As she stood next to Havfyg, Veta got herself together and began to reflect on the words she had heard, and to observe her comrades-in-chains. Veta had noticed the thinly-veiled threats of this ‘Caro’ towards the Emperor. His voice was raspy and gravelled, like that of an old man tired of war and tiring of life. As she peered over to inspect this mysterious, eloquent man, Veta instinctively reached for her non-existent sword with her right hand upon gazing upon him. The ‘man’ was that no longer, his hovering husk of a body was shrivelled and dried, barely held together from decomposition. ‘Caro’ was a Lich, or some other form of undead, that much was clear to Veta. She had heard stories of powerful undead whose wails of death echoed in caves where no sane adventurer dare enter, and who consume the souls of those unfortunate enough to cross paths with such revenants. And yet, the being who floated above the stone floor not meters away from here seemed harmless enough, civilised, even. Still, she would make sure to be cautious around it, she felt a coldness in the air surrounding the Lich.

The voice that came from beyond the corridor took Veta by surprise. It belonged to a tall and dark Dunmer, his eyes of amethyst shining even in the dim light of the dungeon. His disposition was one of uninterest, dismissal and a pretentious kind of boredom, and his impatience was abundantly clear in his words. There were certainly some characters in this rag-tag squad, and Veta couldn’t help but feel out of place within it. What had the Emperor planned for them?

Almost as if on cue, Havfyg gestured for the group to leave the cells, and whatever were-creature was imprisoned there, behind. The group of course followed, with the Dunmer eagerly storming ahead, and the Lich rising from the seated position it had taken whilst waiting. 
As they scaled, trails of blood became increasingly prevalent, and the Emperor warned the group to maintain alertness as they reached a room after witnessing a butchered carcass of a man. What used to be furniture was splintered and broken, with claw marks and debris now the decorum. Whatever had caused this had clearly escaped through the open window, with a warm summer breeze a welcome sensation on Veta’s skin. The group readied for combat as a chest rumbled and shook. Havfyg broke it open after producing a magical weapon effortlessly, revealing a pathetic-looking man shuddering and weeping. The Emperor’s quick interrogation resulted in a brief yet decisive answer. A werewolf did this. What were the chances of two being in and around the Imperial Dungeon? Did this one arrive to terrorise with the intent of freeing the other? Were werewolves capable of such coordination? Veta was by no means an expert, perhaps they needed to find someone who was.

Veta felt the servant’s eyes inspecting her. She turned her head to meet his gaze, and saw the fear in his face and his quivering knees, but not one born of his near-miss with the werewolf. No, this was a different kind, and one stemming from herself and ‘Caro’. He began to cry incessantly after staring at Veta, and she felt confused. What had he seen in her? She had not seen someone cry in her presence since she had broken a boy’s arm in a fight during her youth, and certainly not like this.

Havfyg dismissed his servant’s emotional state as a symptom of skooma withdrawal, but Veta did not believe it. She had seen such effects before, when she had raided skooma dens hidden deep in the Great Forest, but hysterical sobbing had never been one of them. She decided not to question her Emperor as he handed her the sword that the treasured so much. She thought she would never again feel its perfectly-balanced weight in her hand, and felt a great rejoice as she grasped its handle. She heeded Havfyg’s suggestion of using the silver sword to combat the werewolf should any of them come across it. 

Veta tried to locate her things amongst the rubble. She found her scabbard and belt, as well as the several pieces of her armour and brigandine, which she had left in her hotel room before she attempted the assassination of her target that had landed her in the Imperial Dungeons. How curious that they were here when they had no reason to be. Lastly, she had tracked down her helmet, but she paused as she noticed a robe lying next to it. It was creased and somewhat mangled from being thrown across the room, but its sigil was clear enough for Veta to interpret, she had seen it everyday for most of her life. It was the White Tree of Chorrol, exactly like the one on her sword’s pommel, but it did not belong to her. After equipping all of her gear, she waited by the edge of the room, her eyes fixed on the Chorrolian robes, waiting to see who, if anyone, would claim it. It could not be a coincidence that it was there, and she was fearful that one of the nobles form Chorrol could be nearby. As far as she knew, she was still wanted for questioning and was still blamed for the death of the Count. 

To her surprise, Caro claimed the robes. She frowned and glared at the Lich as he put them over his frail body and his lifeless eyes met her stare. She must have answers, though she did not look forward to the prospect of communicating with this abomination. However the time was not now, she needed to have a private word with this ‘Caro’, but not so private as to be at his mercy if he turned nasty. But she made it a mission to find out exactly who he is, or was. 

Veta felt much more comfortable once again in her second skin of steel and leather. Though she was still as confused as she was in her cell. The Emperor had not given much away of his plans, and even now he brooded in silence, overlooking a city that seemed to be celebrating something or another despite the troubles plaguing the province and continent. As the others began to leave for the city, Veta approached Havfyg somewhat nervously, although she attempted to hide her apprehension.

[b]“Your Grace, forgive me. But what in Oblivion are we doing? Why have you released us, and to what end?”[/b]

The Emperor was not inclined to answer quickly. Instead, he waited a few moments longer observing the city before turning to face her with a response. [b]"To the end of serving your Emperor. I trust you are used to following orders of your liege. This is no different."[/b]. Havfyg's words possessed undertones of a threatening nature, ice laced each syllable and authority backed them up. [b]"But consider this your briefing",[/b] he said as he produced a letter from his robes and handed it to Veta, [b]"Take some time to read it to familiarise yourself with your current utility to me".[/b]

Veta took the letter hesitantly. She did not care for such secrecy and intrigue, direct orders and clear goals and objectives were much preferred. She could not see how she qualified as a decent candidate for whatever Havfyg had planned, but at least it's better than the alternative of life spent in that prison cell.