Now that a second soldier had confirmed that it was the priest who was fanning the flames of discontent, I felt confident enough to return to the captain. I entered his office and saluted, then said,

"Sir, it grieves me to report that the Imperial Cult priest, one Antonius Nuncius, is promoting discontent and disobedience among the men."

I expected the captain to thank me for my efforts and then order that the priest be brought before him. The Empire gave its commanders broad discretion in the discharge of justice, especially in the remote outposts. Instead, the silence stretched as Carius paced the chamber for several minutes. Finally, he seated himself and stared at the opposite wall. When he spoke, his voice was so low that I was not sure the words were intended for me.

"This troubles me. I wish for these soldiers to be the most excellent in the Empire, and I have long believed that one among them is poisoning the minds of the others. Perhaps it is a reflection on my leadership that this has occurred, but regardless it must end soon."

He then pinned me with a stern glare and spoke more forcefully:

"If there's reason to suspect Antonius Nuncius, find the proof. If you feel you have it, confront the man himself. Then report to me. Let's do this right, Athlain."

I must admit that I was somewhat puzzled by the captain's reaction. It was obvious to me that the priest was the problem; surely Captain Carius could see that, too. Why wasn't he doing something, taking direct action? Then I remembered another of Carbo's lessons, a lesson on the difference between soldiers and officers.

Some people think the only difference is a matter of social status- peasants become troopers and nobles become generals. Sometimes that's true, especially back in the heart of the Empire, where the soldiers don't have to do much besides march in parades and collect tolls. But out here, at the sharp end, the officers have to think. A trooper can just charge right in, once someone has pointed him in the right direction. But an officer, a good officer anyway, has to figure out what the right direction is. He has to study all the angles and make sure before he commits himself- and his men.

And that was what Captain Carius was doing- he was studying all the angles. Right now, he had the gossip of some troopers- as passed on by a new sub-officer he did not know- me. Balance that against the status and power of a priest of the Imperial Cult, and it was awfully thin. Priests were usually from noble families- and they frequently had imposing political connections. If Nuncius really was stirring up a mutiny, it was a serious matter, serious enough that people could be hanged if it went much further. The captain needed proof before he acted, and he needed me to provide it.

I could simply confront the priest with what I had heard?. And he would deny it or claim that the troopers had misunderstood. Worse, he would be alerted to my interest, and I would be no further along. Nathan had told me that Nuncius maintained an office near the Armory; that was the most likely place to search for the proof I needed. If I was fortunate, he would be elsewhere when I showed up. If he was inside, I could make some excuse about needing counseling after my recent demotion. Perhaps he would let something slip that I could take to Captain Carius. Searching the office seemed a good plan- but for what would I search? The only villains who wrote carefully detailed and specific criminal plans were those who appeared in the pages of my youngest sister's overwrought romances. I really did not expect to find a packet of papers labeled "Evil Plot Dry Fort, as conceived by Antonius Nuncius." On the other hand, proof could take many forms- I just had to be perceptive enough to recognize it. I followed the corridors to the Armory and from there to Nuncius' office, walking resolutely, as though I was on official business- which I actually was. The room was unoccupied, for which blessing I was grateful. It was a bare, sterile space, containing only a massive desk, a chair, and a cupboard, all made of rough lumber. The surface of the desk was littered with papers and books, none of which provided any clues. The desk drawers were locked, which was not necessarily suspicious. It did, however, present me with a problem.

Although my motives were forthright, I was uncertain about methods. I had never been good at misdirection or sleight of hand- nor had I ever practiced those skills. That was one point on which Father had been absolute. He had preferred that I not learn the use of weapons, but he had forbidden me from learning or using the arts and tools of the thief. His words were engraved upon my soul:

It is honor rather than "morality" that concerns me. Morality is what you do when you think someone else might be watching. Honor is a matter of being true to yourself and your values, whether or not anyone else is there to see. The day you steal, no matter the value of the thing you take, is the day you will feel the weight of my disappointment. I have lived with the name of thief for most of my life, and I deserve it. But I do not wear it with pride. It matters not that I have stolen nothing for many year; nor that I have performed other acts more notable. I will forever be known to some as "Trey the Thief."

When I had set out to become an "adventurer," I had known that I might have the need to get into- or out of- locked places. Since my abilities were more magical than physical, I had taken pains to learn a reasonably powerful unlocking spell. After all, there were reasons besides larceny to need to open locks. The spell should be sufficient for Antonius Nuncius' desk, but only if-

"If you ever stop dithering over the propriety of your actions," a dry, familiar voice seemed to whisper in my mind.

With that thought, I shook myself and suited deed to word, speaking the command- Inviga- while touching the lock. A glow of magic briefly surrounded the desk and then I felt the drawer loosen under my hand. When I slid it open, it took me a moment to understand that I had, indeed, found the proof I sought.

As I had expected, the Imperial Cult priest had not been so foolish as to write down his plans and leave the incriminating manifesto where anyone might find it. But what he did have hidden in his desk was a truly astonishing assortment of alcoholic beverages- almost certainly the "missing" shipments from months past. As I reviewed the information I had gathered, the pattern became clear: Nuncius had first tried to convince Captain Carius to ban alcohol at the fort. When that failed, he diverted the shipments, all the while telling the troops that the lack was due to the commander's orders. I now understood how the priest had incited a near-mutiny, but what I did not know was why. And only one person would be able to tell me- Antonius Nuncius himself. As I crossed the bailey, I considered how best to approach the plotting priest. After discarding a number of overly-elaborate schemes, I decided that simple was best- I would tell him what I had found and see how he reacted. Mother had often used that technique on my sisters- and on me.

Even if I had not known of his misdeeds, I would have viewed Nuncius with disdain. He was a heavyset Imperial, with a jowly face and rather ridiculous side-whiskers, which served to draw unfortunate attention to his dissatisfied mouth and weak chin. He greeted me with a perfunctory gesture of blessing and asked,

"How can I be of service, my son?"

His voice was of a piece with the rest of him- oily, overfed, and entirely too pleased with himself. That being the case, I dispensed with courtesy and got right to the point:

"You can explain to me why you have been fomenting rebellion and how it is you come to have stolen liquor in your desk."

My words stunned him and his face went through a number of interesting transformations as he sought to regain his balance. He first attempted bluster,

"Well, I have no idea.... You've been in my desk? My desk? You've been in there? Why...that's an outrage!"

The effect was rather ruined as his tone rose to a squeak. Then the rest of my words caught up and he continued in a miserable mutter,

"Stolen liquor? I have no idea.... All right. Perhaps I have been hiding the alcohol. It was for their own good! And... I had hoped that if the soldiers got fed up and revolted, I'd be able to justify going home to my superiors."

I waited a few moments to see if the man had anything else to say, then turned and left him standing there. On my way back to the commander's office, I removed a selection of the bottles hidden in Nuncius' desk and took them with me.

For what I hoped would be the final time, I reported the results of my investigation to Captain Carius. There might have been another choice, another way to proceed, but I was amazed by the selfishness of the priest's actions. He had been willing to cause a mutiny, during the course of which people would almost certainly die?simply as a way to get sent home? The captain was as surprised as I- when I had finished detailing my findings and turned over the alcohol, he responded:

"You say that Antonius Nuncius started this whole thing because he wanted to go home? The twit! I could have had him reassigned, had he just asked me."

He paused and thoughtfully rubbed his chin before continuing,

"Now, though, I think he might do his best work here, saving the souls of my men. With the new abundance of liquor at the fort, someone will have to deliver their salvation. Thank you for your help, Athlain. You did well."

With those words, he presented me a silver sword imbued with magic, as well as three potions. As I thanked him, he commented,

"You look like you could use those. There are some diseases here that aren't seen elsewhere and that are hard to shake. We have more fort business to discuss, but it can wait until you are feeling better. Dismissed."

I know I never leave feedback on your story, Treydog, but I do read them. And the only reason I don't leave feedback and is that I'm usually not into leaving "fluff" and that's it. I always find your story well-written and there's just not much for me to say. I could give you the ole' "Awesome job, I love it!" comment, but that really wouldn't be helping you. You know you're a good writer, and you don't need anyone else to tell you that.

I will say one thing, though, and that is that I am greatly impressed by how you handle writing in the first-person perspective. More than often people will do a poor job with it since it can sometimes limit what one can do with world-building and describing, but not you. You certainly have a knack for it. And that's good too, because I love reading a good first-person story once in a while.

Actually, I am changing my story from 1st to 3rd because I can't seem to nail it down with 1st. It's just hard to do, but you make it look easy.

Glad to see you're still writing. Excellent as always, keep 'em coming.

As soon as I reached my bunk, I followed Captain Carius' advice, downing one of the Cure Disease potions he had given me. Normally, the effect of such a curative is immediate; a sense of health and vitality infuses one's whole being. But in that instance, all I felt was a fresh wave of nausea. I was not discouraged- potions can lose their effectiveness over time, or even go bad. Besides, I had brought along some potions of my own, which I knew were still fresh. After waiting half an hour, I tried one of my own concoctions- and achieved the same result. Given the failure of the potions, I was ready to try something else. Like all Imperial forts, Frostmoth had a shrine dedicated to the Nine Divines, the gods of the Empire. I made my way to the chapel, donated the amount of gold necessary to receive a blessing, and waited. As with potions, the effect of a blessing is usually instantaneous. Usually. Perhaps the gods recognized my lack of faith- I was not terribly devout- or perhaps they simply had more important things on their minds. In any event, the only response I got to my prayers was a fresh round of stomach cramps. When they passed, I decided that I must seek someone to help me. If I had been in Ald'ruhn, I would have gone to Serene, the greatest healer in all of Vvardenfell. But home was far distant, and I needed a solution right now. I could not expect assistance from the priest whose mutinous plot I had just exposed- he certainly had no reason to wish me well. In fact, I had probably made an enemy for life. Perhaps there was someone else.

I made my painful way up the stairs, stopping to lean on a table at the end of a corridor. There, another spasm seized me, so severe that I collapsed in a heap on the floor, taking the table and its contents with me. The resultant clatter was loud enough to cause a well-dressed Imperial to open a door to one side of the hall and look out. Upon seeing me, he curled his lip in disgust and said,

"Take your drunken carousing elsewhere, lout! How can I be expected to get any work done with you crashing about out here?"

But then he got a look at my face and his demeanor changed. He reached me in a few strides and helped me to sit up.

"It isn't drink at all, is it? You're sick and none of the usual cures have worked."

That last was a statement rather than a question. He continued,

"My name is Carnius Magius and I have something that will help. It is an infusion of my own devising. It works best as a tea, but almost any transport agent will do. Come with me and I'll fix you right up."

Carnius assisted me to a chair in his office and turned to a small burner nearby. As he mixed and heated the tea, I asked him about the ingredients, thinking I would prefer to create my own potions rather than depend on someone else. His answer was somewhat oblique:

"As I said, the base is an herb tea made from bittergreen. But the key is to stop the cramps and spasms in the stomach and abdomen."

So saying, he poured the tea through a cloth filter and handed me the cup.

I was desperate enough to try anything, so I took a cautious sip of the proffered drink. I grimaced at the taste- bittergreen was certainly the dominant component. There was another, more elusive flavor underneath, one that I did not recognize. Nonetheless, I downed the rest of the tea in a few swallows and handed the cup back.

The results were? odd. To the good, the painful cramps in my stomach eased almost immediately. For the first time since the ship from Vvardenfell had reached the open sea, I felt as if the prospect of my continued existence was a good thing. But with the relief came a strange lassitude. All the problems and worries that had occupied my thoughts receded and became of no importance. At the same time, I seemed to be more aware of myself, of my breathing and heartbeat. It felt almost as though I could enter my own body and study the systems and processes at first hand. Carnius Magius broke the spell by clearing his throat. When I looked at him, he explained that I might feel somewhat tired and that it would be wise to rest for some hours. I followed his advice and returned to the welcome sanctuary of my bunk. My sleep was filled with vivid dreams and a peculiar, detached euphoria. When I awoke some time later, the specifics of the dreams vanished, leaving me with the feeling that I had come very close to grasping essential truths about the nature of the universe.

For the first time in days, I felt rested upon waking. Better yet, my appetite had returned, and I breakfasted on kwama eggs and scrib jerky. My gratitude was such that I sought out Serjo Magius in his office and thanked him profusely. He accepted my praise and then raised a cautioning hand:

"Please be aware that the tea is not so much a cure as a treatment for the symptoms- a way to allow the body to heal itself. It would be wise to continue the infusion for another few days; once in the morning and once at night. I would also caution you to avoid strenuous activity during that time."

When Captain Carius had reinstated my rank, he had also told me to take as much time as I needed to recover my health. With the morale problem solved, he felt confident that the routine at Fort Frostmoth had been restored. Therefore, I told the East Empire man, "I am in your hands." At that, a strange, almost predatory look seemed to pass over Carnius Magius' face, but was gone before I could be sure. With a shake of my head, I reminded myself that I was not at my best; that strange fancies and imaginings had bedeviled me since the previous day. I gladly accepted a fresh infusion of the tea, and spent the rest of the day walking about the fort and visiting the waterfront.

Whatever the cure contained, it was effective. I did feel somewhat light-headed immediately after each dose, and became somewhat anxious as the time for a new one approached. But I comforted myself with the admonition that those effects were to be expected when the body was repairing itself. The next several days passed without any notable incident- my dreams continued to be both vivid and elusive, and my health continued to improve. Then on the third day, as Serjo Magius handed me my morning medicine, he gave me a long, thoughtful look.

"Your recovery has gone well, Athlain. Therefore, I feel it is not too much of an imposition to ask a favor of you. I am, after all, a businessman; which means I like to see a return on my 'investments'."

He smiled at his metaphor and then lifted a paper from his desk,

"As you know, I am the factor for the East Empire Company here on Solstheim. As such, I have been given the task of setting up a colony and ebony mine at Raven Rock. The first workers have arrived, and they need a reliable escort to take them to the colony site. I have no doubt that you, as a Legion officer, will handle the assignment with speed and diligence. What say you?"

I considered Magius' request for a moment. It was true that my health had improved considerably, and that I had grown somewhat restless. A journey to the colony site would allow me to explore some of the island and to look for signs of the missing airship. And it was also true that I was in Serjo Magius' debt- his tea had helped me when nothing else worked. For all of those reasons, I nodded firmly and told him,

"I would be happy to assist you."

The East Empire factor clapped his hands together sharply and said,

"Excellent! I knew that I could count on you. Now, the men are good workers, but none of them are skilled with a blade. Go down to the dock and speak to Gidar Verothan, then escort the crew to the Raven Rock colony. Once you get there, find Falco Galenas. He may have some more work for you. I would consider it a favor if you would accept any small task he might require of you. I intend to see to it that the colony turns a profit. Safe travels."

After a brief stop to put together a pack and gather my weapons, I walked down to the dock. I savored the scent of the air, a mixture of wood smoke, sea salt, and the evergreen forests that covered most of Solstheim. Once I reached the stone pier, I immediately sighted a pair of Dunmer standing with a lone Imperial. As there was no one else about, I quickly deduced that these three were the group I was supposed to escort. I inquired which one of them was Gidar, and the taller of the Dunmer spoke:

"That would be me, soldier. Why do you ask?"

"Carnius Magius asked me to take your party to the Raven Rock site. Are you ready to go?"

The dark elf nodded his assent and then pulled out a map showing the southwestern portion of Solstheim. A square labeled "Raven Rock" had been marked in red ink some distance to the north of Fort Frostmoth. The colony site appeared to be located along the coast, at the head of a long inlet or "fjord". Once I had fixed the location in my mind, Gidar folded up the map and explained that we had a choice.

"We can walk- or we can take ship to Raven Rock. The only thing is, if we go by ship, you'll have to pay the fare for all of us. Serjo Magius says he is here to make money, not to spend it."

Although I had used up most of my ready funds financing Louis Beauchamp, money was not really a major concern. I could have afforded the fare easily enough; however, the fact was, I would rather fight a Daedroth barehanded than climb back on board a ship. We would be going overland. When I announced my decision, Gidar and his crew picked up their possessions and fell in behind me as I began the northward trek. The others introduced themselves- Gamin Girith was the second Dunmer; Sabinus Oranius was the Imperial. None of them had been to Solstheim before, but they had heard that the EEC would pay well for skilled miners.

In a short time, we had left the fort and all signs of civilization behind. It was for this that I had left home; a chance to walk over ground my father had never seen. Whatever deeds I accomplished here would be mine alone. Although the sky was overcast and the air held a chill, the ground was clear and dry. I was grateful for that, but wondered if we would encounter snow. What I should have wondered was why a party of two Dunmer and one Imperial, all strong and healthy, needed an escort for a journey of a few hours. And perhaps I should have wondered why Carnius wanted me to provide that escort. And I should have asked more questions about why everyone on Vvardenfell had referred to Solstheim as a "terrible place." But, as happened all too often, I did not ask the right questions. If I had, the answers that were revealed might not have surprised me. But then again, if I had not done all of the things I did, I would not be the person I was. I leave it to others, wiser than I, to decide whether or not that is a good thing.

We had not traveled very far when I began to hear odd roars and howls which seemed to come from every side. Gidar and the others moved closer together and surveyed the scattered rocks and trees with uncertain eyes. I reassured myself with the thought that the sounds were generated by the wind in the tree-tops and the grinding of ice against the rocks of the shore. That doubtful comfort lasted only until I glimpsed shapes moving at the edges of my vision. When I turned to look, I saw only shadows. But the howls were closer and no breeze stirred the branches. I called a halt and drew my mace, concentrating fiercely on the shadowed patches. Now I began to catch sight of low, dark shapes ghosting through the trees, paralleling our course. We were well into the Hirstaang Forest, and I tried to remember if I had heard anything about it, other than the name. A snatch of overheard conversation came to me, and I felt a chill that had nothing to do with the cold. Two troopers had been talking about seeking treasure in the old burial mounds that dotted the island when a veteran interrupted them, saying,

"What you idiots will find is your own burial- in the belly of a wolf or a bear! The Hirstaang is full of them."

And here was an uncomfortable fact, one that I had not given much thought. We all have fears, terrors that are not rational or reasonable, but that are very real. Some people fear the darkness- or what it can hide; some fear all manner of spiders and other arachnids, no matter how small; some- suffice to say, the list is endless. And I? What did I fear, who dreamed of being a true knight of the Cyrodiilic Empire, with blazing sword and shining armor? In my imaginings about my Legion career, I had acknowledged to myself that I might be wounded, might even lose a (nonessential) body part, perhaps a finger or two from my left hand?. And I had even had my courage and resolve tested at Ashalmawia, and found myself to be as brave as I had hoped. I had the physical and spiritual scars to show for my encounters in that Daedric ruin. But I had grown up knowing the beasts of Vvardenfell- nix hounds, kagouti, and alit. And I had been aware of the Daedric summonings. Terrible as they were, they were familiar to me, creatures whose dangers I recognized. But there were no wolves or bears on my home island. All I knew about those predators I had read in traveler's accounts and adventure stories set in other parts of the Empire. And all those sources agreed on several points- first, these beasts were consummate hunters, able to follow a scent for miles; second, they feared nothing in the forest, not even men or mer; and finally, they would gladly devour anyone who fell to them, be he dead or still living. In fact, it was said, some of these creatures developed a positive preference for the flesh of men, and found them easy prey. And I remembered one of my most vivid recurring nightmares.

I was in a dark wood, where I was pursued by a howling pack. At last I fell, exhausted, no longer able to run. My heart pounded as if ready to break free from my chest, and my breath came in great, tearing gasps. Yellow eyes appeared from the darkness on either side of me. The howls subsided, replaced by low snarls and growls. I knew the wolves were communicating, planning their final attack. They need not have waited; I was unarmed, helpless. The moment stretched- and then they fell upon me, biting and rending. I closed my eyes, praying for the final darkness, the endless sleep?. But it did not come. I was being eaten alive.

And then something bumped into me from behind.

I stifled a most unheroic scream as I realized that the impact to my back was one of the miners; the entire crew had crowded close as they noticed the shadowy shapes beneath the trees. Their obvious fear gave me the strength I needed to shove my own terror down into the darkness.

"If you all don't mind, I need a bit more space to whip these curs back to their kennel."

Gods, that speech sounded pompous even to me, but it had the desired effect; the workers edged a few feet away from me with nervous chuckles and some shuffling of their feet. Scanning the forest, I sighted a black wolf that had approached somewhat closer than its fellows. Readying mace and shield, I advanced on the creature, which responded by baring its fangs and crouching lower. In what must have been a fit of insanity, I threw my arms wide and shouted,

"Come and get me then, you skulking lapdog!"

I do not know that the wild animal understood my speech- but it certainly saw what appeared to be an opening. With a deep growl, the wolf launched itself, covering a good ten feet in a single leap. Instead of backing up, I stepped forward to meet it, swinging my shield across my body, and letting the gaping jaws snap shut on my steel-clad arm. Teeth that could have ripped flesh and crunched bone instead shattered on the forged armor. I did not hesitate, but brought my mace looping around to smash the stunned wolf aside. A couple of additional blows finished the beast, and I felt a triumphant surge in my blood. In fact, I was so euphoric at my victory that I wanted to howl myself- to send a challenge to the other members of the pack. But there was no need; the wolves that had paced us faded into the distance, and their voices grew fainter as they sought less daunting prey. Sabinus Oranius clapped me on the shoulder and let go a flood of words as reaction to his earlier fear set in:

"Oh, that was magnificent, sir! I thought you had lost your mind, I admit it. I thought you were done for, that you would be the main course, and we the dessert. I guess old Carnius knew what he was doing when he sent you with us, though."

I made some vaguely polite acknowledgment of his babble and then said,

"We'd best be moving- the blood might attract worse monsters."

In truth, that was the least of my concerns; I simply needed to start moving again lest standing still betrayed the trembling of my legs.

The rest of the journey passed without incident. When we reached a clearing ringed with boulders, an Imperial in silver armor approached and introduced himself as Falco Galenus. He directed the miners to some tents set up under the trees and then silently looked me over. I, in turn, examined the supposed "colony site". There was little to see- a few shelters and some supplies constituted the whole of it. Beyond that, blaze marks on the trunks of several trees seemed to indicate the proposed boundaries. Whatever Falco thought of me, he kept to himself, finally giving a grunt that could have meant anything. Then he gave me a sharp glance and spoke:

"So Carnius talked you into joining our little venture, did he?"

There was a hint of something in his voice? sarcasm, dislike? But I did not know him well enough to be sure. The fact was I had little experience with Imperials other than my mother; Father's antipathy toward them was well-known. I did not have the same facility for "reading" them as I did the Dunmer. And of course anyone could tell what a Nord was thinking. Best then to just ignore Falco's tone and answer his question in a straightforward fashion:

"Yes, Serjo Magius asked me to escort these miners."

To my relief, his answer was equally serious:

"Very well, I will be managing the site and answering to Carnius. Since you are here, I have an assignment for you, if you are willing."

I recalled that Carnius Magius had requested that I accept any "small tasks" the site manager requested, so I nodded my assent.

"Good. Now that I have some workers to supervise, I need to live up to my job title. So you can finish the task I was working on before you arrived."

He handed me a heavy, dark purple chunk of rock and continued,

"That's raw ebony. It's why we are here. Find me four more just like it. Carnius needs some proof for the investors that this venture is worth it, and the ore should do nicely. This is a good site, and you shouldn't have any trouble. Carnius is in such a hurry to get started that he says he doesn't really care where the ore comes from. I'm surprised he didn't just bring some over from Vvardenfell. I wouldn't put it past him."

As it happened, I was quite familiar with the ore, since one of Serene's first acts as head of Redoran had been to wrest control of the Caldera mine from the Hlaalu. Shortly thereafter, she had freed the slave laborers and brought in a paid workforce. Despite the higher cost of operation, the mine still made a better profit under Redoran control- the crippling corruption had disappeared along with the former Hlaalu management. Therefore, I was sure I could find the samples Falco needed. I was more troubled by his remarks and attitude toward Carnius; it felt like I had walked into the middle of an argument of long duration. And it was often the supposedly disinterested party who ended up getting hurt in those situations.

For now, it seemed best to simply carry out my assignment; I would be free of the EEC squabbling soon enough. After a quick look around the colony site, I espied some promising outcrops a dozen yards to the north. A bit of scrambling among the rocks and some work with my dagger were sufficient to acquire the ebony I needed. Of course, the raw ore was quite heavy, and I wasn't sure I relished the idea of carrying it all the way back through the Hirstaang. And I truthfully did not care for the idea of making that walk alone- alone except for the wolves and bears, that is. But there was another alternative that would suit me. On my 14th birthday, Mother had given me an amulet that was enchanted to bring me to the nearest Imperial Cult shrine upon activation. There was nothing of a religious nature in the gift- she knew that I was already growing restless, and wanted to be sure I had a way out of whatever trouble I might find. Even better, Carnius Magius had his office near the shrine, so I would only have to carry the heavy ebony up a flight of stairs to be done with this job. I grasped the amulet and spoke the command word, feeling the familiar yet disorienting twist that came from teleportation.

When I arrived at the Imperial Cult shrine, I did a cursory inspection to be sure that all of my parts had completed the journey in the proper configuration. The Breton half of my heritage gave me an affinity for magic; the Imperial half tempered it with a major dose of skepticism. Carnius was in his office, frowning at some papers on his desk. My arrival did nothing to clear the clouds from his expression. Rather than spinning a long tale of my travels and my success, I simply displayed the raw ebony and waited for a response. Carnius' frown changed to an even less-attractive sneer:

"Ah, so you have the ore I asked Falco for? He couldn't even accomplish that much by himself, could he? No matter- the investors are waiting for proof, so hand it over. Here's a couple of septims for your trouble."

He carelessly dumped the ore into a cloth sack and handed me some coins, then turned back to his papers. When I did not immediately leave, he looked up impatiently.

"I don't have anything else for you to do; come back in a few days once construction has begun. There might be something then. Oh, here. Take this stock certificate. It gives you a personal stake in the success of the colony. That will be all for now."

He passed me a heavily decorated and sealed parchment, and waved a hand to direct me out of the office.

I was at a loss; he had previously treated me with courtesy and cordiality. And while I hoped to avoid becoming entangled in the obvious antipathy he and Falco held for one another, I needed to stay on good terms with Carnius. I cleared my throat and hesitantly inquired,

"Ah- Serjo Magius? What about the tea? I understand that you are a busy man, but? well, perhaps it was the teleportation spell?. Anyway, I am feeling a little nauseated and somewhat nervous. So if you could??"

Carnius folded his hands on the desk and stared at me in an unfriendly fashion.

"Athlain, I told you before that I seek a return on my investments. It appeared to me that you had the potential to be useful to my efforts here on Solstheim. Therefore, I invested several days and some considerable resources in you. So far, I have profited from our relationship. The colony is about to begin construction, and I have the ore samples to show the investors. Well and good. But now, you seek an 'advance' in your pay, when you have done nothing to earn it. I find that disappointing. I am not without compassion, but even that has its limits. You see, the 'medicine' you require is expensive- and illegal."

He reached into his desk drawer and produced a small vial, a vial whose wax seal bore the symbol of the crescent moon.

Here Ends Chapter 5

Interlude Six


From the records of the Imperial Legion, Fort Frostmoth, Solstheim:

21 Frostfall- Granted indefinite medical leave- Agent Athlain Treyson.

A letter posted from Sarethi Manor, Ald'ruhn, Vvardenfell (a portion):

25 Frostfall

?don't understand why you haven't written. I know you are busy with your duties, but surely you have time to scribe a couple of lines?. You haven't met someone else, have you? But no, you haven't written your mother, either. Aunt Baria is worried- you really should let her know you are all right. Unless you aren't?. Athlain, you have made a real mess of things. I don't know what I'm going to do, but I'm going to have to do something?.

'Thyna

A letter posted from Sarethi Manor, Ald'ruhn, Vvardenfell (a portion):

27 Frostfall

To the Honorable Captain Falx Carius, Commandant, Fort Frostmoth

Dear Captain Carius,

I am writing to inquire about the welfare of one of your officers, Athlain Treyson. He is a? friend. I know that the Legion does not normally discuss the business of its members with outsiders, but perhaps you would be interested to know that my mother is Serene, Head of Great House Redoran, and a former Knight of the Legion?. I am sure she would appreciate your assistance.

Yours truly,
Athynae Sarethi

A letter posted from Solstheim to Sarethi Manor, Ald'ruhn, Vvardenfell (a portion):

2 Sun's Dusk

Mistress Sarethi:

You do not know me, Miss, and I would prefer to keep my name out of it. I know of you through Athlain, who would be upset if he discovered that I had contacted you. Still, I feel that I must. If you care for him, or know someone who does? well, he is in need of help. I will not commit to paper the nature of the problem, as missives can go awry.

Chapter 6

In the years after the defeat of Dagoth Ur, much of the Empire fell into a- call it forgetfulness. Because one great evil had been vanquished, we relaxed our vigilance and grew complacent. On Vvardenfell, the Great Houses squabbled over territory and privilege, the Legion waged an endless war on smuggling, and the Temple lost its ascendancy. The people devoted themselves to the business of living, delighting in the fact that children once again played in formerly barren streets and houses. And no one gave much thought to the fact that there were other powers still abroad in the world, other evils both lesser- and greater. So much for the blindness of the councils and king, of the leaders who should have known better. This story is not about them- it is about me- and about my own failure. When I joined the Legion, it had nothing to do with anything so abstract as "fighting evil." I enlisted to support the Empire, to uphold the Law, and- it has to be said- to annoy my father. Ah, yes, my father. How easy it would be to claim that what occurred was his fault. After all, he had destroyed the most serious threat of his time- he had become "The Hero." And now, all of that was over; it was old news. But Trey the Hero still lived, so it seemed only logical that if there came a new threat, he would again take on his appointed role. Simple logic seemed to imply that a crisis required a hero. Therefore, no hero = no crisis. Unfortunately, logic and truth are not always the same thing. And the logical answer is not always the right answer. And perhaps even the gods could have taken lessons in stubbornness from my father. Maybe it is even simpler than that- maybe it comes down to the fact that that we can't depend on our parents to save us forever. Why the dissertation on the nature of heroes and evil? Perhaps because reporting the events which next occurred is painful to me, and I would rather not. In truth, I would just as soon dispatch them with a short paragraph and move on. Or talk in abstract and meaningless terms rather than take responsibility for my own actions. But to ignore those dark days would also be to ignore the bright, shining light that relieved them; to ignore the courage, honor, and strength of another. That, I will not do. But I get ahead of myself.

I stared transfixed at the vial on Carnius' desk as if it were a deadly spider. I knew what it was- no alchemist's apprentice or Legion recruit could fail to recognize that plague in a bottle. It was the illegal narcotic skooma, and Carnius Magius had spent the last several days making sure that I was addicted. I was seized by a storm of conflicting resolutions- first, I reached convulsively toward my mace; next, I made an abortive turn toward the door; finally, I simply stood, staring at the man who had ruined me. He seemed to read each of my reactions as I might read the leaves of a book; a faint smile turned up the corners of his mouth.

"You are correct, young Athlain. Though you are angry, it would not do to kill me. How would you explain it? And it would be a grave mistake to report this to your Captain. After all, if you accuse me of possessing the drug, you will have to explain how it is that you know. And that would most probably end your promising career, not to mention your supply. So- your best option is to do nothing. You will survive the next few days, I'm sure. You need not worry that your illness will return- skooma taken in tea actually does stop the spasms and cramping. I discovered that fact quite by accident. I don't use the drug, myself. But I find it to be- useful- in maintaining the loyalty of my subordinates. That will be all; you may go."

The following days were something out of a nightmare, except that there was no relief, no awakening. My craving for the drug grew with each hour, causing me to feel alternately hot and cold, ravenous and nauseous, lethargic and hyperactive. If I could have concentrated sufficiently, I might have attempted alchemical experiments to alleviate the addiction- or at least its effects. But I could do nothing except lie sweating in my bunk or pace frenetically, gnawing on a loaf of bread. And I could tell no one of my troubles, not without completing my downfall. I could not resign and cast off the uniform I had dishonored, for fear of the questions that would follow. Nor would I abandon my post, to have my name forever blackened with the epithet "deserter." I admit that, in the depths of my despair, I gave thought to casting myself from the curtain wall or into the sea, thus ending my misery. But I could not. As the idea took hold in my mind, it was as if a window opened before me, and through that window I saw visions of home- Mother working at her easel, a frown of concentration on her face; Father in his chair, setting aside his book with a welcoming smile; my sisters with their heads together, planning some elaborate prank. Even if I could never return to my family, I could still warm myself in the glow of their love, the knowledge that they still thought of me, alive somewhere in the world. Exhaustion at last overcame me, and I slept a sodden, restless sleep.

Early on the fourth day of my ordeal, a trooper brought me a note from Magius, requesting my presence. I considered the note, knowing that I had no choice but to go to him. And the craving climbed still higher, aware that it might soon be satisfied. But I could still exert some control over my life- if I must go, I would go as a man, not as a whipped dog. Through a supreme effort of will, I took the time to clean my clothing, bathe myself, and shave. If the delay annoyed my tormentor, so be it. I would not kneel and I would not crawl. But my defiance was bravado rather than true courage. It was a brittle sort of resolve, with little strength behind it. My hands trembled as I made my preparations, and my head buzzed with desire for the drug. When I was at last satisfied with my appearance, I walked slowly to the East Empire Company office and opened the door with a hand that shook only a little.

Magius was seated at his desk and I halted before him, resolutely ignoring the kettle that steamed on the portable burner at his back. He gave me a false, apologetic smile and said,

"I am sorry that you had to suffer through these last few days, but I wanted to be sure you fully understood our arrangement- and the consequences, should you become, ah- difficult."

With that, he turned and poured some of the infernal "tea" into a large mug, which he then handed to me. Cursing my weakness and my need, I drank the contents down in a long, shuddering swallow and placed the empty vessel on his desk. I still avoided looking at his face, maintaining my gaze at a point on the wall behind him. Seeing that I would not speak, Magius sighed and picked up a piece of paper from his desk.

"I don't actually have anything for you to do, but Falco seems to be having some sort of problem at the colony site. Doesn't surprise me in the least. Go out there and see what's going on. I expect you'll have to deal with it, since Falco is obviously out of his depth."

My second trip to Raven Rock was quite different from the first. My earlier excitement was replaced by a numbing depression. The chill breeze that had invigorated me a few short days before now seemed simply cold and the air smelled alien- an odor of old snow and decay. The Legion armor I had learned to wear almost without thought seemed heavy upon my shoulders, and I constantly adjusted the straps and fittings, looking for comfort that did not come. I almost hoped for an attack by wolves or bears, but those creatures kept to the trees. Perhaps my scent warned them away, filled as it was with death and black anger. I barely saw the terrain that passed beneath my feet, dwelling instead on my troubles. But my self-absorption was finally shaken by the changes that had taken place at the colony site. The frames of several buildings rose from the rocky ground, and one finished structure loomed against the clouded sky. Yet despite the evidence of industrious labor over the last few days, the workers now simply stood around, looking worried and a bit frightened. Falco leaned against a large tree, and his hair line seemed to have receded since I had last spoken with him. Still, he greeted me warmly, and my spirits rose a little at seeing a friendly face.

"Athlain. It's good to see you again. I wonder if you might assist me once more?"

I returned his greeting and admitted,

"Actually, that's why Carnius sent me."

The normally cheerful Falco frowned and snarled,

"Confound it all; I had hoped he wouldn't catch wind of the situation! I had things under control until a short time ago. It's that crazy Nord, Hroldar the Strange, as we've taken to calling him. He's been hanging around since we started clearing the site, ranting about how we're ruining the land, and that if we don't stop, we'll incur the wrath of Nature itself. I have no idea where he came from, but I can't have him spooking the workers. He was just a nuisance, but now it looks like we're going to have to get rid of him."

No matter how far I had fallen, I did not like the sound of that. I cautiously inquired,

"How exactly do you intend to 'get rid of him'?"

Falco's response was not reassuring. He replied,

"That's where you come in."

Falco either did not notice the reservations in my question or else chose to ignore them. And his muttered response did nothing to soothe my worries.

"I'm sure Carnius would want Hroldar killed. Anything standing between that man and his profits gets a death warrant, as far as he's concerned."

The colony supervisor shook his head in disgust and continued,

"But I feel sorry for Hroldar. It's clear his own people have abandoned him- and I can see why. But my sympathy only goes so far, and he's blocking the mine entrance. Don't hurt him, Athlain; just try to talk to him. You've an honest face and a way with people. Reason with him if you can. If that doesn't work, come back to me, and I'll think of something else."

I was only too glad to obey those instructions, and I reminded myself that not everyone was as ruthless as Carnius Magius. It was becoming hard not to see others through the distorted lens of the EEC factor's manipulation; he held my future in his hands- and I knew he would crush me without a thought if it became necessary.

Meanwhile, there was the problem of Hroldar to engage me, and I looked forward to accomplishing a simple task. I had been blessed with the ability to talk to almost anyone- and it worked well when I bothered to exert myself. Better still, Nords were often simple folk, and this fellow probably just wanted a friendly ear. No doubt I could hear him out, all the while drawing him away from where he blocked the door. Such were my thoughts as I approached the great structure that housed the mine entrance. And then I got my first glimpse of the man I was supposed to persuade. Despite my youth, I was not a small man- I had inherited my father's height, and Legion training had added muscle to my frame. But I felt like a child next to the figure that loomed in the doorway. For just a moment, I thought I had gone back to the days when giants had wandered the land. The man, if such he was, overtopped me by more than a foot. He was dressed in hides, and either they had not been completely tanned or else he was unfamiliar with the concept of regular bathing. Those impressions rushed in upon me as I moved closer- and then I saw his eyes. They were the ice-blue so often seen in those of Nordic blood, and reminded me uncomfortably of my father's gaze when he was lost in memories of past events. They seemed to stare into some unfathomable distance, and gave the impression of a spirit haunted by burdens too great to bear. It was the pain in Hroldar's eyes even more than his mighty stature that caused my steps to falter. But it did not matter; he had already seen me, and began to speak in a rumbling voice more suited to forests and mountainsides.

"You'll not infect me with your devilry, Imperial. I am here to defend Nature, and I will do so at any cost. Now begone!"

After that pronouncement, he neither said anything more nor moved from the doorway. He paid me as much attention as a grazing guar does a wandering gnat.

I shrugged and returned to Falco, who was unsurprised by my report.

"He won't move? Fine. I don't have time for this. We can't get any work done as long as he's blocking the door."

Falco tugged nervously at his hair and added,

"You have my permission to remove him physically. No weapons, mind you, wrestling or fists only. I want him to understand he isn't to come back, but I don't want him killed."

I fought the urge to laugh hysterically and ask the colony supervisor if he had gotten a good look at the mountain of flesh and bone he had given me "permission to remove physically." While he was at it, why not give me permission to relocate Masser and Secunda to more congenial positions? Still, I had to try. Partly, I had to make the effort because Falco was depending on me, but I had less admirable reasons, as well. If the mine stopped working, the Company stopped making money. And if the Company stopped making money, Carnius Magius would go elsewhere, leaving me bereft of my supply of the drug I hated- and needed.

I might have a chance against Hroldar, albeit a small one. He did not seem to carry any weapons- not that he would really need them- and Carbo had taught me some unarmed combat techniques. In fact, there was a type of hold, called a "sleeper," that could render an opponent unconscious without causing any harm. I only hoped that I could apply the hold before the giant Nord squashed me like a bug. When I returned to the mine entrance, Hroldar had not moved, and he again greeted my arrival with contempt.

"Sent you to talk me out of this, did they? These devils won't be so easily rid of me. Talk all you like, boy. The curse I place on you will be all the more painful for it."

At that, I laughed. The laughter was from bitterness rather than good spirits. I wondered how this crazed Nord could possibly curse me any more thoroughly than I had already cursed myself. And my despair was fuel for my anger. I put all my resentment and loneliness and self-loathing into the hold I took upon Hroldar's massive neck and shoulders. He did not fight back as I had feared, but roared his protest:

"I'll not give in to you, you Imperial tick! Cease this violence before you bring death and destruction upon yourself!"

But I simply gripped him all the tighter, my steel-clad fingers clamped upon the nerve bundle to the side of his neck. Soon enough, the huge man went limp, crashing to the ground like a giant tree. I leapt away before I could be crushed in the collapse, and then recruited a couple of miners to help me carry the snoring madman beyond the boundary of the mining colony. I waited beside him as he slowly regained consciousness, shaking his massive head. He squinted a bleary eye at me and shook his head again.

"I don't know what trick you used, Imperial, but I know when I am beaten. Give me a minute to collect myself and I promise I will leave."

Falco met me as I came back to the mine entrance, and shook my hand.

"Good work. I appreciate your not being too harsh with him. Now things can get back on track, and not a minute too soon. Let Carnius know, will you?"

He reached into a pocket and produced a bag that made a pleasant clink.

"And here's something for handling it so well. It's not much, but I like to reward a man who can follow orders."

Though I could always use some ready cash, the coins meant less to me than the praise- not that I could buy anything with either one on Solstheim.

And now it was time to return once more to my puppet-master. As I prepared to cast the teleport spell that would carry me to the Imperial Cult shrine, I paused. This constant shuttling back and forth was tiring, not to mention that I risked attack and injury from Solstheim's unfriendly wildlife. More to the point, it was unnecessary. I drew out one of the paired amulets that had been hidden in my laboratory notebook back home, and contemplated the depths of the colored stone. My father's gift would save me steps and time- if I used it. Holding the enchanted pendant, I found a clear area near the growing colony and made sure it was not intended as a building site. Next, I scribed a simple circle in the dirt with my dagger, and marked the elemental symbols for earth, water, fire, and air around it. Earth, to anchor the spell; water, to draw my physical being to the place; fire, to fuel the magic; air, through which I would travel. Such elaborate preparations were not really necessary; the amulet should function perfectly well without them?. But I was comforted by the ritual, and did not mind the extra time it took. It gave me the illusion that my life was still my own. I spoke the word that set the Mark, which meant I could use the Recall amulet to return instantly to this place. I still worried that all this teleporting might leave parts of me scattered in the Aether, but that seemed less daunting a fate than it had formerly, when my continued survival was something to be desired.

For some reason, the continued growth of Raven Rock had done little to improve Carnius Magius' mood. When I entered his office, he asked me in a tone just short of a snarl,

"Did you solve that incompetent Falco's latest problem?"

My answer was a polite but unadorned, "Yes."

Magius' response was unsurprisingly hostile, and also revealed that he had at least one informant at the colony site:

"Too bad you didn't just kill the Nord crackpot, but fair enough, as long as the work can continue. I don't have anything else for you right now, and it will probably be a few days before I do."

He abruptly changed his tone, giving me a smile of false sympathy, and continued:

"You've earned a reward in any event. It should make the next few days more bearable."

With that, he produced a large, nondescript flask and offered it to me. And I? I took it.

Some readers of this narrative may wonder why, if I could go for days at a time without the drug, I could not simply free myself completely from its malign influence. The best answer I can give to those well-meaning folk is that they should pray that they never become enmeshed in the toils of an addiction. Skooma took over my life; it was the first thought I had upon waking, and the last before sleeping. I measured my days by the doses I took, promising myself that I would wait an hour longer, a half-hour longer that I had the day before. But whatever promises I made (and broke), however long I managed to hold out- I eventually gave in to the craving. For the simple, awful fact was this: I felt better under the spell of the skooma than I did when my mind was clear. The drug whispered to me in the hours of darkness, promising me a perverse relief from the guilt I felt at my weakness in taking it. There is more to say, but that is enough for now. Despite the fact that my addiction had become the center of my existence, events around me continued to move at their own pace, and I still had limited duties, including standing watches and interacting with the other Legionnaires at the fort. And there was one other task, a task I had nearly forgotten, that forced its way back into my befuddled consciousness.

Garrison duty, especially in a remote outpost like Solstheim, is largely a matter of mind-numbing boredom. Small wonder that the troopers looked forward to their daily allotment of alcohol to blunt the monotony. For another fact of garrison duty is that the two main pastimes are drinking- and talking. Many of the stories I heard in those days were of the sort you often get when soldiers gather together- tales of battles, of women, of fantastical creatures encountered, of fabulous lost treasures. And of course, most of the stories bore only an accidental resemblance to reality. But one cold evening, as the snow swirled and I walked the guard posts, an old sergeant warming his hands over a fire-basket glanced at the sky and noted:

"Not much of a storm- just a dusting. Not like that blizzard a few months back- the night I saw the dragon-ship."

He stopped expectantly, and I knew the next step of this dance. If I wanted him to continue, I would have to ask? and I would have to offer him a drink. A crafty story-teller could make one tale last through the night- and through a good many bottles as well. So I handed over a bottle of flin and prompted the veteran:

"Dragon-ship? You mean like the reavers use? I'm surprised you could spot something that far out to sea during a blizzard."

The trooper took a healthy swallow from the bottle and smacked his lips.

"Well, you see, that's the thing. This dragon-ship weren't on the ocean- she was flying through the sky."

A jolt of memory went through me- a flying ship. It was the story of Louis Beauchamp's flying ship that had first sparked my interest in Solstheim. For just a moment, I forgot my troubles and felt the return of my enthusiasm. I nearly danced with impatience as the story-teller took another drink and looked admiringly at the bottle. Finally, I blurted:

"A flying ship? Where was it going? What else did you notice?"

He finished the flin and set the empty down carefully, saying:

"Another dead soldier. You know why they call 'em that, right? 'Cause the spirit has gone out of 'em."

He cackled at his own joke and then took pity on me.

"She was headed straight into that blizzard, to the north, and she didn't look any too steady. I'd be surprised if she survived the storm."

North. Unfortunately, north took in most of the rest of the island. And I was still tied to the fort- and to Carnius Magius. Still, I kept the story of the flying ship in mind, and vowed to find some way to explore whenever an opportunity presented itself. That chance came much sooner than I expected.

I woke early- there was no real dawn- not on Solstheim in the dying part of the year. But my craving for skooma kept me from sleep, so I dressed, allowed myself a miserly dose of the drug, and went out to the bailey. I was surprised to see a new officer talking to the troopers, and felt a momentary spasm of fear that my condition had been discovered and that a replacement had arrived to take my place. The newcomer wore the uniform of an Imperial Champion and her armor was a silver flame against the dull gray stone of the fort. My concern was redoubled as I got close enough to hear her words:

"?a problem with moon-sugar, and I have been sent from Cyrodiil to investigate."

That seemed to settle it- the Legion had brought in someone from outside to deal with me. I wondered if I would simply be allowed to resign in disgrace, or if I might be subjected to a court-martial and a prison sentence. It really did not matter; in some ways, it would be a relief to confess my failure. And maybe a few years in prison would give me a chance to break free of the addiction. So I squared my shoulders and approached the senior officer. I saluted and took the time to study her as I waited for her to return the courtesy. What I saw was almost an ideal picture of a Legion Champion- a picture I had once hoped to embody myself. She was a slender Imperial, with short brown hair and intelligent eyes. Her face was too narrow and strong to be beautiful, but had a vitality that was compelling. She introduced herself as Severia Gratius and nodded to me in a friendly way that I found surprising, given the reason I thought she was there. Her explanation quickly cleared up my confusion.

"Agent Treyson, isn't it? Glad to meet you. You're new at Fort Frostmoth, so I guess you haven't heard. Over the past couple of months, several people across Solstheim have been poisoned? with moon-sugar. Someone has been slipping it into their food and wine. They experience temporary euphoria, and then complete exhaustion. I've been charged with finding the culprit and bringing him to justice. Recently, the Cult priest Jeleen was poisoned, so it is now an official Legion matter."

She paused with a frown of fierce concentration, then continued,

"If it were just the locals, the Empire couldn't be bothered. But now one of our own has been poisoned! Last week, Jeleen was stricken with moon-sugar euphoria after drinking some wine. There wasn't anyone available locally to deal with the problem, but the Legion is getting impatient. So they sent me to investigate. We want the person responsible caught. I understand from Captain Carius that you're currently unassigned, and this is just the sort of task that calls for someone with your rank and skills."

She placed a hand on my shoulder and said firmly,

"I call upon you, as a loyal member of the Legion, to bring the poisoner to justice. What say you? Are you ready to honor your oath and serve the Empire?"

:clap: Out with that Magius bastard and up with the legion!

Been a while, good to see you are continuing.

I responded in the only way I could- I snapped to attention, gave a parade-ground salute, and declared:

"I am happy to be of service!"

Severia returned my salute and bestowed a smile upon me, then spoke formally:

"Excellent. You are a credit to the Legion, Athlain. I hereby authorize you to seek out, and if necessary, kill the person responsible for the moon-sugar poisonings. Jeleen was the most recent victim, and he actually caught a glimpse of the poisoner. It was a man, wearing a unique white Colovian fur helm. Bring me that white helm, and I'll know justice has been served. Be sure to talk to Jeleen before you start your search. He is at the Imperial Cult altar."

I saluted once more and turned away to seek Jeleen. Given my lack of religion, it was odd how many significant events of my tenure at Fort Frostmoth took place in or near the Imperial Cult shrine. It was almost enough to make me re-examine my unthinking skepticism. But a diversion into theology would have to wait- I had more pressing issues on my mind. My face was a picture of calm determination as I crossed the bailey, but my soul was in torment. As far as Champion Gratius and the Legion were concerned, I was acting as a dutiful officer, intent on following orders. I alone knew the truth of my motives, and that knowing burned like acid at my core.

Whatever my reasons, I needed to carry out my assignment, and so I sought the Imperial Cult altar, where I found a powerfully-built Redguard dressed in the robes of a monk. His face was lined with years and hardship, and some gray had begun to tinge his hair. Even so, his voice was deep and compelling when he asked me if I was in need of counsel or comfort. I longed terribly to shout,

"Yes, yes! Both of those. I am in desperate need of counsel and of comfort!"

But I stamped on that impulse with a ruthless heel, and said instead,

"I understand you were recently poisoned. Champion Gratius has ordered me to investigate the matter. Any information you can give me would be helpful."

The priest nodded his understanding, and told his story as follows:

"Yes, I too was stricken with moon sugar euphoria. It was just last week, after a Cult service. I sat down to some wine, and moments later realized something was wrong. I am a law-biding man, Athlain, and have never experienced anything so...free, in all my life! The laughing, the dancing...it was horrible! And then, as I drifted off, I saw him. A strange man...old and frail -- certainly no Nord -- wearing a white Colovian fur helm. But even stranger was his silly song."

I was uncertain of the significance of song, but decided to be thorough.

"Silly song?"

Jeleen shrugged and looked away before continuing,

"It's rather embarrassing, really. I mean, I was deeply affected by the moon sugar, and I'm not even sure I can trust my own recollections. But, well, I heard singing. It was a very strange tune, more like a nursery rhyme. Something you'd sing to a child, maybe. I only caught a little of it. Something about a workshop in the snow, and lanterns all aglow. And I remember something about candy. Oh yes, and there were lots of he he he's and ha ha ho's. It's all so absurd, I know."

Beyond the vague description of the man and his memory of the song, Jeleen could tell me nothing more of value. But before I could leave, he stopped me with a hand on my arm, saying:

"Athlain, if you would be so kind, there is another problem I wish to place before you. I know it is an imposition, but? do you think you could find Mirisa for me?"

The request caught me by surprise, and I simply gaped at the priest for a moment, before asking, "Who?"

Seeming almost as distracted as I, Jeleen answered indirectly:

"She was headed north to preach the way of the Nine Divines. Surely she should have been back by now."

Gathering my own wits, I spoke slowly and clearly-

"Who was headed north? And what is she to you?"

My calm disconcerted him even more than the admitted bluntness of my questions and he cleared his throat and looked around the shrine before responding.

"Mirisa. She means a great deal to me. That is, she...her work...is very important to the Imperial Cult. You are going to be exploring the island anyway, Athlain. If you could find Mirisa and return her to me, I would be most grateful. She left here over a month ago and headed north, toward Lake Fjalding. You should begin your search in that area."


I considered Jeleen's request briefly before agreeing. My decision was partly due to the real concern Jeleen expressed, but also because Lake Fjalding was as good a place to search for the moon-sugar poisoner as any other. Although the person the priest had seen was not a Nord, the island-dwellers might be able to provide information about his "workshop". And that was information I was quite anxious to obtain. I would not be able to leave immediately, however; there were preparations to make. And those preparations depended on the whim of Carnius Magius. He would summon me when he needed something, not before.

I spent the interim in fruitless questioning of the garrison. None of them had seen anyone resembling the figure described by Jeleen, and I could tell that more than a few thought the priest was a bit addled. My efforts had another result, as well, one that was not necessarily welcome. The day after Severia Gratius had spoken to me, I received a summons from Captain Carius, requesting my presence in his office "at my earliest convenience." That last bit of verbiage meant, "Why aren't you already here," so I wasted no time in seeking the commander. He greeted me in a friendly fashion and gave me a searching look before offering me a seat.

"I am happy to see that you are feeling better." He paused and then cleared his throat, before continuing,

"Athlain, I understand Champion Gratius has asked for your help. Although I might have wished that she had consulted me first, Cyrodiil makes its own rules. And I expect that you will provide whatever assistance the Champion requires. Perhaps, in the course of your investigation, you could also look into a troubling matter which has recently come to my attention?"

Although, he phrased that last as a question, I knew an order when I heard one. Therefore, I responded without hesitation:

"How can I be of assistance, sir?"

He rose to pace his office, a habit I recognized as a sign of his agitation. Then he stopped and explained his concerns:

"I've noticed the store of weapons in the armory has been decreasing, and I know there is no official reason for it. My only guess is that someone is smuggling them off Solstheim to be sold on Vvardenfell. I want you to uncover this smuggling ring, and I will provide you with a bit of help."

Of course there was no question of turning down the assignment, so I concentrated on a potential problem:

"Help, sir?"

He nodded vigorously.

"I would like you to work with another of my soldiers on this case. You have clearly demonstrated your ability to operate on your own, but a Legion officer also needs to be able to command others. It is past time you were given that opportunity. There are two soldiers available, and they are among the best here at Fort Frostmoth: Saenus Lusius and Gaea Artoria. You'll find Lusius in the General Quarters, and Artoria in the General Quarters, Upper Level. Speak with them and decide which will be your subordinate. When you have unearthed the smuggling ring, report to me. I leave how you deal with the smugglers to your discretion."

I left the captain and took a few moments to ponder the joys of boredom, joys which I had so often disdained in the past. Now, I had almost more complications and excitement than I could rightly handle, and a definite feeling that I should have been more careful about what I wished for. Oddly enough, though, I actually required one more complication before I could proceed- an assignment from Carnius Magius.

Very nice. Took me awhile to read this story but its good to this point. :goodjob: Keep em comeing =D

Ahhh the newest update! And so very appropriate in these x-mas times huh?? :clap:

Many tasks for my friend Athlain.....many tasks I'd say. I hope to see this wonderful update at....ah you know where, treydoggie!

Over the next couple of days, I made my preparations, ensuring that my equipment was in good repair and that I had the necessary supplies. I wanted everything in place so that I could move quickly once I solved the problem of weapons smuggling- and whatever task Carnius Magius gave me. I would be venturing into the wilderness of Solstheim and might be gone for some time. In fact, it was possible that I would not be coming back to Fort Frostmoth at all. In furtherance of my orders from Captain Carius, I asked around about the troopers he had suggested I command in the search for the smugglers. What I heard was encouraging, but still left me with a decision to make- which one would best complement my own skills. And more important, which would be most likely to survive.

Regarding Gaea Artoria, one of the more eloquent troopers said,

"She's one of the most powerful soldiers here. Never seen her bested in combat, and her skill with weapons is legendary."

A more typical response was- "Tough fighter. Short temper. She can be a bit thick, but there's no one I'd want more on my side in a fight."

As for Saenus Lusius, the consensus was- "Smart as they come, that's Lusius. Everyone around here likes him, too. Real easy to talk to. Not the most handy guy with the steel, but he makes up for it in smarts."

I would have to talk with both of them myself, and evaluate them using the techniques Carbo had tried to teach me. Fort Darius and Gnisis seemed terribly far away, and I realized with some amazement that I was actually homesick for those days when things were so much simpler.

At last there came the moment I had awaited with anticipation and dread- Carnius Magius sent a note demanding my presence. I did not waste any time, but went directly to his office. When I entered, he was in an even worse temper than usual, and grunted a terse greeting.

"Took your time getting here. Perhaps I should reconsider our arrangement."

The first statement was a lie and the second was a threat- there was no useful response to be made to either, so I remained silent. Seeing that I would not be goaded, Magius moved on. He buried his hands in the stacks of paper that covered his desk and grumbled,

"The Empire floats on a sea of paperwork- or at least the East Empire Company does. Yet the lack of a single blasted sheet can bring everything to a halt."

He gave me a flat ?eyed stare and continued,

"Anyway, you can make yourself useful. It's a menial task, but it needs to be done. I've spent a great deal of money ensuring that supplies are delivered from the mainland, and I'd like you to go make sure everything is in order. The supply ship arrived this morning according to my schedule. Get me a copy of the shipping manifest from Falco, will you? On your way, then."

He turned his attention back to his papers and I stepped out of the office, more determined than ever to free myself from his grip.

The good news was that it would take me less time than Magius supposed. I quietly congratulated myself on having set a teleportation mark at the colony site, a bit of information which I had neglected to impart to him. I was not certain why I had not told the Company man; it just seemed best to keep him in the dark as much as possible where my activities were concerned.

Once I had reached a deserted hallway, I activated the Recall amulet and was transported to the outskirts of the colony. The growth of Raven Rock had not abated in my absence- new storehouses and additional housing had been completed. Given the amount of money being spent on construction, I could understand why Carnius Magius seemed to be under so much strain. That knowledge did not make me like him any better, but it did provide some insight. As I considered these things, I sought Falco in his usual spot beneath the trees. If the pace of construction was having a negative effect on Magius, Falco seemed to be thriving on it. He gave me a cheery wave and called,

"Athlain! What brings you here? Just looking over our progress- or do you have a task?"

"Actually, Carnius Magius needs the manifest from the last supply ship- it should have arrived in the last day or so."

Falco scratched his head in puzzlement.

"Shipping manifest? I'd give it to you if I had it, Athlain. But no ship has arrived; it may have something to do with the fact that Carnius never said anything about putting in a dock, so where would a supply ship land? I'm of little help; I've spent all my time making sure the construction proceeds smoothly, so I haven't seen anything. Check with the men; perhaps one of them can tell you more."

I wondered if Magius had broken his rule against using the drug with which he had enslaved me- his control of the situation appeared to be slipping. But that did not matter. What I needed to do was discover the whereabouts of the ship. To that end, I located Gamin Girith, one of the Dunmeri miners I had escorted to the colony site. When I asked if he had noticed anything unusual in the last couple of days, the elf gave a raspy laugh.

"You mean besides the wolves and bears and other creatures that would like to make a meal out of us?"

He waved a hand in apology and continued,

"Not your fault, Athlain. I took on the job of my own accord; it's a little late to complain now. As to your question, maybe I did see something, now that you mention it. Night before last, I saw a light off to the northwest. Thought maybe it was a reaver boat, or a raiding party or something, and I wasn't about to go check it out, but maybe it was our supply ship."

There wasn't much point in consulting Falco or Magius- either one of them would simply send me to investigate the sighting. That being so, I simply set out on a westward course, planning to reach the coast and then head north in hope of finding something- preferably before something found me.

The wind grew colder as I neared the sea, and snow swirled and blew in my face. I could only hope the inhospitable conditions discouraged the local wildlife as much as they did me. Fortunately, I was able to avoid any unpleasant encounters, and the snow stopped as I began my northward trek. Several miles up the coast I spotted a low shape rising from the rocky shore- it looked like a dismasted ship, driven hard aground and heeled over. Several figures appeared to be gathered on the ground below the wreck, and I wondered if they were members of the crew. But something in their movements made me cautious, and so I stayed under cover as I moved closer. It was well that I did so, for a gust of wind brought me a sudden unpleasant stench- a combination of frozen earth and rotting flesh. The figures' shambling gait and emaciated form made sense- they were obviously some sort of undead. That suspicion was confirmed moments later, when they somehow sensed my approach and turned toward me with eyes that glowed like coals in the furnaces of Oblivion.

As the foul creatures turned their attention toward me, a rapid succession of thoughts crossed my mind. First, I now knew what had happened to the ship- that should be enough for Falco and Carnius. Second, dealing with the undead was a matter for priests or crusaders, and I was neither. Finally, I had no idea of the exact nature of these necromantic beings, and it was a wise adventurer who did his research beforehand, rather than charging blindly into battle. Pleased with the logic that proved me to be thoughtful rather than frightened, I prepared to activate my Recall amulet. And then I heard the scream.

I hated those things so much. They always got me from behind I am going to feel really bad for Athlain when he has to deal with those.

Having found the missing supply ship and discovered that it was beset by undead of a type I had never before seen, I decided that the better part of valor was to retreat and work out a plan- preferably while sitting in front of a warm fire with some mulled wine. Perhaps, if I were fortunate, formulating that plan would take long enough for the undead to go elsewhere. But then I heard someone scream from the direction of the shipwreck. I knew it was not the deep roaring of the undead, nor the sound of the wind in the trees. It was the scream of a human female. And knowing that reduced my choices to one- I had to attack. Just to make things better, the snow had begun again with renewed fury.

There were three opponents that I could see, and possibly others hidden by the blowing snow. The main thing was to keep them from getting behind me, so I edged as close to the icy water of the sea as I could. Undead were often tied in some way to the ground that held their graves, and were therefore reluctant to enter or cross water. And even if that restriction did not apply to these, I could always use a water-walking spell or potion to stay out of their reach. In the meantime, I gripped my mace and shield tightly to combat the fear that roiled my stomach. The creatures I faced were skeletally thin, but rotted leather and fur armor padded their forms. The fleshless skulls were not the usual ivory color of old bone, but seemed more a dark gray that absorbed what little light there was. And then the time for observation was over, for they were upon me. Whatever manner of creatures these were, they fought without weapons, using clawed hands and powerful kicks of their booted feet. Fortunately, they seemed quite unwilling to touch the water, and I used that advantage to hold them off. The icy water swirling about my feet was a reminder that I was not impervious to the cold, either. If my feet became sufficiently numb, I would be easy prey. I rather wished that I had attained my father's skill with a bow; it would have been much easier to levitate or water-walk and turn these awful constructs into so many smelly pin-cushions. Instead, I spun and blocked and bashed, hammering them down in an efficient but inelegant manner. At last they were defeated, and I was no worse for the encounter. But there remained the mystery of the scream that had attracted my attention. Now, but for the wash of waves and the moan of the wind, there was silence.

No one moved on the deck of the ship, a shattered hulk which appeared to be good only for firewood now. Weapons ready, I moved toward the bow, which was driven deeply into the shore. There I discovered the body of an expensively dressed Bosmer. From the odd angle of his head, it appeared he had been thrown from the ship and had his neck broken when he impacted the shore. I continued my investigation, moving to the north side of the wreck, where I discovered the source of the screams I had heard. A young Imperial woman stood, backed against the planks of the wreck, the body of an undead sprawled before her. Hearing my steps on the sand, she suddenly shouted,

"Get away! Horrid things!"

She held up her hands in a warding gesture and pressed further back against the hull.

Now this was just the sort of situation I had imagined when I joined the Legion- a helpless young woman beset by evil creatures, with the gallant Athlain riding- well? striding? to the rescue. I put away my mace, removed my helm, and executed a low bow.

"Glad to assist you, milady. Athlain Treyson, Agent of the Imperial Legion, at your service."

She recovered quickly and gave me a measuring look.

"Are they all gone? Have you defeated them? In that case, don't just stand there; take me away from this awful place."

As I struggled to keep up with her rapid manner of speaking, the woman picked up a cloth bag and started to walk inland. When I did not immediately follow, she stopped and glared at me, folding her arms and tapping her foot.

"What? I suppose I didn't introduce myself? Very well. I am Apronia Alfena. Thrilled to meet you, I'm sure. Now can we go?"

I cleverly answered, "Go?"

"Well of course. I mean, you can't just leave me. No one would be that heartless. I'd freeze to death out here! I don't know what I was thinking, hitching a ride on a supply ship in the first place. Who appoints a Wood Elf captain of a ship? I should've known better. And then that horrible crash.... And now they're all dead, and the supplies are ruined, and I just want to get warm. Oh, please take me with you...."

My wits finally came back to me as I remembered Mae and Cai worrying that I would fumble any chance I ever got to rescue an elven princess. Mistress Alfena was not elven, nor did she seem to be a princess, but I was doing a spectacular job of fumbling the rescue. I cleared my throat and responded,

"I will certainly be glad to escort you to Raven Rock or to Fort Frostmoth."

The not-princess gave me an engaging smile and replied,

"Oh, thank you! There isn't even any food left to survive on - most of the supplies are gone...."

Then she looked at me a bit doubtfully before adding,

"Well, I guess you should just take me to whomever your boss is. I mean, I hope you're not offended that I'm assuming that you're not the boss; it's just that people that tend to be bosses of things don't usually wander around the countryside looking for people to help. They send other people out to do that sort of thing, don't they? Hey, how come we're not going anywhere yet?"

Somehow the stories I had read did not mention the feel of icy water freezing inside your boots, the graveyard stench of the undead corpses strewn on the shore- nor the impatience of rescued damsels. Of course, in a story, I would have had a trusty horse or even a well-insulated carriage in which to whisk her away to a conveniently deserted hunting lodge. What I actually had were my own two feet, which were currently freezing and considering secession from the rest of my body.

I shook off my increasingly fanciful thoughts and told Mistress Alfena:

"Stay close; we're going to move fast. I intend to avoid trouble if possible, but if it comes to a fight, stay out of the way. I'm a trained soldier, and I don't need you crowding me."

She made no response, but simply nodded briefly. We stayed near the shore- partly to avoid the wolves that haunted the forest, but mostly because it was the only way I could be sure of finding Raven Rock again. I was beginning to think we would reach the colony without incident when a great brown bulk rose from behind a pile of rocks and began snorting and snuffling. I reached out a restraining hand toward Mistress Alfena and said,

"Don't be frightened. It's just a bear. Probably looking for fish. If we move slowly, it should?."

That was as far as I got- the woman and the bear charged at the same instant, as if they were blood-enemies. With a muttered curse, I drew my mace and ran after the mad-woman. Before I could get to the bear, the damsel I was "guarding" drew a sword from somewhere and made short work of the grizzly. She at least had the good grace not to say anything; instead she cleaned her blade and replaced it in the scabbard hidden beneath her skirt. What I had taken to be a pocket was actually a slit in the fabric designed to allow quick access to a concealed weapon. As for me, I simply slammed my mace back into its loop and shook my head. It seemed as if every woman I met was better with a sword than I. I had a sudden memory of Athynae, practice blade in hand, laughing as she chased me around the training room at Sarethi Manor. The chill wind froze the moisture that came to my eyes, and I shook my head again, this time in regret. I gruffly told Mistress Alfena,

"We'd best get moving- the blood will attract attention."

The rest of the mercifully brief walk to the colony passed in near-silence. The usually talkative Mistress Alfena kept her thoughts to herself and I too, had little to say. In truth, I was feeling a bit put upon and sorry for myself- but the real difficulty for me was the company of a young woman of Imperial heritage. She reminded me of my sisters and of my mother- and I realized how terribly I missed them. Nevertheless, when we reached the outskirts of Raven Rock, I still felt that it was only right to offer to lead her to Fort Frostmoth, which might be somewhat safer. Mistress Alfena gave me a look which I could not quite interpret and answered:

"Oh, don't be silly. You've already brought me here; where else would we go? I think I've seen quite enough of the woods, thank you, and one can only look at snow and rocks and dirt for so long before one decides she's seen enough to last her the rest of her life."

When I started to protest, she smiled sadly and patted my hand, saying,

"Of course, I'm desperately trying to politely tell you that I'm not going anywhere else on the island; you do understand that, don't you?"

With that, she turned and walked away, stopping to talk to the miners and laborers, showing a polite interest in everything they pointed out in the new town. I felt an inexplicable sense of loss as I watched her departing figure, then straightened my shoulders and approached Falco. He gave me a wise look and said,

"I'm guessing you don't have good news? Although it isn't just anyone who can go into the howling wilderness and bring back a pretty girl?."

"Falco, I am afraid Mistress Alfena is all I brought back- and all that is left of the supply ship. I found it wrecked a ways up the north coast; she was the only survivor. And most of the supplies are ruined, too. There were some peculiar undead swarming around- I don't think they had anything to do with the wreck, though. Probably just scavengers, attracted by the bodies."

At each sentence, Falco's expression turned more and more grave. When I ran out of words, he closed his eyes and leaned against a tree. Without changing his expression or posture, he spoke softly:

"Wrecked? Are you sure? Well, then there's little more that can be done. At least you saved the girl. I told Carnius it was a bad idea to take the lowest bidder, and that this was too important to not take seriously. Well, at least you've solved that mystery, Athlain. Thank you for looking into it; you just need to make sure word gets to Carnius. From your description, it sounds like those creatures you met were draugr. Never heard of them? Well, imagine an angry Nord. Now imagine a dead, angry Nord with a taste for human flesh. Get the picture?"


He opened his eyes and added, "We can get by without the rest of the supplies, but we were expecting some pick axes. If Carnius didn't forget to order them, they should have been on that ship. And they probably weren't damaged in the wreck?. Listen, Athlain, I know it's asking a lot- could you escort a party back to the ship to collect any supplies that can be salvaged and bury the dead? I don't feel right just leaving them out there for the animals."

I glanced at the sun to gauge how much of the day was left, then promised to start at first light the next morning. I passed a chilly night wrapped in a blanket in one of the storehouses, and was happy to see the dawn. True to his word, Falco sent a couple of laborers with me, and we reached the nameless hulk without incident. The experienced miners made a quick job of burying the dead captain and crew in the rocky soil while I stood guard. As for the bodies of the draugr, I cut off the heads and threw the corpses onto a bonfire we built some distance down the beach. Although I was not given to strong religious feelings, I did believe that the dead should stay dead, and not get up from their graves to wander about. Finally, we loaded the usable supplies and made a fast journey back to Raven Rock. Falco thanked me for my efforts and gave me a heavy purse of gold. He explained,

"That would have gone to the captain of the ship- but he isn't likely to complain. And we can't make money if we can't mine. If I don't give it to you, Carnius will just find some way to waste it."

There seemed to be nothing left to say, so I stepped behind a cluster of boulders and activated the amulet that transported me to the Imperial Cult shrine. Though I heartily despised Magius, it gave me no pleasure to bring him bad news. His reaction was a predictable scream of outrage:

"WHAT? It's gone? This is unacceptable! After the money I spent on this venture.?"

Then he stopped shouting and stared at the wall, as if some answer might be written there. After a long, uncomfortable silence, he turned back to me and spoke briskly,

" Fine, fine. Another ship will have to be sent for. Well, don't just stand there; the longer I look at you, the longer I have to think about it."

He then thrust a large flask of his special "tea" into my hands and waved me out the door, growling:

" Just take this and go away. Come back in a few days."

I had what I wanted; now all that remained was to discover who was behind the weapon smuggling and begin my exploration of the wilderness.

You know, this may be heresy on these forums, but I think I find the company of young Master Athlain more entertaining than that of even his father. He's just so likeable damnit! This story seems to have a much deeper use of humour as well, in large part because of our young hero. His illusions versus his reality - sadly the two don't seem to meet that often. You demonstrated that beautifully with the comparison of his dreams of riding in and rescuing the damsel in distress, versus getting cold feet and shown up by the impetous damsel. I had a big smile on my face all the way through these last two updates, until he once again received his "special" tea. A sign of caring about a character when I find myself so caught up in the situation that the words, "I hate that Magius" were muttered darkly (and inadvertantly) by me. I certainly received a very odd look from Dawn at that

This is a terrific tale, and you well know how much I enjoy it, and appreciate your continuing it. More please

While I had been off at Raven Rock, I had spent some time considering which of the troopers I would recruit for the smuggling investigation. On the one hand, Gaea Artoria was said to be a top-notch fighter- and my own martial skills were still only middling. Having a strong right arm could make the difference. But Saenus Lusius was friendly with most of the garrison, and could probably find answers quickly, and speed was important to me. Besides, it was possible this mission could be accomplished without fighting. I could not control the length of time it would take to find the moon-sugar poisoner, so I needed to save steps anywhere else I could. Therefore I crossed the bailey to the general quarters and asked for Saenus. One of the guards pointed me toward a bunk, where a young trooper was repairing his armor. I took a moment to study him before I approached. What I saw was encouraging. As his name had implied, Saenus was an Imperial, but his red hair hinted at Breton blood. He was not much older than me, and had an open face, with laugh lines around the eyes and mouth. In short, he looked like someone with whom I would get along well.

When I introduced myself, he stood and saluted in a competent but not overly formal fashion. I waved aside the salute and shook his hand. Saenus gave me a grin and explained,

"I find it's usually best to observe the courtesies when dealing with a new officer. Most of them are friendly enough, but every now and then you get one who seems to think he's the Dragon himself. So, Captain Carius said you might want to talk to me- what's the situation?"

"It seems that someone is smuggling weapons out of the fort- probably to sell on Vvardenfell. The captain wants us to find out who it is and put a stop to it."

Saenus nodded slowly. "Yes, the smuggling ring. Captain Carius mentioned something about that. I would be glad to join you. Though I'm admittedly not the most handy with my blade, I believe I can help."

I clapped him on the shoulder and said,

"I can't think of anyone I would rather have along."

Saenus picked up his weapons and said,

"Excellent! Gaea will have to handle the other work the captain assigned us, but she won't mind. Of course, if it comes to a fight, she'll complain about not getting in on it. That trooper surely enjoys cracking heads- I think she must have some Nord in her."

I motioned him to walk with me, waiting until we were out of earshot of the rest of the guards. Then I said,

"Saenus, I'm new here and don't know my way around. That's one reason I chose you. How do you suggest we start?"
Saenus again gave me that engaging grin and clapped his hands enthusiastically.

"We should speak with some of the troopers here at the fort. A motley bunch, to be sure, but some of them are fair soldiers. I've developed quite a rapport with a few, in fact. Why don't we begin by speaking with Zeno Faustus? He's an interesting character- and he works in the Armory."

Together, we crossed the bailey to the Armory, which was housed in a separate tower and could serve as a strongpoint at need. Of course, on this day, the doors were unlocked and open, allowing air- and soldiers- to move freely through the structure. I entered the Armory itself with Saenus at my heels. Once inside, I spent a moment looking with longing at the bright swords arrayed in racks along the walls. In spite of all of Carbo's training, I still felt regret that I would never be a swordsman. But I set that dream aside and looked instead at the beefy Imperial who sat scowling at a ledger opened on his desk. He ignored my presence until I ventured,

"You are Zeno Faustus, the Armorer?"

He gave an annoyed grunt and replied, "What is it you want? Unless you're a new recruit, which we never get at Fort Frostmoth, you should have all the gear the Legion says you need. You won't get as much as a single arrow from me without an authorization."

Throughout the surly speech, Zeno never looked up. My response certainly got his attention, though.

"I am glad to hear you say so, since what I want is to find out who is smuggling weapons out of the fort- and where they are taking them."

The burly armorer slammed his ledger shut, reared up, and fixed me with a glare. Then, noting my rank insignia and, even more, Saenus standing behind me, he deflated and sat back heavily. A few moments passed in silence as he ran a calloused hand over his scalp. Finally, he spoke in a quiet voice:

"I see you're with Lusius, so I figure you must be okay. Listen up. I overheard some of the soldiers talking about a place, the Gandrung Caverns, a bit northeast of the fort. Something about weapons being stashed there. I didn't want to know more than that. Maybe you should check that place out. But if you find them, you'll have to kill them...unless you can find some other arrangement. And one more thing- you didn't hear it from me."

I had a feeling Zeno probably knew more than he was saying, but the information he had provided was enough to get on with, so I exited the Armory without comment, beyond a wave to Saenus to follow me. Outside once more, I arched an eyebrow at the young trooper. He understood my unspoken question immediately, and responded:

"I think we have what we need. Zeno wouldn't give bad information. He's about as friendly as a grizzly with a hangover, but he won't lie. If he didn't want to tell, he'd have just closed up."

He looked thoughtfully toward the gate. "Gandrung isn't far from here. It's a cavern, but the Nords have used it for hundreds of years. Hope you don't mind getting your feet wet- it's on a little arm of the sea. Of course, that makes it perfect for smugglers- boats can come right up to the entry."

I shouldered my pack and started for the gate. If Saenus was curious about the fact that I seemed to be carrying more equipment than was necessary for our assignment, he managed to keep it to himself. The more I learned of the Imperial trooper, the better I liked him. I regretted that we had to meet just as I was preparing to leave Frostmoth, but I was learning that life is seldom fair. With Saenus in the lead we soon found the entry to the cavern. The doorstep showed signs of recent traffic. I waved for silence and carefully set down all my extra gear. Then I leaned close and whispered,

"This is just a job- not a matter of honor. Watch my back, don't charge ahead, and don't get yourself overmatched. If we work together, we should be able to handle anything we meet."

I had half-expected to surprise a sentry near the entry, but we found nothing beyond the overlapping tracks of Legion boots. Perhaps the phrase "bad soldiers" had more than one meaning. The architecture of the man-made sections was noticeably different from the few tombs and caverns I had entered on Vvardenfell. The shoring timbers were massive and built in such a way as to resemble Nordic trilithons. Wood fires burned in stone basins spaced along the passage, giving a smoky, flickering light that threw dancing shadows on the walls. Saenus and I were tense as we walked side by side deeper into the cavern. We stayed silent, communicating with gestures- the penalty for smuggling was death, and we weren't going to be providing warning. Carbo had been blunt on that point during our first patrol out of Fort Darius-

"These characters know they're headed for a long drop- they aren't going to surrender. So if you want to yell, 'stop, in the name of the Legion,' or 'you're under arrest,' do it after the fight is over. Because if you announce our presence and get me killed, I promise I will come back and kick your sorry backside."

After a dozen steps, we encountered our first opponents- a pair of giant rats. Our coordination was good, and the rodents died without giving so much as a squeak. My confidence was buoyed as we turned into a side passage on the left- perhaps the smugglers had abandoned the cavern. If that was the case, we could recover whatever equipment remained and I could get on with my plans. That wishful thinking ended when a figure in Legion armor rounded a corner and immediately attacked with an axe that glittered with malevolent magic.

I just read all of this today. Fantastic stuff. I can't wait for Carnius to get what's coming to him. And for Althain to meet up with Athynae again.

One of the few things worth reading on this forums.

Saenus and I split up, forcing the rogue Legionnaire to make a choice as to which of us he would face. The fight was difficult- it quickly became clear that our opponent was more experienced than either of us. But he still had only one axe and one shield. I discovered that the axe was enchanted with a paralysis charm, fortunately one with a short duration. I took a few painful wounds, but in the end, the enchantment worked against him- he managed to strike me a glancing blow and turned to face Saenus, who was menacing him from the right. As his concentration left me, the magic holding me frozen wore off. Rather than try to strike a decisive blow myself, I bashed the axe aside, leaving Saenus with the opportunity to put his sword through a gap in the smuggler's armor. He fell with a gasp and lay still. Saenus flipped the fallen man's helm off with the tip of his sword and contemplated the corpse.

"Well, well. Mus Roscius. I always knew you would come to a bad end. And if you're here, that probably means?." He stopped for a moment and then said, "I shouldn't speculate- after all, I could be wrong."

We treated our wounds and waited to see if the sounds of fighting had attracted any attention. No one approached us, so we moved deeper into the cavern. Eventually, we found a stone ramp leading down, guarded by a few more rats of the four-footed variety. At the end of a side passage was a small chamber with a roughly-built wooden platform. Based on the barrels and chests, it appeared to be a minor storage area. The containers held some provisions and an assortment of armor, but nothing of any real significance. Remembering the feeling of helplessness that had overcome me when I was paralyzed during our most recent fight, I sorted out some willow anther and shared it with Saenus.

"Try to swallow the powder before we get into close quarters," I said. "It's not as good as a potion, but if we aren't up against a paralysis enchantment, it won't hurt. And if we are, it might keep us alive."

I had just closed the last chest of stolen goods when a voice shouted,

"You have found your grave."

I turned to see a Redguard clad all in shining steel armor, except for his peculiar helm. It looked rather as if a skeletal bear was trying to swallow his head. Although the man was clearly a warrior of some skill, he did not immediately attack, but spoke the words of a spell. His fluency and speed showed that he was no stranger to the use of magic. As a sputtering ball of electricity sped toward us, Saenus and I finally shook off our surprise and dove to opposite sides of the chamber. Even though we avoided the worst effects of the spell, it brushed both of us, and I felt my muscles spasm in reaction. The warrior did not hesitate, but spoke another enchantment. A clannfear appeared at his command; however, it was behind him in the narrow passage and could not get past. I used the moment to struggle to my feet and wave Saenus back as I charged, hoping to reach the battlemage before he could invoke another spell. I knew that trying to fight an accomplished caster at long range was a formula for certain defeat, unless one had magical protection or immunity. The only hope was to keep him off balance so he could not concentrate well enough to complete the words and gestures needed for his spells. Those thoughts on fighting against magic-wielders prompted another idea, and I stopped to swallow a potion along with the willow anther powder. And then I was within reach of the axe my enemy handled with obvious dexterity.

He struck the first blow, and I felt the bite of the blade- along with a peculiar sensation as if something had struck me and rebounded. Which indeed it had. The potion I had imbibed gave me a temporary chance to reflect hostile magic back upon the caster. So it was the Redguard who stood paralyzed, victim of the enchantment on his own weapon. I wasted no time, but smashed him repeatedly with my mace. I ignored the clannfear- the Daedra reptile could not easily reach past its summoner, and I knew that killing the Redguard would dispel the creature. By the time the self-inflicted paralysis wore off, Saenus was at my side. Together we kept the mage from casting any more spells, and were also able to block most of his attacks. When he collapsed at last, the clannfear disappeared with an unhappy squawk- returned to its native Oblivion. Saenus identified the dead Redguard as a man named Sorian, and confirmed that he was a battlemage.

"I recognize that trollbone helm. He hung around the fort for a while, playing dice and drinking with Mus? and some others. Then, when the booze ran out, he disappeared. From what I could tell, he was a mercenary- for sale to the highest bidder and not too delicate about the nature of the work."

The next two smugglers we met were Orcs- the first I had seen on Solstheim. I had learned a great deal about the green-skinned, warlike race while I was at Fort Darius- or so I thought. The difference between an Orc who is your comrade and one who has gone rogue is the difference between a big puppy and a rabid dire-wolf. They have superficial similarities, but the important facts are these: the rogue Orc wants nothing so much as to kill you? and he is superbly equipped to attain that desire. It was fortunate that we came upon them one at a time, else our survival would have been doubtful. The sword-wielding natives of Orsinium again had weapons imbued with paralysis charms; worse yet, their strength and skill meant the wounds we took were more severe than those dealt by Mus and Sorian.

Nevertheless, in each case, the fact that Saenus and I could support one another, could provide crucial seconds for recovery, kept us alive. When the second Orc had fallen, we leaned wearily against the cavern wall, breathing deeply and giving the restorative potions we swallowed time to work. When I had recovered enough to speak, I panted,

"Still...glad?I picked you?'stead of Gaea Artoria?"

Saenus just flicked his sword to one side to clear it of blood and grinned at me.

"Wouldn't have missed it for anything. If we live, I might get a promotion. Better yet, I'll probably never have to pay for another drink on the strength of this story. Two Orcs defeated by the valor of Legion arms- and the talents of Saenus Lusius!"

His grin grew wider. "Of course, I will try to mention that you provided a bit of help, here and there."

I would treasure that moment of light-heartedness- it was the last I would experience for some time.

After taking a few more minutes to recover, we explored further, coming at last to a chamber piled high with crates. Seated on one of the crates was a large Imperial wearing Legion armor and holding an axe casually across his knees. His brown hair was speckled with gray, and his nose showed the broken blood vessels of a heavy drinker. When I went into a defensive stance, he heaved himself to his feet with a sigh and said,

"Wait. There's no need for that. My name is Gualtierus Spurius, and I don't want any trouble. I see you're working with Saenus, and everyone at the fort knows he's a reasonable fellow. Maybe we can make a deal."

When I did not respond, he licked his lips and continued,

"It's like this- I'm in this racket for the money. Since my little operation here is a bust, I'll just get off the island and leave all the weapons behind. You let me go peacefully and don't cause any trouble with Carius, and I'm gone. I'll even give you this nice axe as a little bonus for keeping my name out of it. Carius will never miss me and I'll just disappear. Ask Saenus- he'll give you good advice."

I risked a glance at Saenus, whose normally cheerful face was an expressionless mask. Suddenly, I was very tired. Tired of so-called "adventure," tired of fighting, tired of deceit, tired of Carnius Magius and his damnable "tea." Most of all, I was tired of myself. I had just waded through a sea of blood, dealt death to people who wore the same uniform as I did, been grievously wounded?. And now this sorry excuse for a soldier wanted to offer me a bribe- a "nice shiny axe," so I would let him go. And what if I did? What did it matter, that a few moments go, he would have cheerfully buried that self-same axe in my head? If I let him go, it would save me having to kill him, free me of the burden of another death. And, if he was true to his word, Gualtierus would leave Solstheim- and set up shop somewhere else, where some other wet-behind-the-ears Legion officer would have to deal with him. I glanced once more at Saenus' youthful face, still wearing that wooden expression, and I made up my mind. I spoke none of my thoughts, simply turned back to the smuggler and said,

"No, I don't think so."

And then I hit him as hard as I could.

The fight was short and brutal and did not make me feel any better. I doubted that anything ever would. When it was over, as I bound my wounds, I spoke to Saenus:

"You disagree?"

He looked uncomfortable, then finally said,

"It's not the way I would have handled it, but the job's done, right?"

"Yes, but it's more than that. I suppose I could have let him go- what's one more smuggler? After all, Vvardenfell is infested with them. So maybe it doesn't matter. But there are those dead men, Mus and those others. They should matter, to me if to no one else. And someone has to take responsibility for them. You can argue that they knew the risks and took their chances, but Gualtierus was their leader. He was responsible- just like I would be responsible if you got killed. It's not enough to call yourself the boss and give orders; a leader has to hold himself accountable. Or someone has to do it for him."

I stopped and waved a vague hand,

"Don't worry about it. I just make speeches when I'm tired. Look, I'll clean up here. Please go back to the fort and let Captain Carius know of our success."

Saenus may have seen something on my face, because he looked at me closely and said,

"Very well- if you're sure?."

I sent him on his way and gathered the stolen weapons, after which I stripped the smugglers of their Legion gear. They had dishonored their uniforms, and I would not have them wearing them when they were buried. And what of me? Was I not also dishonoring my uniform with my addiction? I knew the answer, and so I carefully removed that which I had fought so hard to earn. As I shed each piece, I remembered the day it had been issued. Tears fell from my eyes as I quietly recited the litany- "Greaves, steel, left and right, one each?" Finally, I stood in my own clothes, holding the scarf Athynae had given me. I moved to place it with the armor, but I could not. She had given it to me, to Athlain, not to Agent Treyson of the Legion. I wrapped the token carefully about my neck, at once comforted and bereft by the faint scent of perfume that still clung to it.

Solstheim was a dangerous place, though, and it would not do to go unprepared into the wilderness. Therefore, I put together whatever bits and pieces of the smugglers' loot would fit me and picked up the enchanted mace I had brought from Bal Isra. Saenus seemed to be in no hurry to return, so I took a moment to write a note to Captain Carius and another for Athynae. These I placed atop my uniform, and then I left the cavern, pausing at the entry only long enough to pick up the rest of my equipment. Shouldering the burden, I turned my back on Fort Frostmoth and walked north and east, into the forest.

Interlude 7

A note addressed to Captain Falx Carius, Fort Frostmoth, Solstheim (undelivered):

Sir:
At this time, I wish find it necessary to resign my commission as an officer of the Imperial Legion. I am aware that this is highly irregular, and I apologize. Nonetheless, circumstances make it impossible for me to carry out my duties in a professional and exemplary fashion. Please inform Champion Severia Gratius that I will do all in my power to discharge my orders from her as regards the moon sugar poisonings.

Respectfully,

Athlain ap Baria Treyson


A note addressed to Athynae Sarethi, Sarethi Manor, Ald'ruhn, Vvardenfell (undelivered):

Athynae:

You have been a friend and more than a friend to me, and it pains me to write this letter. I had hoped that we might? illegible?

?not the person I should be, nor a fit person for you to know. So it is that I bid you a fond farewell and ask that you remember me as I was, not as I have become. Find?illegible? you happy.

Illegible?.

Athlain


Report on the Attack at Fort Frostmoth, Solstheim, Vvardenfell District, Morrowind (a portion):

Appendix D: Casualty Report

Killed: None
Wounded: Champion Severia Gratius, Guard Nathan Linnaeus
Missing: Captain Falx Carius, Agent Athlain Treyson