Chapter 43: Try not to think about it

I acted in self-defense. I did. It was unfortunate that it reached the point where I had to kill every last person in the stronghold, but I don't think I had a choice, in the end. I simply could not allow any witnesses to leave those halls.

The fight itself was not overly taxing: I suspect that the occupants had only made the old stronghold into a Redoran outpost relatively shortly before my arrival, and had not had time to plan an organised defence of the place. If they had, they might have had some longbows or crossbows to hand, and hemmed me in, in one of Marandus' tight corridors: where I could not manoeuvre or take cover. As it was, the narrow corridors allowed me to face them one at a time, while the others jostled and crowded in behind, tripping over the bodies of their comrades.

Once I had scoured Marandus for survivors, I felt satisfied that the stronghold would make a suitable place to take shelter in overnight, safe from the ash storm and the dragon outside. Nevertheless I found a room with only one entrance, and rolled out my bedroll well out of sight of the door. I then magically locked the door, and balanced a glass bottle on the handle, so I would be well-warned of any intruders. After the day I had had, I felt quite jumpy and ill-at-ease.

My close encounter with the dragon had shaken me, but what really bothered me was that it felt as if I had been killing things from morning to night. A small horde of Daedra, then Orcish Daedra worshippers, and finally a whole stronghold of Redoran fighters and retainers. I lay awake in my bedroll for a long time. With my eyes closed I saw blood-red, rather than the usual black. Still...

I did not wonder if all the killing was justified, or worth it. While I felt awful about it, my sense of self-preservation outweighed all else: every life I had taken had been in pursuit of one goal: remaining alive for as long as possible. I mean this in both the immediate sense ('fight now or this bandit will slit your throat'), and in the more peripheral sense of the 'casualties' resulting from my search for a cure - or treatment - for my condition. It may sound harsh, but my sense of self-preservation is what got me through my time in the Imperial prison; and part of that was a willingness to put my needs above those of others.

Strangely enough, perhaps, it was the fact that I had been fighting and killing all day that let me eventually drift off to sleep. I was exhausted. I had taken more lives that day than many others combined, and as my dreams began to replace the waking world, I could feel my body twitch, lean and tense as if I was still fighting.

The next day, thankfully, dawned bright and clear, with nothing in the sky save a few wispy clouds: no ash, no dragon. From the 'roof' of the stronghold I had a good view of Lake Nabia, and of the path Ranis had told me to follow, disappearing into the low hills to the north of the lake. I was glad to leave Marandus behind: my visit there had turned the ancient Velothi stronghold into a stinking tomb. I felt a momentary twinge of deep pity for whoever next entered Marandus: the scene inside was a grisly one. I did not permit myself to think about the families of those I had killed.


I waded through the shallows around the edge of the lake, ducking beneath the surface a couple of times (with my pack held aloft, out of the tepid water), letting the dried blood that caked almost every part of my body dissolve, and wash away. I had had no chance to wash the night before, being trapped in the stronghold with the bodies of those I had killed...

I sighed. I needed something to occupy my mind. I made an effort to consider the somewhat strange properties of my now fully restored 'Magery' ring. During my search of Marandus, I had happened across two appropriately-cut tourmaline gems, sitting on a rude wooden stool, next to a bed. They were about the only good things to come of my incursion into the Velothi stronghold, as with them I could fully restore the potent magical ring. 'Magery' acts as both a conduit and a reservoir for magicka, increasing the rate at which magicka enters my body, and also allowing my flesh and spirit to hold more than it usually could. It even emits a field large enough to occasionally 'catch' an offensive spell aimed in my direction, and channel the spell's energy into my body - as even more magicka.

With the final two tourmalines in place (bringing the total number of stones set in the ring to eight), all these effects were intensified even further; meaning that I had so much magicka at my disposal, and it was replenished so quickly, that I basically had no worry about ever finding myself running out. This of course would be a different story if I knew some more taxing spells - and was skilled enough to actually cast them...

In any case, along with this great power, I also noticed, upon completion of 'Magery', that another effect had surfaced in the ring; and I wasn't sure if it was a beneficial one. It was frustrating: I could not quite discern what it was, but whenever I wore the ring, my skin felt overly sensitive; not to sensation, but to pain. The difference was something like how a slight rap to the knuckles can hurt in the chill of the colder months, but go unnoticed on a warm day. I would have to study the ring further.

Meanwhile, my musings had successfully occupied my mind right up until I found Punabi caves, a little way along the path leading north from the lake. The entrance to the caves was closed off by a wooden door, much like many other caves I had seen on Vvardenfell; only when I pushed this door open, it tapped a bell hung on a hook, just above the doorframe. Clanging away like a shopkeeper's doorbell, and setting my already raw nerves on edge, the bell soon drew the attention of a woman in fine robes.

Emerging from the gloom with a pained expression, she introduced herself as Manwe - the very woman I was looking for - and asked (fairly bluntly) what I was doing there. Upon learning that I was from the Guild, and had come for her overdue guild fees, she rolled her eyes and said:

"Look, we're quite busy with our research here, and I really-" Before she could get any further, I pretended to shift the weight of my pack with one hand, reaching out (towards her) with the other, as if for balance. My charm spell leapt invisibly across from my outstretched hand to her body, and her attitude abruptly changed, mid sentence: "... really should pay my guild dues, after all this time; especially since you asked so politely." She gave me a strange smile. "Wait here. My associates can be ... cranky if they're disturbed from their work."

Manwe disappeared back into the deeper parts of the caves, re-emerging a few moments later with a pouch of coins.

"Here you go," she said, "two thousand septims - I had no idea it had been that long." I remained silent. I suspected that very little of the money was destined for the Guild itself; especially since Ranis had promised half of the drakes to me, should I manage to pry them away from Manwe. As it turned out, the charm spell had made it rather easy. Manwe went on: "I haven't seen you at any of the halls before. Be sure to stop by again, should you pass nearby." Again that strange smile.

I thanked her and left, hiking further up the path outside. It wasn't until a few moments later that I realised that Manwe had been behaving as if she was attracted to me. It was an aspect of charm spells that I hadn't considered before. Manwe was the first woman I had cast such a spell on (no play on words intended). I resolved to be careful in my use of charm spells from that point onwards: while most people who have had a charm spell cast on them remain unaware of that fact, such spells are certainly not permanent. One thing I would have to watch is acting overly familiar with the target of a charm spell: such behaviour around the person when the spell has worn off could make them suspicious.

Manwe and the Telvanni wizard, Llarar Bereloth, were close neighbours indeed. After only a few minutes of walking, I found 'Sulipund': a stone dome rising out of the ground; just like the necromancer's dome, 'Mawia'. The similarities between Sulipund and Mawia made me uneasy, but I went in without my katana drawn: Ranis had asked me to persuade Llarar to join the Mages Guild, and entering his home ready for battle would likely not go down well.

Like Mawia, the interior of Sulipund reminded me strongly of the ancestral tombs I had seen; only this one, thankfully, was not crawling with undead. Llarar did not appear to be a necromancer, at least. Nevertheless, I was made to feel quite unwelcome by the Telvanni wizard's many Bosmer man-servants. I asked several of them if they could direct me to "Mister Bereloth", but the best response I received was a flat "no". Some of the rude little wood elves actually asked me to leave, barring me further access to the dome! If the wizard's servants were so seriously opposed to letting visitors in, I shuddered to think how I might be received should I make it to the mer himself.

Ranis had instructed me to kill Llarar, should he refuse to join the guild. I suspected that with all his servants around, however, trying such a thing would quickly devolve into another bloodbath. I still felt guilty enough from the events of the previous night to want to avoid such a thing, if I could, so I made liberal use of my charm spell to persuade the Bosmer toadies to let me pass.

The nicest thing I can say about Llarar Bereloth is that he did not, at least, attack me on sight. He was just as boorish as his servants, if not more so. Fortunately, after using my 'reaching out as if to shake hands' trick to Charm him, he became reasonably amiable. My 'gift' of a good amount of coin helped matters, no doubt. Strangely (and somewhat unnervingly), Llarar seemed perfectly aware of my ruse:

"Ha-ha - nice little Charm cantrip you have there, Breton." I guessed that the effect of the charm spell was to make him amused, rather than angry, at being manipulated. The wizard went on: "And the coin should cover travel costs to Balmora well enough, so... why not? Fine. Should I have the time, I shall join your guild on my next visit to Balmora. Now, leave me be, n'wah."

That piece of foul language was my hint that the charm spell had worn off, so I bowed and cast Recall, teleporting back to Balmora. Llarar Bereloth had said that he would join the guild; I could only speculate as to whether he would keep his word.

I just hoped that the Telvanni wizard's word would be enough for Ranis. If it wasn't, I would likely have to hike all the way back to Sulipund to kill him, and the harrowing experience of my last trip out there was not one I wanted to repeat.