Tsavani did not appreciate disruptions. The Thalmor were wise, had restored the moons, blah, blah, Tsavani did not particularly care. She had been offered the job on her sister Shavari’s recommendation, it paid well enough and she was permitted to visit with her caravan cousins once a week when they were outside the nearby city gates. The Thalmor’s money paid for a good supply of Moon Sugar, even a little smoke of Skooma from time to time.
In return, she worked hard to ensure they enjoyed her cooking and kept her in this relatively warm and comfortable position, and that Shavari knew nothing of the little pouch filled for her every Morndas evening. Disruptions made it hard to concentrate, particularly on a Sundas when she was running low on Sugar. And now that damn Wood-Elf was bringing some idiot noble into her kitchen…
“Who comes, Malborn? You know I don’t like strange smells in my kitchen.”
“A guest, feeling ill. Leave the poor wretch be.”
“A guest? In the kitchens? You know this is against the rules…”
“Rules, is it, Tsavani? I didn’t realise that eating Moon Sugar was permitted. Perhaps I should ask the Ambassador?”
“Tss! Get out of here, I saw nothing.” For a moment, Tsavari thought the smell of this one was not so strange, but the damn nobles wore so much perfume it was hard to tell. No matter, she was leaving, heading into the pantry, not Tsavari’s problem now. The two elves muttered at each other a little, then Malborn closed the pantry door and headed back to the party room. Tsavari returned to her cooking.
---
Nerussa stared at the bag. Damn, she hadn’t thought of this. Her plan had been to bluff her way out of the building under the guise of needing some air, but what party guest would be carrying a grubby brown leather knapsack? While she was thinking, she grabbed the robe she’d placed on the top of the assortment of potions, scrolls and other equipment Malborn had smuggled in, wrapped a couple of dozen cakes and pastries in it, and shoved it back in the bag. “Sod it”, she thought, “this might be the last taste of Alinor I’ll get.”
And with that she lifted her skirt and wedged the bag between her knees. Well, an inability to walk properly would help with the impression of having been taken ill, right? Thankfully any staff too unimportant to be present in the party itself would be unlikely to dare look a nobly dressed Altmer woman in the face. She drew herself up to her full height, and opened the door.
“Can’t believe it’s him, Elenwen nearly – Can I help you my lady?”
“I need some air, kindly escort me to a suitable location.” Gods, she recognised him, he’d arrived from Alinor at the same time she had. Thankfully he seemed to be averting his eyes. That or examining her neckline, it was difficult to tell with one’s nose so high in the air.
“Of course, my lady. Come with me.” He ushered her towards the door, held it open for her.
“That will be all.”
She leaned against the back of the door for a moment, her eyes straying towards the door of Elenwen’s Solar. Sure enough, a guard was standing outside, near the end of his shift, judging by the slight slump in his posture. Perfect. She watched him for a minute or two, and decided to take the risk. She cast her Dampening Rune spell and dual-cast Invisibility. Fortunately he didn’t seem to notice – she had been worried, the bright red dress rather stood out against the snow and grey stone walls – and she made for the window at the side of the building where she’d slipped inside once before. She was pretty sure they’d known she was looking through records she shouldn’t have, but apparently they hadn’t bothered to fix the lock, and she was able to pull the window up, drop her bag inside, and clamber in.
---
Thalmor Dossier: Agent 3521
Status: Fugitive/believed deceased. If found alive: Capture only, Medium Priority, Emissary Level Approval. Threat Level: Low.
Description: Altmer female of mixed blood, brownish skin tone, reddish brown hair, grey eyes. Larger than normal build. 60s.
Background: Born to adequate Alinor family. Some Nord blood (mother’s side?) as evidenced by appearance. Paternal grandmother spent some time in Vvardenfell around the period of that island’s Blight (3E427), and returned, clearly with child, in 3E431, claiming to have been briefly married to an Altmer healer based in Balmora. Recent information has cast doubt on this claim; we are awaiting confirmation before further detail is included here. Letters from this relative were located among the Agent’s personal effects after her disappearance/demise and are enclosed.
Strong student, particularly of linguistics, adequate mage but not especially gifted. No aptitude for weaponry, surprisingly weak given large size. Joined ranks as administrative worker on graduation. Present at Vampire Symposium, 4E185. Submitted self for re-education immediately afterwards.
Operational Notes: Suspected of contact/possible conspiracy with a known enemy of Alinor (see dossier: Falmer Berate). Known to have viewed ordinary-level papers regarding said individual on more than one occasion under pretext of archival work. Believed disposed of at the Nord village Helgen on 17th Last Seed, 4E201, under guise of working to further Thalmor interests in Skyrim, however certain information received suggests Agent 3521 may have survived. Justiciar Saltar currently investigating claims, thus far most appear to be some kind of Nord blend of folk tale and gossip, however we cannot assume the absence of confirmed sightings (either under her own name or any known aliases, see appended list) is evidence that she did not survive, particularly given the incident at Helgen on that day. No known connection with Ulfric Stormcloak, however one cannot be ruled out at this stage. Most likely explanation if she did survive is that she opportunistically fled through an unattended gate, more probably the person observed is simply a provincial Altmer, recently immigrated from Cyrodiil, with a passing resemblance to the Agent.
---
“Threat level: low”? Well, that explained why she’d been allowed to mingle at the party, rather than being immediately detained, Nerussa thought. Presumably they hadn’t wanted to make a scene in front of guests when it would be easy enough to insist that their countrywoman remain at the end of the night under the guise of Altmer tradition.
She looked through the other files for Äelberon’s dossier – the one she’d looked at all those months ago was under his given name, but it was clear who “Falmer Berate” referred to. She swore under her breath at that. Strangely, neither file was anywhere in the record room. Perhaps Elenwen had taken them to her private office for review? She was glad to have retrieved her grandmother's letters, and for some reason felt she ought to try and get hold of Äelberon's dossier - it was meaningless, he was, what, in Cyrodiil? But she felt the need to somehow protect his name, if only in this small way.
She did, however, find a slim dossier on Delphine, and a note from Third Emissary Rulundil – she shuddered at his name – which seemed to confirm her own belief that the Thalmor were not responsible for the return of the dragons. It mentioned prisoners in Rulundil’s custody who might be able to shed further light on the situation.
Nerussa rubbed her temples. She could leave now. She had confirmation that the Thalmor weren’t involved. She was increasingly certain the only entity responsible for the return of the dragons was Alduin, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that perhaps these prisoners did know something, and that perhaps she should, well… rescue them?
Oghma’s tits, was she really intending to go up against Rulundil? He was one of the Thalmor’s strongest mages, and he was a vicious, malicious, spiteful bastard. She really wished she’d been able to bring the Staff of Hasedoki. She wouldn’t be able to channel High Born again for at least another day, not that it was tremendously useful defensively, but it at least meant she could afford to heal as she attacked. She checked her pack – two strong potions of Spellshield and one of Shockbane. She pulled out her potion belt – the potions would be no use on her back – and buckled it on. She nudged the door so it began opening slowly, and cast her Rune.
--
Table of Contents
Author note: “Berate” translates as “half-Elf”. Obviously Falmer, taken literally, just means Snow-Elf. In the context of being a “Falmer half-Elf”, though, they’re implying he’s descended from the creatures described by some as “the Betrayed”, not merely that he is of mixed heritage (which would be bad enough in their eyes). (With thanks to The Long-Chapper again on this one!)
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Not sure if Lis told you, but she made an appearance in Of H... more
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