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[i][h3]Narzul Alone[/h3][/i]
[i]24th of Sun's Height, 4E205[/i]
[i]Wayward Pass, Skyrim[/i]

He had quickly decided he hated these lands.

The sun was at its apex overhead and, while its light shone unobstructed across the desolate mountainous landscape, it didn't seem to melt the snow at all this high up. Narzul Venim clenched his jaw and ground his teeth as he trudged through the knee-high bank of white crystals. He was constantly reminded of the swampy terrain of Black Marsh and how their marches had been just as slow and exhausting back then. Now, however, Narzul wasn't dressed in the finest ebony armor, marching in formation with hundreds of his fellows. Instead, the tall Dunmer was clad in a mismatched suit of armor assembled from pieces in different styles in various states of disrepair. Combined with the hooded cape that hung limply down his back (over which he carried his bag and shield) and the rusty helmet that hid his face Narzul looked like some nameless hedge knight or mercenary for all the world to see. That suited him just fine.

And he was utterly alone.

He had decided to mostly stay off the roads and make his way parallel to them throughout the wilderness, but the sloping hills, mountains and forests that Skyrim was made of were just as unwelcoming as Narzul had heard. An encounter with a ferocious cluster of frostbite spiders the day before had forced him to sit, rest and clean their corrosive venom off his shield for half an afternoon. A pack of wolves had hounded him during the night four days ago, sending him off course for hours. And even when Skyrim and its creatures weren't trying to kill him other threats slowed him down. Last week, back in Eastmarch, he had to divert for several miles to avoid Kamal and Armiger patrols. While he was technically on their side and shouldn't have anything to fear, Narzul wanted as few people as possible to know his whereabouts and his motives. On top of that, Narzul had no idea what to expect from the foreign Kamal and he knew that the Armigers who ranged out into Skyrim were Ashlanders; they had no love in their hearts for the Dunmer of the Great Houses. And last but not least was the terrain itself that also seemed to be fighting his progress, especially now that he hiked the mountain passes that stretched from Winterhold to Dawnstar. With every passing day, Narzul's concern grew.

Clutched in his gauntlets as he marched on was Narzul's only clue to the whereabouts of his sister: one of the latest issues of the Tamrielic Gazette. He had obtained this copy from the same group of Armigers that had let him pass through the border. Those patrols were drawn from Blacklight locals and, after some persuasion, were willing to set aside the rules for a second to aid one of their own... especially Narzul Venim, hero of the raids on Black Marsh and the youngest House Father of Redoran. The Gazette contained an alleged interview with Niernen, who was described as 'noble sorceress, honored by the High King himself' that selflessly put herself between the 'savage invaders' and the citizens of Windhelm. [i]Recklessly,[/i] Narzul thought bitterly. [i]Not selflessly.[/i] She had inadvertently made herself an enemy of her own nation. Before Niernen had left for Windhelm Narzul had pleaded with her not to do anything stupid or rash -- this certainly seemed to be exactly those things. [i]Why didn't you come home?[/i]

Most importantly, however, was the journalist's signature at the bottom of the interview: [i]'Madura Dalas, reporting from Dawnstar.'[/i] If Niernen had remained true to the statements she'd given Madura and stuck with the Company after the fall of Windhelm, that's where Narzul would find her.

Narzul stopped for a short moment of rest in the shadow of a large, snow-covered boulder that had made its resting place on the mountainside and consulted his map. If he had accurately charted his journey Dawnstar looked to be only another day away. Narzul peered around the boulder and in the supposed direction of the coastal city. He could see the pale gray waters of the Sea of Ghosts at the edge of the horizon while the rest of the Pale stretched out beneath him; sloping foothills of the mountains that gave way to a sea of green pine trees and, even further, the rocky coast. It was summer and the skies were blue. Narzul had to admit there was something beautiful about the sight. After a few seconds of searching his eyes found the straw rooftops and columns of smoke that indicated Nordic settlement and a faint smile curled his lips. 

[i]I'm coming.[/i]

--

[i]25th of Sun's Height, 4E205
Dawnstar[/i]

It was already evening by the time the Dunmer warrior reached the outskirts of Dawnstar. The closer he got the faster his heart began to beat and the quicker his pace became. This was the moment of truth. If Narzul could not find her here, his search was likely at an end. As he finally left the last of the pine forest behind him and came within view of the city, the first thing he noticed was a large tent camp set up outside the city walls. Once he realized what it was Narzul froze in his tracks and watched from a distance, trying to discern the nature of the camp's inhabitants that were milling about. Before he became consciously aware of it, his subconscious had already interpreted correctly what his eyes were seeing and Narzul was strongly reminded of one of his time in Black Marsh, lording over a thronging mass of scales and tails. 

Argonians.

Immediately wary, Narzul narrowed his eyes and bit the inside of his cheek. Was this a Kamal slave-camp? Had Dawnstar already fallen to their assault? He was confident he had kept time correctly during his journey; it seemed unlikely that the foreign invaders were ahead of schedule and, while he had never seen them with his own eyes, Narzul hadn't seen any ships in the city's harbor that matched the description he'd received of the Kamal war frigates. Slowing his approach to a cautious march, he resumed his path towards the city which would lead him, unfortunately, through the camp, as Dawnstar was protected on all other sides by natural barriers. 

None of the lizards seemed pleased to see him. Their heads turned as they heard Narzul approach and their strange, slitted eyes glared at him with a mixture of emotions; fear, resentment, exhaustion. Narzul was fairly sure they had no way of telling his race unless they got close enough to see the reds of his eyes but he kept one hand on the pommel of his sword just in case. The camp smelled terrible and many of the Argonians looked like they hadn't had a proper meal in weeks, but they were moving and talking freely. It dawned on him where he was -- a refugee camp. Various thoughts crossed Narzul's mind, ranging from how easy it would be to snatch all of these lizards up with a few dozen soldiers to a subtle acknowledgement of the despair around him. Narzul had never been on this side of a war before. The fact that there still seemed to be a semblance of hope among the refugees made it even more piteous. [i]Half of you won't live to see another winter,[/i] Narzul thought to himself. 

As if his mind had been read, Narzul heard a raspy voice call out behind him. "You, stranger," it said, and Narzul came to a sudden halt. He looked over his shoulder to see a trio of male Argonians dressed in rags staring at him. The Dunmer opened his mouth to say something but quickly cut himself off -- if he spoke now, the gravely nature of his voice would betray his race to these lizards. A potentially fatal mistake. Instead, Narzul chose to remain silent, expectantly waiting for the Argonians to say something else. "You carry supplies, do you not? Many here are sick and wounded. We need your help. What can you spare?" 

Unfazed, Narzul looked ahead and continued walking, his iron boots thudding heavily on the dead grass and muddy ground. If that was all they had to say he wasn't going to waste his time. Behind him, the Argonians hissed in anger. "Do you not care at all?" one of them called out to Narzul. It occurred to him that he had never had a proper conversation with an Argonian before. He wasn't even aware they were so eloquent.

The [i]pit-pat[/i] of fast footsteps approaching from behind made Narzul whirl around, unsheathing his ebony war-sword in one fluid motion. The Argonians sprung back out of the blade's reach and one of them cried out in rage -- all three suddenly had shivs in their hands. "Give us your bag, landstrider! We are [i]dying!"[/i] Their gazes shifted nervously from the tip of Narzul's sword to each other and back. The Dunmer was confident he could take on three unarmored lizards armed with nothing more than crude daggers, but he did not relish the thought of facing the wrath of the entire encampment; more Argonians had gathered around them, watching the confrontation from between the tent flaps in silence. Still refusing to speak, Narzul shook his armored head slowly from side to side. 

"Let the stranger pass unharmed. We do not stoop to petty thievery in times of hardship." Narzul and the Argonians looked to aside to see a much older Argonian, hunched over and with his claws clasped around a walking cane, the color of his scales faded with age. The three assailants stepped back and put their shivs away, though the anger did not leave their faces. [i]So you respect your elders, at least,[/i] Narzul thought and slowly sheathed his blade. It was weird and uncomfortable to find common ground with these creatures. Begrudgingly, Narzul nodded once in the old lizard's direction, who returned the gesture. "Go in peace."

Once out of the camp and at the city gates a pair of guards ordered Narzul to halt. The way their blue eyes moved around shiftily and how their hands rested on their swords betrayed their anxiety. Narzul did not blame them; he wouldn't enjoy having a camp full of angry lizards right in front of his city either. "State your business," one of the Nords said gruffly. "And remove your helmet." Narzul hesitated but complied. Upon seeing his dark skin and red eyes, the guards grimaced and gripped the hilts of their swords tighter. 

"Calm yourselves," Narzul said, evidently annoyed. "I am only here to find my sister. She went missing a few weeks ago and the only clue I have suggests that she might be here. Let me into your city so I can find her. If she is not here, I will leave. If she is here, I will take her home and also leave." To emphasize his point, Narzul handed his copy of the Tamrielic Gazette to one of the guards and pointed to the relevant article. "This is her."

After a few seconds of reading, the guard grunted in approval. "Aye, that mercenary company is here. Fought hard against the damned Kamals in Windhelm from what I heard. You say she's with them? Very well, you may enter."

"Thank you," Narzul said curtly, snatched the newspaper out of the guard's hands, put his helmet back on and stomped past them and through the city gates.

Once inside, Narzul slowed his pace and looked around. His heart was racing. Niernen could be right here, in one of the wooden, characteristically Nordic buildings, or down by the docks -- anywhere inside the walls. Or outside, but he tried not to think about that. Narzul wagered there wouldn't be many Dunmer women here, so Niernen would stick out like a sore thumb. Anyone that had seen her would be likely to remember her. Otherwise, he'd figure out the location of the Company's current headquarters and ask around there. 

The city's Nordic inhabitants did not look like they were in the mood to talk. Their gazes seemed to go right through and over him as they passed with heavy footfalls. None of them looked like mercenaries. As luck would have it, however, Narzul saw a familiar face when he rounded the corner of the general store and spotted a fellow Dunmer sitting out on the veranda. He was talking and another man, though younger and not elven, looked to be transcribing the Dunmer's words. The elf looked old and severely damaged; his face was full of scars, one of his arms was a prosthetic and even his eclectic outfit seemed the worse for wear.

Narzul approached the pair with large strides and stopped only a few feet away, knocking on one of the wooden beams that supported the second floor of the house to grab their attention. "Pardon me, master Dunmer," Narzul asked, ever courteous to his elders. "Have you seen my sister? Her name is Niernen and she is Dunmer, like us. About ye tall," he continued, hovering his hand level with his chest, "with dark hair and amber eyes."

The ragged Dunmer, having raised his head from the skewer he had been feasting on upon mention of the name, waited for Narzul to finish, and after a delay of him eyeing the armored Mer up and down with his eyes, and seemingly not accomplishing much, thanks to Narzul being armored head to toe, continued halfheartedly.
 
‘’Niernen’s your sister?’’ He asked with a cautious tone, and then shrugged. ‘’She must be inside the inn, I reckon,’’ he replied. ‘’Send my regards. She wasn’t very well off last I saw her. She should be glad to see you… provided you take off that helmet.’’
 
Having seemed to accept their conversation as over, the Dunmer turned his attention back to the Nord and began guiding his writing once again.

Narzul's heart lept in his chest and he hastily made his way for the inn, his eyes scanning the wooden buildings until they fell on a sign that read [i]'Windpeak Inn'[/i]. He practically flew up the stairs to the veranda, threw open the front door and stormed inside. Many people filled the inn's common room, seated around the firepit or at one of the tables that lined the walls, eating supper or talking with one another. All of them looked up at Narzul's brusque entrance. He ignored their pointed stares as his own gaze jumped from face to face, until... 

There she was, in the corner, reading a book. Her skin was paler than he remembered and she looked unhealthily gaunt, but it was her. "Niernen!" Narzul yelled and dashed towards her, weaving past the other patrons and knocking over a drink in his haste. She looked alarmed and put the book down. Before she could say anything, Narzul tore off his helmet and came to a halt on his knees in front of her. He grabbed one of her hands in his own and smiled as relief washed over him. "You're alive," he said breathlessly. "Thank the gods, you're alive."

Niernen had spent her time after her conversation with Leif to take a quick stroll through Dawnstar. She'd made a stop at the local alchemist to restock on ingredients and filled three of her glass vials with a magicka-restoring potion, and bought a few books to read in her spare time from the general store. It had felt surreal to be able to calmly walk through town and freely spend her money instead of slaving away in the hold of a ship or fleeing for her life in the dead of night.

Now that her brother suddenly appeared in front of her, she knew she had to be dreaming. 

She stared at him with huge eyes and her mouth hung open uselessly. "Narzul," she managed to stammer eventually, still full of disbelief. "Is it really you?"

Narzul nodded. "Yes, sweet sister. I cannot tell you how relieved I am to --"

He was interrupted by Niernen throwing herself forward and wrapping her arms around him. She immediately started crying and buried her face in the nape of his neck, her torso wracked with sobs. Narzul kissed the top of her head, reciprocated the hug and gently stroked her back. The patrons of the inn, initially annoyed by Narzul's reckless charge, now smiled at the emotional reunion and a collective 'aawwhhh' was heard. 

"Everything will be alright," Narzul whispered. "Hush now, sweetheart." 

Niernen gripped him even harder, but she slowly calmed down and collected her composure. She wiped the tears from her cheeks and looked up at her brother's face with a huge smile. "Oh Narzul," she said and kissed him on the cheek. "How did you find me? I am [i]so[/i] glad you're here. How are mother and father doing? What happened back home? You must tell me everything!" 

"One thing at a time," Narzul said and chuckled. "I found you with this." He showed her the newspaper and waited a few seconds for Niernen to skim the article. "Mother and father are just fine. As for everything back home... is there somewhere we can talk in private?" 

Niernen smiled while she read the article. "Wow, I forgot about this," she said. "Seems so long ago now. Somewhere we can talk? Yes, I rented a room here. Follow me." 

The siblings got up and Niernen led them to the room upstairs. Upon closing the door behind them, Narzul's face took on a much more serious expression and he immediately started talking. "Before I tell you everything, I need you to answer some questions first. I do not know if you are aware of this but your life is in danger. You're wanted for treason, Niernen. The High King has accused you of colluding with a foreign power. The newspaper says you fought the Kamal in Windhelm. Is that true?" 

Surprised and wary at the grim look on her brother's face, Niernen replied hesitantly. "Yes, it's true. I've killed many of them." Narzul groaned and he sat down on a chair with his head in his hands. "Narzul," she continued, "none of this is my fault. The city was suddenly under siege by demonic beasts without warning. They did their very best to kill me. How was I supposed to know the truth?" She paused and frowned. "You [i]knew[/i] about this?"

Narzul stared at the floor. "No, you couldn't have known, but you were not supposed to get involved. I specifically asked you [i]not[/i] to do anything dangerous when you left. Why would you even defend a city that is not your own? Have you become a Nord?" He gazed up at her and Niernen winced at the accusatory look in his eyes. "You should have come home immediately, not recklessly endanger yourself. Did you forget your condition? Do you not remember what happened in Black Marsh?"

"That is [i]not[/i] fair," Niernen retorted. "Of course I didn't forget. But I couldn't just stand back and let them slaughter innocent people. Have you forgotten that the Gray Quarter in Windhelm is full of our own? Narzul, answer me; did you know about this?" 

Frustrated, Narzul got up from his seat and started pacing the length of the room. "Yes, I was informed beforehand, just after you left, but I never thought you would do something this stupid. The whole point of the siege in Windhelm was to liberate the Dunmer in Windhelm from the oppression at the hands of the Nords. Don't you see that? This is all part of the High King's plan for our people," he said, speaking quickly and articulating animatedly.

Nieren scoffed, hurt by his words and his tone. "Stupid? Narzul, what's wrong with you? Do you honestly believe that? The Dunmer were slaughtered as indiscriminately as everyone else. Inviting these brutes to ravage Tamriel is not for the benefit of the sovereignty of the our people, or whatever bullshit it is that he's filled your head with. Have you even met the Kamal? They are horrible, violent creatures that will undoubtedly turn on us when it is convenient for them. They tortured me, for Azura's sake!" Niernen pointed at the wooden splint attached to her broken leg. "I was a slave on one of their ships for a week. Do [i]not[/i] defend them."

Narzul stopped in his tracks and stared at Niernen, dumbfounded. "What are you saying?" he asked.

"The Armigers captured me when I tried to go back home after Windhelm and they sold me to those beasts," Niernen said, venom dripping from her words. "It was [i]awful.[/i] There were other Dunmer there too, Narzul. The Kamal don't care in the slightest. Whenever any of us died, the Kamal soultrapped them and used that as [i]fuel.[/i] I escaped with someone and ended up being rescued by the Company. That's how I ended up here. Whatever you think you know, the Kamal are not our allies."

Narzul's face fell as Niernen told her story. His jaw worked and he fingered the pommel of his sword in agitation. "You were a prisoner of war," he began but Niernen cut him off immediately. 

"Don't defend them! Honestly, Narzul, how can you even attempt to rationalize that? They did it to [i]me[/i]! Your very own sister! That should make them your enemy now!" she yelled in a hoarse voice and balled her fists. 

"Great gods of nowhere, Niernen, it is not that simple. What do you propose? That I turn my back on my High King and my nation because of your mistakes? I came here to make sure that you were alive and to -- somehow -- bring you back home, not to switch sides and wage a war against my own King. I am sorry that these things happened to you, but this has to end now," Narzul said. "You have to come with me. We can try explaining the situation, that it was an honest mistake and that you are not an enemy of Morrowind, or I can find a way to smuggle you through the border... what?"

Niernen shook her head. It was clear from the expression on her face that she was torn, but when she spoke, her voice sounded resolute. "No, Narzul. I'm not leaving my friends. I'm very grateful that you came to find me but I can't come with you," she said and swallowed hard. "I'm sorry." 

Throwing up his hands, Narzul laughed mirthlessly. "Right, your friends. Like the Khajiit from the interview? Come now, Niernen, don't be ridiculous." 

"Yes, actually," Niernen spat. "Do'Karth is one of the most admirable people I've ever met, so don't mock him without knowing what you're talking about." 

"Niernen, stop this. He is a cat. What else is there to know?" Narzul said, becoming increasingly exasperated. "You can't stay here, surrounded by lizards and Nords and gods know what else. There is no resisting the will of the Nerevarine. If you don't come with me, you will die. I can't let that happen to you." 

Niernen frowned at this. "What about all these people? You're just fine with the Kamal butchering them? Like I said, the Kamal are not our allies. Tamriel should unite against them and all other Akaviri scum. The Nerevarine is a traitor to us all." 

Narzul let out a long sigh and shook his head in disbelief. "This is absurd. Why do you care what happens to a filthy Khajiit and his mongrel outlander friends? You are a Dunmer of House Redoran, for crying out loud. The Nerevarine is your High King and you should trust him. If he saw fit to ally with the Kamal, he did so for a good reason and I'm sure he will keep them under control. Now, please, come with me. I don't even understand why you fraternize with these creatures in the first place. They're only useful as slaves and you [i]know[/i] this. Let them die. I don't care."

Surprised and dismayed at the depth of Narzul's racism and ignorance, Niernen jabbed Narzul in the chest with an accusing finger, a fierce scowl on her face. "You are a bloody [i]s'wit[/i], Narzul! Do'Karth is a far better man than you and you don't deserve to talk about him like that! I care, Narzul -- by Azura, I [i]love[/i] him, and I am not going to leave him to die!" 

After a second or two, Niernen seemed to realize what she'd said and took a step back, suddenly afraid. Narzul looked like he had been punched and a mixture of emotions passed over his face; astonishment, disbelief, indignation and finally wrath. "You have taken leave of your senses," he gasped. His eyes were bulging and his mouth drawn into a thin line. Niernen clasped a hand over her mouth and shook her head. 

Abruptly, Narzul turned around and walked towards the door. "Narzul, I'm sorry," Niernen said. "Please don't go -- come back, please! Narzul!" 

He did not listen and slammed the door behind him so forcefully that the whole inn seemed to shake. Narzul stalked down the stairs, through the common room and out of the inn. 

Outside, he unsheathed his sword.