[i]The Docks, Rihad…[/i]

Sevari woke with a start in his office’s bed. A hand rested on his shoulder and Sevari snatched the wrist up, jumping up from his bed but finding himself falling to his side, growling in pain that came from all over his body. His vision began to blur but through sheer will and anger he forced himself through the pain, standing and stumbling backwards to gain distance from his opponent. It was a peculiar thing when he saw Sorosi standing where his potential killer was. The perplexity shown on his face as he looked her up and down before forcing his tight muscles to move his legs painfully back to the bed. He sat, or fell, onto the edge of the bed, letting out a heavy sigh. How long had he been out? Where was that Redguard fellow from before?

“How long?” Sevari muttered, feeling the familiar itch of bandages wrapped around his midsection.

“Hours. It’s dark out now, the Dwemer have been kicking in doors all night. Vorosien and Balaan are stressed out. What are we going to do if they kick in our door? Two Dunmer and a Khajiit, that won’t look suspicious, definitely,” she said with noticeable sarcasm with an undercurrent of worry, “We’ll die here, Sevari, for a cause I’m starting to lose faith in.”

“You put too much weight on faith. Finding a lost cause does not mean you’ve found a cause, Sorosi,” Sevari began, feeling the bandages beneath his clothes, slipping out of his robes to move his arms and torso, he flinched before sitting back down, “It means that you’ve found a lost cause.”

Sorosi watched Sevari’s eyes close, his head hanging down as his ears drooped. She moved to sit next to him, resting on the edge of the bed and draping an arm around his shoulders, “Do you think we’ll die here? We’ve made it through so much, that skooma deal gone wrong, Praetorians hunting Vorosien and I, you were in the Siege of Storms. Maybe we’ll die here, Sevari.”

Sevari didn’t move, but he felt Sorosi’s hands slip around his. He didn’t mind, his eyes only opened a sliver and looked at Sorosi’s light blue fingers intertwining with his. He wondered if she could feel the calluses, how rough his hands were beneath that fur of his. She never seemed to mind seeing his scars whenever they found each other in the same bed years ago before Sevari had met Zaveed. Those years ago, Sorosi was the only one who had gotten some semblance of love out of Sevari, even if it did hurt and it was a bit rough. But, then again, the two were angry in those days, and anytime they could have gone to a headsman’s block.

“Maybe.” Sevari finally responded.

The two sat that way for a while, Sorosi’s hands caressing the muscles on Sevari’s back and shoulders, her other hand tangled with Sevari’s, her head resting on his shoulder, red eyes looking down at their feet, nestled together. Sevari didn’t seem to care. He was off in his own world, like he always was when Sorosi knew him as Sevari the ruthless skooma kingpin, but also the part-time lover.

Sevari was busy feeling a bit useless. His body would not let him move without sending gripping hands of pain to squeeze and rip every muscle from his legs to his back. He wouldn’t be able to fight, he could barely damned walk. He felt an anger welling up inside of him that quickly faded when he felt Sorosi’s head nestle closer to his neck. The Khajiit sighed, “I have a wife.”

“I know. We’re not on top of each other.” Sorosi cooed playfully, her hand moving from his to rest on his inner thigh.

Sevari grumbled, wrapping fingers around her wrist and gently placing her hand away from his legs. Sorosi only giggled, getting up from the bed and walking to the door. As she closed it behind her, Sevari looked about the room for the sword his father had given him, finding relief taking some of the edge off when he saw it on his desk in the office.

“Balaan is here to see you. Some fellows rowed into the warehouse and I’m stuck between killing them or letting them get off their boats.” Vorosien said, his head peeking in from outside.

Sevari only growled, getting to his feet and limping to get his sword. The tip of the sheathe touched the ground, his hand on the pommel as he walked along with it as his cane. He was only thirty years on Nirn and he was already walking with a cane. He made his way out of his office, looking not too welcoming as he descended the stairs and walked towards the area of water kept enclosed with the large wooden doors into the warehouse from the sea. As he looked onto the rowboat, he saw barefoot sailors in breeches and tattered shirts, some foregoing shirts altogether. One among them stood out, dressed in a flowing robe and the elegant trappings of a mage. Her golden skin showing sparingly and her gaze was one of command.

The other man in the rowboat next to the Altmer’s stood in the clothing of a distinguished captain in the Imperial Navy or perhaps had been given the clothes as gifts in service to one of the Kings in High Rock. It may have been the case, as the man was clad in porcelain skin, contrasted by black hair and curled mustache. Everything about him told Sevari what he needed to know, that he was a Captain. Perhaps the other was too, but the man showed it more readily.

“I would like to speak to the man or mer that supervises this warehouse. I’ve sailed from Wayrest under orders of my employer and my men need drinks.” The Altmer woman said.

“I need supplies. I’ve a voyage ahead and this is the closest friendly port this side of Stros M’kai. It wouldn’t hurt to have drinks, either.” The man added.

“You are looking for me.” Sevari said, pushing past Vorosien, Balaan and their contingent of hired guards for the warehouse.

“Good, I need permission to dock my schooner here. The sooner I get that, the sooner we can make sure to stay out of each other’s ways.” The Altmer said.

“I won’t let an altmer bitch stay in my warehouse without knowing her name first.” Sevari spat.

“Captain Loria Elsinien.” She spoke, showing no hint of insult or offense at Sevari’s remark.

“And you, you look like a captain.” Sevari pointed with his chin towards the man.

“Captain Alaire St. Tarley, Mister…” The man answered, waiting for a name to put to his host.

“Sevari, Captain Alaire. I hope we will not have any troubles with you saying that you shared space with a Hero. Many people are searching for me, many people have died.” The Khajiit smiled with narrowed eyes.

“Quite so, Mister Sevari, quite so. I can assure you that after I get supplies and a few night’s rest-”

“Both of you may stay. Captain Alaire will leave in two days. Dock your schooner and make sure not to draw attention. Most of the Dwemer forces are in the heart of the city. No one will notice two more ships in the harbor. Pray to your Gods that they do not take notice of you, for you will be the first to die.” Sevari growled, turning and leaving to his office.