(16th Sun’s Dusk, continued)
“Vigilance, you talk to him, maybe you can convince him to chase after a hare or two?”
Lydia sighed. She’d taken the dogs out with the intention of walking over to Rorikstead to visit her family before the Thane came back – she was due the following day, although Lydia had a sinking feeling that whatever plan she wasn’t being told about was a pretty risky one. Mostly, she’d brought the dogs out to try and cheer Sky – she’d had to find something to call him – a little, but she had to admit she was in need of distraction herself.
Vigilance was his usual self, clearly enjoying his run on the plains, but with that slight reserve of the trained fighter. Sky was, well, she supposed that since she’d known him “miserable” was his usual self, but she got the strong impression he wasn’t really like that. She hoped they could find out what he was so sad about, although him having shown up for sale at Banning’s made the most likely explanation – a lost master – a pretty un-fixable one. He was a beautiful dog, though, a husky, she thought the breed was called – Lydia was more used to dogs that were just, well, dogs.
She decided to cut across country rather than stick to the roads. Less likely to have to get the dogs out of the way of horses or the occasional carriage, and she felt a sudden inclination to visit the shrine of Stendarr along the way. She wasn’t exactly a follower of Stendarr, but she always felt a little stronger after visiting the shrine, and taking a moment to ensure the braziers still burned brightly. She had brought a small offering – a bottle of mead and a sweetroll. Not the most inspired choices, but it felt right somehow. She found herself praying for her Thane’s safe return from whatever lunatic thing she was planning to do this evening.
---
A young boy – a little older than the children who played in the streets of Solitude proper, she thought, but not much – greeted her as she entered the yard by the stable.
“WelcometoKatlasFarmforallyourequineneeds! CanIhelpyoumadam?”
She blinked. “Thank you. You’re actually looking after my horses already, although I looked, um, different when I brought them here. I’m actually meeting someone, a Breton woman, yellow hair..?”
“Oh, her. Yeah, she’s over by the mill. Late, are you? She’s been stomping around like a bee’s in her drawers for the last half hour. Erm. Your grace?”
Nerussa sighed, thanked the boy, and headed over to the mill, trying to keep her gown from trailing in any muck. Thankfully the yard was largely clean, presumably at the hands of the lad, but there was no point acting rashly when one was about to walk into a party held by someone one was fairly certain wanted one dead, or possibly even actually thought one already was.
Delphine was, as he’d said, pacing impatiently, a pack discarded on the ground next to her. Was that..? Yes, it looked very much as though the sleeve of one of those hideous quilted robes some of the nobles wore was sticking out of the top of the pack. Nerussa hoped Delphine wasn’t expecting her to change.
“Finally here, I see?” Delphine looked Nerussa up and down, not bothering to hide her surprise. “Hmph, guess you scrub up better than I thought. Well, here’s your invitation, you gave your gear to Malborn, I take it?”
“Yes, all set. I even washed behind my ears. The delay was unavoidable, but it’s not considered especially polite to arrive too early at an Altmer’s party, so I’m sure it will be fine. Anything I need to know before I set off?”
Delphine looked as though she was counting to ten before she spoke. “Just… don’t do anything foolish. Get in, slip away, find evidence the Thalmor are behind the dragons, and get out. No need for a diplomatic incident.”
“I thought the Blades rather enjoyed those?” Nerussa smiled, breathed a sigh of relief that she hadn’t had to argue about her outfit, and climbed into the waiting carriage.
---
Whatever the evening held, thought Nerussa, the look on Elenwen’s face would have been worth it. She wasn’t actually sure she’d ever seen her expression be anything other than studiedly placid, even in situations where she was clearly furious. She actually looked shocked, and Nerussa was relieved that, apparently, Saltar hadn’t informed on her. Of course, it only lasted a few moments before the First Emissary composed herself, and, a little too loudly, introduced herself.
“Welcome, I am Elenwen, the Thalmor Ambassador to Skyrim. And you are..?”
“Nerussa, Thane of Whiterun and the Rift. Pleased to meet you, Haprasse.”
The inflection on the first syllable was almost unnoticeable, but it had the desired impact. She probably shouldn’t play with Elenwen like this, but that nigh-imperceptible twitch by one of her oh-so correct cheekbones was priceless. Fine, that was enough, time to behave. She smiled blandly – she had not yet mastered ‘placid’, it would have to do – and waited for Elenwen to respond.
“Ah, yes. I remember your name from the guest list. You are from Alinor, no? What brings you to this… to Skyrim?”
Nerussa opened her mouth to answer, but fortunately Malborn, standing at the bar in earshot of their niceties, called for the First Emissary’s attention, and Nerussa slipped into the function room. It seemed a significant amount of the rest of the cargo of the ship which had brought Taarie’s new stock of fabrics from Alinor, had been furnishings for the Embassy, to make it seem, well, "more like home" might be pushing it, but a little less “upper-class Barbarian” than when she was here last. The cold stone walls were almost entirely obscured with a series of vibrant draperies, far more than one would see in Alinor, of course, but then in Alinor one wasn’t trying to disguise the architecture but to accentuate it. Finely carved elen wood tables, oiled and polished to a deep honey colour presumably intended to mimic antique wood – nobody would risk genuine antiques on a ship to a land of savages – were placed discreetly here and there, bearing plates of… Nerussa hoped nobody heard the little groan that escaped her when she realised there were genuine, imported Summerset Orange Cakes and Milene and Sancarnile and… She forced herself to turn away from the pastries and instead focus on the crowd around her.
For a Sundas night, the gathering was impressive. The Jarls from each Imperial-held Hold, along with half a dozen or so courtiers, assistants, and other hangers-on. All the higher-ranking Justiciars in the province, with – she exhaled in relief – the exception of Ancano, presumably unable to leave the College unattended. A number of merchant types, she thought she recognised the young woman in charge of the East Empire Company’s office at the Solitude Docks. General Tullius, who gave her a rueful look before being pulled aside by a vaguely familiar Breton woman – gods, it was the obnoxious widow who seemed to have taken up residence in the Winking Skeever in hopes of snagging a rich replacement for the husband she lost in Helgen? Nerussa wished Tullius luck, under her breath.
Fine, she thought. Time to make conversation. She hesitated for half a second or so, and made a beeline for Idgrod Ravencrone.
Well, any self-respecting bee would make a diversion for a Summerset Orange Cake.
Table of Contents
A/n: “Haprasse” is my attempt (with thanks to Skyrimnut and the Imperial Library for help/vocab page) at an Aldmeris equivalent to “Emissary” (I feel like titles would be in Aldmeris rather than Altmeris). In my mind, it’s pronounced with a lightly accented “e” at the end, almost rhyming with “passé” but without the strong stress usually placed on the last syllable in English. Stressing the first syllable, grammatically, is something of a power play in this situation, a very subtle – Altmer are always very subtle – assertion of Nerussa’s increased rank as compared to previous meetings. I believe that, by Altmer standards, Elenwen would still be seen as higher ranking – officially, Nerussa’s only titles are very minor, and a Thalmor Ambassador to a scummy province would naturally outrank a minor courtier in said province, but knowing one could, should one choose, shout one’s former employer across the room does tend to lend a little extra confidence, no?
(I’ve kind of winged it a bit with the list of cakes and sweets – basically I put words that mean nice things or things you might shape a cake like, together in ways that sound pleasing to me. “Milene” is from “mil” (sweet) and “en” (eye) – I’m imagining something similar to a cinnamon whirl. “Sancarnile” translates as “golden flowers” – I’m thinking they’re something like this http://www.tosimplyinspire.com/apple-rose-puffed-pastries.html )
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