaged the ships to begin with, or how they'd learned who and where and when and why and...

The more the whole thing started to smell like rotten fish in the Stitches, to Sereyne. 

Argo was presently conversing with some Druid Elders at their village of Stonecircle, about some corrupted nature, and not paying attention to this. Ember stood off to the side, with Sereyne sitting on her shoulders.

"Am I getting in the way?" Ember asked.

"What? You?" Sereyne scoffed. "No, kitten. You're doing juuuust fine."

"Are you sure she's not just putting up with me?" Ember asked.

"Argo puts up with a lot of stuff, Kitten," Sereyne said. "Trust me when I say this- she wants you to feel comfortable with working with her.  It's just..."

"Fate of Tamriel as we know it at stake?" Ember asked.

"Prrrrretty much!" Sereyne nodded.

"...But you're sure I'm not getting in the way of any of this?" Ember asked. "All of this seems pretty important, if you ask me. And I'm... Not?"

"It's the not important people who are the most important to her," Sereyne observed. "Sure, we'll get jobs to save the King of this Alliance, or the Queen of this territory- Oh! Hey! Dragons!" Sereyne snickered. "No, wait, it's Vampires now. Oh, woah! What's this? Mehrune's Dagon? What a shocker! Now it's political intrigue!"  

Ember giggled. "Good one."

"Thanks," Sereyne said. "Anyways, even despite all of that, Argo's the kind of girl who'll put herself out on a limb to help even a stupid little cat on the verge of drinking herself to death and pull her back from the brink." She smiled, single eye gazing at the Breton Psiijic as she groaned at one of the Elder's remarks. "The Augur called it Chronic Hero Syndrome. But me, I think it's just loneliness."

"The... Augur?" Ember asked.

"Oh yeah, you haven't met him yet!" Sereyne cackled. "He's a real laugh, that guy." 

"Sounds like fun," Ember smiled.

"Sure is." Sereyne nuzzled lightly against Ember's face, and said, "Try not to worry so much, yeah? Argo's a good friend. She'll help you when you're down."

Ember smiled slightly, considering that.

Overall, Argo considered it a win when they finally put down the Ascendant Magus. Sure, it was a mess of a battle that nearly ended in disaster... but a win, never the less.

'So why do I feel like I'm walking to my grave right now?' she thought, dryly, as she left after talking to Lord Bacaro and informing him of events. 

Ember and Sereyne were at her side, and the trio were well away from the Steadfast Society's grounds at this point, heading back to Gonfalon Bay on mount-foot. 

Chapter Text

About a Month later, on the isle of Galen... Argo's tutoring of Ember in teleportation spells had gotten rudely interupted by the Firesong Druids attempting several different... how should we say... rude acts against common decency, never mind the cultural transgressions against the Wyresses and Stonelore and Eldertide Druids.

The later of which had just resulted in a rather traumatic incident in the Y'ffre's Path Eldertide Village, resulting in the necessary 'death' of a nature spirit to cleanse it of corruption before its effects could spread across the island. 

While exploring some of the beaches nearby after that incident, Sereyne teleported to Argo from the Mornard backed city of Vastyr on the island, to deliver a message. And by teleported to Argo, I mean she literally popped into existence ontop of the Psijic-Thief-Brotherhood-Hero's shoulders. 

"That's cutting it close," Argo remarked. "Must be important."

"Yea- Some Mages Guild Redguard guy named... Dhufish? Twoleft? Anyways he showed up at the Inn, and I think he's that guy from that magic talking tree person incident a few weeks ago?" Sereyne reported. "Said he was looking for you to come help with some Dreadsail invasion business along the coast."

"We could teleport back right away to deal with that," Argo mused, "but something tells me it's going to be a lot of scouting and my instincts are also saying we should probably investigate this town nearby." 

"Instincts, or that overwhelming smell of magicka in the air?" Ember asked. 

"Mostly the latter." Argo admitted. "It's making my wolf-nose itch in unpleasant ways."

"I smell more than magicka," Sereyne joked.

Soon, they came closer to the source of the strange magicka feeling in the air, and Argo sputtered in surprise as she saw a familiar high-elf girl awkwardly flirting with a sea elf man.

"Yes, yes, but... I have some work to do, we can talk later?" the girl was saying, and the sea elf man smiled.

"Sure, I have my rounds to get back to," he winked and wandered off.

"...What was that about, Quen?" Argo asked, approaching the girl.

"Huh? Oh! Partner! Good to see you again!" The girl, Quen turned towards her and smiled- a flush on her face that she quickly was trying to force away. "You've got the best timing as always! I could use your help.... Er... If your friends here are in the loop that is?"

"Right, introductions first," Argo said. "Quen, this is Sereyne, my perpetual houseguest and sometimes messenger. She knows about everything."

"Nice to meetya," Sereyne gave a small salute, while trying her best to keep on Argo's shoulders. 

"A pleasure," Quen nodded.

"And this is Ember, my apprentice," Argo said, motioning to the khajiti mage. 

"Hello," Ember smiled. 

"Apprentice huh?" Quen looked to Argo and gave a sly smile. 

"Sereyne, Ember, this is Quen," Argo introduced. "She's a good friend of mine from the Thieves' Guild. We worked together on quite a few jobs back in the day."

"Thieves' Guild!?" And then Ember strode up to Quen and grabbed the girl's hands- metaphorical stars in her eyes. "Oh my gosh you guys are like- some of my favorite people in the world!"

"I like this one," Quen said, smiling at Argo. 

"So do I." Argo smiled back. Then, she asked, "So, what's the sitch?"

And so Quen launched into an explanation. The Thieves Guild of Abah's landing trying to branch out to the rest of Tamriel and become something of a unified intercontinental endeavor, leading to Quen being partnered with a guy named Umindior, who had gone missing, due to, well... 

"So, let me get this straight, Quen, Sea Elves in Llanshara found a druid relic and you've been hired to get it out before they do something stupid with it, and now your new partner's gone off into some Sea Elf guard's home and hasn't come out since?" Argo summerized.

"Basically." Quen said.

"You go scout the town for the Relic, we'll go find your accomplice," Argo said simply.

"Thanks, if it's not too much trouble?" Quen smiled.

And so Argo took Ember and Sereyne to the unguarded guard's house, and paused at the door at the powerful scents eminating from within, combined with the uncomfortable pressure of magicka coming from within the room.

"Hooo boy, three guesses what happened here," Sereyne joked.

"It smells like rotten fish," Ember gagged. "Is that normal for sea-elf houses or is something weird going on today?"

"Yeah, wolf nose isn't going to like this," Argo grimaced, and then, they went inside.

Umindior was drunkenly hungover, not wearing any clothes, and clearly tangled up in bedsheets after a rather furious romp of passion. 

He also thought Argo was the girl who'd very... aggressively ridden him into his current state. 

"Hey, he asked for a water bucket right?" Sereyne asked. "I just had a deeeevious idea."

"You just want to be on the giving end of this for once, don't you?" Argo asked.

"You know me so well!" Sereyne giggled.

Ember was very mildly confused by all of this as Argo grabbed a water bucket, and held it up in the air, by the handle, over Umindior.

Serenye walked over Argo's arm, and then gently tipped a paw forwards towards the edge of the bucket. "Hey Umindi~!" She sang. "Tide's calling!"

And then she batted the bucket and it swung downwards.

As the water splashed down and doused Umindior, Sereyne laughed mightily.

The situation was... very very strange, Argo was quickly realizing. There wasn't really any need to sneak through the Maormer settlement at all. The only fighting that seemed to be happening was when the Maormer they passed by started fighting with eachother over who got to flirt with Argo, or Ember, or, weirdly enough for some of the Maormer, Sereyne.

"I'm... not sure if I should be flattered, concerned, or throwing fireballs," Sereyne muttered as they slipped away from one group of now arguing sea elves and approached the cage that the two idiots that had activated the relic were hiding in.

"Let's go with concerned, and default to throwing fireballs if they get pushy," Ember remarked, clutching at her tail after some grabby fish-girl had tried grabbing it.

"You must be the two so called idiots who activated the relic, huh?" Argo mused as she approached the cage with two sea elves inside.

"You're not touching my girl!" The man inside barked.

"Oh hush! Don't mind him, he's just not quite so open minded as a threesome, or foursome- hey, have you ever done it with five people before?" the woman inside flirted with a wink.

Both of them also utterly reeked of the magicka that was flooding the beach.

Argo stared blankly, then said, "Oh Dibella, you two are either her most divoted followers I've ever met, or you two did something utterly stupid, didn't you?"

"We did nothing wrong! We just wanted to enjoy ourselves in a room clearly devoted for such activities!" The woman answered. "Then missy killjoy came along and had us locked up because we were enjoying ourselves!"

Argo turned away from the cage, looked towards Ember, and then the slinking along Umindior, and said, "They totally activated the relic by having sex and then spread this horny-wave across the entire settlement."

"Called it!" Sereyne announced.

Quelling the artifact was... uncomfortable to say the least. Between Quen flirting with a Maormer guard to pump him for information, Argo having to fish a key out of his uncomfortably tight pants, and Umindior running off and going for seconds with the guard he'd been with only to get tied up by the head Maormer lady who had given into the relic's powers and was trying to torture him with *kisses*...

Well. 

Tossing a magic sea-sail over the relic, and then dumping it into a bag to safely carry was probably the most uncomfortable thing she'd had to ever experience.

Never mind that Umindior and Quen both seemed smitten still with the Sea Elves they'd been attracted to during the whole affair...

Yeah. 

Argo was annoyed, tired, and ready to just head to Vastyr and deal with whatever needed dealing with.

Unsurprisingly, it was more investigating Maormer sites- two attacked locations, and one hostage situation. And unsurprisingly even further...

"Hey, wasn't that just weird how Lord Bacaro said that the Society of the Steadfast doesn't have soldiers?" Ember remarked as they headed for the first location on their map.

"Yeeep, utterly suspicious," Argo agreed. "Wasn't he supposedly wasting time helping us by trying to find men of his who were available to fight?"

"Seems fishy to me," Sereyne remarked.

A watch tower? Cleared, and boats repelled. A druid town? Ransacked by the Firesong and Dreadsails. Archdruid Orlaith of the Firesong made an appearance, claiming she'd attend a long rejected Draoife (Pronounced "Drey-fah" or something similar) meeting given 'recent events.' (Everyone was suspicious. Especially Druid Laurel.)

A cave full of Druid hostages from the ransacked town? All but one, surprisingly rescued by a Sea Elf woman who was insisting that she wasn't working with the Dreadsail "Traitors"- which was an interesting word choice to use. The last Druid was taken by the Dreadsails for information regarding a Sacred Seed.

All of that cleared out, and the trio returned to Vastyr to report to Dhulef and Sir Stefan Mornard, son of the Mornard man who ran the town of Vastyr.

From there, Argo was given a Draoife invite to attend as witness of the Firesong's rampages across Galen and other parts of Tamriel. She brought along Ember and Sereyne to serve as backup.

They met up with Druid Laurel, and the nature spirit Frii, and determined the best course of action would be to keep Frii hidden from the Firesong after a dastardly attempt to kidnap the spirit all those many moons ago. 

Needless to say, the suspicion and paranoia paid off, as at the Draoife Dell, Archdruid Orlaith launched surprise assassinations with the help of the Dreadsails, kidnapping Stefan for blackmail purposes.

Upon speaking with the surviving Archdruids, Argo learned that the Firesong Circle are not tending to the Volcano as is their sacred duty, and the volcano threatens to erupt- or rather, is already in the process of it. The various lava fissures across High Isle and Galen that had erupted over the past several months were a surefire sign that Mount Firesong was preparing to sing a massive, show stopping piece.

"I haven't seen any Steadfast people in town since we first met up with the Mornards outside Vastyr," Argo observed as they rode towards an old Coin-Baron's fort the Sea-elves had taken over. "You, Ember?"

"Nope, not me either." Ember agreed. 

"I smell a rotten fish, and it ain't the Maormer!" Sereyne griped.

Rescuing Sir Stefan and the kidnapped Druid lead into a race to capture the Eldertide's Sacred Seed- which had been moved from the ambushed down into this very set of ruins for safekeeping before the Dreadsails took it over.

And from there, a discovery of further confirmation of the Firesong's treachery. They planned to assist the Dreadsails in attacking Vastyr as soon as the Stonelore seed was in their possession.

Many things lead to that moment, but as Argo and Ember stood before Lord Bacaro outside of a collapsed cathedral... The only one of the people who had been inside who somehow made it clear of the collapse...

Both had that feeling in their hearts. 

They knew they were looking at the man responsible for this tragedy.

Though, that didn't absolve them of their own guilt.

"We should have said something," Ember said as they mounted up, and raced out of the city to head to Glimmertarn.

"Heat of the moment, I didn't even think he was going to drop another Targeted Storm Magic on the Cathedral," Argo shook her head. 

The hours that ensued from that moment, well... It culminated in Lord Bacaro stating: "The Society of the Steadfast will protect the gauntlet."

Argo and Ember both tensed, and the former prepared to say something contrary... Only for Sereyne to tug at Argo's pants leg.

Argo glanced down, and saw the Khajiit was nodding her head towards the entrance of the room.

Za'ji and Caska were there, waiting at the doorway to the throne room of Castle Mornard.

"Excuse me a moment," Argo said to the group, and motioned her eyes to Ember and Sereyne to keep watch on Bacaro, then headed over to the two Khajiit. "Za'ji, Caska, good to see you, but what's up?"

"Lady Arabelle sent this one with urgent news," Za'ji began to explain...

The matter boiled down to, once more that Lord Bacaro was delaying the very peace talks he'd tried to start in the first place.

And Argo turned to face the man, only to find he'd left at some point during the last few minutes.

Ember and Sereyne were also missing. No doubt, they were keeping an extremely close eye on the potential Ascendant Lord. Argo wished them luck.

"Lord Bacaro is reluctant to move forwards while the Ascendant Order remains a threat." Lady Arabelle said.

"Yeah, no shit," Argo swore, crossing her arms. 

"Now, my dear, that's not really a tone to take," Arabelle frowned. "He's just being cautious."

"I'm pretty sure he's in league with the Ascendant Order," Argo said.

"What are you talking about?" Arabelle asked, frowning. "Do you have any proof?"

"Nothing concrete, yet," Argo said, "but most recently the man was the lone survivor of the Cathedral Colapse- another one of those 'special' single target earthquakes the Order's been fond of."

"That alone isn't enough to levy accusations towards the man, my dear," Arabelle frowned. "But you may be onto something. Our repeated information leaks... we often did our best when we didn't share information with our moves with Lord Bacaro. It could be we have a mole in the Society of the Steadfast, Bacaro or not."

"I'd like to do some digging," Argo said. "But first, I'll appease the Alliance Leaders. Let them know I'm on the case. We'll have the peace talks moving again before long."

"You do that," Arabelle said. "Then, when you've finished, go speak to Captain Marguerite of the Steadfast. She wrote to me this morning requesting my help in hunting down a suspicion of hers regarding a lost shipment of armor."

"Missing armor?" Argo raised an eyebrow.

"Captain Marguerite can tell you more, she'll be down at the docks."

"A month of rebuilding, and now that the All Flags Islet is cleaned up, we're still stuck here waiting," Queen Ayrenn shook her head. "I don't understand it. I get that events on Galen have Bacaro busy, but there's only so much delays I can take. What's stranger is his insistence that we can't talk to eachother until the talks happen, even supervised."

"Speaking of Lord Bacaro," Argo paused. "Did he mention why he'd headed off to Galen?"

"I don't recall specifics," Ayrenn answered. "Something about sea elves?

"Now that you mention it," Irnskar mused, "I think he told me it was something about Mount Firesong's trembling."

"Really?" Argo raised an eyebrow.

"Yes, I'm certain of it now," Emeric hummed. "How odd that he'd thought to go to Galen right before everything there started exploding. Good job on stalling that Firesong Archdruid, by the way."

"It's my job," Argo said.

"Yes, well, not to rush you, but could you please finish the task and bring the Ascendant Lord to heel?" Emeric asked.

Captain Marguerite wanted Argo to investigate reports that the Dufort shipyards, where the armor crate was supposed to come into port through, was still under control of the Ascendant Order. A messenger had been sent to investigate, but had failed to return.

It was still held by the Ascendant Order *and* the messenger had been killed.

Naturally, on her way back to report to Lady Arabelle, things had taken a turn for the drastic.

Lady Arabelle had colapsed, poisoned by suspicious bottle of her favorite wine, accompanied by a note of congrats for saving the Alliance leaders. Druid Ryvana said it was a Druidic poison, and that not only was it a powerful poison, it was one made more powerful through careful modifications by a Druidic alchemist.

During the ensuing rush to track down the poison's source, Argo discovered that the same Mystery Someone had attempted to poison and frame Duchess Elea Dufort for the crime of poisoning Lady Arabelle and being part of the Ascendant Order in the same breath. 

From there, tracking the shipment of wine took priority, and it lead to a cave beneath an old fortress, where in they not only found Captain Marguerite's missing shipment of Steadfast Armors, but also the Druid who'd been producing the potent poison plants.

He also held a strange crystal gemstone that turned out to be a key to a hidden cave beneath Steadfast Manor. And inside that cave? A druid circle- an ancient one- along with a suit of armor, and a journal confirming Argo's suspicions.

Lord Bacaro was the Ascendant Lord.

Lady Arabelle was grimacing as she read over the recovered documents- as well as from the recovery from the poison now that an antidote had been crafted. "To think we'd been so fooled. It certainly puts our information leaks in a different light."

"What this means is we need to find Lord Bacaro and prevent him from getting his hands on the rest of the Druid King's regalia," Argo said, crossing her arms. "If we don't, it could be very bad."

"Yes, you need to go warn Count Stefan and-" Lady Arabelle was interrupted as a pop of magic and teleportation concluded, dropping Sereyne, Ember, and Druid Laurel onto the ground... all three of the Druid King's regalia items in their grasp- the Staff and the Gauntlet. Well, Ember was holding the Crown in her grip and looked like she'd just cast her first successful teleportation spell. Laurel had the staff, looking shellshocked. Sereyne? Sereyne was grasping the gauntlet in her mouth like she'd just yoinked it off someone's arm.

"What the-!?" Za'ji yelped in surprise.

"No time to explain we gotta run!" Ember exclaimed, grabbing Sereyne under one arm, grabbing Laruel by the hand, and taking off at a run.

Everyone wisely followed her down the stairs to the ground floor before the sound of another teleportation could be heard.

"DAMNED CATS!" shouted a very angry Lord Bacaro. 

"What happened?!" Argo asked as she snagged the Druid King's gauntlet from Sereyne and threw it on her arm.

"Feh! Tasted like weeds!" Sereyne grouched, then quickly explained. "We stole the Regalia back is what happened!"

And then there was a burst of magic, and the very angry Ascendant Lord Bacaro burst down to the ground floor from Lady Arabelle's bedroom.

"Oh I just had this place renovated!" Arabelle protested.

"Give. Me. Back. The Regalia." Bacaro stepped forwards, storm magic swirling around him.

"Not Happening!" Sereyne shouted- her focus flaring with magical light-

PFWOOMP!

Bacaro was warped away with a magical burst...

"GRAAAAH!" The building shook as the man landed on the roof of Mandrake Manor.

"RUN!" Caska shouted, and everyone hurried out of the building, running through the streets as the Ascendant Lord leaped across rooftops, hurling magic down at them.

"GIVE! ME! BACK! THAT! REGALIA!" The Ascendant Lord punctuated each magic attack with a demand.

"Split up!" Argo yelled, and the group broke apart as they reached the main courtyards.

Civilians were scattering now as they realized something horrific was happening.

"Why You...!" Bacaro growled. 

Laurel had her wits about her enough now as she dove behind the Kynareth Statue, she cast several return-fire spells with her usual staff, keeping the Druid King's on her back. Ryvana did similarly, joining her on the opposite side of the statue.

"EEEP!" Za'ji ducked under an overturned cart, cowering for his life as a thunder bolt nearly sizzled his tail. Similarly, Sereyne dove into a planter full of very tall plants.

"RISE FORTH!" Bacaro shouted, and summoned forth nature spirits in plant monster form from the floors and walls. The Nature Spirits went about immediately trying to harass people out of cover.

Ember leaped up onto a tent, and slung a magical burst of rocks with a roar: "Don't Mess With a Street Kid!" 

Bacaro was knocked off of his perch, and sent crashing down to the ground. He rolled away from it, and sent magical blasts back her way. "GIVE ME THE CROWN, CAT!"

"Not Happening!" Ember dodged onto a set of stairs, running upwards and throwing magical spells down at Bacaro.

As all this was happening, Argo stashed the Druid King's gauntlet into a vase of flowers, and then yelled as she ran over to join Caska in dispatching a Senche formed Spriggain.

With a swing of a nearby hammer into its head, that Senche was dispatched. 

"Let's rip that traitor limb from limb!" Caska snarled.

"Agreed!" Argo shook herself out, and then a werewolf transformation overcame her with a flash of magic and flying fur.

Together, the two fang-mouthed, sharp clawed women threw themselves at Bacaro, roaring as they came down on the Ascendant Lord.

"Oh no-" he could be heard to whisper before two very fast moving high mass objects collided with him.

"Regroup while they're distracting him!" Arabelle shouted over the chaos. "I have a plan!"

The rest of them grouped up. 

"What do we do?" Ryvana asked. 

"Ember, give me the crown, then lock Bacaro's feet down with a crowd control," Arabelle ordered. "Ryvana, Laurel, I need you to listen extremely carefully."

Argo swiped her claws, and Bacaro threw his arms into a block, but it wasn't fast enough and the power swipe sent him reeling backwards, off balance. 

Caska took advantage, roaring as she rammed her shoulder into the Ascendant Lord. He tumbled to the ground, and only one of his nature spirit summons interfering kept Caska from ripping the man's helmet off with her jaws. 

"Get Lost, Plant!" Caska shouted.

Argo roared, getting dog piled by a couple fo spriggain type wolves. She leaped into the air, and came crashing back down, dislodging them.

Bacaro got to his feet, unsteadily, and took a moment to wind together a spell that would-

"HEY, BUCKET HEAD!" Ember shouted- standing ontop of the Kynareth statue.

He was slammed into the side by another rock blast from Ember, and then when he tried to turn to face her, found his feet immobilized by a rock spike trap.

"Oh come on...!" He swore as Ember leaped into the fray, swinging a very large boulder held together with Stonelore magics down at his head.

WHAM!

Bacaro was sent crashing to the ground as Ember then kicked off of the statue, and yelled- "TIME TO BRING THE LIGHTNING!" -she cast an ultimate strike from her lightning staff, and a storm of lightning condensed overhead, striking down rapidly against Bacaro's armored form, and the remaining nature spirit summons.

And then Ember landed on Argo's shoulders, a precarious stance that her teacher seemed to be all too aware of, as she held herself steady for Ember to cast another round of stunlocking crystal traps.

That was when Ryvana and Laurel stepped out into the open, the three pieces of the Druid Kings' regalia held in a magical bubble between them.

"BACARO!" Arabelle shouted. "Surrender now or we destroy the Regalia and you never get your wish anyways!"

"You wouldn't Dare!" Bacaro shouted. "I'll never surrender!!" He tried to break free of the stun lock.

"Then So Be It!" Arabelle called out. "NOW, EMBER!"

Ember twirled on Argo's back and hurled out not a lightning strike, but instead a fireball. It was small, almost pitifully so...

But, even embers can light wild fires.

The spark of flames hit the regalia, and they all ignited in a flash fire of heat and flame. Quickly, they became ash.

"NO!" Bacaro shouted, breaking free of the confinement spell. He ripped his helmet loose and roared, angry at them all, "YOU'LL ALL PAY FOR THIS!"

"No, YOU!" Caska roared, and then brought both her paws down on Bacaro's now unarmored head.

And that was the last thing the Ascendant Lord Bacaro knew. The battlefield fell silent as he let out one final gurgling breath and expired.

"Is... is it over?" Ember asked, huffing for breath as she just about colapsed onto Argo's head, wheezing.

Caska snorted as she stepped away from the now very headless body, her front claws very bloody. "Yeah, kitten. It's over."

Sereyne and Za'ji both peeked their heads out from their hiding spots, so too did everyone else who'd been nearby, watching.

Argo gently knelt down so Ember could climb off of her before reverting back to human form, and shook herself out. "Well. That was a *day.*"

"Tell me about it," Arabelle stepped out, holding the very real and still intact Staff and Crown of the Druid King. "Good job creating those replicas, girls."

"I'm just glad he didn't give them too much scrutiny," Laurel said, looking both relieved, and a bit grossed out at the sight of Bacaro's body. "Ew."

"I've seen worse carnage from werewolf packs before," Ryvana shrugged. "This is... pretty mild."

"Well," Za'ji coughed. "Atleast this means we can hold the peace talks now, right?"

"Yay for more parties," Sereyne giggle-laughed as she hopped over to Argo and Ember, who were now sitting on the ground and leaning against one another out of exhaustion, and clambered up onto Argo's lap. "But first this Kitty needs a Cat Nap."

"Agreed," Argo whined.

"Definitely," Ember agreed. "Naps are good."

"So, what now?" Ember asked as she and Argo sat on the railing of the Gonfalon Gaming Hall's patio, overlooking the sea. Sereyne was curled up on Argo's lap, seemingly napping away.

"Do you want to keep this up?" Argo asked. "I know this isn't exactly what you signed up for when you agreed to be my student."

"YES! Oh every bone in my body is shouting Yes!" Ember told her, emphatically. "I want to keep this up! This is so much better than reading and I'm- just having so much fun!"

"Well, what next is I take your training up a few notches, ideally," Argo said, "but logistically it probably won't be too long before the next calamity surfaces and we have to go start saving the world. Again." She sighed. "For now, though, let's just go through more basics. I could use a break after the last... uh. Week of constant activity and sleepless nights? That sound good to you?"

"But basics are boring!" Ember protested.

"And basics are what you needed to nail to perform a long distance teleport from Galen to High Isle *without* using a Wayshrine as an intermediary," Argo pointed out.

"...I hate that you have a point, there," Ember allowed. "Doesn't mean I have to like it."

It would take another few weeks to sort out everything that had happened with Lord Bacaro to find that he'd kept the Society of the Steadfast clean of his Ascendant Order doings up until the end where he'd had some Ascendant Knights impersonate them to steal the Crown from Count Stefan's library. Though, during that time, the Peace Talks had already begun and were well under way.

The three pieces of the Regalia were hidden safely away in places nobody would ever think to search by Argo until the new Draoife were called and convened... and agreed that it was for the best to let the prophecy of the Druid King lie forgotten for some time while wounds healed.

Adding a new Royal King to the already volatile mix of the Three Banners War that was ongoing was not something anyone wanted to consider.

And so, those three pieces of Regalia were given back to and hidden away by the Nature Spirit, the Sower Frii, knew the location of, or could open the door of for that matter. 

"Ivehame," Frii said as Argo helped them place the three regalia pieces where the Ivy Throne would have been, had a king been chosen. "A fitting place for the Regalia to be hidden."

"And nobody'll find it here as long as you don't let them in with you," Argo agreed. "It's the safest place until the Draoife can decide on a time for the Druid King."

"We will seal the doors until that time..." Frii agreed. "The time of the season of the Druid King."

"Some day," Argo sighed. "Someday."

Someday, the Dream of Kasorayn would come true. But this day was not that day.

Chapter Text

The city of Necrom on the Telvanni Peninsula was a massive necropolis. What better place to lay to rest an awkward sticking point between old friends than the Necrom City Inn?

Naryu Virian sat at a table with her drink as she waited, prayed, hoping against hope that the Hero wouldn't show up. But show up she did. 

"Hey, Naryu," the Breton said, her green eyes gazing at Naryu from behind a pair of round rimmed glasses. They'd caught her by surprise, when she'd seen her wearing them during the latest Writ. 

But not as much of a surprise were the Khajiit trailing along with her. An Alfiq pretending to be a housecat, and a very energetic girl who was clearly training up under the Hero's guidance.

Only the Alfiq was here for now.

"Hey, Hero," Naryu greeted with a wave of her mug. "Pull up a seat and have a drink. I think we'll both need it."

"Don't mind if I do!" The cat leaped onto the table and... hesitated, staring at a tankard. "Uh... Urm... Maybe later." And then she just sat there.

"Who's your friend?" Naryu asked, quirking an eyebrow. 

"Naryu, this is Sereyne, Sereyne, this is Naryu Virian," The Hero said, grabbing a tankard, and sipping at it. 

"Ahhh... you're the other side of the assassination business, eh?" The cat- Sereyne said, gazing past an eyepatch. "Nice to meetcha."

"A pleasure, i guess?" Naryu eyed the kitty with suspicion. "Not that I don't mind making acquaintences, but why is she here?"

Pointedly, the Hero then said, "She's in the loop about Veya."

Naryu raised an eyebrow. "Really?"

"You were avoiding talking to Argo about it, I was in a bad place, she was in a bad place, we talked!" Sereyne said, listing her head to the side, glancing at the tankard as if she were reconsidering not drinking from it. "About a lot of stuff, really."

...Argo?  Naryu looked at the Hero, and realized... Oh. That was her name. It'd completely slipped her mind. She was just the "Hero" to her, but... no. Of course she had a name.

Naryu took a large swig from her tankard. 

"You know," she moved right onto it. "I almost didn't show up. Seeing you again brought back so many memories... The idea of returning to Balmora and avoiding this talk certainly crossed my mind. Especially when I saw you had an apprentice."

"Ember's a good girl," The Hero-- Argo?-- said. "I won't lie a part of me's really dove into teaching her right to keep her from falling down Veya's path."
"Yeah..." Naryu sighed. "Guess I can't keep running from this."

"How much do you know about what happened in Summerset?" The he- Argo asked.

"Razum-dar gave me his version of the story. I'm fairly certain he didn't ride into a Daedric realm on the back of a griffon, though, did he?" Naryu snorted as the-- As Argo gave her such an incredulous look. "Well, regardless. I know what transpired in the rough swings of it. Veya fell in with Nocturnal, Nocturnal used her, chewed her up, and spit her back out... You finished things." 

"That's about it, yeah," Argo said, sipping at her tankard. 

"I can't help but think Veya's actions were because of my failures," Naryu said. "That I... I screwed her up by not treating her right."

"You lied to me about her death in Balmora," Argo said, a cold edge slipping into her voice. "I understand why. I'd probably do the same for Ember if I were in your shoes... But... That still hurt, finding out."

"News flash, I always lie. I lie to a lot of people. Even if you'd told me to spare her, I'd have to have lied to everyone else anyways. What was one more person to the pile? Don't take it personally, it was... easier." Naryu sighed.  "Yet I remember it was you who told me to put a blade to her throat," Naryu closed her eyes. "It was pretty clear your mind was made up to me."

"I almost didn't," Argo said, her voice going... soft. Afraid. "I almost said to let her live... but I... I just had a feeling. A bad feeling in the pit of my stomach. I hated that I was right, Naryu. I wished so much that I was wrong. When I had to kill her it... twice?? That Nocturnal raised her corpse and made me fight her again? It was just... I hated it and I wish it didn't have to happen."

"Me too... Argo..." Naryu tried the name out. It felt wrong. It felt so wrong. But... she had to try. They were being personal here. "But, you were right, and I should have put an end to her suffering when I had the chance. It... it took me a long while to realize that." 

They both drank from their tankards.

"You know, she wrote me when she was in Summerset," Naryu continued. "Don't know how long after she arrived, or when she'd fallen in with Nocturnal, but she wrote me. Detailed the pain she suffered. The pain she planned to inflict on others..." She shook her head. "That sweet young woman I once knew died that day in Balmora. You saw what I couldn't- Wouldn't- see. She was already a corpse walking."

"It sounds to me like Veya chose her own path," the cat said, poking at the tankard next to her. "Sometimes you can bounce back from it, sometimes you can't."

"It's a path I should have ended when I had the chance. Instead I did what I always do," Naryu closed her eyes. "I focused on my work. The here and now. It's too dangerous to ever get distracted. That's what I told myself, anyway." She looked at Argo. "And then you got pulled in. Again. Like you always do. Always the hero."

"A part of me wishes it wasn't me," Argo said. "That all the time it just... wasn't me. Maybe someone else could have this." She looked at Naryu, sadly. "I did what I had to do in order to save Summerset. The same thing I always do. I fight, I fight, and I fight. And I'm always just a little bit too late to stop a bigger fight from breaking out." 

"From what I heard, it cost a great deal of lives," Naryu said. "In our respective lines of work, we take lives. Usually they deserve it. But it always ranks when the people we're aiming to take down hurt so many others in the process. Feels like we've never done enough." She looked at Argo, and said, "I'll only say this once, so don't get used to it. For everything with Veya... I'm sorry."

"Thanks," Argo said. 

They drank in silence. 

"Soooo... Ember, huh?" Naryu asked. "How'd that happen?"

"Colleague in the Mages Guild reached out for someone who could help teach a girl he couldn't really handle properly," Argo explained. "Of course, I took her in right when shit started happening in High Isle and Galen."

"Heard about that, some kind of... what was it again? Wild Queen?" Naryu asked.

"Druid King," Sereyne clarified. "It was a wanna be dictator Druid King."

"Yeah, that," Argo snorted. "Once again... just a little bit too late." She sighed. "It ended with me chasing after the man inside of an active volcano that was building up to erupt. If Fri hadn't sacrificed themself to stop it..." She closed her eyes, took a long swig from the tankard, and put down the mug. "Another life added to the pile of those lost because I wasn't fast enough. It never ends, Naryu."

"No, it doesn't," Naryu agreed. Then, changing subjects, "I'm surprised I didn't see her here. She not tagging along with you right now?"

"She's... helping out with the current crisis," Argo said diplomatically. "Walls have eyes and all that."

Naryu chuckled. "Junior's taking up the hero role, eh?"

"I know I can only do this for so much longer before I break, Naryu," Argo said. "If you're sticking around for a while, maybe wait to hear if there's that usual 'world's saved' party going on... or something. I'd appreciate it if you showed up, atleast."

"Those 'everything's saved' parties are always the best," Sereyne said. "They always have the best catering."

"I'll keep my ears open for it," Naryu said. "If I don't get my next contract for a while... well... I suppose I can tolerate sticking around this damned Peninsula until then."

Argo smiled. "And after that?"

"Well... who knows," Naryu said. "I certainly didn't expect to run into you this time. Hopefully next time we run into each other, we can put this all behind us and have a more pleasant conversation."

"I hope so," Argo agreed. "Out of curiosity, you heard from Ashur lately?"

"I heard he might be poking around down south-west at something," Naryu allowed, diplomatically. "If you happen to be down that way, give him a spook for me, would you, hero?"

"Of course," Argo chuckled. 

"And anyways..." Naryu finished her drink. "I think I need another drink and some time alone to gather my thoughts. Don't turn up on one of my Writs, Argo." She teased, making to stand.

"And you don't show up on one of my Contracts, Naryu," Argo teased in turn.

Chapter Text

Ember remembered.

She remembered all too well. That day at the Inn. The day that her mentor picked up a lamp and vanished into the unknown not once, not twice, but three times, and each time, coming back looking more shaken than when she'd gone in.

Ember remembered the Woman, too. The Daedric Prince who wasn't.  She remembered the muttered whispers and sharpened conversation she- Ithelia- had with her mentor as they went this way and that between realities. But it was a disjointed conversation. Ember only caught the parts of a long running dialogue between the two of them as they wove back into reality only to vanish again a moment later. 

Ember remembered hearing Argo mention her missing sister. 

It hurt to remember. Emotionally, not physically. It hurt, and she wished, maybe, she was like everyone else and didn't remember. But... but that was the fate she was dealt.

She remembered her mentor, Argo called the Rat, making a drink with ingredients she pulled out of other worlds. She remembered the Breton handing her her adventuring satchel laden up with equipment and tools and books and quest reminders- heavy with the weight of the Lamp of Clarity and the Echonir.

Remembered her words. "Stand back, I don't know what's going to happen when I give her this drink. Just to be safe, take my things to the others if I disappear."

Ember should have known, from those words alone, but she'd been too optimistic. Too believing. Too...

Ember remembered Argo walking to Ithelia, handing her the drink, and talking with her as she drank it. Then. The world shifted. The frayed, frantic, almost dissolved nature of reality reasserted itself back to normal, and then the Daedric Prince stood and...

And offered her hand.

Argo took it, and they both vanished.

Fate's Chosen- the Vestige, the Silencer, The Psijic,  the Hero of Three Alliances, the Vanquisher of Molag Bal, the Hero of High Isle, the Hero of The Reach and Western Skyrim, and holder of so many other titles- vanished with the Prince of Paths, and nothing would be the same again.

Ember remembered returning with Leramil and telling the others what had happened. Remembered the frantic, disbelieving stares when they heard about Argo's supposed disappearance.

"Surely, the Proxy knows what she's doing," Leramil had said.

"It makes sense, get close to her, try to control her movements," Beragon had said.

"If we have to fight her... can we?" Asked the Imperial Woman whose name escaped Ember.

"I'll do it if I have to," Ember decided. "I'm probably the only one who can."

Ember remembered thinking that wouldn't be the case. Remembered thinking, as she and Beragon sneaked into an Ayleid Ruin to retrieve the Skein, that surely, Surely, Argo wouldn't have turned to evil. Wouldn't be siding with the villains she'd just been fighting not minutes before that moment they'd noticed Leramil standing outside the gates to the Inn.

They retrieved the Skein, and began to investigate the places that the leader of the Recollection had set up the Wildburn Seeds in, only to find them shattered and burnt.

But they also found memories. They saw Argo with Ithelia, dismantling the things that the Recollection were setting up. Disassembling the plans that seemed to have been crafted without Ithelia's knowledge.

Surely, Ember thought, that her Mentor had convinced Ithelia to be good. To be a Hero, to not be the monster that would destroy the worlds that Herma Mora thought she was...

And then they chased the Recollection to a specific Ayleid Ruin, hidden beneath a village. Surely, this would be the end of it. This would be where they'd reconvene with Argo and Ithelia and put an end to all of this...

In a sense, Ember had been right.

Ithelia and Argo had been there, at the Ayleid Well, but they... 

They left Ember, Beragon, and the Imperial woman to kill the Recollection's leader while they both- Breton Psijic and Daedric Prince alike- siphoned the power of the Well into themselves, and then stole back Ithelia's staff from the man Ember had just killed before she could claim the Relic for herself to secure it.

Ember locked eyes with her mentor, and saw that she looked more happy than she'd ever been in the entire time that Ember had known her...

And Argo and Ithelia... left, and then things got... Complicated. 
Immediately, Torvesard showed up, questioning the group of them left behind about what had happened. Why had Ithelia sided with "the Mortal" and demanded to know what plan was being weaved by them.

Ember had to admit, she had no clue what was going on at that point. So Torvesard left in frustration.

They used the Skein to track down where Ithelia and Argo went after the incident in the ruins, and they found themselves in Fargrave. And then Shardmaster Vargas set themself as the next obstacle to fight. Beragon and the Imperial were banished to the unknown, and Ember and Leramil were left to fight on their own and they chased after Argo and Ithelia to the Loom of Paths, and...

And...

They got Beragon and the Imperial back, somehow, draining two Relics in the process... and then they...

They fought Shardmaster Vargas. They fought and killed them, and when Ember prepared to use Abolisher on the Loom to stop Ithelia...

CLANGGGG!!!

The Daedric Sword clashed against a shield. 

Argo held a gleaming, golden thing that looked Dwarven in origin. Ember barely had time to hear Leramil shout- "Is that Spellbreaker!?"- before she was sent flying away from a reverberating backwash of Abolisher's magic reflecting outwards instead of forwards.

Ember lost the sword, lost Abolisher, and Argo took it. 

Ember struggled to her feet, to try to get back into the fray before something horrible happened.

But while she was outside of the radius of effect? Another battle broke out... Or. It would have. It should have.

Argo was a Psijic, and hopped up on both Ayleid Well Magic *AND* Whatever boons Ithelia had granted her. She waved her hand, and time sort of... stopped.

Ember remembered her friends' boddies freezing and refusing to move as a dome of temporal energy washed over them all, and then--

A swing of Abolisher, a portal along the ground, and when the Time Stop ended, those heroes fell through the portal and vanished. All of them. Leramil, Beragon, and the Imperial.

Then... 

Andt then Argo and Ember fought. Every skill, every technique, every weapon and power that they each had at their disposal was used. 

"You're doing well," Argo said, appraising her as if this was just another trianing match... But it was a training match with deadly consequences.

"Why are you doing this, Argo?!" Ember asked. "Why are you helping her!?"

"Why wouldn't I?" Argo smiled serenely. 

Then Ember lost. Argo used a new spell Ember had never seen before and Ember was blasted against a wall of crystal, and stunned.

She was left to watch as Argo and Ithelia activated the Loom, and they vanished into an unknown reality once more.

Argo left Abolisher behind.

And Reality... Reality did not fall apart. Reality held true and firm as it always had. Even though the Loom thrummed with uncontained power and...

In a fit of rage, Ember took Abolisher and used it on the Loom, shattering it and destroying it and then she used Abolisher one last time to portal away back to Beragon's house.

It was the last use Abolisher's portal powers could muster before it, too, was drained.

And then they were left wondering what was going to happen.

But nothing did.

Nothing happened. Ithelia's presence had vanished from Tamriel entirely. Present and Future... she simply vanished from Herma Mora's sight.

Torvesard was not pleased by this, and so attacked Apocrypha, seeking to take Herma Mora's power as his own to go after Ithelia.

The fight was brutal. Torvesard killed the Imperial with a wave of fate unweaving magic that left her very identity a bare ripple of a shadow of presence. 

Ember, Leramil, Beragon, and Scruut finally put Torvesard in the ground, and returned Herma Mora's stolen power. With that, he wiped Torvesard out of existence and... with that, the Prince of Fate deemed the matter settled, and wiped the memories of the world once more erasing away Ithelia's- and now Argo's- existence.

Except for Ember, and anyone she trained to entrust the secret to when she inevitably died, someday in the distant future. Because Ember was his failsafe incase Argo and Ithelia ever returned, and her lineage would be a guardian against that potential.

Ember, who had casually been slotted into everyone's memories of Argo, like she'd never been there at all. Would be the one to fight against her if she returned.

If she returned? But Ember knew in her heart that she never would return.

Ember knew because when she finally knuckled down and searched Argo's bag to sort out her effects, she found a letter, written sloppily by Sereyne, who'd been sleeping in Argo's bag... until she hadn't been.

"Ember," Sereyne had wrote, "I'm going on ahead with Argo to make sure she doesn't do something stupid. If I come find you, she's out of her league and we have to stop her. -Sereyne"

The little mage had been absent the entire journey, from Ember's perspective, but when she went out of Argo's house in Rawl'kha and asked the local barkeep about the Alfiq, he remembered her entirely.

She hadn't been erased from memory.

Ember tried to use a tracking charm that had been placed on her fellow Khajiit's eyepatch to locate it whenever Sereyne had lost it- which had been far too many times to count- but found that the charm was nowhere in Tamriel. It wasn't in any plane of Oblivion either.

When Ember's senses were dragged along to try and gauge where the tracking charm was, her perspective was pulled upwards towards the stars and through the largest of them all, out into the unknown, and beyond and beyond and beyond even further than the furthest reaches of the void, until the Magicka of the Universe ran out, and could be tracked no further, as the tracking charm had ceased to transmit.

And Ember *saw* the myriad paths of the Multiverse. Every looping, twisting branch of a vast tree of which The Mundus and all its Variations were but a single fruit amongst many.

And then Ember was back in her body, in Tamriel, and she sat there, an aching loneliness in her heart.

"....Why would you leave me alone for, Argo?" Ember asked.

"Who's to say I did?" Argo asked.

Ember turned, and saw a phantasmal psijic projection of Argo, leaning against the kitchen wall of the house that Argo had bought for Ember and her friends. Sereyne, similarly phantasmal, sat on her shoulder.

"You-!" Ember stood and almost shouted. She almost drew her weapons... but she didn't. 

So many questions whirled in Ember's mind, until she finally settled on...

"Why? What was the point of all of this?!" She demanded, half angry, half upset.

"I have my sister back," Argo said. "Ithelia and I, we went to the Path she was exiled to, and we rescued her."

"...All of this was to rescue your sister?" Ember asked, and all of her anger vanished in a flash, replaced by guilt. "...So Ithelia was to you like you were to me, when we rescued my friends, huh?"

Argo gave a small, sad smile. "Something like that, yeah."

"Did you know Herma Mora was going to erase you from the world?" Ember asked.

"We knew," Argo said, reaching a hand up to gently scratch the back of Sereyne's head. "I figured it out pretty quickly, honestly. There was no way Mora was going to let her memory stick around even if we imprisoned her again. And when I saw the other Paths, the other potentials..."

"In the Inn?" Ember asked.  Argo nodded, but said nothing. Ember then pressed on, "What did you see in there?"

Argo said nothing, but Sereyne? Sereyne answered for her:

"When Argo went through the portals, I got dragged along with her," the Alfiq said. "We saw Ithelia. We saw her accepting defeat, cowering from it, and angrily rejecting everything. Ithelia saw it too. And... they talked."

"I mentioned my sister's fate," Argo sighed. "And the plan spiraled from there. Every Ithelia we talked to confirmed what I already knew. There wasn't any version of Nirn, or the Mundus, where Ithelia didn't lose control of her powers. Reshaping the reality we came from wasn't an option, either. We looked at all the options before we went to the Loom. We examined all of the paths." She shook her head. "All of it ends in Ithelia's utter and permanent removal from Reality. Sometimes voluntary, sometimes forced."

"So you left," Ember summarized.

"So we left," Argo nodded. "I've been considering Retiring anyways, you know? All of this... heroing... it gets old." She looked that old, wary, jaded self again. "So I've trained you to be my replacement. I just didn't expect Mora to take it literally and slot you into my life when I stepped out of it for a bit. Kinda prevented me from actually coming back, ironically enough."

"It... what? You meant to come back?" Ember asked.

"That was the plan," Sereyne said. "Right now, I'm probably the only one who can make it back unscathed."

"Mora slotting you into my life means I can't return to it. He erased everything that had to do with me. The friendships I made, my family... and he..." Argo shook her head. "He crudely stitched your life into my place. Overwrote everything Argo the Rat with Ember the Sorcerer."

"So... if you come back...?" Ember hesitated.

"Reality will reject me as much as it would Ithelia, now," Argo said. "Besides, now I'm much more than the simple Breton Psijic Heroine that I was. I don't think I'd fit in the slot I left open anyways. Not anymore. Mora doesn't take betrayal lightly. I'm sure he's seething, internally. Ithelia's free, his 'chosen of fate' chose to serve her instead of him, and..." she chuckled. "And now I suppose you've got a choice, Ember."

"And what's that?" Ember asked.

"I could meddle, just slightly," Argo said. "I could reshape your history ever so slightly to smooth over the holes in Mora's magic. He'll never know the difference. Hell, for all he'll know, I'll never have existed and it was always you who banished Ithelia to a world without Magicka. You'd forget about me."

"...And if I don't want that?" Ember asked.

"Then you can keep that pain I carried with me all my life, until you eventually break like I did," Argo summarized. "And who knows what fate awates you then? I can't see much of Nirn from here."

"What would you choose, Sereyne?" Ember looked to the Alfiq.

"...Go with the one that doesn't lead you to drinking yourself into an early grave," Sereyne said. "I tried that, wasn't pleasant. Can't recommend it."

"...I see," Ember took a breath, then looked to Argo. "...If I accept it... what happens to Ember the Sorcerer?"

"...Not sure," Argo supposed. "There is a gap in my history where I took you in as my student that you can't have filled right now. You can't train yourself, after all... but if I smooth things over, there might be another you in the resulting world. You'd have a different name, of course, but, that girl who'd be your student would be Ember the Sorcerer. So I guess-"

"Then I'll do it," Ember interjected. "I'll take care of that other me."

Argo smiled, sadly. "I thought you'd say that."

"You know me all too well," Ember said.

"I'll miss you," Argo said.

"Tamriel's greatest duo, no more," Ember sighed. "Well, it had to happen eventually, didn't it?"

"Tamriel's greatest TRIO, you mean," Sereyne pouted.

"What about you?" Ember asked.

"I'll be there," Sereyne said. "I'll make sure you don't get in over your head!"

"Sounds like a plan," Ember smiled. Then, she looked to Argo. "I guess this is goodbye then?"

"That it is," Argo said. "Goodbye, Ember."

"Goodbye... Argo."