#pride month muthsera

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[slusheeduck]

Count Only The Happy Hours

PART I: [I][II][III][IV][V][VI][VII] PART 2: [I][II]

III.

“I-I have that metal sheet you needed, C-Councilor Sil.”

“Hm? Oh, thank you, set it down there.”

Vivec, busy sharpening his sword in the courtyard of their base, paused in his work to look up. Sil, as usual, was elbow deep in one of his metal beasties–this one was less spider-like and instead long and twitchy, not unlike a nix-hound. Meanwhile, the young mer who had brought the sheet did not set it down, instead dithering. He must have been a Dagoth boy, hardly older than Seht himself; the dark hair and angular face certainly gave him a Vorynesque air. He shifted from one foot to the other.

            “Um…do you…do you need anything else, muthsera?”

            “No. Thank you.”

            Vivec closed one eye as he watched the scene, bringing the thumb and forefinger of each hand together before drawing them apart, mimicking an archer about to let his arrow loose. The Dagoth boy didn’t notice.

            “I-I…you know, I-I’m actually, I’m really interested in what you’re doing,” he tried again, almost painfully eager. “I would love to hear you speak about it some time. O-or if I could help you with your work…?”

            Hold…hold…

            “I don’t need help. Thank you, sera,” Sil said in clear dismissal. He hadn’t looked up at the boy once through the whole conversation.

            The boy’s eyes widened, mouth moving silently as he tried to figure out how to salvage the conversation. Finally, looking utterly crestfallen, he sighed and set the metal sheet down, then bowed to Seht and trudged away.

            Vivec let out a ffwth through his teethbefore clicking his tongue, mimicking an arrow shot as he released his invisible bowstring. The sound was enough to startle Sil into noticing him. “That’s number eight.”

            Sil frowned. “Number what?”

            “Eight. That’s the number of shattered hearts you’ve left in your wake in the past three months, at least that I’ve seen.”

            Sil let out a quiet, irritated noise as he rubbed his eyes. “Vehk, what are you saying?”

Vivec rested his elbow on his knee, chin in his hand. “Well, hla’daesohn, you’re at that age. On the market, as they say. And at least eight people have been bold enough to bid.”

Seht’s eyes rolled enough to send his slight frame swaying. “If you’re going to talk nonsense, I’m just going to leave.”

Vivec laughed. “People are interested in you, Seht. You’ve grown into a fine young mer, with a House and a high-ranking position to boot, and the throngs are noticing. Why, if I was your mother…”

“That’s a scary thought.”

“...I’d be beating off would-be wooers with a broom until your eighteenth birthday. Which, if I recall, is coming up in just a few months.” Vivec tilted his head. “And, as your dear older brother, it’s my fraternal duty to ask if any mer has managed to interest you.”

Sil gave a long-suffering sigh, and he returned to his work. “I really don’t think being in the middle of a war is conducive to relationships, Vivec.”

“Oh, that’s not true. In fact, I’d say that love found in times of strife makes for even stronger bonds.”

“From experience?”

“Perhaps. I don’t tell you everything I do.”

Sil gave him one of the flattest looks Vivec had ever received–impressive, considering how often he received them. “You know, most people don’t pride themselves on being hypocrites.”

“I’m not a hypocrite, I’m complex and wonderfully mortal. To be contradictory is…” Vivec’s monologue was, frustratingly, cut off by a pair of strong hands clamping down on his shoulders. He looked up, eyebrows raising as he caught star-bright eyes. “Alandro?”

“Excellent news, Vehk.” Alandro gave his shoulders an uncharacteristically friendly squeeze; Vivec had the feeling that he was not about to get excellent news. “You finally get the chance to do what you do best. You’re on entertainment today.”

Vivec frowned. “I don’t understand.”

Alandro patted his shoulders before sitting down beside him with a sigh. “Well, I only know half of the whole story–these damn House mer all seem to only half-communicate. No offense, Sil.”

“None taken,” Seht said, not even looking up.

“But, from what I can understand, it’s some House…”

“Vivec! Sil!”

Both Vehk and Seht looked up as they heard Nerevar call their names. He gestured for them to come over. Alandro let out a sigh of relief.

“Oh, thank Azura. They can explain this House guarshit,” he said, then pushed himself up to his feet. “Come on, then.” He glanced down at Sil as he carefully pulled a tarp over his work. “Is that a nix-hound?”

“An approximation of one.”

Alandro half-smiled. “Maybe there is some Dwemer in you. You check to see if ol’ Kagrenac’s missing a kid?” he teased, giving Sil’s shoulder a friendly push as they made their way into the war room.

Voryn was already inside, sitting back with his arms crossed. He didn’t look smug, exactly, but there was a definite air of winning an argument surrounding him as Nerevar dropped into the seat beside him. Neht rubbed his face, waiting for Alandro, Sil, and Vivec to take a seat.

“So,” Nerevar started, lifting his head. “There’s a slight update to our plans. You recall we were supposed to speak with the Grandmaster of House Dres?”

“Yes, Grandmaster Elvasea,” Vivec said, sitting up. “Has something happened to her?”

“Something happened to us,” Voryn said, head tilting toward the door. “We suddenly gained an army of Indoril soldiers.”

“Wouldn’t that be a good thing?”

“That’s what I said,” Alandro muttered beside him.

Voryn looked around the room, then sighed. “If it hasn’t been clear in the struggle of getting Nerevar to become Hortator, the Great Houses aren’t exactly fond of each other. Some of it is due to old rivalries–House Dagoth and Indoril, for example, have never been very keen on each other. But sometimes, it’s a little more personal.” He leaned forward, long fingers steepling together. “Indoril’s last grandmaster wasn’t exactly popular among the other houses. He was combative, difficult to work with…” He paused for a moment, then shook his head. “He was a bloodthirsty, miserable old bastard, to put it bluntly. And he made more enemies than friends–including Grandmaster Elvasea.” He waved a hand. “So when word got out that House Indroril’s grandmaster was here, she tried to cancel our discussion.”

Vivec leaned forward. “But Almalexia isn’t her father.”

“That’s what I said,” Nerevar said. Voryn shook his head.

“That doesn’t matter. Grandmaster Almalexia hasn’t proven herself as being different than her father, so in the other Houses’ eyes, it might as well still be him in the seat.” He sat back. “My suggestion is that we leave the grandmaster and her forces here.”

“No, your suggestion is that we sneak out without telling her,” Nerevar shot back. “And I can’t condone that. Almalexia is our ally; we can’t just leave her in the dark, Voryn.”

“She won’t take our leaving her out of discussions well,” Voryn said coolly. “Considering she sprung an army on us and insisted on staying, she’s thus far proven that she is impetuous and stubborn. Which…” He held up his hand as both Neht and Vehk leaned forward to argue. “...is likely because of her age.” He looked to Vivec. “You, Vivec, should know best out of everyone here how important it is to leave out information. I don’t recall you writing about how we had to retreat at Hafnambir, or mentioning how many soldiers we lost at Citha Molkhun?”

Vivec pressed his lips together. “That’s different.”

“Is it? You don’t mention those details because it would decrease morale among the Chimer.” Voryn sighed. “As much as I may not like House Indoril, I don’t want to make an enemy of their Grandmaster. If we don’t tell her about the meeting–the one that we had planned before her entry, may I remind you all–then she has no reason to think she’s being left out.”

Alandro’s head fell back with a groan, and he pushed himself up to his feet. “You godsdamned House mer. Talking to people shouldn’t be a puzzle.”

“Well, I’m very sorry that we can’t all solve our problems by slashing at them like you do in the Ashlands,” Voryn snipped back.

Vivec looked between the two, then glanced at Nerevar as he rubbed his face. This, he realized as his stomach sank, was the exact same thing they had done with him three years ago, in the lead-up to their attack on Hofstaag. Even worse, though, were the words that came from his own lips: “I…agree with Voryn.”

            All three older mer looked to Vivec, and he caught sight of Sil’s eyebrows silently raising. Nerevar frowned, but he leaned forward.

            “Why do you think it’s a good idea?” he asked. The words weren’t challenging, and his pale blue eyes were genuinely curious as they fixed on Vehk.

            “Editing is…essential in what we’re doing,” Vivec said after a moment. “Morale is high, but it wasn’t exactly easy convincing the Houses to make your Hortator, Neht. I may not know House politics, but I know people: Almalexia is young and still adapting to her new role. I’ve seen it in her. If we tell her ‘We’re meeting with Grandmaster Elvasea, but you need to stay here,’ it’s not unreasonable that she’d see it as a slight to her station and ability that we’re leaving her out of House talks.” He shrugged. “It could come across as treating her as a child.”

Voryn gestured to him. “Yes, exactly. It would do us no favors to tell her; whether she comes with us and Elvasea refuses to meet or whether she stays here, there’s a wounded ego waiting to happen. And that brings me to my next suggestion: Vivec and Sil should stay here.” As Vivec sat up, Voryn raised a hand again, adding, “And before your pride gets wounded, Vivec, I am only suggesting this because I genuinely think you’re able to smooth things over with the grandmaster if need be.” He crossed his arms. “You thought you were very slick with that story about her breaking up the mercenaries, didn’t you?”

Vivec grimaced, sitting back in his seat. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said weakly.

“Please. But, much as I hate admitting it, it was a good move on your part. It got her moving and ultimately got us more soldiers. And it’s a detriment to us; I was banking on you talking circles around whatever doubts Grandmaster Elvasea had with your exaggerations.”

Vivec had a feeling his ego was being played to, in a backhanded sort of way. But a compliment–two compliments–from Voryn was a rare occurrence for anyone besides Nerevar. And, admittedly, staying around the vibrant, fascinating young queen did sound much more enjoyable than having to spin words for an old grandmaster from a dour, stark house like Dres. So, after a moment’s deliberation, he nodded.

“All right. I’ll stay.” He tilted his head toward Sil. “Why have Seht stay, though?”

“Well, for one, it’s less suspicious if the two junior counselors are left behind,” Voryn said, then looked over to Sil. “And I don’t imagine you’d particularly enjoy having tea with a Grandmaster who no doubt would be trying to set you up with her eligible granddaughter.”

Sil, to his credit, did try to hide his grimace. “I think my time would be better spent working on the animunculi for the next battle,” he said diplomatically.

Voryn nodded. “So it’s decided. You two stay here, and the three of us will go to see Grandmaster Elvasea. And Vivec, you will keep her from figuring out what we’ve done.”

It didn’t set well with Vivec, having to lie to Almalexia, but…well, that was a war, wasn’t it? He dipped his head.

“I’ll ensure Grandmaster Almalexia is occupied. I’m sure she’s tremendously busy anyway.”

--

The sun was already up by the time Nerevar, Alandro, and Voryn left Ald’ruhn to meet with Grandmaster Elvasea. They weren’t going to be far; her retinue had arrived from the mainland the day before, in Seyda Neen, and they were due to meet halfway, in Balmora. But all the same, leaving early both ensured that they wouldn’t be late, and they’d be less likely to be caught by any Indorils.

Truthfully, Vivec hadn’t slept much at all the night before. He’d meticulously planned the day, crafting a day full of touring Ald’ruhn, talking to locals, endearing her to the mer out here in a way as close to Nerevar’s introduction to Vvardenfell had been. Not only would it endear the Grandmaster to the locals, but it’d also ensure Almalexia didn’t notice the absence of the three senior council members.

So, as he went to her tent once the sun had crested over the ashen hills, he was fully confident in how the day was going to go.

That plan had not included having a sword tossed at him.

He jolted in surprise, just barely catching it–thank the Three it was sheathed, or he might never have written anything again. He looked up to see the source of the toss.

If not for the fiery hair bound back or the sharp, golden eyes, he might not have realized it was the Grandmaster in front of him. Her armor had been left inside the tent, it seemed, and she was clad in the more usual style of mainlander Chimer–a tight, cropped jerkin, leaving her arms and midriff exposed, and a pair of breeches just loose enough to allow for movement without running the risk of being caught by a blade. Inky black tattoos covered her exposed skin, traveling down her arms and perfectly mirroring itself across the taut golden skin of her stomach. He wondered, for a moment, if they were significant, but his attention was drawn back up at the choking noise that came from Hlareni, who stepped out from the tent at precisely the moment Vivec caught the sword.

“Almalexia,” she hissed, walking over to the other woman. “You cannot throw swords at our hosts!”

“Oh, I’m quite alright,” Vivec assured, giving her a smile before he looked down at the sword. “It, ah, is certainly a way to make sure you’re awake. But I was just coming by to see if the Grandmaster would like a tour of Ald’ruhn.” His brow furrowed, and he glanced back up to Almalexia. “Though I am curious why you threw a sword at me.”

“Well, I did think you were the Hortator,” Almalexia said with a shrug. “You wear your hair the same. I wanted to spar with him; I’ve heard so much about his prowess, and I wanted to see how it matched with my own.”

Hlareni rubbed her forehead. “Alma, throwing swords at the Hortator is worse.” She blanched. “Not…obviously, Councilor Vivec, we don’t want to throw swords at you, either, I just…”

Vivec chuckled, unsheathing the sword. “Well, I’m afraid the Hortator is caught up for the moment. But I’d be glad to spar with the Grandmaster–I’m no Nerevar, certainly, but I’ve held my own on several occasions.” He gave a shrug, along with a lazy flourish of his sword. “I did, after all, train with Fa-Nuit-Hen.”

Hlareni gaped at him. “Fa…Fa-Nuit-Hen? Boethiah’s son?”

“The very one. I was very, very young, of course, so the details of his teaching get a bit fuzzy.”

Almalexia’s eyebrows rose, but her eyes narrowed at him, an amused smile on her lips. “He’s joking, f’lah.”

Vivec’s hand went over his heart, jaw dropped in indignation. “You’re calling me a liar, muthsera? I would never do such a thing, especially not to our esteemed guests.” He gestured toward the training area with his sword. “But, of course, you’re more than welcome to test me.”

“Then I will,” Almalexia said, lifting her chin with a smile as she walked over. “If the Hortator’s too busy, I suppose a student of Fa-Nuit-Hen will suffice.”

“You keep saying that like you don’t believe me.”

“That’s because I don’t, serjo.” She looked over at Hlareni over her shoulder. “You ought to go chat with Councilor Sil. He seems like the type to get busy.”

Vivec looked to Hlareni as he rested his sword against his shoulder, eyebrows raising. “You have something to discuss with Sil?”

Hlareni went stiff, and he could see the way she was trying to keep herself from going red; it wasn’t working. “Oh, ah, well, I…I just think his creations are fascinating, a-and I want to learn more about them. And he’s so very…tall.”

            And here’s number nine, Vivec thought, but he smiled at her. “Extraordinarily tall, yes,” he said with a chuckle. “He’ll be glad to talk metal beasties with you, though don’t expect him to notice when you get bored.”

            “I won’t get bored,” Hlareni insisted just a touch too emphatically. She stiffened, then quickly bowed to Almalexia. “I’ll…I’ll be back shortly, Grandmaster.” When Almalexia nodded, she turned on her heel and practically jogged away.

            Vivec smiled, turning to catch up with the Grandmaster. “No one’s had luck with him yet, you know.”

            Almalexia rolled her eyes, though the action was obviously fond. “Reni is…eager for love. Always has been. She’ll drool over Councilor Sil for a week and then get her head back on straight when he shoots her down.”

            “You’ve known her for a long time, then?”

            “Oh, yes, we grew up together. Her mother was my father’s favorite advisor.” She smiled. “She probably seems very flouncy and coddled to you, but she’s a great asset on the battlefield. And…she’s much better at being polite than I am.”

            Vivec smiled. “I can sympathize with her. I’m the one who reminds Seht to be polite.” He chuckled as they reached the training ground. “They’ll probably get along marvelously in that case.”

“Mm.” Almalexia rolled her neck, then looked straight at Vivec. “Now, most people don’t give it their all when they spar with me. I’m insisting that you do, Councilor; if I can’t block your attacks, then I have no business being here.”

Vivec dipped his head. “Of course, Grandmaster. And, of course, I’ll be a terrible pupil of both Fa-Nuit-Hen and Nerevar if I can’t block yours.”

Almalexia grinned. “Excellent. To three hits, then.”

She gave him a bow, and he returned it, then they both lifted their weapons. There was a glint in her golden eyes, dangerous and bright, and it was all the warning Vivec got before she lunged. He barely jumped back in time, the metal of her blade singing through the air.

Well. He could see how Alandro was starting to warm up to her.

But he was very, very quick, his movements light and airy compared to her grounded force. She dove for him with heavy bladework; he flitted in her blind spots to look for an opening. She countered with ease; he wondered if she had been born with a blade in her hand, with how naturally her sword moved with her. He kept just out of reach—he was a good swordsmer, yes, but he was a late learner; his cuts were clumsy compared to hers.

It was well and truly a dance, each style complimenting the other’s just enough to keep blows from landing.

“One.”

He landed the first hit with a clever feint; the force of her blow toward it slowed her down, and he was able to tap the flat of his sword against her arm. He backed away to reset, smiling…until he saw the look on her face. The glint in her eyes blazed into golden fire as she looked over at him, and she set her jaw as she stood up straight.

Ah. This was not a mer who liked to lose.

He raised his sword, signaling his readiness, and she came at him with all the fury of He-Who-Destroys and She-Who-Erases. He fell to defense, just barely blocking her blows as she came at him with boundless stamina. It wasn’t a surprise when he floundered, rewarded with the hard slap of cold metal against his arm.

“One,” she said.

The next round he faired better. He knew what to expect with this renewed passion, and, accustomed as he was to opponents much bigger and stronger than he was, he could work around brute force.

“Two,” he said.

But she was catching on. If his movements were flighty and quick, then she was a sabrecat, prowling for him. She worked on wearing him down, goading him one direction and the next, following his movements with her fiery gaze.

“Two,” she said.

By now, they were both panting, skin dusty from the combination of sweat and ash. They circled each other, each waiting for the other to move first. A few coppery curls had escaped from Almalexia’s braid, brushing her cheeks. Vivec gave her a grin.

“Has anyone told you how very beautiful you are?” he asked. “Like a star blazing through the sky as it falls.”

Almalexia gaped, caught off-guard. He lurched forward, tapping his sword against her thigh.

“Three.” Vivec sheathed his sword, still grinning. “You see, Neht was right: I wield my words just as well as my sword.”

Almalexia stared at him, and he met her gaze. There was a moment where he could see fury at the trick boiling beneath her skin. But, like a fever, it seemed to break, and she let out a laugh.

“I would call that cheating,” she says. “But really, I should know better. Hollow compliments are all you hear in my position.”

“Who said it was hollow? I speak nothing but the truth, muthsera.”

“Mm. Like your egg? And Fa-Nuit-Hen?”

“Exactly. Regardless of what you think, it’s all very true to me.”

Almalexia’s gaze flicked up to him, a soft sort of curiosity in her eyes. For a moment, they were silent, an unspoken question hanging heavily between them. There were several options for what it was; Vivec was quite content to wait for it to surface.

But she broke the spell before it could, sheathing her sword. “Have you considered using a spear, Councilor?”

“Like the netchimen use?”

“In a sense. You like to stay as far away as possible from your target; I think a spear would suit you quite well.” She tucked a curl behind her ear. “I could show you, later. I’m trained in just about every weapon possible.”

Vivec’s lips turned up, and he set his hand over his heart. “I would be honored. In fact, I…” He went quiet, head suddenly turning. “Do you hear that?”

Almalexia frowned, striding over to him. “It sounds like…fighting. Is there training today?”

“No, it…” Vivec’s eyes went wide. “Seht!”

He sprinted back into town, immediately greeted with the smell of smoke and blood on the stones.

The streets were full of Nords, a surprise attack no doubt planned for when the councilors were due to be away. The Chimer, at least, were holding their own; from his quick glance as he ran, it seemed that there were more Nord bodies on the cobblestones. But their base…that’s where they were headed. And where he’d left Sil.

A few Nords tried to cut him down, but he was quicker. Each was slashed as he made his way through the streets, either dead or incapacitated; he didn’t care to check.

Smoke was already pouring out of the hall when he reached it, and he stood for just a moment too long as the worst possibility entered his mind. He reacted far too late as he saw movement in the corner of his eye, and a Nord—large and furious, eyes wild with bloodlust—lunged at him. Just as he braced for the deep cut of her blade, the Nord’s head, still snarling, fell forward, with her body following quickly behind. Vivec looked up to see Almalexia panting, blade dripping red.

“Go inside and get the survivors,” she barked at him, full of authority. She turned to the nearby Chimer, shouting commands and directing them against the onslaught.

Vivec wasted no time; he dove into the smoke-filled hall, eyes watering against it. As he ran, he stumbled on something, just barely affording a look as he caught his balance. The Dagoth boy, the one that had been mooning over Seht just that morning, lay motionless and pale on the ground, black eyes fixed blindly overhead and blood leaking into his dark hair.

Vivec breathed out a prayer to Azura, but he turned and kept moving. To the living Chimer he found, he yelled out directions to the exit, urging them to leave, NOW and find Grandmaster Almalexia.

Finally, he made it to the courtyard. There, in the center, was Sil; given the charred bodies around him, he must have been able to hold his own with his magic. But magicka was finite, and even from here, Vehk could see he had drained his reserves. He had a hollow look in his face, and for a brief moment as they locked eyes, he saw the very same boy he’d found in the rubble three years ago.

Vivec cried out as one of the bodies moved. A Nord heaved himself up, axe in hand, and lunged toward Sil. Vivec sprinted forward, blade up, but he wouldn’t be fast enough. Sil looked up at the Nord.

It was just two motions. One quick pull of the knife out of the sheath at Sil’s belt, and a sharp, sideways push into the Nord’s belly.

Sil left the knife in the Nord as he fell, and he nearly tripped over his own feet in his haste to get to Vivec. “There wasn’t any warning,” he said, words tumbling over themselves. “They just…they flooded the city. I didn’t have time to send my spiders out, I did what I could with my magic, but…”

Vivec took his face, looking him over. “Are you hurt?”

“O-only superficially. We have to get the others out.”

“They’re out. Almalexia’s in the city. Did Hlareni make it to you?”

“Y-yes, but I didn’t…once the attack started, I-I—Vivec, turn around!”

Vivec whirled around, eyes wide as a large Nord burst through the doorway. She wielded a mace as tall as she was, and she let out a bellow of fury as she locked eyes on Vivec and Sil.

“Stay behind me, Sil,” Vivec said.

“But…”

“Stay behind me, hla’daesohn.”

Adrenaline was singing through Vivec’s veins, but even so, he could feel the edges of exhaustion. His sparring with Almalexia had used up more stamina than he’d initially thought, and it was very likely that this would not end well. He took a breath, adjusting his grip on his blade, then gritted his teeth.

The Nord gave an unpleasant laugh and muttered to herself, no doubt something about “milk-drinking knife ears.” It was possible he could taunt her into a fury if she was talkative. It could buy Sil enough time to get out. He just had to find the right way to…

The Nord lunged. Vivec pushed Sil back, then sprinted forward. Silently, he prayed that the mace would crush his skull too quickly for him to greet his death. A coward’s prayer, maybe, but infinitely more preferable to feeling his brains spatter the courtyard.

But, rather than his death, he was greeted with a spray of blood as an arrow tore through the Nord’s neck.

He skidded to a halt, staring as several more arrows whizzed through the air. The Nord went down silently, and both he and Sil stared at her body for a moment. It wasn’t until they heard a breathless voice calling, “Councilors!” that they turned around.

Hlareni sprinted up to them. Her hair had fallen from its ribbon, and her finery was smudged with soot and blood. She still had an arrow nocked, and her blue eyes were sharp as she scanned the area.

“Are you all right?” she asked. “I-I’m sorry, Councilor Sil, I…I had to get to higher ground and…”

“Apologize later,” Vivec said quickly. “We need to get out.”

She nodded. “I’ll take the front. I’m not as good at short-range, but I can manage!” She nodded for them to follow her, and the three made their way out to the streets.

By the time they were outside, the Nords were already retreating, with a few more being felled by arrows and spells on their way out. Vivec’s head swiveled, looking for Almalexia. He found her in the middle of the street, holding an arm out to stop their forces from following after them. She stood tall, face stony and eyes blazing as she watched the retreat. Once the Nords were out of the city walls, she turned to the crowd behind her.

“These Outlanders have no place here!” she called to the mer behind her. “They attack our city, our homeland, as nothing more than an invasive blight on Resdayn! But we have driven them back like the vermin they are!”

A cheer rose from the crowd, and Vivec found his own spirit lifting. Well! She might be well on her way to becoming as popular as…

“Nerevar.” Sil gripped Vivec’s arm. “The Nords must have known that he would be gone. They wouldn’t have struck like that otherwise. Which means…”

Vivec’s spirits quickly dropped back down to his feet. “There may be another ambush.” He whirled around. “Grandmaster!” he called up to Almalexia. “Organize the remaining mer!”

Almalexia turned back to look at him, brow furrowing, but she gave a short nod. “Hlareni! Guide the soldiers to finding survivors! I’ll take care of the fighters.”

Vivec ushered Sil to the gates, another rush of fear giving his legs strength as they ran. They had to be quick—if they dallied too long, they could be too late.

He prayed, to the Three Good Daedra and any other Divine that would listen, that they weren’t already.

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