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FulgrimLives
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Night, 6th of Midyear 4E 208
Somewhere in Gilane, Hammerfell
Sevari kept walking past the creaking of the huge doors of the Governor’s Palace. They clunked shut and the sound of it locking with its newly-built Dwemer lock working it’s huge gears punctuated the otherwise noiseless walk across the courtyard he was making. Plenty of things were seeking to send his house of cards crashing down around him and his life’s work would all be for naught, twenty-some years wasted because of some Reachman and his woman. Because of an old love deciding to be on the same ship as his last and greatest personal foe’s son. And fucking him too. He needed a goddamn drink, or to get in a good fight. It was the right time for it, the sun falling below the high city walls and just dark enough for lamps and torches to send his shadow stretching across walls.
His contact would be waiting for him and he didn’t want to keep her, though. It was quite something, how the quest for revenge could bring two people into the fold of each other’s lives. It seemed every day he was making new acquaintances. Out of all of them so far, though, this one seemed the most competent and careful, cold and calculating. She was headstrong enough and cautious with it too. He almost could call her a friend. A mutual respect between them, and these days with how slim the selection was for Sevari, that pretty much constituted a friend.
He made his way through the city streets, dodging Dwemer patrols and Redguard watchmen too easily. He could always play it off that he was pursuing a lead for Major Kerztar in the name of the Ministry of Order, but it was best they didn’t even know he was there at all. Less loose ends, less homes and beds he’d have to sneak into with his garrote. Finally, he reached the slums and that tumbledown shack he and his special friend shared. It looked rundown from the outside like Sevari had wanted but as he stepped inside, he looked around at the more well-off and fanciful trappings he’d grown accustomed to.
“How long have you been here?” He said to the presence he could feel in the room. The firelight’s orange glow radiated warmth during the cold desert night, and it casted a wide shadow as hand gingerly set a quill pen onto the table in the corner.
“For as long as I cared to. Does it matter?” Replied simply a feminine voice. Following the quill was a goblet being set on the table. The woman continued, “Tell me, how well did your date go? Did you have fun?”
As she asked her question she stood to her full height. Doing so revealed a woman shorter than Sevari and adorned in modest clothing. She looked to be Breton, though had the sharp angular features of an Imperial. She looked to be little more than a merchant, draped in linen, cotton, and bits of silk. Though her skin was fair, it was still flushed red from the day’s heat, and her shoulder-length auburn hair had the kind of curls in it leftover from wearing it in a braid all day. Though the tone of her voice was pleasant, she did not smile, and was betrayed by the intensity of her eyes as they pierced across the room and into the Khajiit.
“I was just wondering,” Sevari frowned, voice brimming with exaggerated offense, looking the woman up and down before placing his hands in front of the fireplace, “I know this isn’t a palace with handmaidens ready to wipe your ass at a bell’s ring, but I hope you appreciate the new decor I spent half my wage on last week.”
Sevari got up, grabbing up a bottle of alcohol off the mantle above the fireplace. He knew it was alcohol, what kind didn’t often matter. He clamped down in the cork with his teeth and yanked it out with a pop. Spitting it across the room, he took his own seat across from the woman he knew so well the past few weeks. Under her intense eyes, he sat carelessly like at a tavern. She met his candor with a smirk as though Sevari was entertaining her, but it was faint. She picked up the goblet she set down a moment ago and held it out to him, tipped slightly forward -- a gesture for him to refill her cup.
“Your mission. How did it go?” She repeated.
“They managed to spot me and I had to kill them all.” Sevari frowned at her cup and gave her question a moment and her eyes a smug look before finally pouring a good portion into her cup, “Hotel staff and all.”
When no laugh came, he wasn’t expecting one anyway, he continued. “They were having a party. I managed to sketch out what some looked like,” he tossed a journal onto the table from his satchel, “The Altmer noble was there, the ex-Thalmor I didn’t get a look at. The Argonian was there too, you know, the one you trust wholeheartedly.”
“They’re quick to forgive. Interesting. Good for them, though…” She commented, then tasted from her cup. “I would still like more information on that one. Argonia is a sovereign state now, perish the thought that another power becomes involved. Do you have anything on the elves?”
“Nothing past what we already know. The Caliph’s old spies are looking for his Thalmor-loving sons in hopes of restoring Hammerfell’s sovereignty. Shame how short-sighted people with a loyalty to dynasties are.” He downed his glass and poured another, “The Emissary is still an issue but we can resolve that soon. No doubt the noble girl’s kidnapping will do well as bait for that Thalmor shit they have with them. He might not be flying their colors but it’s hard to forget friends and connections that might be here.”
“If worst comes to worst, a certain ambassador of a hostile power could prove to be even better bait.” She suggested innocuously, sipping her goblet as she side-eyed Sevari to gauge his reaction.
Sevari chewed on that, sipping at his glass for a moment before his eyes narrowed, “You want me to leak a little information of you?” Sevari shook his head, continuing incredulously, baffled, “Dangle you around like a worm on a hook?”
He nodded, a small crack of a smile on his lips, “I’m liking you more.”
“Don’t mistake me,” she began explaining, “I've no intention of letting myself be eaten, but a leader leads by example, yes? Someone eventually needs to assume the role. I might be the worm, but we're surrounded by two schools of sharks and I hope to turn them against each other.”
Although her words suggested that it was a burden to assume such a role, a slight smile appeared on her face, this time warmer, apparently pleased by his reaction and resumed her sip from the goblet before continuing.
“That's how we're going to win this: we're going to play the board right; maneuver our pieces, take advantage of everyone’s connections, and manipulate both sides into killing each other. It pays to play the long game, Sevari, step by step, not by running blind into the lion’s den on a personal whim.”
Sevari’s smile upended slightly, “We both know it wasn’t a personal whim. Entirely.” He spoke more softly, “It won’t happen again, I’ll make sure of it. Leaking the information of the Emissary to a more extremist cell in the insurgency would do well.”
He sniffed, throwing back another glassful, “Erincaro is our key to his father, a high-level officer of the Thalmor. Your revenge against the Dwemer was added to my orders of stewing unrest in Dwemer territory. We’re both in this room discussing our personal whims.” Sevari smiled again, though her bringing up the fiasco on the Indrik still stung.
“Our whims? Am I to understand you as suggesting that we no longer have to uphold our duties to the Empire?” She challenged.
“It was my understanding that my end of fulfilling my duties to the Empire were to entertain my personal whims. It’s what they’ve let me do for the past 20-odd years.” He shrugged, “What about Samara Cell? Keep feeding the Reachman or leave them to the wolves?”
“They have their uses.” She replied idley. “They’re wild cards, but as long as they’re the Dwemers’ enemies, they’re valuable -- to an extent. Keep doing what you’re doing with the Reachman, but if you can spare the time, keep some eyes on a few of them. The Argonian, the High Elf, the Imperial man; this situation is delicate and we don’t want to upset it.”
The woman paused for a moment in careful thought, before saying, “What was the name of their handler again? Not Poncy.”
“Daro’Vasora.” He said, “The Reachman and her are in relations. Keep getting close to the Reachman and we may have her.”
“Daro’Vasora…” She repeated, getting a feel for the name in her mouth. “I’ll keep it in mind. If it’s not too much to ask, there’s one more person I want to keep an eye on. Salosoix Hawkford.”
“Zaveed has been toying with him and his daughter. Raelynn is among Samara Cell.” He said, stretching in his chair, “That complicates things on that end. Treading where my brother goes might lead him to looking for you if he whiffs something. I don’t want to have to kill him.”
“That’s fine.” She replied casually. She set her goblet down on the table as she stared into fireplace. “I’m not asking you to protect the snake, but I know enough about Salosoix to know that he has his own agenda. I don’t know what he’s doing in Gilane at a time like this when he should be in Daggerfall, but he has the potential to complicate things. Believe me Sevari, I don’t wish to create a conflict of interest for you, but if your brother decides to come looking for me…”
The woman lined her free hand between with the painted portrait of an old Redguard king that was pinned to the wall above the fireplace. A sudden burst of magical fire sparked to life in her palm, and from her perspective, engulfed the man in flames. She looked back at Sevari, the fire reflecting in her eyes as she growled, “I invite him to try.”
Sevari pursed his lips, sighing and nodding before downing another drink, “He knows the risks.” Sevari sighed, “While we’re on the subject, I’m sure you heard about the grand parade today?”
She glanced at him from the corner of her eye, then clenched her hand, snuffing the fire in her hand. She looked as though she was just about to roll her eyes but had enough restraint to keep herself from doing so. “Yes, the people were causing quite a stir about it. I’d call it amusing if it wasn’t so pathetic.”
When she took a drink from her cup, she usually took light sips to savor it, but here she took a few heavy gulps before slamming the goblet down onto the table. She continued, her words now sharp and scathing, “The Samara cell is full of amateurs, so color me unsurprised, but at least they’ve chosen the right side. I’ve spent a few months here in Hammerfell, you know, before the Dwemer came. Before that, I’ve spent countless days educating myself on their history. The Redguard people never impressed onto me as being the type to enjoy being conquered.”
“They never were.” Sevari replied, letting a chuckle go, “Why do you think I’m here? Paving a path to a brighter future for the Redguard people, hearts and minds, pure altruism.”
“It will be wasted unless we take meaningful action soon.” She commented sharply. “Do you think the deep elves will think twice of your judgement if you hold the Dominion emissary under their jurisdiction?”
Sevari narrowed his eyes, frowning, and bringing his cup halfway to his lips, “You’re asking me to arrest a man that’s impossible to arrest. He’d have to…” Sevari slowly let the cup descend back down to the table while in his hands, “Do something heinous. Are you familiar with false-flag operations?”
“You deserve your station, Sevari. You decipher quickly.” She replied. “Yes, I’m familiar.”
Sevari snorted, rolling his eyes as he took a sip of his cup, “I thought you were above patronizing me. Hire thugs to go after another administrator of the Dwemer. Someone of Nblec’s station. Make it look like the noble girl and ex-Thalmor’s handiwork.” He shrugged, “I get to go after the ex-Thalmor in the group as a scapegoat and we get a mer who can give us names. I’ll have to construct some story to connect him to Erincaro’s father. Fangalto will have his son taken into custody and you know what they say about prisons. People die everyday.”
“If you can make it looked like they did it,” she said, “you can provoke the Dwemer. If you leak my name to the Thalmor one, he can attempt to get in contact with the emissary. After he does, we can take him out, then take the emissary and leave behind evidence of the Dwemer. Both sides believe they lost something important to each other. Agent, it sounds like we might have a plan.”
“Doesn’t it?” Sevari said. With a grunt, he pushed himself up from his chair and sighed, “I’d best get going. No sleep tonight, Kerztar will find it odd if I’m not on the job.”
He worked at the array of locks on the door and pushed past it, hanging at the threshold before he threw over his shoulder, “Keep the doors locked if you’re staying. Remember what I told you about the passageway under your bed.”
“Whyever would I indignify myself by taking the back door of my own abode?” She jested sardonically. She stood up from her seat with a sigh, her fingers idly tracing the embroidery stitched into the padded chair. Finally, she looked up at said with unexpected tenderness, “Akatosh bless you, Sevari. May He grant you His light.”
Sevari hung at the door, one foot past the threshold and a hand still on the knob. The sentiment froze him in place and maybe it was the drink, maybe it was everything that’s happened to him the past few days, but the woman’s words cut him. It was as if accepting it would be fraud of the highest order. Akin to stealing coins from a beggar’s purse. His head hung as he rolled his jaw, sighing. Finally, he let go a small, jagged smile, knowing all the things he’d done in his life was more likely to please Boethiah. “Thank you, Aries.” Without turning to her, he spoke low and bitter, “But I doubt he’d waste it.”
The door shut and he was gone.
A soft exhale escaped Aries' lips as her shoulders relaxed. She faced once again towards the warmth of the firelight, and slowly refilled her goblin until the bottle dripped empty. She breathed in its aroma before taking a small sip, then closed her eyes and smiled as she embraced the soothing heat of the flames. Holding her cup close to her chest, her eyes remained locked on the fire as she purred to herself, "The gears are in motion."
