bdfanfic

This is a (very) short little story about Eyvie the Kobold - goes with the image I colored the other day by Boogeestro. I have no idea if he had anything like this in mind, but I went for it anyway.

And also, yeah I notice a lot of my stories revolve around taverns. And I don’t even like beer or ale!  (Well, Redd’s Apple Ale isn’t too bad.)

Don’t worry Tumblr censors, I’m posting only the cropped picture!

Eyvie the Kobold

Otherwise, it had been a pretty normal night. It was midweek, so the place was fairly light, and I wasn’t exactly working hard. It was getting late and our Bard had retired. As for me, I had my head down cleaning mugs.  Then the door opened.

Now, keep in mind, late at night like that there’s nothing more exciting than the door opening. All the locals have come in by then, and most have staggered back out already. Of course we do get the occasional adventurers, being on the wrong side of the caverns as we are, but mostly they keep themselves to the big town on the other side of the river. The main cavern entrance is closer there anyway.

So as the door opened, all eyes - that were sober enough to focus - were on it. Mine too, for that matter. But whatever we were expecting to see, it was certainly not Eyvie.

Standing no more than four feet high, she peered into the tavern with a look of both wariness and curiosity - green, scaly and about as far from human as you can get I suppose.

More than one scream was heard, and not all by women.

Of course, living near the caverns we locals had heard of Kobolds, but it was so rare for them to venture out of there that few had ever actually seen one - let alone had one waltz right into their pub. But the screams had frightened the poor thing, not to mention half a dozen men grabbing their weapons, and it scrabbled at the door latch trying to get back out.

“Hold on!” I yelled from behind the bar, trying to calm things down before anyone did anything stupid. “Beric, put that damn sword away. She’s obviously not here to attack anyone.”

I turned to the pitiful thing as the patrons backed off. By now she had curled up into a ball, having failed in her panic to manage the door.

“Hey there,” I said, speaking slowly and calmly as I could. I didn’t dare get too close though. Besides the horns on her head, those massive legs - and the talons at the end of them - looked like they could gut a boar.

“You’re a Kobold, right?” I said, crouching down. “Do you speak Common?”

I saw two bright green eyes peek up over her arm and look at me, then glance around at the others. I looked back.

“Come on, put away the weapons. Look at her. She’s not going to hurt anybody.”  

A few complied, at least sitting back down if not putting their weapons away completely.

“Holy shit,” said Clifford. 

Clifford was in theory the town’s blacksmith. In reality he was the town drunk. I’ve probably sold him more ale than everyone else combined. Still, he could hold his liquor better than most - considering the volume at least.

“Look at those tits!”

I looked back at the Kobold, who was uncurling dubiously.  It wasn’t so much that the creature had massive bosoms - in fact they were quite small pert little things - but that she had them at all. And yes, I couldn’t help but notice other even more obvious… similarities… to human anatomy. She was undeniably a she.

“She’s got more than tits!” said Clifford’s longtime friend and drinking companion, Tom. He pointed between her legs - as if it needed to be pointed out.

“God dammit, Ralf, get that thing out of here unless you’re planning to open up a lizard brothel. She’s obscene!” Marge said over the growing murmuring.

“You’re just jealous ‘cuz the lizard’s tits are bigger than your’n!” laughed Clifford, his friend joining in.

“Pfft. You’d probably fuck the thing. Come on Ralf, get her out. I’m getting sick.”

“I will,” I said over my shoulder. “Just give me a minute, okay? Tom, do me a favor and prop open the door.”

I heard him behind me move to do so, as I turned back to the lizard, who was getting to her feet. She seemed to be calming down, and I took her hand to help, gently.  The feel of the smooth scales was cool, but she took my hand hesitantly.

“No kobold okay?” she said timidly in broken Common.

The voice was odd. Not siblent as I’d expected, but as if she was speaking in a higher register than normal, but kind of hollow. The Bard could probably describe it better. Still, I understood it well enough.

“Be quiet!” I said over my shoulder. “She’s trying to talk!”

They did so as I turned back again.

“It’s okay. Kobolds are okay,” I said, trying to reassure her. “What’s your name? Do you have names?”

“Name is…” she said, but the sound that came after I couldn’t really call a word. Still, it sounded a very little bit like Eyvie.

“Eyvie?” I asked.

“No. Name is…” and that sound again.

“I’m going to call you Eyvie. Sorry, I can’t say your name right.  But it’s okay. Kobolds are okay, I suppose.”

“Speak for yourself!” Marge said with a disgusted tone.

“I hear they kill babies,” Clifford said.

“Who says that?” my barmaid, Karen, demanded.

“Well, my grandma said so.”

“Cliff, your grandma has been dead for twenty years!” Tom laughed.

“Well…”

“Eyvie okay be here?” the Kobold asked, her eyes brightening. The strange voice silenced the others again momentarily.

I turned around to my customers. “What do you think, guys? Should I allow Kobolds? Look at her. She’s cute! She wouldn’t hurt anybody.”

It seemed the consensus was somewhat mixed, but no one had ever actually had any experience with Kobolds, pro or con. Even Marge was perhaps a little taken in by the imploring eyes of the reptile.

“Well,” she finally agreed. “I suppose. But not like that! She’s got to have clothes on! She’s positively indecent.”

I nodded. I had to agree actually. As cute as the little thing was, there were just too many similarities to allow her to hang around naked. I found myself glancing at her myself too often to ignore.

“Sorry Eyvie. Maybe if you can get some clothes on. We humans wear clothes to cover us up for modesty. Decency. Come back someday when you’re dressed, okay?”

The Kobold positively beamed with delight!  “Sure! I get clothe!”

“Clothes. We call them clothes.”

“Clothes,” she repeated. “I get clothes. Be back.”

“Well, sorry Eyvie. I close up in an hour or so. Maybe tomorrow?”

“But, Kobold okay here? Yes? If clothes?” she asked as if to confirm - this time asking Marge directly.

The old woman squinted at the reptile and bent low, wielding her best “sour face”.  

“Okay.  Kobolds are okay, if you come back decent!”

“Eyvie be back with clothes. Eyvie be decent!”

And with that, the scaly thing practically skipped out of the door. I closed it and went back to the bar as the conversations began.

“Well that’s something you don’t see every day!” said Tom.

“Ever seen a Kobold before?”

“Not me. My cousin says he has. But he’s a nut.”

“Well, we’ve seen one now!  Say Ralf, you should rename this place!”

“Yeah! The Naked Kobold!”

“No, the Kobold Tit!”

“The Kobold Puss… SLAP!”

Marge had delivered a heartfelt flap to Clifford at that.

But the night wasn’t yet over for me or my patrons.  Not a half hour later, the door opened again. Once more, Eyvie stood there. But this time she was clothed. Somewhat.

“Decent? Yes?” she asked, directing the question to Marge.

I think there was more beer launched through nostrils at her return than was actually drank. I’d have to admit to being one of those, but Marge wasn’t laughing. I thought she was going to physically kick the little cutie out bodily at first, so I rounded the bar again and put myself between the two.

“Now Marge…” I started, then noticed the familiar smell of stale beer behind me. A scaly reptilian head poked itself under my hand defensively.

“No?” she practically sobbed. “Not decent?”

I turned and knelt in front of the Kobold. The smell was not overpowering, but I looked again at the rags she wore - quite literally. They were, in fact, scraps of rags and other refuse I’d dumped out back earlier that day. Even an old belt had been reworked as a collar of sorts, with some pretty impressive embellishments as well. Other than the smell, it was really quite impressive.

“Eyvie? Where did you get these?” I asked, fingering the dirty red ragged cloth that yesterday been an old bartop cleaning scrap I’d thrown out for having gotten too worn even for that use.

“Found clothes! Behind here! Lots of stuff! Look. Leather too!” she said, her expression brightening. “Look! Cover titties!”

But then she looked back at Marge who was approaching with an odd look on her face.

“Cover titties? Not decent?” Eyvie squeaked, her eyes now filled with the ample face of Marge.

I even backed off as the old battleaxe knelt in front of the trembling Kobold.

“First off, Kobold,” she began in a low tone, “you’ve got to cover your pussy. Do you know what that is?”

The Kobold pointed to her groin, her eyes never leaving the big woman.

“That’s right. In fact, that’s the most important thing to cover. To be decent.”

“But…” the Kobold began, “no make water?”

Marge’s face wrinkled even more as she sorted out the words.

“You take it off first!” she retorted when she finally worked it out. 

The Kobold backed a step towards the door as Marge fished for something in her ever-present bag.

“Here. Here’s a scrap I’ve been knitting.  Wrap that around you.”

The Kobold took the proffered bit of cloth and deftly tied it around her waist. It still didn’t quite cover her completely, but if you didn’t look too closely, it might not be noticed.

Everyone noticed. 

Still, no one said anything. I always appreciated that - even in their inebriated state, no one had the bad humor to point it out.

“Now, Kobold, I want to see how you worked these old scraps into clothing so quickly,” Marge said. She escorted the Kobold over to a table. Eyvie’s eyes began to brighten again I noticed.

The table was a high-top with tall chairs around it, but Marge picked up Eyvie and sat her on a chair before the little Kobold even started to struggle with the climb.  As massive as the kobold’s legs were, Marge lifted her like a sack of potatoes. Marge was not to be trifled with, we all knew. Then she drew out more bits of cloth, thread and other sewing equipment.

Now, I know nothing about sewing, knitting or the like. But I can tell you that the beady little eyes on Marge’s face as Eyvie demonstrated her prowess grew larger than ever I’ve seen them. The little hands worked fabric without the need of needles or thread apparently, weaving the existing threads together to make a stitch.

When finally it was closing time, I had to run the pair out myself, such was their mutual interest in the tailoring skills of the other.  

The next day the town had a new resident. Apprentice to Marge the seamstress, Eyvie the Kobold moved in with the old maid - and they’d been thick as thieves ever since.

That was years ago though. Marge left this world a while back, and Eyvie took over her shop - to the surprise of no one, since the Kobold had been doing all the work for quite some time anyway as Marge’s age had caught up to her.

As for Eyvie, she still drops into the bar regularly. In memory of Marge, she still wears the old blue knitting around her waist. And it still doesn’t cover her - but we don’t say anything.

Once a traveler said something. He was kicked out the door before I could intervene - if I’d wanted to.

Chapter 10 of You Only Live 18 Times.

Easiest way to listen to all of the Spyjirra audio stories is here on the Prequel Booru under this pool, where they’re all (that I’ve completed) in nice chronological order.

https://www.prequeladventure.com/fanartbooru/pool/view/21

Text for this chapter is here:

https://www.prequeladventure.com/fanartbooru/post/view/5586

You Only Live 18 Times - Chapter 9

Sorry - it’s been a while since Chapter 8, but I WILL do them all eventually! Also, all the Spyjirra audio files I’ve done so far are easy to find here - in the Prequel fanart booru in a pool, and they’re in order.

Oak in Grey Hollow - 4 - Customer Service

After reporting back to Hollow, the two ate a quick bite before MIra dressed for the evening. Hollow handed her a long blonde wig with a tiara, the center jewel being a soul gem. He then explained that when activated with a touch, the enchanted wig would appear to all eyes as her own hair.  However, already she had begun to notice that all of Hollow’s enchantments carried a balancing aspect, and she asked him about this one.

“Ah! You learn quickly, as I expected! In this case, the enchantment joins the hair on the wig to your own head. It acts something like a magnet to the hairs within the tiara. The balance however, is that while your scalp becomes attractive to this hair, the rest of your body from the neck down repulses hair. I’ve become quite adept at hair magic, being a very common complaint of older male customers of the haired-races! This is just an adaptation of what I’ve learned.”

Mira looked at the wig dubiously. “So… when I activate it…”

Hollow nodded with an enthusiastic smile, “Yes indeed! All your body hair will instantly fall from you, leaving you as smooth-skinned as a babe! Why, I have had women who ask for only the side effect! But… you should probably put it on in the stream first.”

“I don’t know,” she said worriedly.

“Totally harmless, I assure you!” he said, handing her the dress she’d so admired before.

“And you’ll be such a beauty in this gown then!” he continued as she took the dress. It was a gorgeous dress, after all.

She accepted the gown and headed to the stream, out of sight of the enchanter who was busy in the tent, arranging his wares on the table for display within.  She then set the dress down, stripped, and stepped into the stream before putting the wig on. She swallowed hard, closed her eyes, and pressed the gem on the tiara.

A strange feeling swept across her, and she felt the wig tighten - but not uncomfortably - on her head. Meanwhile the temperature of the air seemed to drop perceptibly. Fortunately it was still warm, but when she opened her eyes she saw something drifting away on the stream’s surface, a small, soft pile of hair. She looked down at herself and suddenly felt more naked than she’d ever been. She hurried out of the stream and donned the gown as quickly as possible!

Happily, the itching that she’d been warned about didn’t happen. Instead, she felt… beautiful. She’d never worn anything so magnificent in her life. It was like wearing the gentlest linen.  She fairly skipped back to the camp, dying to see herself in a mirror.

“Oh!” Hollow said when she entered the tent. “My, but you do look nice! Now, when you want to activate the Glamour, just touch the soul gem on the belt. Though, I must say, you may not need it. I’m no judge of female human beauty of course.”

“Do you have a mirror? I’ve got to see myself!”

Hollow smiled and lifted a jewel-encrusted hand mirror from the table, handing it to her and adding, “Don’t touch the bottom jewel though. You don’t need the enchantment on this.”

She looked at herself. What she saw was just herself, in a wig, wearing a gown that she had no right to possess. To say she was disappointed was an understatement.

Hollow caught the look in her eyes. “Is something wrong Mira? Don’t you like it?”

“It’s not that. It’s just. Well, it’s just me. I was hoping… I don’t know.”

“You are no judge of human beauty either, it seems.  But activate the Glamour.”

She did so. Immediately she felt a tingle wherever the dress touched her, like a mild itch. However, true to his word, it wasn’t too much to ignore. But that wasn’t all that had changed. The dress had squeezed her in places, and fell away in others. It felt as if her body itself had morphed underneath it’s folds. She looked into the mirror again.

“OH!” she exclaimed, shocked. “Oh my! Yes! Wow! Look at my… WOW! Hollow! I’m… beautiful! I’m really beautiful!”

Hollow sighed, taking the mirror from her hands. “Of course you are, MIra. I’m no charlatan! You are now officially enchanted. And enchanting… well, at least to those who are affected by such things. But we have no customers yet. You should only engage it when customers are around. No need for it otherwise.”

Mira looked at the mirror longingly. She half reached for it as Hollow set it on the table, but then pulled her hand back. She recalled how she had despised other girls when she was younger for their good looks, which as often as not came with a similarly ugly disposition. She pondered Hollow’s penchant for ‘balance’ and wondered if maybe a different kind of balance was at work in the wider world. Well, she would rather tolerate a bit of itch than to become one of those kinds of people!

Outside, they heard Anabelle snort, and Hollow became excited. “We have a customer Mira! Please, give them a nice greeting and send them in!”

Mira stepped out of the tent and saw a middle aged man coming towards the cart dubiously. She beckoned him to approach.

“Are you the Enchanter?” he said, wringing his hands nervously. As he came close, she noticed he was younger than he’d first appeared. But his skin was sun-parched, obviously spending long hours outdoors that had prematurely aged his appearance.

“Oh no - that’s Oak in Grey Hollow. He’s in the tent there.  Please, come on in, and don’t be nervous. We’re here to help!”

“Well, thank you Miss. I’m not sure if he can help, but…” he stammered, but she shushed him.

“No, you’ll want to tell Hollow everything. Step this way!”

With that she ushered him within the tent, that now was lit with an unusual bluish glow that she saw emanating from a staff that Hollow had activated and planted into the ground.

“Ah, welcome good Sir!” said Hollow enthusiastically. “I am Oak in Grey Hollow, Traveling Enchanter, Alchemist and Advisor!”

“Oh, you’re an Argonian? I’m not sure if you can help me, but…”

“Well, have a seat here and tell me all about it. No charge if I can’t help, of course. But please, tell me your name and your problem.”

“Name’s Grath - Jon Grath. I’m just a farmer a bit down the way. Saw your horse go by into town earlier and then I heard about the posters.”

“Ah, a farmer! A noble yet sadly thankless career. Why, it’s men like you that allow for civilization to flourish, you know! I applaud your service, truly I do. Why, were I able to do so, I assure you I would offer my services Pro Bono - free that is - yet, this cruel world. You see how it is? But your type are the foundations upon which we all rely! Truly salt of the earth. Please, tell me what brings you out of your homestead to my humble tent?”

At first, Mira was concerned that Hollow was laying it on a little thick, but she just stood to the side, trying to look beautiful. Yet as he went on buttering up the guy, she saw he had struck some chord as the scowling farmer’s weathered face began to relax.

Mr. Grath looked at Mira sidelong and whispered to Hollow. “I’m afraid it’s a bit… personal. Do you think maybe…” he trailed off.

“Oh I’m sorry, but please, I need Mira’s help - especially in personal matters! She is, as you may have noticed, not only a human but a female of your species. That makes her invaluable to me in these situations you see. She has the intuition of her sex that I just cannot fathom - yet, of course, the discretion of a cleric. I assure you, nothing you tell us will leave this space. But, to make things easier for you, take a look at this…”

Hollow produced a large book, and flipped it to a page of hand-written notes. Mira peered over the farmer’s shoulder to see them as well, smiling when she saw the five entries.

“These, my good man, are typical ‘personal’ issues I have solutions pre-made for. Perhaps your situation matches one of these? If so, then you’re in luck! Since I don’t need to customize the enchantments or potions needed, I can offer you a solution at a greatly discounted rate!”

The farmer scanned the words on the page carefully. “I’m not much of a reader, Mr. Hollow… what does ‘performance’ mean here?”

Hollow turned to glance at the page.

“Performance Enhancement? Ah, that is for men who are unable to achieve - shall we say - mutually satisfactory lovemaking activities with your intimate partner. Is this, perhaps, your issue?”

The farmer glanced sidelong towards Mira, but nodded.

“Ah! No problem then! But this particular issue typically comes in one of a few slightly different varieties - yet no fear! I have a solution for all of them - at least so long as they derive from a physical issue and not… well… to be blunt, Farmer Grath, I cannot dabble in matters of the heart directly. Trust me, I have tried.”

“Oh, no. That’s okay - the wife and I, we’re still in love. I just… I don’t last long enough for her. We make do, of course, but.”

“Say no more Mr. Grath! Wait here a moment, I’ll be right back. Tonight you will be the stallion of your wife’s dreams, I assure you!” Hollow responded excitedly. “Oh it does make me happy to have such a perfect solution readily at hand!  Mira, keep Mr. Grath entertained while I go get something!”

And with that Hollow was gone. Mira considered just what sort of ‘entertainment’ Hollow might expect her to do in this case! Dancing? Singing?  But instead, she just sat in Hollow’s chair and took the man’s hands in her own.

“Please, don’t be embarrassed, Sir. In our line of work, we get the most peculiar complaints. Your’s is quite normal, really. Your wife doesn’t know you’re here, does she?”

“Oh no, Miss,” the farmer stammered, not able to make eye contact with her.

“You are a wonderful husband, Sir. You come to us for her sake, and that shows the depth of your love for her! You are a good man, Mr. Grath. I’m so glad Hollow is able to help someone so loving as to seek help from us. I hope she appreciates you!”

The sun-dried face turned up to face her now, smiling. “You think so?” he asked. “She’s been so wonderful. I just want to…”

“Make her as happy as she makes you?” Mira offered, smiling - and she could see her smile reflected in his face.

“Yes! Exactly!”

At that, Hollow returned, carrying something, and Mira returned to her station behind their customer. Hollow handed Mr. Grath a small band of cloth with the smallest soul gem she’d ever seen embroidered into it.

“Now, this is what I call the Band of Grey Solidity. I doubt I need to explain how to use it much. Just put it where it needs to go, and when you’re ready, touch the gem. From that point you will remain in your current state until it is deactivated… Once deactivated, things will proceed naturally. I expect this will solve your problem perfectly!”

“Er… Mr. Hollow. I don’t know much about Argonians but, it’s a little… little.”

“Oh, no! No problem. It’s stretchy, see?” Hollow explained, demonstrating an quite impressive range of expansion, and the farmer took the little device as if holding the most precious thing in the world.

“How much?” he asked, not taking his eyes off the band, but those eyes were sparkling with anticipation.

Hollow eyed Mira surreptitiously, his eyebrows waggling.

“Only 109,” he said.

Suddenly the farmer’s face turned dark. “109 gold? Are you kidding Mr. Hollow? For this little thing?”

Yet Mira noticed he didn’t set it back on the table.

“I’m so very sorry, sir. But, you see, I have such overhead. We sell little as we travel Tamriel, and costs seem to increase every day. Surely you have experienced the same. Why, the cost of flour alone seems to have doubled since last year. What do you farm, Mr. Grath? Wheat?” Hollow said, seemingly very sincere in his apology, and reaching to accept the device back. However, the farmer’s hand didn’t release it.

“Well now, Mr. Hollow. You’re right about that, heaven knows! Perhaps, though, a bit of discount?”

“I’m so very sorry Mr. Grath. I simply cannot,” Hollow said, practically tearing up. Then he leaned in close and whispered - yet not so low that Mira couldn’t hear every word.

“My girl here, she’s a bit expensive too. Has to have the best of everything, I’m afraid.”

The farmer glanced back to Mira, who was absentmindedly looking away at the moment, then back to the Argonian. “You… and her?” he whispered?

Hollow shrugged, smiling a somewhat mischievous Argonian smile.

The farmer laughed. “My! You must be a good Enchanter after all! Yes, I can understand your situation, Mr. Hollow. But about the Band… Any side effects? Any guarantee?”

“Sir, you have my personal word as guarantee! Plus, I did not set up shop here to leave the next day! Should it not perform as warranted, you may return it for a full refund. minus a small restocking fee of course. As for side effects, you are a wise man to ask. Yet this particular device is unique among most of my wares, for the positive benefit to your wife is offset perfectly with the delayed pleasure to yourself! It is naturally in balance and the soul gem that powers it is of the most minor of souls, yet should last a lifetime!”

The farmer stood up and drew out a money pouch, counting out the entire amount.  While he did so, Mira took the device and wrapped it in a small box that Hollow produced, and handed it to him when the counting was done with a flourish.

“Thank you so much, Mr. Grath. And I’m sure you’ll be very happy with your purchase! But if not, just bring it back tomorrow.”

“Well, it was more than I wanted to spend, but if it does as promised…”

“She is worth it, don’t you think?” Mira asked, smiling back.

The farmer drew in a deep breath and smiled back. “Yes. Yes she is. Thank you Miss, and Mr. Hollow. I’ll let you know how things go.”

Hollow and Mira left the tent just behind the farmer and they watched him trudge over the hill and down the nearby road until he was out of sight, hand patting his pocket intermittently the whole time.

“Will it really work?” Mira asked as they watched the fading figure of a happy man.

“Well, it will do exactly what I said it will do. Whether that alone will suffice for Mrs. Grath, I can’t say. Maybe yes, maybe no. Time will tell. Women are weird. But here, take this. You did well, Mira.”

Hollow handed her 9 gold, and she looked at it glistening in her hand as the sun set. She looked up at the Argonian, eyes burning.

“Oh please,” he said, seeing her grateful response. “It’s just 9 gold. Not like I just gave you the riches of the east! And turn off that damn Glamour. It’s annoying.”

She touched the gem on her belt and the itching stopped.

Chapter 3 - A Day in the Life

As the cart rumbled along towards the next village, Mira continued her reflections on her initial meeting with Oak in Grey Hollow. Of course, by now she knew the import of her ‘dream’, but at the time she passed it off as caused by a bit of bad rabbit stew. But she’d had quite another surprise the next day…

--------------------

The breakfast was perhaps a bit meager, but still better than anything she’d eaten as a beggar.  Hollow then had her help set up a large tent in preparation for any visitors that might drop by. In essence, it was simply intended as a private meeting place where Hollow could converse with his customers without eavesdroppers. However, it had the right mystical aura when he had applied certain perfumes and incense within.

When that task had been completed, Hollow took down two outfits from the doors of the cart. One was a rather mundane set of breeches and blouse in a drab grey and tan, but the other was something else entirely! Jewels sparkled and the fabric was in various shades of translucent purple, the entire thing light as a feather.

“This,” Hollow explained as he laid the dress out on the table they’d set within the tent, “is yours. You will wear this here, as my servant. It may be, perhaps, a bit over the top - but the local citizens are impressed by such finery, and I expect will be somewhat more amenable to parting with their coin when they see you in this as my devoted servant!”

“Servant?”

“Oh,” he replied, a bit chagrined. “Assistant?”

“Let’s go with assistant,” she agreed, giving him a warning look.  “Can I try it on?”

Hollow’s snout wrinkled.  “Um… perhaps a little clean-up first? I need it pretty badly, and you even more than me!”

She nodded, and they headed to the stream, Mira carrying the mundane clothes that she would wear into town later, while Hollow brought a small basket containing towels and some vials and other odd objects that she didn’t recognize.

When they got to the stream, she eyed Hollow warily, not sure exactly what Hollow expected of her here.

“Now this,” he said, handing her a slippery yellow object, “is what we call ‘soap’.  Rinse yourself first, then rub it all over vigorously.  Then a final rinse should do.  As for your hair, this vial contains another cleaning agent made specifically for cleaning hair.  Do the same - rinse, rub it in, then rinse..  And… do it twice. I think you’ll need it.  Finally, this white vial contains a finishing agent. After washing with the first, do one more round with this.”

She took the objects and examined them, sniffing at the ‘soap’.  It smelled surprisingly good!

“So how do you know much about hair, Hollow? You haven’t got any!” she pointed out.

The enchanter surprised her by stripping naked while he responded, and she looked away reflexively.

“Ah, but Anabelle does!” he said as he splashed into the stream behind her. “Besides, you’d be surprised how many requests I get from humans regarding hair troubles! These cleaning agents were some of my first forays into the alchemical sciences. Took some experimentation, but I finally hit on an excellent combination of ingredients. Leaves your hair shiny and supple! And best of all, there’s no magic involved!”

“Experiments?” she asked, setting the vials and soap down. She heard splashing behind her and turned to see Hollow dunking himself under the water.

He rose out of the shallow stream, shaking himself and began applying the soap vigorously.

“Well,” he said as he bathed, apparently oblivious to any modesty issues, “we’d best not talk about that. I assure you there was no permanent damage! And one of the gentlemen actually preferred being bald anyway! Say, are you going to use that soap or not?”

Mira drew in a deep breath. “Um… Hollow. Do you expect me to bathe right here with you?”

He cocked his head to one side. “Well, yes. Why not?” he asked while washing his chest.  She saw the blue symbol slowly begin to disappear from his chest. And then something extraordinary happened…

Mira shook her head to clear it, not at all sure if what she was seeing could be real. Meanwhile Hollow continued washing, now sitting in the stream and cleaning his feet.  

No, she corrected herself mentally when rubbing at her eyes didn’t change what she was seeing.  Hollow was cleaning HER feet. Hollow was now unmistakably a female Argonian.

“Well?” she asked Mira, her voice now significantly higher in pitch. “We haven’t got all day!”

MIra finally shrugged and did as she was bid, and soon she was in the stream bathing herself as well. The water wasn’t too cold, but it was a bit bracing. She sat and began washing her legs too, still debating exactly how she should ask Hollow about his… her?... transformation.

“Hey Mira,” the now-enchantress asked. “Do you think you could help me put my ward back on when you’re done? I can do it myself, but it’s a bit tricky.  It’s just a circle and a five-pointed star, drawn in a special kind of soft blue magetallow wax. Doesn’t have to be perfect, and I’ll do the enchantment part.”

“Um… sure Hollow,” she agreed, “when I’m all done. But, I thought you said the ward was there to keep you sane?”

“Oh, for certain it is! Why, I couldn’t last an hour in this way. Even now I get the strangest feelings! Frankly I don’t know how you women manage it. But then, it’s all you’ve known I suppose.”

Mira debated if she should get mad about that comment or not - perhaps later, when she’d gotten to know her employer better. Instead she rinsed herself and went to the side of the stream, grabbing the first vial and pouring a bit out before rubbing it through her hair. It began to lather.

“That’s it!”, Hollow said, climbing out of the stream and laying on the grass sunning herself while she waited for Mira to finish her hair. “Work it in good and deep.”

Finally when she’d applied the second vial as well, she climbed out of the stream and took a towel to dry herself off, while Hollow took the other.

“Now, if you don’t mind…” Hollow said, handing her the blue wax.

“Let me get dressed first, Hollow,” she said, determined that - as bizarre as this morning had already been - she was at least going to be fully dressed when Hollow became male again.

“Please, can you hurry up?” Hollow said. “I’m feeling very weird already.”

“Only just now?” Mira thought as she pulled the blouse over her head.

She took the wax and began to draw a circle across Hollow’s no-longer-flat chest. It was surprisingly difficult!  It didn’t help that Hollow began to laugh when she started on the star.

“Hold still! Jeeze!” Mira protested, and Hollow tried to get herself under control.

“Okay, I think that’s got it.”

“Thank you Mira!” Hollow said, then closed her eyes and began to murmur something. When the incantation was finished, Hollow was male again. The transmutation hadn’t been some slow change, but instantly Hollow’s chest was flat again, and other parts weren’t.  

Mira’s blush was instantaneous as well. Her eyes shot skyward.

“Oh, that’s so much better!” Hollow said, his voice back to what she had come to consider normal.

He began to dress again in a new, duplicate set of clothes while Mira’s mind began to race.

“Hollow…” she began.

“Yes?”

“That ward… it… makes you male.  But without it, you’re female. What were you originally?”

He stopped and turned towards her, tying his boots. “You know… I’m not really sure.”

“I mean,” she continued, “if you are female without the ward…”

“Sorry Mira, I really can’t remember. I’ve done a lot of experiments, some on myself. I think I remember coming up with the ward after one of those experiments, but… I’ve been a lot of things. I was a True Neutral once! It was… boring.”

“I imagine so,” she laughed.

Then she looked at her old pile of clothes. Hollow looked at them too. Then he looked at her and shook his head.  She left them, the last of her old life now truly left behind.

When they got back to the cart, Hollow dug out about 10 smallish posters and handed them to Mira, instructing her to post them in the village about a mile farther up the road.  

“Make sure the arrow is pointing back this way though,” he added as he untied Anabelle from the side of the cart. “Take it from me, you don’t get much business the other way! Then, when you’ve put them all up, hurry back here. We’ve got to get you ready before they start coming!”

“You’re letting me take Anabelle?”

“Oh, yes. A girl on a horse is a lot less likely to be hassled than one just walking into town on foot. Besides, Anabelle insists. Try not to talk to the locals though, if you can avoid it. Mystery is one of our biggest draws. These poor village folk don’t get much of that.”

“Got it,” Mira said. “No saddle?”

“Sorry, no. Anabelle doesn’t like them. But she’ll keep under you, won’t you Anabelle?”

In response, the horse looked at them dumbly, then went back to grazing.

Hollow helped Mira climb up, and before the sun had crossed noon, she was off down the road at a plodding pace, but faster than walking.

The village was a quaint little place. Most of the people were inside, though a couple were out on the main street, eyeing her suspiciously.  However, as she began to hammer the posters into place, others began to emerge - the children first of all.

“An enchanter! Mom! A traveling enchanter! Can we go see him?” one waif called to his mother.

Mira didn’t hear the response. She was already off to post the last advertisement up. However, she did grant the village some respect after that. The kid could read at least!

And then she was done and heading back down the road where she’d come from.

“Wait here, Missy!” called a man from a doorway. “You can’t just nail up a sign on my gate post like that!”

Hastily she considered. She could just ride out of town and ignore him, but it wouldn’t do to have these people upset with her and Hollow already. She pulled in Anabelle and climbed down.

“Sorry sir,” she said, bowing low. “I’ll take it off right now…”

“Now hold on, missy, I didn’t say you had to take it down. I just want some compensation is all!”

“I’m sorry,” she said, keeping her head down. “I.. don’t have any money.”

“Oh, that’s alright,” he said, his voice softening. “Can I get a discount?”

At that, she brightened up considerably. “Oh yes sir! Certainly! I’ll see that Hollow gives you a 10 percent discount on any purchases!”

“That’s more like it then. Well, tell this…” he paused to squint at the poster, ‘“Oak in Grey Hollow’ I’ll be expecting it when I drop by tonight.”

“I will,” she assured him, then went back to Anabelle. But she soon found she couldn’t climb upon the horse by herself. There were some snickers from the villagers as she tried to jump, but the horse was simply too big and there was nothing to hold on to. She considered grabbing onto the horse’s mane, but something told her that would be a bad idea.

Then, amazingly, Anabelle lay down, allowing Mira to climb on her back easily. As soon as she was on board, the horse rose again and started trotting out of the village smartly, hooves prancing high in the air as the villagers looked on in wonder at the trained horse.

Chapter 2 - One Enchanted Evening

“Now, if I don’t miss my guess, you’ll find some excellent firewood over in that glade. Would you mind fetching it for me Mira, while I unhitch Anabelle? Oh, fetch her some water from that stream first, please. She’s thirsty. Then we can get a nice fire going. I’ve much yet to tell you, you know. Oh yes, there’s much to explain!” said the enchanter.

Mira did as she was told, watering the horse and carting firewood in several trips until she felt sure she had enough for the evening. Meanwhile Hollow had opened the rear doors of the cart and lowered a step. The doors contained an assortment of brightly colored clothing, jewelry, and other oddments that she couldn’t even identify that hung upon them - and the yawning darkness within promised even more interesting things. Hollow was nowhere in sight.

She couldn’t help herself. She thought of thievery.

“No, probably not a good idea,” said a voice over her shoulder, and she turned with a start. Hollow was leaning over, peering into the dark interior of the cart with her.

“Who knows what’s in there?” he said as she straightened up. “Could be nasties. Could be! Besides, you never know what sort of wards he might have. Not to mention that you don’t know what any of the stuff does. At least you can wait to find out first, don’t you think?”

“Hollow! I… I was just curious!”

“Oh, I know!” he said, not a hint of anger in his voice.

He turned back around and picked up the brace of rabbits he had brought along, sitting down and beginning to skin them.

Then his voice changed - lowered and became more serious. And more lucid.

“I’d say, given the amount you could carry and the size of the next village, you’d be lucky to get 100 copper. And, like I said, they’d end up with potentially dangerous enchanted items. Before you know it, you’d be right back where you were in just a few days. You’re not a prostitute… yet. But you’re awfully skinny, Mira. You’re not doing well. Maybe you should stay with the crazy old man a little longer.”

He was turned away from her and she couldn’t see his face.

“I will,” she said, and meant it.

“Will what?” he said, turning his head to look at her.

“I’ll… stay with you,” she answered.

“Well good,” he said, and handed her a potato and a knife. “How are you at peeling potatoes?”

Two hours later, she sat beside Hollow on the ground, watching the campfire, with their backs against the steps of the cart. Hollow was humming a tune and puffing on a long stemmed pipe, while she was simply feeling content, her stomach full of a fine rabbit stew and sipping on some wine Hollow had provided. She had never drank much - she’d seen it cause too many problems - but she couldn’t turn down the offer from her new benefactor.

Finally, Hollow finished his song and looked at Mira.

“Okay. Here’s the thing about this job. The first thing is to understand completely what it is the customer actually wants. They’ll say they want one thing, but you have to think about what they really want. Sometimes they are the same thing, but sometimes they’re not! And then you have to figure out what they actually need, which is almost always something else entirely.  Once you get to that point, then the negotiations can start. We don’t make much money in this business, but fortunately we don’t need much - right? All we have to do is make sure we make a little more than it costs us. Problem is you have to figure in all the costs. Like tonight. This has to be added to the cost of what we sell tomorrow, because we’re not selling anything tonight. This wine, the carrots and potatoes, spices, Anabelle’s food too! It’s not a lot, but it’s not nothing either. We have to make enough to cover our days on the road too. Got it?”

She nodded, though the wine was making her a little fuzzy.

“Alright. Now, about enchanting… It’s my stock-in-trade, but I can also do a little alchemy too. But enchanting - ah, that’s where the real fun is! We use soul gems, you know. Those rabbits we just ate, their souls are in four new soul gems now. Waste not, want not!”

Mira watched his eyes as he spoke. Those beautiful blue eyes. They sparkled on this topic, and though she only vaguely followed what he said, she found herself drawn to his enthusiasm. This was a man with a vision, and there was a charm to a man with a vision. She refocused, trying to catch up to what he was saying…

“...balance. You see, the soul gems don’t really provide the magic to the enchantment. What they do is hold it in place, once you’ve set it up. It’s like tailoring. You bend the material how you want it to fold, then the soul gems are like the thread you sew in to keep it in place. But there has to be balance. The closer to balance the enchantment is, the smaller the soul gem needed to keep it in place. But if you try an enchantment that is badly out of balance, you’ll need a powerful gem to keep it in place. Either that or it will unravel quickly. Do you see?”

“A little,” she said honestly. “Look, Hollow, I really can’t do magic. I’ve tried, but it’s just not in me. I hope you don’t plan to make me into an apprentice, because I’ll disappoint you.”

“Oh, I see that in you Mira. I do. No, you haven’t got that kind of magic. But you still should at least understand what I do as much as you can. And the constraints I work under. I can do some amazing things! Honest I can! But I don’t deal in strong gems. I once did, but… well, we needn’t go there. So my enchantments require balance. Now tomorrow, I’m going to send you into the village to put up these posters. Advertisements. I’m not going to enchant you though. The people will see you as you are. I’ll need you to clean up some though, and I’ll give you some normal clothes - somewhat less threadbare than what you’re wearing now. But you’ll not be enchanted. That comes later. However…”

He paused, obviously waiting for some response from her.

“However… what?”

“It’s going to be uncomfortable for you.  Nothing too bad, I promise! But, I use only small gems. You will look gorgeous. You’ll be universally attractive to both men and women. You will feel awful. Like little ants are pricking at you. Again, nothing you won’t be able to ignore I assure you! But… it has to have balance.”

She shrugged. It wasn’t like she’d not slept in flea-bitten beds before. Couldn’t be much worse than that.

“Well good!  I don’t know about you, but I’m ready for bed. Why don’t you put out the fire and I’ll get our beds ready.”

She took a bucket to a nearby stream, filled it, then brought it back and dashed out the flames of the campfire. She saw a flickering light from within the cart then, and heard the Argonian mumbling something. She looked around but saw no bedrolls on the ground.

Hollow emerged and beckoned her in, his Idea Candle now the only light save the stars and one of the moons.

“You have beds in there?”

“Why certainly! Anabelle has to stay outside though. She doesn’t like that, but she’s too big to fit.”

She climbed up the stairs. Inside, the cart seemed much bigger than it had any right to be.

“You sleep on the bottom,” he said, indicating a bed built into the wall with another underneath. Both looked to be fitted with very fine blankets and sheets. She looked down at herself and realized she was probably going to ruin them in her current state. She really should have taken that bath.

Then another thought struck her as she heard Hollow undressing behind her. She wasn’t sure if she should turn around, but she couldn’t help peeking.

Shirtless, the blue pattern drawn on his chest now glowed almost as much as his Idea Candle, but it was his baggy pajamas that set her to laughing. White with little stars, crescent moons and wizarding wands were patterned across it.

“What?” he asked, looking down. “You don’t like my pajamas?”

“I think they’re wonderful,” she snickered, and suddenly felt a lot less uncomfortable as she took off her filthy pants and shirt, still keeping her underclothes on for modesty’s sake.

“Well…” he said, climbing up to his upper berth. “I like them anyway.”

“I’m sorry,” she said as she climbed under her own blankets. “They just struck me as funny. Probably the wine.”

“Certainly the wine. Tomorrow I’ll get you some new clothes - non-enchanted. Your own need a liberal application of cleansing fire,” he replied, perhaps with a slight note of ire.

To that she snorted but couldn’t argue. She watched as the light from the candle bobbed about before becoming stationary somewhere above her. Presumably he had removed it and set it on a stable surface. His tail hung down from above, twitching, only inches from her face and she wriggled a bit farther towards the wall.

“Mira? Do me a favor. There’s a little yellow gem on the wall beside you. Can you press it?”

She looked around and spotted it. At her touch, a slight breeze began to blow silently.

“Thank you,” he said quietly, and shifted above her.

“Hollow?” she asked a little later, not sure if he was sleeping or not yet.

“Yes?”

“What’s that symbol on your chest for?”

“It’s a type of ward. Keeps me sane. Goodnight Mira.”

She smiled, questioning its effectivity, but said nothing and drifted off to sleep.

However, she didn’t sleep soundly that night. She had the strangest dream. She dreamed she awoke to a darkened cart, her name having been whispered just before.

The only light was from the starlight outside the still-opened doors at the back, Hollow’s candle having apparently been extinguished. She arose and noticed her sight seemed a bit blurred and her mind was foggy, as if in a daze. Hollow was still asleep, his deep breathing not disturbed even when she brushed against his tail as she arose, though it did elicit some incomprehensible murmuring.

She thought she’d heard her name whispered outside.  The night was still warm, and she stepped into the starlight. Morning was nowhere near and she knew this was the deep night when all good souls were sleeping. Where had she heard that before?

“Mira.” said a whisper from nearby. But it didn’t actually say the name. It said something else, but she knew it referred to her, something like a name.

She turned slowly as if moving through molasses, but she was not alarmed or afraid.

In the blackness beside the cart she saw a strange sight. A woman stood there, extraordinarily tall, though her lower torso was in darkness, but a woman she undoubtedly was - dark and beautiful, even to her eyes. She may have been a Dunmer, for her skin was colorless - grey perhaps - yet somehow she seemed not to quite fit that race either. Something about the eyes didn’t seem right. For that matter, her height alone denied association with any of the normal races. And her hair was of the most extraordinary style and length. It rose from her forehead and down her back and across her shoulders, yet none grew from the side - a sort of mohawk fashion. It was long though, and fell beside her breast into the darkness of the shade below the woman’s navel.

Mira found herself beginning to kneel before this woman, but the other shook her head, speaking in a language that was not one she could have named, yet one she understood. “No. Rise Mira. I am no goddess for you to prostrate yourself before. I am simply me. I guard Hollow, though. You might call me his protector. Hollow is my love, you see. My love since the day we met. Tell me, Mira, what are your intentions towards him? It is important that I know this.”

“Me? I… I have no ‘intentions’ towards him. He is kind, and I needed some kindness. I intend only to help him in any way I can. At least until I can find another path for my life. I am aimless, my Lady. I seek only to find my way in the world, to find a place I can fit in. I thought, just maybe, that this…” she replied, not able to complete the thought.

The woman smiled. “I am certainly no Lady, Mira, but if what you say is true, you are welcome here. I will not trouble you. Just remember what I have said. Hollow does not love me, I know. Hollow doesn’t know what the word means. General love, certainly, but not the intimate love between two people. Still, someday, perhaps. Time works many miracles - and many curses. I will be there if that day comes. If not… I remain with the one I love. There are worse fates.”

“Yes,” Mira agreed. “There are worse. But, my lady, he is an Argonian. You… well, you clearly are not.”

“Hollow is an Argonian to your eyes? Interesting. I see only Oak in Grey Hollow. The one I love more than life itself. The rest is fluff and nonsense.”

“Fluff and nonsense,” Mira repeated dreamily.

“Go back to sleep, Mira,” said the vision before her. “I will protect you as well, as long as we are understood. Hollow is… not for you.”

“I understand, and can assure you completely that I have no designs on him in that way. I give you my word,” Mira said.

In fact, part of her laughed at the thought. She’d actually never had so much as a crush on anyone else ‘in that way’ in her life. An Argonian least of all! Still, somehow it made her feel warm inside, to know that Hollow was loved by someone. He was such a strange man. It was good to know someone was looking out for him.

Chapter 1 - Enchanter For Hire!

He was an odd man, even for an Argonian. That much was certain - save for the ‘man’ part. Argonians were weird. She assumed he was male, but in the two months she had been travelling with him, she still wasn’t 100% sure. Things had transpired… weird things… that left her very confused as to that. Still, as a beggar quite literally, she hadn’t been in a situation to be choosy when they’d first met - and frankly, she didn’t really care. As the cart bounced and bumped along the road, she looked at Hollow and thought back to when they’d first met…

--------------------------

She had managed to stave off the more obvious but distasteful employment opportunities in the Imperial City only by cleverness and pure luck. Growing up on the streets, she’d gotten pretty good at scavenging. Now that she was maturing, however, things were tougher. Handouts to a street urchin were one thing, but those were harder to come by as she grew. Such offerings often came with favors. Favors that thus far she’d managed to refuse or elude.

However, she had finally been forced to try her hand at robbery, and that had been her undoing. It wasn’t that she was unsuccessful - far from it. She had managed to purloin quite an impressive collection of silverware that fetched a good price with a somewhat shady dealer she knew. However, too late she discovered that the house had been protected by the Thieves’ Guild, and it took the Guild little time to uncover her identity.

From a friend, she had fortunately discovered that she had been revealed to the Guild before they’d actually caught up with her - but that left her with only one choice: flight. She’d had no time to prepare, and hastily set out for Leyawiin as the most distant city still within Cyrodiil, catching the first caravan out of town immediately.

Leyawiin had turned out to be even less than hospitable to her, however, and her prospects there rapidly diminished as her funds ran short. Her own sense of self-respect kept her out of the taverns and brothels that seemed increasingly to be her only prospective source of employment.

It was in a dark mood that she now sat alone, fishing for her next meal at a small lake some distance from the city walls. A mile distant she saw a farmer toiling at his field, and she found herself envying the man. Backbreaking and meager as that occupation may be, at least he knew where his next meal was coming from.

She had kept her hair cut short and unkempt, and had kept her figure under wraps - often passing herself off as a boy to avoid unwanted advances. So far it had worked, but increasingly nature was making it more and more difficult to maintain the ruse. Tears began to well up as her thoughts of the future went from dark to black, and she wondered if suicide would actually be worse than following the only path she saw open to her. She cursed the mother and father she’d never known for bringing her into this world with no talents whatsoever.

Then she heard singing. It was so out of place here that it seemed to be magical, even if the words were foreign and unintelligible. Jel, undoubtedly. Yet they were sweetly sung and the melody was enchanting. She looked around for the source as it slowly became louder. The creaking of wheels accompanied it, and she left her makeshift fishing pole on the ground as she crept through the grass towards the road.

A covered cart was there, slowly creaking down the road, rolling away from the city with a sole Argonian swaying to the mismatched wobble of it’s wheels.  She was strangely drawn towards this odd character, with his wide-brimmed hat and long cloak left conspicuously open. But it was his eyes that really drew her own. They were black, but with the most enthralling blue sclera, recalling perhaps the ocean itself.  She’d never seen anything like them, and she had certainly met many Argonians, being so close to the Black Marsh.  

Suddenly he stopped, reigning in the old grey mare that drew his cart. She ducked low as his head swiveled towards her, though he didn’t stop his singing until he had finished the verse.

“Ah! A young woman, Anabelle! We have a guest! Come, don’t be shy. Come out from the grass there. You are no snake to crawl on your belly. Come, I am Oak in Grey Hollow! Traveling Enchanter and Mage Extraordinaire, purveyor of fine magical potions, goods and enchantments of all sorts. Known across Tamriel by the finer establishments! Perhaps you are in need of some magetallow candles? They are my specialty! Oh, come. I know you’re there, Miss. Hiding is rude and you are no brigand.”

She raised her head above the grass hesitantly.

“There you are! Come! My hat tells me you are in need of my services.  Oh yes, I can help.  But please, what is your name, Miss? I must know something of you, in order to best assist. Come and tell me, what can the great Oak in Grey Hollow do for you?!”

She stood, brushing the grass from herself. The Argonian brought a smile to her lips somehow, an expression that felt out of place. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d smiled. But his own enthusiasm was infectious.

“Oh, sir, I’m just a beggar. I’ve nothing to pay you with.”

The Argonian squinted his eyes at her. “Oh, I see. Well… alas, that is a problem. Payment up front. Sorry, company policy. Can’t break policy, no.”

Her spirits faded as he confirmed her expectations. But he had not resumed his ride. He sat looking at her, as if thinking deeply.

“Wait a moment,” he said. “I’m getting an idea…”

She approached the cart, reading the badly faded painted words on the side: “Oak in Grey Hollow - Enchanter for Hire!”

“I’ve got it! My candle has come through yet again!” he said, and removed his hat and revealing the most marvelous thing. A candle sat perched atop his head, apparently firmly affixed by the melted wax that had flowed from it’s still-burning wick. His hand reflexively went towards it’s tip as if in a instinctive gesture.  

“Ah yes, still alight! It’s my Idea Candle, you know! Gives me great ideas!  Also helps with the hat’s enchantment, you know…  Magetallow.  Say, do you need any magetallow candles? I’ve got heaps in the back. LOADS of em!”

“Um… no. Sorry Sir.”

“Oh, no. Call me Oak. Or Hollow. No ‘Sir’s here! Not among the staff. Oh no, we have a relaxed policy here in the company. Management and Labor are united, you see? You’re not going to stage a strike, are you?”

She stood open-mouthed, more confused than ever.

“No? Good. Well then, hop aboard and I’ll tell you your duties.  Come on, come on up…”

“What?”

“Ah… I see. So that’s how it is… Holding out for more pay. No, no… I understand.  It’s just business. Okay, if you insist. The hat is never wrong. Okay, but only 20% more, and that’s my final offer!  Take it or leave it.”

“Twenty percent of what?”

“Why, your base salary of course! I can do no more than that! Please, I’m not made of money! I knew someone that was made of money once, but that ended badly for him. But I’m not him. Really, any more and I’d ruin myself! Please take the offer?”

“Um… what’s my ‘base salary’?” she said, but found herself crossing to the other side of the cart and smiling. The guy was obviously insane, and yet he seemed harmless enough. Maybe she could get a free meal out of him at least.

“Why, zero of course.  Okay, 25% more, but that’s it! Either stay down there or sit here beside me and take the job. What’ll it be?”

She didn’t hesitate. She had no other prospects. She climbed up and sat beside the insane Argonian.

“Ah, you drive a hard bargain! But a deal’s a deal. Now, let me tell you about the job…”

----------------------------------------------------

She smiled now, months later, recalling that day. The insane enchanter and the beggar - what a match!

----------------------------------------------------

“Up Anabelle!” called the enchanter as he whipped the reigns, and the cart started off again. Now perched on the seat beside Hollow, she had to hold on with one hand as the cart jogged back and forth.

“As you may have surmised, I travel these lands now, bringing joy and happiness through the power of enchantment to both great and humble here in Cyrodiil. But I could use an assistant, especially one of your beauty and talent.”

She looked down at herself and laughed. She probably should have taken a bath back at that lake. She stank. But he was continuing.

“I am - you may not have noticed - an Argonian. However, through circumstances too tragic to relate, I have come to Cyrodiil, which I find is peopled greatly by your own kind. Now, even as attractive as I am, it seems there are some locals who are somewhat off-put by my native race. Hard to believe, but it’s true. Why, just a few days ago, I was escorted most unceremoniously from my temporary residence outside a local village with the most rude epithets I’d never expect to hear from those whom I’d brought such joy and happiness to! Yet, there it is. Open racism can sometimes run rampant in the backwaters of even such civilized realms as Cyrodiil.”

“I can’t believe it,” she said, getting into the spirit of the moment.

“Oh, I know! But that’s where you come in, Miss.  Oh, say, did you ever tell me your name?”

“I have lots of names, Mr. Hollow. Never really knew my real name. Orphaned.”

“Just ‘Hollow’ please. Mr. Hollow was my father. Not really though. Orphaned you say? I’m an orphan too, did you know? But the world is my mother and the sky is my father. Between the two, I was nursed and raised.  Still, you must have a name. Do you want me to choose one?”

She smiled. She’d never much liked any of the names she’d chosen for long. She kept changing them. Her foster parents had named her Colena. She hated it worst of all.

“Oh, yes, please.  You make up a name for me!” she said eagerly, and meant it.

“Hmm,” he said, removing his hat. “Is my candle still burning?”

She looked at the glowing wick and nodded as he put the hat back on.

“Good. My best ideas come from my candle. Then ‘Mira’. I shall call you Mira.”

“Mira? What does that mean?”

“Hell if I know. I just like the sound.”

She considered it, and decided she liked the sound of it too.

“Then Mira it is,” she said happily. “Now, about this job…”

“Oh,” Hollow said, recalling his earlier train of thought. “Well, yours shall be the pacifying influence of a beautiful woman. You will display yourself prominently as my assistant. That should help alleviate the more racist tendencies of our potential customers, don’t you think?”

Mira scoffed, “Beautiful woman? Hollow, you’re Argonian and maybe not such a good judge of human female beauty.”

Hollow turned to her, his head cocked to one side and looked her up and down.

“You think not? Well, perhaps you are right. I do have some things that may help with that though. But that’s for later. For now, how’s your singing? Do you know any Jel?”

“Singing? Jel?”

“Ah.  Well, let me teach you a song. Best way to learn Jel. A musical language, even if your throat isn’t really built for it.”

“I… might be able to sing better, if perhaps I could get a bite to eat first?” she suggested hesitantly.

“Oh my! Oh dear! Certainly! One moment!” he said, handing her the reins as he fumbled for a pack underneath the seat.

“Hollow! I’ve never driven a horse before!” she protested, eyes widening in fear. As if sensing it, the horse turned back to her and seemed to give her a menacing look, but Anabelle kept on plodding along anyway.

“Just hold onto the reins, girl. Now do let me look. I know I left it… Ah! Here it is. Now, let’s see what I have here…  Apple? I have carrots too.”

She nodded happily, though she was too scared to take her eyes off the horse for fear it might bolt at any moment.

“Very good. I keep them for Anabelle, but I don’t think she’d mind sharing with you.”

She looked at him with menace that he apparently didn’t catch, but he took the reins back - and she took the apple.

An hour later, she was sated and happily singing along with Hollow. She found that, though she still didn’t understand a word she was singing, she did have a talent for harmony which Hollow praised with enthusiasm. The day fell into evening as the two whiled away the afternoon and Hollow taught her a variety of songs. Finally he pulled the old cart off the road and into a glade out of sight of the road.

Not sure if this story will all fit in one post, but I’m gonna try. First, some background. I first saw this image from ThingsHappen back last month or so. It immediately caught my attention - for one, it’s not his typical subject matter, second it obviously reminded me of Katia Managan - but it’s not.

http://www.furaffinity.net/view/30021225/

I dubbed her Smugcat. Then my mind started spinning. Notice her armor has absolutely no flaws or signs of wear...  A story began to form.  First, I’d have to find out what I could about her, so I contacted ThingsHappen and he put me in touch with the commissioner and owner of Keera Faye. I told him I wanted to write a story based around this image and gave him an outline of what it would be.

He was hesitant, as expected when someone wants to write about your own OC - but what he told me about her personality fit well with what I had in mind, though he did point out shes not as... um... shall we say “mentally lightheaded”? Also there’s one very small bit he didn’t much care for but I wanted to keep it in.

So I wrote it, then I showed it to Boogeestro who liked it so much he offered to do his own illustration. I gave him two scenes to choose from. He picked one and I just now finished coloring it.  So finally, I’m ready to post the story. It wanted to grow longer, but I reigned it in - so if it seems abruptly cut short a bit, is sorta was. I didn’t want to do another novelette!

Okay, without further ado, here’s Keera Faye - Adventurer.

Chapter 1

Keera Faye - Cat Barmaid

“Damn,” she said, looking at herself in a mirror and tugging her breasts up just a little father in the dirndl, “I look good tonight!”

The proprietor of the tavern, Sam, looked at her scornfully. Although he was a good friend to her, he knew of her propensity to fall out of her bodice. For that matter, so did everyone in the place - which kept the tips coming. That and the oddly recurring habit of her tail hiking up the back of her skirt just a wee bit too far when she bent over - along with her habit of not wearing anything underneath it - had made her the most popular barmaid in the Crown and Stag.

“Keera, I swear, if you pull them up any higher they’ll pop out the second you bend over. I mean, hell, why don’t you just take the blouse off altogether?

She turned to him with mock outrage.

“Sam! I am shocked! Shocked I say! What kind of establishment do you run here anyway!? Is this a tavern or a brothel?”

At that moment, another of Sam’s three barmaids entered. Virginia was the eldest of the three, and as such she took on the role of matriarch.

“Stop looking at your tits and get out there, Keera. Yes, they’re very nice, but they won’t make us any money back here!”

“It’s all in the presentation, you know,” Keera said, bending over and jiggling them to test the blouse’s limits. She was satisfied when they fell out at at just the right amount of pressure and inhalation. It was important, after all, to make sure that such accidents would only happen at the proper time, and for the proper patrons.

Sam left, carrying a case of ale back to the bar with a sigh, but she noticed he’d dallied long enough to get a peek.

“Okay, I get it. Now go on in, they’re expecting to see the Cat tonight. You’ve been gone two days. They’re getting impatient for some tail!”

Keera smiled. She knew what she was. She liked to show herself off, and everybody knew it. If there were some wives and girlfriends who hated her because of it - well, that was their problem she figured. Being the only female catfolk in the area had made her somewhat of a local celebrity since she’d started working as a tavern wench some years ago. Since then, she’d come to love the work. Others might be disgusted by the ogling gazes of the patrons, but she loved them!

A good thing too for all involved. Since she’d started working there, the Crown and Stag had become quite prosperous. Sam had expanded the main room twice over to accommodate the ever growing weekend crowd, and she knew she and Olivia were the primary cause. Not that Virginia was a bad-looking wench herself, if a little older than her prime. But she was of the Old School that actually was offended by the occasional grope or kiss. Her and Olivia both relished them, though the front of offense had to be maintained anyway. The game was, after all, the game.

She turned around and bent over, testing the height her tail had to go to reveal what lay underneath in the mirror.

“KEERA! Get your ass out there!” Virginia said, spanking her with a little more force than was usual between the girls.

“Okay! Lighten up Virginia. Just testing. I’m going, I’m going!”

The crowd was about normal for a weekend, she noted as she stepped out from the room behind the bar.  The patrons around the bar spotted her and immediately broke out in a round of catcalls and hoots. She couldn’t help herself. She smiled and bowed low for them - but not too low.

She saw Olivia dancing at the far end of the tavern when she came out, with a small circle of men gathered around, but the commotion around the bar drew their attention away from her rival. Olivia gave her a dark scowl, but fortunately their rivalry was good-natured.

She liked Olivia. While sometimes their shared exhibitionist tendencies took them a little over the line in their competition for tips and attention, it kept things interesting. Sam handed her a tray with three ale mugs and a glass of cider.

“Table 7 in the back,” he said, nodding in that direction. “The lad gets the cider.”

She nodded and arranged the drinks on the tray, hefted it for balance, and set it to spinning as she balanced it apparently on a finger.  Some of the patrons knew it was a special trick-tray that had a detached hub in the center. It had been her idea, though, and thus only she could use her special tray - but it was something that caught the eye.

She deftly managed to get it past the first few tables. She wasn’t, perhaps, the most graceful of her kind, but she didn’t often spill drinks. Some of the locals had taken to “accidentally” leaving a leg out a bit far from their chairs as a challenge, and she hopped over two on her way without losing her stride or a drop.

She got to the table where two bearded men, a somewhat grizzled looking woman, and a youth of maybe nineteen or twenty and with only a wisp of facial hair, sat watching her display. She didn’t recognize them, but she knew their type. They were Adventurers, (with a capital A). The woman and the bigger bearded man looked to be the muscles of the four, while the youth and the other grey-bearded man looked to be their support. Adventurers were always a bit tricky to handle. You never knew for sure if they would be the boisterous type or the sulky serious type. Often they were the same people, their mood just depending on if their most recent quest had been successful or not.

Boisterous ones tipped best though.

She leaned low, counterbalancing with her tail as she presented their drinks with a flourish.

“Your ale, Sirs and Madam,” she said. Big-beard and the young one, at least, obviously appreciated her. She particularly enjoyed the blush on the young one’s face, so she presented the hard cider to him with an especially low presentation.

“Thanks,” said the gruff old biddy, tossing her a coin. It looked to be silver. She deftly caught it in her cleavage and nodded her appreciation. A middling tip, but it was better than the coppers the locals usually gave her.

“Say, you guys are Adventurers right?” she said, squatting down beside them at the table to put herself on eye-level. You back from a quest?”

“Just going,” the youth said with enthusiasm. “We’re going into the Caves of Damoth!”

“Ooh! Well, be careful down there. I hear it’s full of nasties.”

“It’s my first time,” he continued.

She was really hoping to connect with big-beard, but the younger one was cuter. Probably not as much coin though.

“First time! Are you scared?”

“Naa,” he blushed as she came in close and brushed up against his arm. “I’m just an apprentice mage along for the experience.”

“I’ve always wanted to be an Adventurer. It sounds so exciting.”

“Hmph,” grunted the old crone, and her and big-beard turned their attention back to Olivia and the bard.

“Well,” she thought, “not everyone is into us catfolk after all. Can’t win ‘em all.”

“You want to come with us?” the young apprentice asked.

“ME?” she reacted with genuine surprise. She’d never had that offer before!

“Well sure! What do you think guys? Can she come with us?”

The old man, who had been watching their exchange with some interest, laughed a short but engaging chuckle.

“A catfolk? Sure! Why not? This is just a beginner quest, after all. A few rats, maybe a kobold or two - if you’d like. Do you do magic? Archery perhaps?”

She sighed and stood up. “I just wiggle my boobs and my tail. I don’t think that would help.”

Suddenly big-beard laughed. He’d obviously been listening even if he wasn’t showing it.

“I don’t know, I’ve known some dwarves that like that sort of thing!”

The others snorted, and she bowed and thanked them for the tip again before heading back to the bar. She felt a bit depressed. She didn’t even slap away a hand that stroked her tail as she passed. Instead she turned and took an order from a table of regulars she knew well.

Later she was helping Olivia and Sam wash dishes. The patrons had all gone home, or up to their rooms.

“Olivia,” she started, broaching the subject that had been in the back of her mind all night. “Do you ever think about what you’ll do… you know, after your boobs have gone all saggy?”

“Never happen,” her friend said. “My great grandma’s boobs were taut and perky all her life!”

Keera looked at her, open mouthed.  “REALLY?”

“Probably. She died right after giving birth to my mom I hear,” Olivia laughed, and Keera swatted her on the ass with her tail.

“That’s terrible!” she spat between her own snorting laughter.

Olivia made a quick holy gesture that ended with a glance upward. “Sorry Gramms,” she said.

“But seriously,” Keera went on. “We can’t do this all our lives.”

“You could become a bartender,” Sam suggested helpfully.

Olivia and Keera looked at each other, before both howled with laughter, leaving Sam with an angry look.

“Why?” Olivia continued after they’d recovered from their fit. “What’s got you thinking about that tonight?”

“Oh, it was those four adventurers. Now that’s living! Can you imagine the excitement? Traveling the world, exploring ancient places, not to mention the treasures they find!”

Sam replied sarcastically, “...staying in nasty taverns.”

All three had to laugh at that. Virginia happened to step in then with another heaping tray of goblets and dirty plates.

“What are you laughing at?” she asked as she scraped the leftovers off the plates into an offal bin.

“Oh, it’s just Keera,” Olivia answered. “She wants to be an Adventurer.”

Virginia snorted. “Oh, that is a good one!”

Keera scrunched up her snout. “What? I could be an Adventurer!”

“You?” Virginia scoffed. “Keera, you have trouble killing fleas!”

“Hey! I haven’t had any fleas for two months now!” she protested, still somewhat embarrassed by the incident.

“Besides,” Sam said while scratching a stubborn bit of food from a plate, “Adventuring is a man’s game.”

“No it isn’t! One of those adventurers was a woman, just tonight!”

“Yeah, and did you see what it’s done for her?” Olivia added, “She just needed a wart on her nose and she’d qualify for a role as a witch in one of those plays - no makeup needed!”

The other three laughed at that, but Keera wasn’t laughing.

“I could be an Adventurer,” she thought, bristling at their derision. “I will be an Adventurer. I’ll just show them!”

--------------------------------

The idea nestled in her brain for months afterwards. She even dreamed about it at night sometimes, but she didn’t say a word to the others. Instead, she began setting aside her tips. She wasn’t too sure how much some armor and weapons would cost - she wasn’t really too sure what they were really for - but they probably weren’t very cheap.

One night the Adventurers she’d met before returned. The apprentice looked like he’d changed since she’d last seen him - maybe matured a bit - and the old woman was no longer with them, but they did appear to have been successful. The “Beards” shared a round of ale with the kid and tipped surprisingly well at that.  She didn’t mention it to Olivia or the others, who probably didn’t recognize them. She did, however, get the youth talking. He was fun to talk to actually, and he still blushed when she leaned in close. She liked him.

In fact, it appeared he’d never actually had ale before that night. It was, she found out, his first adult beverage, having been warned away from alcohol since childhood. He had gotten a little drunk by the time her break time came, and she took him up on his offer to take a night walk with him.

He was nice, if a little nervous, but she set him at ease with a kiss and took his hand as they walked down the deserted street. He told her of his disappointment in the Caves of Damoth and how they’d gone on to a much more interesting adventure in some ruins a few days later.

“What was wrong with Damoth?”

“Oh, it was just what they said,” he said. “Just some rats. We saw signs of kobolds, but they never showed themselves. Really nothing much in there. I didn’t even get to kill anything.”

She put her arm around his waist to comfort him, and leaned her head on his shoulder.

“Sorry to hear that, but you saw more action in the ruins I assume?”

“Oh yeah! Plenty there. Maybe a little too much. Gafna said she was going to retire after that and left us.”

Suddenly she got an idea.

“Hey, do you think Damoth would be a good place for a new Adventurer? You know, to practice? Get a little experience?”

“Oh, yeah - probably. I mean, it’s really just pest control in there. Might be a few coins left in the place, if the kobolds haven’t scavenged them all.”

She planted another kiss on his cheek, and he looked at her curiously.

“What was that for?”

“You’re cute,” she said, but she was smiling inside. She had a plan. She wanted to celebrate, and, after all, he really was cute.

------------------------------

Of course, she was late getting back to the tavern, but the others knew her ways well by now. When she took some patron out for a walk, she rarely ever returned within the hour. They didn’t even make a snide comment.

“Three ales to table 5,” Virginia said when she got to the bar.

“Got it,” Keera answered, picking up her special tray, but she felt a tug on her tail and she stopped and turned back.

“Nevermind, Keera,” Virginia said, taking the mugs off her tray. “Your blouse is inside-out. You go fix it and get back right away. I’ll take this.”

If catfolk blushed, no one ever could see it,  but Keera’s tail did have a tendency to floof out when she was embarrassed, and it had gone into full-floof mode now.

Chapter 2

Keera Faye - Cat Shopper

Finally, the day arrived. She had scheduled a week of vacation time off, but hadn’t mentioned a word about where she was going to anyone. Instead, she gathered up a small pack of traveling clothes and took a coach to the Big City nearby. She gave Olivia a hug as her friend saw her off, and then she was gone. However, she did not plan to stay in the city - only to outfit herself there.

She strolled down the street, marvelling at the height of the buildings in the Big City. Catfolk were almost unknown there, and she delighted at the gawking of the men as she strode by in her wickedly daring outfit. Yet that was not her goal - just a side-benefit. Then she saw what she was looking for across the street. The shop’s front was filled with various mannequins sporting a surprisingly wide variety of clothing and armor. Better yet, most of the feminine armor was just her style - skimpy and revealing!

She worked her way across to the other side of the street and perused the armor. She tried on a miniscule set of breastplates over her clothes that did cover the most important parts of them at least.

It was then that a small man stepped from the interior of the shop.

“Put that down, Cat!” he demanded, “Or I’ll call the guards, I swear!”

“Lighten up Grumpy Dwarf,” she said, patting him on the head and handing him a hefty little pouch of gold that she’d managed to accumulate. It wasn’t all of her money, but it was what she had set aside for her armor and weapon purchases.

“Oh!” he said, looking within and biting at one of the gold pieces. “I’m sorry! I didn’t know your kind were thespians.”

“I’m not. I’m a Catfolk,” she said with a confused look. “Look, sir…”

“Mr. Mycene,” he said with a deep bow, “at your service! So, you want to be a Sexy Adventurer then?”

“Why, yes! That’s exactly it!”

“Well, you’re in luck. I just got in a new shipment. Come on inside, we’ll get you all set up…”

She smiled and followed him into the shop, but she hung onto the breastplates. She liked them.

“Mind if I try these on first?”

“Oh certainly! Go ahead. The dressing room is…”

But she had already taken off her tunic and was working out how to get herself inside the little straps.

“Oh my!” the little man said, his eyes growing almost as big as the boobs bobbing in front of them. “Well, I suppose you people have to have a different sense of modesty, what with having to get in and out of costumes so quickly.”

But Keera wasn’t listening. She had managed to get the little plates over her sensitive bits, but they kept sliding back upwards.

“Seems a bit tight,” she admitted.

“Oh. Here… kneel down. The straps are adjustable,” said the shopkeeper. “Let me let them out a bit… My, but you’re a big girl aren’t you!? There. How’s that?”

She stood back up and wiggled her shoulders back and forth. The little plates moved around a bit, but at least they kept returning to their proper places. She jiggled herself, bending over to give them a good shake, but the plates still stayed properly aligned.

“Very nice. I’ll take them. Now, what else have you got?”

“Well, you’ll want some leather pants, I assume. We have some with nice studs and slits down the sides. Very sexy…”

But she had found the cutest little leather G-string. The little straps looked like they matched those of the breastplates perfectly. Off went her skirt and up went the G-string.

“Bu...bu…” stammered the shopkeeper.

“Damn,” Keera said as she realized the g-string didn’t have any way to accommodate her tail.

“Where are you from, Cat?” the shocked little shopkeep asked in a squeaky voice. “What’s your company? You must be from the Capital! You’d be ran off the stage around here if you only wore that!”

“Oh, I’m from a little town. But I’m not in a company. Just me.”

“Oh my word! A solo act, eh? You must be one talented Cat!”

“Yeah, I’m going solo. Just to start. I might join a company later,” she said while twirling the little G-string in front of her. “I really love this little thing, but I guess I can’t wear it. Tail, you know.”

“Hmm… I can make a modification for that. Here, give it to me and let me see what I can do. I’m a bit of a tailor myself, you know. One has to be able to make alterations in this business.”

She did so, though he appeared somewhat distracted as she watched him work.

“You need to measure me?” she asked, noticing him darting glances at her lower body.

“Sorry. I’m… well, I don’t do lingerie normally. And I’ve never done a Cat before. I mean… I’ve never measured a Cat before!”

“‘Catfolk’, please,” she reminded him.

“Sorry. ‘Catfolk’,” he said nervously as he fumbled at a long cloth measuring tape.

“You... don’t mind?” he asked.

“Oh, certainly not. Measure away!” she said cheerfully.

“Okay. Just hold the end of the tape here,” he said, indicating a point just north of her HER.

She did as asked and he ran it underneath and back up to the hilt of her tail.

“Is that it?” she asked, bent over slightly.

“Well. Ma’am, it is a G-string. It has to go… well… a bit… in between your…”

“Oh! Of course. Silly of me!” she said, realizing what he was trying to say. She bent over more, spreading herself with her hands so he could get an accurate measurement.

She heard a suppressed squeak from the man, but she felt the tape measure press lightly against all of her most intimate bits now.

“Got it!” came the suddenly high-pitched confirmation.

He made a scratch with a pencil on some parchment, before excusing himself to the bathroom.

She was beginning to worry about him when he finally returned.

“Oh, that’s a relief. I thought for a minute you’d gone!”

“Sorry Ma’am. I just had to take care of something. I’m alright now.  Anyway, now that I’ve got the measurement, I can just cut the back strap, tie in a metal hoop big enough for your tail and…”

Ten minutes later, she was admiring the customized G-string.

“It’s perfect!” she exclaimed, and gave him a kiss on the top of his head.

“It is very nice, I must admit,” he said, looking unabashedly at her crotch now in appreciation of his own handiwork. “Feels okay?”

She tried some rather acrobatic movements to ensure the piece was secure. When she stood on one leg, pointing at ceiling with the other, she heard the familiar squeak from Mr. Mycene. By the time she was satisfied, the flush had returned to the shopkeeper’s cheeks again.

“Okay… she said, then looked around. “What else?”

Another hour and she was fully outfitted. She looked at herself in the mirror, a very pleased expression on her face. The little mini-cape was a nice touch, she had to admit. The boots had needed to be altered to allow her feet to fit properly, and the garters that held them high up her thighs had to be tied to the belt around her waist, but it all came together just as she’d imagined.

The shopkeeper came back from his third trip to the bathroom. Keera began to understand that the poor man must be having intestinal problems, but she didn’t want to embarass him with questions on such a personal subject.

“Now… I need some weapons too,” she said. “Do I have enough left?”

The shopkeeper looked at her, uncomprehendingly.

“My gold. I don’t know what this armor costs. Is there enough left for some weapons?”

The little shopkeeper had been in business for all of his adult life. He knew a mark when he saw one, and this naive, sexy cat had all the signs. He knew right then that he could easily fleece her for every coin she owned. Yet somehow, he found he couldn’t do it. Maybe it was the fact that she’d just given him, whether she knew it or not, more sexual satisfaction than he’d known in all those years. Or maybe he just found her complete naivete refreshing. Though every fiber of his business acumen screamed against it, he said…

“Ma’am, I don’t know what outfits like this cost where you’re from, but you’ve got to have a couple of hundred gold pieces in there. All of this wouldn’t cost half of that.”

“Really? Oh, but you’re a kind businessman! Not like those skinflints around where I live. Well great then! So… what kind of weapons would you recommend?”

In the end, he sold her both a very realistic sword as well as a bow, quiver, and matching arrows. These he helped her tie to the belt as well. She had remarked on how incredibly light they were, but he assured her they would hold up well in the limelight.

“So, how do I look?” she asked as she counted out the number of coins he had requested.

“You are,” he said with complete and utter sincerity, “the sexiest Adventurer I’ve ever seen.”

“Well thank you!” Keera said, and dropped a couple extra coins on the counter as a tip. “You’ve been a real help, Mr. Mycene. And a hell of a lot cheaper than I expected!”

“It’s been my pleasure, Ma’am. Very, very much my pleasure indeed.”

She began to walk from his shop.

“Wait!” he called. “Are you going out in public like that?”

She cocked her head, confused. “Why, of course! Is there a problem?”

“Well, I guess not… I just… if you’re sure. I just thought you’d want me to bag it up and just wear it on the stage.”

“Oh. No. I want to show it off right away!”

He followed her out of the shop and watched her - along with just about every other male eye in the street - as she crossed proudly in her new Sexy Adventurer outfit.

Had she turned back she might have read the sign over the doorway - ‘Mycene’s Wigs, Costumes and Props’ - but she was having too much fun. She strolled up and down the street, in fact, waiting for the next coach going near her destination as she watched jaws drop and pants bulge. It may have been the happiest moment of her life.

When the coach was finally ready to depart, she climbed in with a couple other passengers and sat near the window. As it drew away from the city, they happened to pass Mr. Mycene’s shop one last time.  She waved at him as she passed by.

“Goodbye Mr. Mycene! Thanks again!” she called.

“Say, I’d meant to ask you... Where are you playing?”

“Playing?” she called back as the horses trotted by the shop.

“Where are you going?” he called instead, rephrasing the question. A sudden and awful thought came to him. Surely not… Surely she didn’t think… But no - she couldn’t. The sword was painted wood.  The bow would probably snap in two if she actually tried to draw it. And the armor… thinnest painted balsa, cheap leather and rubber. No way she could think...

“Oh! I’m going to the Caves of Damoth! I’m an Adventurer now! Goodbye Mr. Mycene!”

With that Keera sat back in her seat, pleased with herself. She’d managed to get a lot done, and it was no more than noon. Another hour or two and she should be at the Caves. She sat back and dozed off, while the other passengers cast surreptitious glances at the ridiculously attired, but undeniably sexy Cat-lady.

Neither her, nor the coach’s driver, heard the shopkeeper behind them as he flailed his arms trying to stop them.

Chapter 3

Keera Faye - Cat Slave

As the coach entered the valley of Damoth, Keera began to get excited. She leaned out to call to the driver to stop, eliciting some protestation from one of the other passengers who apparently got a facefull of tail in the process. In short order, she was watching the coach rumbling away while she looked into the mouth of the cavern on the other side of the rivulet that ran the length of the valley.

She smiled inwardly, drew in her breath, and started towards the dark caves. She skipped lightly across the rocks that carpeted the little stream, not even getting her toes wet, though that set her boobs to bouncing. She almost regretted that there was no one to see them - it had always been one of her most popular moves back at the Crown and Stag.

The mouth of the cave was wide and the day was still warm and bright, so she had actually gone quite a distance into it when she began to realize she may not have thought this whole thing through properly. As the gloom deepened, she realized she had not brought a torch or anything of the sort along. Her catlike eyes did allow her to see significantly better than human eyes would in the darkness, however, so she continued on. When she saw the first glowing mushroom, she relaxed. Hopefully a torch wouldn’t be necessary after all.

She soon came to the first major branching of the main path. There had been numerous little side passages, but this was the first time that the path broke into two of essentially equivalent sizes. She sat down on the cold hard rock and pondered a moment. She probably should have purchased a map.

“Oh! I know!” she said to the empty air, “I’ll just always turn right at any fork in the path. That way I just need to turn around and turn left to find my way back!”

She was feeling quite satisfied with herself and she strode down the path to the right with an air of self-satisfaction. This Adventuring was fun!

Not much farther, she met her first rat. Two actually. They squeaked and scurried off down a side path which was too small for her to give chase. However, she really didn’t feel like it anyway - their little dark eyes had glistened in the greenish mushroom-light and she really felt they were too cute to kill anyway.

She continued on, deeper and deeper, always turning right at any clear junction or fork. However, she did come across a couple of exceptions she wasn’t sure about when a passage would lead off to the right that she couldn’t clearly decide if it represented a true fork or a side passage. She’d followed one to a dead end and had to double back again. And so far she’d seen nothing remotely like a treasure chest or even jewelry strewn about the floor of the caves.

She had just returned from one dead-end back to where she’d started when she heard something in the unexplored darkness to her right.

“Hello?” she called, and pulled her sword out of it’s scabbard. “Is someone there?”

The noise stopped briefly before the snuffling resumed. A dark shape loomed out of the gloom. It was another rat, but like none she’d ever seen before. It was the size of a large dog and it’s eyes glowed green in the mushroom-light as it appraised her.

“Now now,” she warned, backing away. “I don’t want to hurt you. You stay back!”

The snuffling came closer. Keera hadn’t expected anything of quite this size, but she gulped and steeled her Adventurer’s courage, waving the sword in front of her.

Suddenly the beast leaped at her, and she swung the sword with all her strength, eyes wide with fear. The impact was terrible, and the wooden sword broke cleanly in two while the stunned rat sat shaking its head.

Keera looked at the stump of the sword she still held, noting the wood that now was revealed under the silver paint.  She looked back at the rat, that seemed to be reorienting itself. Then back at the sword.  She threw it at the thing with all her might and ran.

The rat was fast, but Keera - at top speed - was just a little faster. She screamed with abandon as she raced through passage after passage, heedless of which way she turned, but the rat followed. She was gaining slightly, but couldn’t keep up this speed for long. She hoped perhaps she could lose it at some corner, but it unerringly followed her every turn. Finally she spied a ledge and scrambled up as fast as she could, hoping the beast couldn’t climb.

But her mind hadn’t been solely fixed on fear as she’d ran. As soon as she’d topped the ledge, she drew an arrow, nocked it into the bowstring and drew back, ready to shoot if the thing looked like it could follow her.

She watched in horror as the thing leaped in a single bound right onto the ledge and she backed off, her hand shaking. It came at her slowly, warily.  So she let go the string.

THWAP!

The bowstring slapped her right boob painfully, leaving a welt.

“OWWWWW!” she cried, which caused the rat to back up.  She rubbed the angry red line on the side of her breast, then remembered her circumstance and drew out another arrow and tried again.

THWAP!

“OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOWWWW!” she screamed again, now with two angry lines criss-crossing her sideboob.

The rat was chewing on one of her arrows now that had landed a foot from it.

She hurled the remaining arrows at the thing, which looked up at her as they bounced harmlessly off it. It advanced, slowly, sniffing at the arrows.

She began to cry.

It snuffled towards her, but she pushed it away with the bow. It began to eat the bow.

“Help!” she cried to the empty cave. “HELP!”

Suddenly a shaft flew out of the darkness, spearing the rat neatly through its neck and it rolled over, dead.

She looked into the gloom, but there was no sound or form to be seen. But the spear was real enough. Rather smallish, but sharp and feathered, she drew it from the dead rat. It was somewhat crude, the sharp rocky tip having been tied to the shaft with some sort of string, but it’s edge was undeniably well worked.

“Thank you, whoever you are!” she called to the silence.

After having gathered the arrows, she climbed down off the ledge, favoring her tender boob. A strap holding one of her protective shin guards caught on a rock and snapped in two, sending the metallic guard clattering to the floor below. She cursed not at the loss of it, but at the sound it had made when it hit the path. It was not the sound of metal-on-rock.

She retrieved it and sat in the middle of the path and scratched at it. Sure enough, under a thin coat of silver paint, it was wooden - not even a strong wood like oak or maple. It was balsa, perhaps the softest wood there was. No wonder it had been so light! She snapped the shinguard in two like a twig.

One by one, she examined her outfit. Every bit of it that appeared to be of metal turned out to be nothing but painted balsa-wood - absolutely worthless. In frustration and rage, she tore all the fake metal off herself, breaking them all with ease. Better, she determined in her anger, to be rid of all her fake armor than to think it real!

When she was done, she realized she’d also broken her only chest coverage.

“Er,” she thought. “Maybe I was a bit hasty…”

She tried to cover herself with the little cape around her neck by twisting it around to her front. It barely covered her nipples, but kept sliding off. Finally she gave up, strapped her bow across her back with the string between her boobs, and looked up and down the path. Somehow the image she now portrayed was probably less the heroic adventurer than she’d dreamed of.

An hour later, she realized she was hopelessly lost. She recognized nothing. She’d tried following upward-leading paths, but they seemed to inevitably lead deeper down. And she was thirsty. And she had to pee.

That little need turned out more difficult to accommodate than she’d expected as well. Her darling little g-string, she soon realized, was hopelessly stuck behind her belted garters and boots. It took her five minutes to manage to work herself free of the thing. She looked around for some privacy and found it behind a boulder. The sound seemed to echo through the silent cave like a torrenting river rushing over a waterfall and she cringed, hoping her unseen ally wasn’t listening.

Another five minutes later and she’d managed to get herself re-dressed at least. But she had no idea which way to go. She’d heard of people who could sense fresh air, and she sniffed at it. She smelled cave.

But she shrugged - whatever her fate down here, she might as well try. She started back, staying to the left at every turn.

An hour later she saw a familiar boulder. Yup… wet.

She sat down and started to cry again. She was really getting thirsty too. And hungry. She couldn’t even remember how to get back to the rat, if she got desperate enough. But crying did no good, so eventually she stood up again and this time took a right turn at each fork.

She came to a place in the path she’d not seen before. The path crossed a dark crevasse, but was boarded over with planking. That was a good sign, she thought. Someone had been here. She stepped gingerly on the wood and managed to get halfway across before it swung out from underneath her feet. She had just time enough to notice the crude hinge as she fell. A trap. She sincerely hoped the pit was not spiked.

In fact, it was strewn with piles of non-luminous mushrooms. She landed with a PLOP as her weight mashed them into pulp, but she was unhurt - though covered in liquified mushroom. She made her way through the knee-high mass to the edge. Just as expected, the sides were smooth. She wasn’t going to be climbing out of this. She felt along the entire edge of the pit, but it was unremittingly smooth and without chink or blemish that she might get a grip on.

“Help!?” she called weakly, hoping her unseen ally from earlier might hear. She pulled a mushroom from out of her G-string that had managed to get itself wedged in the most inappropriate of places. “Help!” she called louder as she looked up at the glowing edge far above her head.

A figure was there. A reptilian figure.

“Hey! Help! Can you help me?” she called.

“Patience, boobed-one,” it said in a surprisingly clear voice, if rather squeaky and sibilant. “Others are coming with rope.”

“Oh! Thank you! You are a kobold? Right?”

“And you are a catfolk, boobed-one. A rather stupid catfolk.”

She looked down at herself and pulled another mushroom out of her boot.

“I am,” she admitted tearfully.

----------------------

A few minutes later, more heads appeared above her and a rope was lowered.

“Does boobed-one want out?” another voice called, somewhat more feminine but with the similar reptilian accent.

“Yes!” she called back. “Yes please!”

“You must first make oath,” it replied.

“Oath?”

“Yes. Promise. Boobs must promise to be our slave. For one year you must remain with us, and do all we ask. If you make promise, we will release you.”

“I’m not going to be your slave for a year! Don’t be ridiculous. Help me out of this and I won’t kill you!” she called back, feigning courage.

“Pfffft,” the voice laughed back. “You couldn’t kill a rat. You need more time to consider. We will return tomorrow.  Don’t eat mushrooms. Are poison.”

Then the heads disappeared.

“Wait!” she called, but there was no answer.

“Oh shit,” she said to the silence. “I think I fucked up.”

“Wait!” she called again a few minutes later. “Come back! I’ll be your slave! Please come back!”

A head immediately popped back into view, laughing.

“Boobed one has changed her mind so soon?”

“Yes! Please! Get me out of here, and I promise to be your slave!”

“Two years?” the voice called back.

“Hey, you said one year!”

“Now is two. Swear.”

Her mind swirled. Two years? Well, hell. She could probably find a way to escape in two years.

“Okay. Two years. I swear.”

“And you do whatever we say?”

“Yes, I’ll be your willing slave for two years, now just get me out of here!”

She heard some mumbling above and then silence.

Suddenly a rope was dropped down. Her hands were slimy with mushroom-juice and slipped when she tried to lift herself.

“I…” she said hesitantly. “I can’t climb. It’s too slippery.”

“Stupid boobs,” the voice called back. “Tie rope around you. We will pull you up.”

She tied the rope around her waist before calling, “Okay! Lift me up!”

The rope immediately rose to just under her breasts and she realized it wasn’t going to work.

“Wait! Stop! You’re squishing me! Let me retie it!”

The rope slackened and she heard a disgusted snort from above.

“Sorry! I don’t have much experience with ropes!” she apologized.

“Silly boobs, tie it through your legs and hold on.”

She refashioned the rope until she was satisfied, wrapping it around her hips and between her legs before tying it off in a sort of sling.

“Okay, try again please!” she called as sweetly as possible. It would not do for them to get annoyed.

This time she rose, if not gracefully, at least effectively - though the rope wormed its way into her most private of areas, leaving her to wonder if she’d ever be able to get the G-string back out again. Still, it was effective and she rose up out of the pit slowly, using all the strength her arms could muster to relieve the pressure on her crotch.

Finally, with an effort, she managed to get over the lip of the pit. She found herself surrounded by a small band of kobolds - perhaps thirty in all and non taller than her chest.

“Thank you,” she said as graciously as she could, and began untying the rope.

“No,” said the tall female whose voice she recognized. “Keep rope on. We lead you home.”

“But,” she protested, indicating where the rope had practically inserted itself into her ‘fertile valley’.

“Leave rope,” the female kobold demanded.

The walk was decidedly uncomfortable, with every tug on the rope by those leading her eliciting a squeal as coarse fibers rubbed against her most sensitive area. Still, it beat death by poisonous mushroom, which she realized she would eventually have succumbed to.

They led her down a myriad of paths, through tight twisty ways and dark passages that even her eyes couldn’t see through, as the glow-mushrooms came and went as they passed.  Yet finally they came to a wide underground vault where she saw hovels that the kobolds called home. There she was allowed to untie herself, which she gladly did - gingerly tugging the rope free of her private area. While most of the kobolds had returned to their daily lives, a sizable group stood watching, and she was uncomfortably aware that the majority were male.

There was simply no way to extricate the G-string from where it had gotten itself burrowed inside her without exposing herself to their lizard-like eyes that appeared to relish her embarrassment. But she was, after all, somewhat of an exhibitionist - and in some remote part of her mind that she would certainly deny, she might - just maybe - be enjoying it a little.

But even after she’d gotten it back where it belonged, the G-string was bothering her sore bottom. She finally said, “Fuck it!” and removed it altogether.

“Just till the soreness is gone!” she insisted to the ring of kobolds that surrounded her.

“Silly boobed-one,” said one of the kobolds, looking down at himself. “We not wear such hindrances here! But you top-dwellers are weird. Do as you want. I am Clip, and you met Queen Kotkot. You are free to do as you like today. It is unwise to leave, but we have not will to guard you. Tomorrow you will work. What is your name?”

“My name is Keera Faye. I am an Adventurer!” she said proudly.

That started a tittering among the gathered kobolds.

“What? I am!” she protested

“My brothers doubt you, Keera Faye,” the kobold named Clip replied. He passed a scaly finger along her sideboob where the welts from the bowstring had marked her.

She swatted the finger away, “Hey! I’m new to it, admittedly. But I’ll get better.”

One of the kobolds whispered to Clip in a language she didn’t understand. “My brother Clap says you won’t with those boobs. What are they for? We see them on other outsiders, but have never seen them used.”

She looked down at herself. “Oh! Well, mostly they’re for feeding our babies... our young. When we bear children, they produce milk.”

“You feed many babies with those!” Clap laughed, prodding at her.

“Hey, hand’s off! They’re… private.”

“Private?” Clap asked, cocking his head to one side. “They’re squishy. And warm!”

“Well, yes, but they’re not to be touched. Okay?”

Clip looked at his brother menacingly. “Don’t touch boobies, Clap. They’re private,” he said, quoting Keera.

“Okay, I won’t touch,” he agreed.

“Good!” Keera said, relieved. At least it appeared her bodily privacy would be protected here. “I was afraid you might… take advantage.”

“Oh! No, boobed-one. We don’t do that. Queen would take our heads! Besides, you look weird,” Clip replied - adding as if needed for his own self-assurance, “We like scales.”

Clap whispered something to his brother again.

“Most of us like scales. Clap is weird.”

She looked back at Clap whose eyes were shining now. Kobold or no, she knew that look. She had an admirer. She smiled back.

“Thank you Clap! There are some skin-people who like fur better than their own kind too. But no touching, right?”

Clap looked chagrined and shook his head.

“Good,” Keera said, rather pleased with how things were turning out.

The kobolds may look weird, but they apparently had some sense of morality, and that relieved her greatly. Her vague fears of being a sex-slave to these diminutive lizard-men looked to have been unfounded. In fact, she seemed to be becoming a sort of celebrity already.

“Clip,” she said, turning back to the first kobold. “I’m afraid you all look very… similar to me. I might mess up your names. Please accept my apologies if I do! No offense is intended, I assure you!”

“Is okay, Keera Faye. We mix us up sometimes too. You are hungry?”

Suddenly her stomach rumbled at the thought.

“Keera Faye is pregnant?” Clap asked, and she thought she saw a hint of dejection there. Perhaps ‘admirer’ might have been the wrong word for him.

“No, no, no. Just hungry. And thirsty.”

Clap enthusiastically volunteered to get her some food and water and she watched him bound off towards the cookfire in the center of the little village. She rather liked that little runt already.

Meanwhile, Clip led her around the camp, pointing out the various highlights.

“Here is family of Prind’s home. And here is my home. I share with Clap. Large hut is Queen’s home.”

“Say, Clip,” Keera said sheepishly as he led her from one structure to another. One building appeared to be missing. “Where do you… you know… take care of nature?”

“Oh! Stinky Creek! Down that path. See glow-mushroom? If covered, someone is using Stinky Creek. If you need, put cover on mushroom and take off when you are done.”

Keera laughed for the first time since she’d arrived as a kobold slave. “Stinky Creek. Good name!”

Clip smiled. “Is... accurate. But water moves fast. Doesn’t stay stinky very long.”

“Um… what do you use to… er… clean up?”

The kobold stared at her, his head cocked in an attitude of incomprehension again. “We sit in Stinky Creek! Upstream. This is not known above?”

“We… don’t have a Stinky Creek. We use,” she thought for a minute, trying to think of what terminology he would likely understand. “...a hole.”

“EW! Stinky Hole? Sounds terrible! You poor people should make better clean!”

She had to nod at that. “It is. But thank you, Clip. I might not mind living with you kobolds for a year as your slave after all!”

“Two years,” he said, his eyes narrowing. “Two years you swore.”

“Okay, okay - two years. Do you ever go out of the caves?”

“Oh yes! Not enough food here. We go hunting at night. Want to come?”

She looked at him, this time her head cocked, “You want me to come with you? Outside?”

“Sure!”

“But… well - don’t you think I might run away?”

The little kobold smiled. “Oh no. You swore to stay with us.”

“Yes,” she said, squatting down in front of Clip. “I did, didn’t I?”

He looked at her again with that inquisitive look, as if he didn’t quite comprehend something.

Instead of answering, Keera ran her hand across his scaly forehead. He didn’t draw back.

“What was touch for?”

“That,” she said with a genuine smile, “was for trusting me.”

He replied slowly, one suspicious eye narrowing. “You don’t lie to kobolds, do you?”

“Of course not. I swore,” she answered, and she meant it. Of course, if circumstances required it, perhaps she might slip off and break her word. But for now at least, she was quite sincere. She liked these little guys.

-------------------------------

Chapter 4

Keera Faye - Cat Kobold

She soon got used to her life with the kobolds. The queen didn’t seem to like her much, but she was allowed the run of the place. As for her slave labor, it was mostly little menial things. But the other kobolds treated her with the greatest of respect. It seemed so long as she obeyed the queen, she was respected.

There had been one incident where she had talked back to the queen. The reptilian eyes narrowed and the queen left the scene without a word. Keera thought perhaps it had been forgotten, but after dinner that night she felt herself getting woozy. She looked at the cup. She’d thought it tasted strange.

Clap, who tended always to stay near her these days, apologized as she felt hands grasp her body, carrying her somewhere.

“Keera Faye,” he said in a high-pitched voice that she’d come to interpret as sorrow. “You anger queen. Not good. You will be punished.”

“Punished,” she managed to say through her heavy tongue.

“No make queen angry again, okay?” Clap said as she felt herself being carried down a passage she’d not explored before.

Though her body was enfeebled, her mind was still clear. That ‘again’ at least, was a good sign. She surely wasn’t going to be beheaded at least.

They lay her down on the floor and tied both hands and feet in a spread-eagled position as torches were lit around the open space. She saw all the adult kobolds standing around her in a circle, and her feeling returned to her limbs.

Then the queen entered.

“Keera Faye - you disobeyed the queen of our clan,” said a large male who she’d learned acted as the spokesman during clan meetings. “You will be punished. First offense, queen is kind. Next offense will not be so kind. Do not disobey queen, Keera Faye.”

Keera nodded her agreement, directly to the queen who sat on a small crude chair.

“KahKah is punishment,” the queen said.

The circle of kobolds went to their knees and began creeping towards her, their taloned fingers moving in slow arcs.

Her eyes went wide. Of course, she had no idea what KahKah was, but she knew she was about to find out and it didn’t look good. Their slow approach was obviously part of the punishment. She tugged at her bonds, but they were quite firm. She looked back to Clap, who shook his head but didn’t stop his approach, nor his weird finger movements…

And then they were on her. Tickling. In her dread, she didn’t laugh at first - but soon she couldn’t help herself. Never were the fingers sharp or cruel, but they tickled like hell. She began to laugh and giggle uncontrollably as the talons groped every inch of her. Just as it began to get hard to breath, the queen held up her hand and the other kobolds stopped.

She was breathing hard, trying to suppress her laughter.

“Has Keera Faye had enough KahKah?” the queen demanded.

She tried her best to keep a straight face.

“Yes, dread queen! Please. Enough KahKah!”

“Release,” the queen said, and her bonds were untied.

“No anger queen,” the queen said. “Understand?”

“Absolutely! I’m sorry. I won’t do it again.”

“Is good. Next KahKah will be worse.”

“I won’t!” she assured the queen, sitting up.

They returned, and the kobolds treated her just as they had before. Still, she knew that the punishment - light as it had been - could still be cruel. She really did try not to anger the queen again.

A few days later, Clip asked her if she wanted to come with them outside. Their larder had gotten meager and they needed to forage again. She agreed heartily, and followed a small band through the winding maze of passages until she saw light ahead - though it was the dim light of a moonlit scene.  The mouth of the cave was not the same as that she had entered through, and she saw no sign of the road. Instead, she helped the little kobolds pick fruits and plants while others went on to hunt. She did note that there were a mix of both male and female in both parties, and she approved of that.

Clip and Clap returned with a rather large deer they’d managed to fell with a spear.

“Oh! You did well! I only thought you hunted rabbits and the like!” she said happily, and her mouth watered for venison.

Clap beamed up at her, proud of his accomplishment, as did Clip and his brothers.

“Is for you, Keera Faye!” Clap said proudly.

“Aww! Clap! You killed it for me? That’s so nice!” Keera said happily and kissed the smooth scaled snout.

“No,” Clip said. “Is for you. You carry. Too heavy for kobolds.”

“Oh,” Keera said, somewhat dejectedly.

But Clap was rubbing his snout where she had kissed him as if he had received the most precious thing ever.

She sighed and shouldered the forelegs of the small deer. It really wasn’t too heavy, but she thought of the long trek back. Then she felt something strange on her butt. Startled, she looked back and saw Clap looking up at her with Those Eyes again. Had he just kissed her butt?

“No, Clap. No kissing there.  Kiss here,” she said, kneeling down and indicating her cheek.

Though it was really more of a mouth-press than a kiss, she accepted his sign of affection happily and her burden was lightened as he carried the back of the deer all through the caverns with her.

“Thanks Clap,” she said. “You are a good kobold.”

“You like Clap?” he asked from behind her.

“I very much like Clap,” she said, and the little kobold whistled a little song all the way back.

Once she’d dropped the deer, some of the other kobolds set about preparing it, and Keera went back to sit outside her tent, where she resumed a weaving task she’d been set to.

“Keera Faye,” said a voice beside her unexpectedly.

She looked around and saw Clip.

“Clip. You scared me. Everything okay?”

The kobold sat beside her. She’d already gotten used to the kobold’s familiarity. They seemed to thrive on the sense of their neighbor’s touch, and the coolness of his thigh pressed against her own. But it was their way, and she had come to rather like it. It did seem to help bond the little band together.

“Keera Faye,” he started again, not looking at her directly.

“I’ve told you before, Clip, you can just call me Keera. ‘Faye’ is sort of the clan that I’m from. Most people where I’m from just call me Keera.”

“Keera,” he said again, glancing at her. “Clap likes you.”

“I know. I like him too. He’s nice.”

“Keera, Clap likes you very very much. Clap talks about you at night.”

Keera began to understand.

“Oh… I see.”

“You are nice to all kobolds, Keera. But you are too nice to Clap. He wants to be your mate.”

“Hmm,” she said. She wasn’t unaware of that type of infatuation. She’d seen it before. It was a hazard in her line of work as a barmaid.

“What do you suggest?” she asked Clip.

“Do you want to be Clap’s mate?” he asked quietly.

She touched Clip on his horn, and he turned to her.

“You like your brother, don’t you?”

“I like him very much, Keera Faye.”

“I’m sorry, but no. I don’t want to be Clap’s mate. I want to be his friend though.”

The reptilian head turned back to contemplate the floor. “I see.”

“What should I do?”

Clip hesitated. “Do nothing. I will talk to brother Clap. He will be sad. Please, do not kiss him again.”

She nodded. “I’m sorry Clip. I just… I like him. I like all of you. But… no. I don’t want to be his mate.”

The kobold stood up, bringing his head a bit above her own. He touched her ear. “Do not kiss Clap,” he said somberly, and then left her.

She looked around, but didn’t see his brother. She wished she could do something to ease his disappointment, but she knew from experience that nothing she could do would help. She’d best stay away from the infatuated kobold for awhile.

Chapter 5

Keera Faye - Cat Hero

She found it easy, in the days that followed, to avoid interacting with the lovesick kobold. When she did see him though, the look in his eyes told her all she needed to know. Clip had talked to him obviously, and the look of dejection radiated from him like an aura.

She wished she could help, but since she was the source of his problem, it was not within her power to do so. Instead, she set about her daily tasks - slight though they were - with a renewed sense of duty.  

She fashioned herself a new top with the ruins of her supposed ‘armor’ and some deer hide, as well as improving her boots which had never been intended to be worn daily.  She fashioned a loincloth of sorts with the remaining hide, and became surprisingly adept at the coarse work. She even presented the queen with a loincloth of her own, with polished stones acting as decorations.

As the days passed, she found herself enjoying the time she spent with the clan even more, and no longer thought of escape as she began to feel she was home with these little people. Their language remained something of a mystery, but many of them spoke her tongue well enough and she did pick up a word or two at least.

One day she was out on another hunt. She’d never managed to become accomplished as an archer, and had realized the inadequacy of her bow quickly enough - but she had taken up throwing the spears that the kobolds used and found she was at least decent with it when fishing, if not hunting wild animals.

She was out with just such a group, tracking some rabbits in a high grassy meadow when the loud bellow of a wild boar was heard. The moonlight overhead was clear and bright, and she had no trouble spotting the sudden eruption of three kobolds from the wood’s edge running at top speed towards them.

“GROUWGROUW!” screamed Clip as he ran, followed closely by Clap and another female kobold named Slat that Clip had been romantically pursuing for some days.  The fear in their eyes was obvious.

She turned and saw that her own group was already heading at haste in the same direction. Looking back, she saw something big in the grass, chasing the kobolds.  She looked at her spear, then back to the boar. She could easily overtake the kobolds and outdistance the boar, but she shook her head. No. She had grown somewhat stronger over the time she’d been with the kobolds, and it was time for her to earn her keep.

Instead of running, she placed herself in the path of the boar, pointed her spear menacingly, and screamed.

The boar was startled, and stopped, it’s head now rising from the grass and it looked at her menacingly.

Instead of quailing, she advanced towards it, spear raised high.

Behind her, she heard Clap’s shout of warning.

“NO! KEERA FAYE! IS GROUWGROUW!”

She ignored him, and advanced. The boar snuffled again and lowered it’s head. For a split second, she realized she may have made a fatal mistake, but she had no time to question that now.

But the boar didn’t charge. Instead, it ran back the way it came, unsure of this new opponent that stood so tall and with a sharp spear in its hands. In a moment, it had retreated back into the woods.

She realized she had been holding her breath. She let it out in a rush, and plopped hard onto her butt as the adrenaline rush faded. She began to shake.

A hand touched her shoulder, and she jerked around. The face of Clap was there, eyes adoring once more.

“Keera is… champion of kobolds!” he said in a quiet tone of awe.

She looked down at her hands, still clutching the spear in a death grip, and managed to peel her fingers free. The other kobolds began to gather around her, hooting in a way she’d not heard before. Even Clip and Clap joined in.

“It is song in your honor, Keera Faye,” they explained.

“I… didn’t really do anything,” she protested, though she was a little unsteady getting to her feet. She hadn’t realized how much her brush with death had affected her physically, but she was soon back to normal as the band returned to the caves.

The story of her bravery quickly made the rounds in the small clan. She continued to protest, but they were having none of it.

“It’s not like I killed the thing,” she said to all that would listen. “It would probably have gored me to death if it hadn’t run off!”

“Yes,” Clap replied. “GrouwGrouw has killed many kobolds. We were too close. It probably kill one of us. But you stopped the GrouwGrouw.”

“I… guess I did,” she admitted.

Clap came close, as she saw the queen emerge from her hut.

“Keera Faye, I know you don’t want Clap. But… can I kiss you?”

She looked to his brother, but Clip had no response.

She lowered her head and felt the reptilian kiss on her cheek.

“Keera Faye,” said the authoritative voice of the queen.

“Yes, my queen,” she said humbly, lowering herself so the two were on a level.

“You stood down the GrouwGrouw. These are my children, cat-woman. They are precious to me - every one. They are my clan - even those who did not issue from me directly. You may be a stupid adventurer, but with this act, you are a member of our clan.”

Keera nodded in gratitude. “Thank you, my queen.”

“We have no slaves in our clan, Keera Faye. You are released from our service.”

Keera looked back at the queen. The kobold nodded back.

“Go, Keera Faye. You are freed of your oath. Thank you for saving my children.”

Keera stood up, looking at her little clan, all eyes on her.

“May I walk you out?” Clap asked.

“I would be honored, Clap!” she said with sincerity. “But you are wrong, queen. I am not released. I have been only three moons in your company, but you are forever in my heart. I am in your clan, and your clan is in me. Two years I have promised, and two years I will serve. Only, let me return to the outside. I have learned a lot here. I have learned how stupid and foolish I was. Let me return, to train and become a real adventurer, and not a stupid one. It may be a year or more before I am ready, but I give you my second oath. I will return and repay you, with even more skill than I have. I will dedicate myself to this, and when next I return, I will be ready. I will slay the GrouwGrouw, and any other threats - and you will taste of boar meat!”

The ring of kobolds raised a shout of celebration at this. Appeals to their stomachs were always successful.

Clip came up to her then, his girlfriend in tow.

“Can you not stay longer?” he asked, his voice high and sincere.

“The sooner I go, the sooner I return,” she said. “You will see me again, I promise.”

Clip nodded at that. “You have been a good slave, Keera Faye,” he said. “We will name our child for you, for you maybe saved its life today.”

She bent and gave him a kiss on the forehead.

“Clap?”

The dedicated kobold looked up at her, his eyes sparkling with more than love. “Keera Faye?”

“Let’s go. But… can you come with me… farther? I promise I’ll take care of you while we’re outside. Even among the skin-people. I would really like to have you with me, if you want.”

Clap looked at his queen, who still stood nearby.

“You will look after him?” she asked with severity in her voice. “He loves Keera Faye, you know.”

“I will. I promise an oath.”

“Then, if you want to, Clap…” she asked, turning to the little kobold whos eyes had gone wide as saucers.

For the second time, he kissed Keera’s rump most inappropriately, but she didn’t mind. Maybe everything would work out okay anyway. He certainly was eager enough!

“Forever I will follow her,” he said. “I will look at her butt forever.”

Keera suppressed a snort. The sentiment was understood though, even if the visuals were a bit kinky.

“Then go with my blessing.  Return to us when you are ready. Then we shall hunt the wild GrouwGrouw and perhaps other dangers.”

And with that, Keera took the little kobold’s scaly hand and they walked together out of the caves.  The dawn had broken by the time they emerged. Happily, Clap didn’t seem to have any problem in the full light of day, and they sat on a rock, waiting for the next coach to come by.

“Now Clap, you are going to have to learn the ways of the humans. I’ll teach you to speak better, but there are other things.”

“The Stinky Hole,” he nodded, as if that explained everything.

“Well, that and a lot of other things. But do as I say, and I’ll make sure you fit in. I’m going to be busy, between working at the tavern and training to be an Adventurer. I’ll need to trust you to be good.”

“For you, I will be best kobold ever!”

“And… about that… I know you like me, a lot. But… well, even if I like you too, the humans would never understand.”

Clap started a barking laugh. “Kobolds don’t understand either. But… you think you might… like me too?”

She looked down at the cute but little form sitting beside her, his thigh against her own. Yes, she realized. She could love this little fellow. Maybe she already did. She knew what she was doing when she invited him, after all. It would be… interesting, that was sure!

Keera smiled back. “It’s possible, little kobold. They say love knows no race…”

A naughty thought crossed her mind, and she glanced sidewise at the kobold. She was going to have to get him a loincloth at the first opportunity.

(Scene from You Only Live 18 Times)

I can’t recall if I’ve posted anything about these before or not. But I’ve been doing audio readings of my Spyjirra fanfiction chapters.  They’re all available in order here on the Prequel fanart booru:

https://www.prequeladventure.com/fanartbooru/pool/view/21

I just mention it as I finished another - Chapter 8 of the 2nd story, You Only Live 18 Times.

Basically I record them using a fairly decent handheld recorder, then pitch-shift to make most of the voices, since I have no talent at doing “voices” properly. Then I add some sfx for ambiance. 

They take a lot longer than just writing text, but I think they offer another way to experience fanfiction than just reading walls of text (that I’m afraid a lot of people don’t do anymore).

I’ll drop a little post here whenever I do another chapter. It’s been 22 days since my last chapter, but that’s unusually long for me. More like once a week typically. 

Also, the quality varies from chapter to chapter. To post them on the booru, each has to be under 3.5MB, so depending on the length I sometimes have to compress them pretty seriously. I think they’re all audible enough though.  

In the end, the wedding was a much less private affair than she’d expected. No longer a Concubine of the Mane, there was no need for secrecy. In fact, the little chapel had filled to overflowing, with the Mane and all the other concubines in attendance, not to mention the security detail. The diminutive Priest of Mara looked fairly overwhelmed by the “little quiet ceremony” that he’d originally been asked to oversee. Outside the chapel, she stood nervously with Quill-Weave, while she heard some traditional Khajiit songs being sung within and she knew the moment was fast approaching. “Oh Quill, I don’t know how to be a mate! I think I might have jumped into this too soon.” “Do you love him? Yes? Ra’Jirra, he’s proven his love for you enough in the last few days. These are just pre-matrimonial jitters. It happens to everyone.” Ra’Jirra looked down at her dress. She wasn’t sure it really should have been such a dazzling white, given her not-exactly-virginal past, but she had to admit it was gorgeous. There were some advantages of being a personal friend of the Mane that she couldn’t deny. Getting this dress done so quickly was impressive! “I suppose you’re right - but it’s different when it’s, you know… me.” “You’ll be fine. And don’t forget what I said about… you know. Trust me, it is the most efficacious position for fertility. You’ll be knocked up before you know it!” “Er… yeah. Thanks, I guess.” “Always worked for me. Feels pretty good too, I might add!” “Quill!? You’re a mother?” Ra’Jirra asked, astonished. “Why certainly! You don’t get Hist glands like this without some serious usage! You can come and meet my brood when you get back to Archon.” “I’ll do that…” Ra’Jirra started, when she heard the wedding march begin. She corrected herself, “I mean. We’ll do that. I think it’s time.” “Alright. Go on ahead, sisters. We’ll be right behind you,” the Histess said, and her two sisters entered the chapel. Ra’Jirra gulped hard, breathed in deeply, and exhaled. She looked up into the eyes of the Histess for reassurance. The calm reptilian face kissed hers. And then they walked in together, Khajiit and Argonian. ------------------ It was late afternoon when the ship sailed out of Torval. All had gone exceptionally well, all things considered. Ms. Ponsonby’s tears had been a bit unexpected, but Ra’Jirra had been pleased that Queue hadn’t felt too slighted that she had taken Quill-Weave as her Maid of Honor instead. If Ra’Jirra had been required to catch Dar’Amon when he nearly fainted at the altar, well - worse things had been known to happen at weddings. And now, at long last, they were alone in private. “So, how does it feel to be a married woman?” Dar’Amon asked as he stowed their luggage. “Actually, pretty good,” she replied, trying to get the flowers out of her hair. “So where are you taking me, my husband?” “Oh, you’ll find out in the morning… or, maybe early afternoon. I don’t plan to sleep a lot tonight.” She laughed and hugged him. “Nor I, stud! Now, can you help me out of this damned dress?” “I thought you’d never ask! Gods! How the hell does this thing open?” Ten minutes later he’d finally figured it out, and she stepped out of the gown. Dar’Amon was much faster in removing her undergarments, pausing only as he kissed certain parts. As for himself, he was appropriately attired for their honeymoon in milliseconds. “So, Khajiitmother, ready to get started on your future clan?” “I see you certainly are! Quill-Weave suggested we, er… well… like this…” she said as she positioned herself appropriately on the bed. “Oh gods! Yes!” Dar’ Amon squeaked, and their honeymoon began in earnest while the ship rocked gently across the ocean outside. Hours later, exhausted and spent, she pondered if she should crawl out from under her husband, who had fallen asleep. But he felt good covering her, and instead she thought about her future. The Hist were still there, in the back of her mind, but quiet and dormant - as if knowing when not to intrude. So she stayed there a while, before finally sliding out from under Dar’Amon and padding quietly across the floor to don the flimsy concession to modesty that her nightgown afforded. Then she walked out to the deserted deck. Some sailors were, of course, still awake, and perhaps some might have eyed her appraisingly, but they left her in peace. She walked to the rail and looked at the moon over the waves behind the ship. The breeze was warm though, and felt good as it dried her overworked body. Wherever they were heading, at least it was warm. She turned around and looked up at the sails and the crow’s nest far overhead, and thought of Wears-Only-Ropes. Far above, she saw an Argonian sailor looking down at her. The sailor looked a lot like her dead friend, she realized. As if on queue, the sailor began singing a bawdy song. The words were sometimes lost to the sea breeze and the distance from the crow’s nest, but she chuckled at the punchline and sang along quietly to the ribald chorus as she returned her focus to the sea behind her. Finally she returned quietly to her own love-nest. She awoke Dar’Amon and they continued the night’s festivities before she finally slept herself - dreaming of her new life in Argonia with her amorous lover. It would, she decided, be glorious. Though it was late morning, they did manage to rise before noon. “Oh! Dar! I feel like I’ve been riding a horse for days!” she exclaimed when she stood up from the bed. “What did you do to me last night?” “Only everything!” he laughed, then groaned when he stood too. “Yeah, you too huh?” “I… might have sprained something,” he said. “I hope nothing too serious, we’ve got a lot more of that to do for the next month!” Dar’Amon grinned. “I’ll survive,” he said, and they dressed hastily. And then she opened the cabin door. She knew instantly where she was. The smell of Rihad was like nothing else in the world. “I found a couple of friends of yours!” Dar’Amon said happily while her mouth still gaped. “They told me how much you loved this city! Look, they’re waiting for us on the dock.” Below she saw Inspector Trudal and her former lover, Ko’Manir waving to them. “This is going to be a very, very interesting honeymoon,” she thought, but smiled broadly and stepped down the gangway into the stinking hellhole of Rihad. The End.

Author’s note: I just finished the last 3 chapters - 14, 15 and 16. I’ll post one per day over the next 3 days.

Chapter 14

She had just time enough to yell a reminder, “SILENCE WARD!” to Isdra before she was knocked to the floor. The guards wouldn’t be coming from the Prime Concubine’s scream alone.

But when it came, the impact wasn’t from the direction of the Altmer. It had come from the Histess, who had barrelled her aside at the last second. She was knocked to the ground behind the Manes chair. The Mane was on the floor between the chairs now, wisely staying out of the line of sight.

Ra’Jirra looked at where the Argonian lay, the blue glow still sparking around Quill-Weavels inert body, but she had no time at all to react to that. Isdra had left the Mane and was running towards the door as Ra’Jirra stood back up. The Dunmer was casting some spell of his own, but he seemed to be directing it at the two Altmer.

The other two argonians were not idle either. Both were attacking the female Altmer who had actually cast the shock spell that had downed the Histess. Their full feral fury was unleashed on the doomed Altmer, but Number One’s hands were still glowing with unused power and she realized too late that he was just biding his time until she had risen.

His eyes were focused on hers, and she saw a faint smile on his face. The screams of the Argonians as they pounced on his partner and her answering screams of horror drowned out his words, but she could read his lips.

“Goodbye Ra’Jirra,”

And then a blue beam even stronger than that which had downed Quill-Weave leaped from his hands and struck her full on the chest, instantly vaporizing a huge hole in the Raba as it threw her across the room - the once beautiful beads scattering as the symbolic Raba jewelry shattered. As she fainted from the blast, her last thoughts were of watching them skitter across the floor. They’d been so pretty.

She should, by all rights, have been killed outright - not just knocked temporarily unconscious. But the skin-tight bodysuit she wore had held a small surprise of its own. On an intuition, she had spun a protection ward into it the previous night. The ward was a small thing - she was no mage - but she had been taught by mages when warding the Argonian embassy, and she didn’t forget.  

The ward shattered instantly upon impact of the powerful blast, but it hadn’t been made to last - just to deflect such attacks once. The bodysuit, along with her fur, remained intact. She awoke a few minutes later, clarity returning slowly. She tried to understand what had happened in the intervening moments while she’d been out, so she played dead while peeking through her eyelids. A commotion was happening on the far side of the room, but she didn’t see any threat immediately, so she crept back towards the table. The Mane was no longer visible, but she heard his commanding voice. In her dazed state, she couldn’t work out the words, but it didn’t sound like fear, and that had to be good.

Quill-Weave still lay prone, and she feared the worst for her, but it would do little good to get herself killed after the Argonian’s self-sacrifice.

Finally, when no immediate threat appeared, she risked a look around the side of the table.

It took a moment to understand what she was seeing, but then clarity came. Number One and his Dunmer mage stood defiantly at the doorway, encased in a purple-hued transparent dome, obviously being maintained by the Dunmer. Khajiit guards, as well as the two bloody-mawed Argonians, threatened them at close range but could not penetrate the dome. Apparently Number One’s offensive magic couldn’t penetrate it either because he wasn’t wielding any. But the two were walking from the room haughtily, as if their lives weren’t in immediate peril should the dome be breached. Isdra was yelling at the Mane to get away from them, but he was apparently not paying her heed now.

She thought for a moment of revealing herself to Number One - to let him know that she had not been killed, as he must suppose. But on reconsidering, she ducked back behind the table. The leader of the Aldmeri Dominion might well risk his own life to ensure her’s was ended. She’d seen his eyes filled with hate more powerful than any she’d seen before.

She thought of Dar’Amon, then reflexively put her hand to her still flat belly and the womb within. There were people who loved her, and people she loved - not to mention people that had yet to be, that she would love too. No. That was a risk not worth the small reward. He would learn of her survival in time. Best to wait for them to be well gone from the palace - to be gone from the entire country. This was no time to be proud or heroic. She was the Khajitmother. She had more to consider now than a little pointless bravado.

The commotion faded as the guards, the Mane and the rest left the area. But then the two Argonians returned and rounded the corner of the table to check on the fate of their sister.

“KhajiitMother!!! You live?!!!” cried one of them before embracing her like an old friend.  

Ra’Jirra had to steel herself against the sight of the gore-covered Argonian’s approach. She wasn’t sure she wanted to know what it was that was stuck between two of her teeth, but she accepted the hug as graciously as she could.

Her sister’s appearance was little better, but she knelt instead over Quill-Weave.

“Sister… Ra’Jirra... the Histess still lives!”

Ra’Jirra rushed to her and took Quill-Weave’s hand. She was no medical doctor, of course, but she could feel blood still flowing within the Histess’ veins.

“I… don’t know much about Argonians. Is there anything I can do?”

“Water. We must find water.”

Ra’Jirra started for a glass on the table, but one of the sisters shook her head. “No. Much water. She needs to be immersed. It is our natural habitat. If she might live, it must be under water.”

“Can you carry her? The Royal bath isn’t far.”

“Yes, lead us there.”

Ra’Jirra did so, not looking at the thing that was left on the floor behind her that had once been the Altmer woman. The Argonians could be shockingly bestial in their full wrath. Yet she knew that her kind could be just as bad when provoked severely enough.  Number One would be lucky to make it to his ship alive. He’d better hope his Dunmer mage had a lot of reserve magic for the long walk back.

A few minutes later, Ra’Jirra and the Argonians had carried the Histess into the Mane’s personal bath chamber and laid her in the center of his bath. This bath, however, was no single-person tub. In palatial style, it was more like a small swimming pool. The blood from the scales of the sisters turned the pool pink, but served to cleanse them from their grisly state while they laid their sister gently down to sink under the surface. It was odd, looking at the woman who had done so much for her, now lying motionless at the bottom of a pool, and not think of her as drowned.

A guard came in belatedly, but she recognized him and explained quickly before he could bother the Argonians. She ignored the obvious distraction her bodysuit was causing him. Somehow, without the Raba around it signifying the office of Concubine, it was apparently much more stimulating. Sometimes males had such bad timing. She had no time for that now.

“Guard! I’m up here! Where’s the Mane?” she demanded, turning back to the pool. All three Argonians were underwater now.

“Nearly the entire palace and royalty have gone to the docks to run those murdering Altmer out of the country. I don’t think they’ll stop at the docks either. There’s talk of a warship to harass them all the way back to their homeland!  Wait… But… they said they murdered you!”

“Reports of my death have been somewhat exaggerated. They tried. Look, could you send someone after the Mane and let him know I’m okay? As for the Histess, she’s apparently in a bad way. If you can find anyone who knows anything about Argonian medicine, we could use help on that front too.”

“I’ll do so, Lady Ra’Jirra,” the guard nodded and began to leave the room before she grabbed his tail as another thought struck her. He turned back around. “Yes?”

“Oh… um… there’s another, a fellow Khajiit. My fiance. His name is Dar’Amon.”

“The naked guy from the other day? Oh, I remember him.”

“If you see him, let him know I’m okay too, would you?”

“If I can recognize him, sure! I don’t suppose he’ll be naked?”

Ra’Jirra frowned. “No. He won’t be naked!”

“Oh… well… I just mean, that’s mostly what I remember about him.”

“Oh, nevermind! And please hurry would you. Especially about that Argonian doctor.”

As the guard left, something was nagging at her. Then she realized what it was. ‘Someone who knows about Argonians’. She knew someone who knew more about Argonians than the Argonians themselves. The Hist.

“There,” Number One said triumphantly. “Even the Argonians recognize the truth of the future we have seen, even if they don’t believe in our ability to affect it. Surely now you can see the wisdom of this alliance?”

The Mane whispered something to Isdra, who addressed the meeting next.

“We would like a moment to consult privately, honored guests. Perhaps five minutes?”

Ra’Jirra stood, interrupting and knowingly breaking protocol.

“Wait one moment. I have one question first,” she began. She could feel the eyes of Isdra on her, but she ignored her for the moment.

“The images we just saw here... This is exactly what I was shown before. Why is that? Can you see another scene from this future?”

The Altmer murmured among themselves before Number One gave his answer.

“One of our greatest mages was able to pierce the veil of time to bring us the images you saw. It was his life’s work to do so, and brought that to us some years past. Only our greatest magic users are able to reproduce that summoning at substantial cost, but we have not yet been able to fathom much of what goes into the magic - just to reproduce it. Unfortunately the mage has been lost to us since. Until we can fully understand how it is done, this is all we are able to produce visually.”

“So,” Ra’Jirra continued, ignoring protests by Isdra, “what we have seen may just be one part of a wider world. It could be that Tamriel has become segregated in this future. Would you not concede that there could be many explanations for this vision beyond all our kin having been wiped out?”

Number One became visibly incensed, responding with an increasing vehemence, “The visuals we have shown you here are not our only evidence of our impending extinction, young Khajiit. They are simply the easiest method of exhibiting that doom to others who do not know the way of scrying such things. But the signs are there, be assured! They are obvious, if you look for them!”

Ra’Jirra may have been stung a bit by the ‘young Khajiit’ reference, but she sat back down, having made her point. She felt it was important to sew some doubt in the Mane’s eyes after the Argonians and the Hist had seemingly reinforced the Altmer’s interpretation.

“Thank you, Number One,” Isdra concluded. “Let us confer privately then - but please let us remain inside the conference room. Our meeting here must come to some decision on this matter, and do so today, we are agreed. Such a meeting of our races cannot be assumed to be something that can become commonplace.”

“Agreed, Prime Concubine. We do not request specifics in this meeting, but the Mer are a proud people. We do not look for alliances from other races on a whim. We expect not to be clear on our actions yet moving forward, but we do expect a resolution to be made that such action is necessary and that we can all agree on its objectives. This is the time, and this meeting cannot end without a resolution, one way or the other.”

With that, the three Khajiits rose and adjourned to a small area far from the center conference table where they spoke quietly in Ta’agra.

“You will not interrupt me again, Ra’Jirra,” Isdra said sweetly but with menace in her voice when they sat down.

Ra’Jirra began to offer her apology, but the Mane interrupted.  “Now Isdra, I wanted Ra’Jirra here specifically to offer her insights, and she made a good one - one which, by the way, no one else could have noticed I’ll point out.”

“Still, decorum demands…” Isdra responded irritably.

“Decorum be damned. She’s here to speak her mind. I won’t have her be silenced by decorum.”

Isdra nodded, chagrined.

“That being said, I still have to lean towards agreeing with the Altmer. Racial politics aside, we’ve had our own suspicions that our future is in jeopardy. Of all the intelligent races of Tamriel, ours is the the most fragile. Ra’Jirra, let’s assume for a moment that their argument is valid. Would you have us go the way of our brothers the Lilmothiit, without a fight, only because one of our allies is headed by the Dominion?”

“Interesting you bring the Lilmothiit up,” Ra’Jirra replied. “considering it was most likely the Argonians that wiped them out. No, no need to argue. I like the Argonians. They don’t meddle in others’ affairs for the most part. But I just don’t see any way to stop the Humans’ advances. Honestly the civil war between Hammerfell and Cyrodiil is probably the best way. However, I just can’t in all conscience agree to assist in slaughtering millions of innocents just because they are too successful! Whatever the future holds for us, unless the Humans are actively trying to massacre us, I can’t rectify such actions as being… well… Good.”

“I understand, young Khajiit. But in my position, you must accept that sometimes you must act against common morality for the well-being of your people. I’m afraid this may be one of those times. I see my purpose as just this - to safeguard Elsweyr and the whole of the Khajiit race, and this is exactly the threat I need to recognize. And if we make this agreement, we need not get directly involved in a war, after all.”

“Just facilitate it,” Ra’Jirra muttered, but she recognized the truth of what the Mane said. She realized just how much she would hate to wield such power. Decisions this man made, for good or ill, would change history, and he had to make them with insufficient information every day.

The three rose and resumed their place at the table. The Altmer too returned from where they had been conferring, though the Argonians hadn’t left the table at all. 

Once they had all sat back down, Isdra began again. “Histess, have you - or the Hist - anything to add concerning the question of this future? Is the vision just a local thing, or does this future portend our extinction?”

The Histess rose, and began to pace around the table, all eyes following her.

“The future they see is the future the Hist expects to pass. In it, no Khajiit, Mer or Argonian will inhabit the entirety of Nirn. The vision is not mistaken, nor just a local scene.”

She stopped at a window, seemingly daydreaming as she looked up at the clouds beyond.

“The Hist have more to say, but it is not my place to utter it. I see them only dimly, and I am the best suited for my role of my kind. We hold onto intelligence so fiercely, compared to you, because we know what it is not to have it. The Hist have been so kind to us, and we will never be grateful enough. But to you, who come by intelligence naturally…  You could commune with them so much more clearly than we can. We will always be their servants, as long as they will have us. But you… you may become their equals someday.”

She had turned around and was looking directly at Ra’Jirra now.

Number One stood up and faced the Histess.

“You talk in riddles, Argonian. Speak clearly. What do you mean? The Hist, whatever the hell they really are… they don’t speak to us!”

The room went quiet when Ra’Jirra spoke up.

“They speak to me.”

The Histess nodded, and walked back towards her place.

“It is time, Ra’Jirra. Let the Hist speak through you. I cannot understand them as well as you. You are needed now, Khajiitmother, favored of the Hist. Tell these what the Hist tell you. My role here is almost complete. It is your time.”

“What does she mean?” Isdra demanded.

“I… Two days ago I drank of Hist Sap, at the Hist’s request,” Ra’Jirra began. “Apparently it allows some sort of conduit to them, if they allow it. They have allowed it for me. I can talk to them, in a way.”

“You?!” Number One stood. “Why you of all creatures?! What do they tell you?”

The Histess interrupted before he could finish. “It is not for you to say who the Hist chooses to reveal themselves to,” she said, then turned a bit mirthful. “Besides,” she said, hefting her ample breasts tauntingly, “I wouldn’t let you near these pretty things!”

Number One scowled in disgust, but Ra’Jirra had closed her eyes and was seeking that place in her mind where she met with the beings known as the Hist. They asked something of her then. At first, she recoiled, but then she reconsidered. They wanted to speak through her - to let her allow them to use her voice and the parts of her brain that controlled it and formed it into words. They had rescued her fiance from the Alfiq curse, after all. She relented, putting them off for one more moment.

“I am going to be speaking for the Hist now, Mane. If you approve,” she said, allowing the leader of her race to decide.

The Mane nodded, speaking for the first time at the conference table. “Please do, Ra’Jirra. What does the Hist have to say?”

Then she released herself to the beings known collectively as the Hist, closing her eyes as she performed what she could best describe as a translation with no original language.

“We are the Hist of Argonia,” she began. No change in tone could have been detected, because Ra’Jirra was still fully present. She felt she was just reciting lines in a play, but the words came from outside herself rather than text on a paper.

“We bring you greetings, assembled Altmer, Dunmer and Khajiit. We have knowledge which you need now, in order to make this decision. You are afraid of the Humans. You are right to be afraid. The Humans wield much power, and will wield even more in the future as magic fades. The future of Nirn belongs to them.”

Ra’Jirra heard the murmurings around her, but continued on.

“However, not all here need fear for your own kind’s future. Nirn is not enough for all of the races as you grow. But there is more than Nirn. The Lilmothiit have left this world already, but their numbers were few. Yours are many. Your transport must be much more powerful than theirs.”

Ra’Jirra felt weird, realizing that she was learning from her own words, while the gasps from the other attendees were audible around her. But she kept her eyes closed, continuing to translate.

“For thousands of years we have been growing the vessel that can accomplish it. Thousands of years more must pass before it is fully grown. But the vision the Altmer have shown, while true, is not complete. In time they may be able to view more of the future, but even then it will not be enough - for they cannot view the entirety of the future. The have not seen the event wherein some races will be shepherded from Nirn to their new home. They have not seen the grieving that the Humans will wail when they are left alone on this world, for they are not to blame. A mother has left you races here to grow in this nest, but the nest cannot hold all of you forever. It is for this reason the Hist were sent here. We will help some of you fly from the nest. But not all.”

Ra’Jirra opened her eyes, expecting some reaction from Number One, but all sat watching her as if transfixed by an Oracle. She continued…

“The Argonians, our beloved race, must leave with us of course. Without us, they cannot hope to vie with the Humans or the other races, and our genetic modifications cannot transform them quickly enough into self-intelligent beings. But we have longed for others to join them. The Lilmothiit were a gentle people, but were being destroyed before we were able to help. They were natural to be the first fruits of our labor. They have gone ahead, and even now thrive on their own planet, not far from here, in a sense.”

“The Khajiit, however, were too violent. Only with the recent advances in your civilization have we realized that you have become mild enough for you to join the Argonians when we depart. You will accompany us, via Khajiitmother’s offspring. Khajiitmother’s children, and their children’s children, will be our communication with the Khajiit-kind. When that time comes, as a chick knows when the nest has become too crowded, they will know it is time to leave. And they will join us in the Great Tree.”

“So you just expect us to abandon the world for your Panacea?” Number One interrupted. “Just leave the whole of Nirn to the Humans on a promise of some other world?!”

“No, Altmer,” Ra’Jirra said, looking directly at him. “You and your kind will remain with the Humans. For as long as you are able. But magic is fading, Altmer, and with it your precedence in the order of things on Nirn. Once you were the masters of this world. In the future, you will be slaves. Until you are no more.”

Number One’s composure was shattered.

“She lies. She’s making this up! How dreadfully convenient, Ra’Jirra, that it just so happens that you are the chosen of the Hist, isn’t it? You, who have thwarted the Dominion at every turn, just happen to be the same cat that magically can now talk to the Hist? You and that naked lizard over there made this whole thing up, didn’t you?! Why on earth would the Hist pick you? Of all the Khajiits, why you?”

‘Because, Altmer,” said the Hist through Ra’Jirra, “she knows you best. She is the right person, at the right time and the right place.”

Oddly, Number One sat back down, though his eyes still flared. Ra’Jirra felt more than saw the Histess rise from her seat while she continued translating...

“She knows why you can never be taken. Some Mer may become gentle enough in time, but not the Altmer. You are too proud.”

“Is she the only Khajiitmother then?” Number One asked, while whispering to the female Altmer to his right. “Is she to hold a privileged rank among the Khajiit as the herald of this new Hist-Khajiit race? Maybe you’d better think twice, Mane, before she usurps your position!”

“She is enough. Generations will pass. Her posterity will be many. Some may rise to the rank of Mane, but they will remain wholly Khajiit. We will not cause a rift in a race we admire so.”

The Histess was standing beside her now.

“And now, Number One,” Ra’Jirra said, opening her eyes again. “Do what you must do.”

She was no longer translating. Instead, the Hist had just provided her with their vision of the future in a flash. The immediate future. The outcome was unclear, but there was no time to act. She knew what was about to happen. She braced for impact.

The magic users were on their feet, hands outstretched, and a powerful glow indicated an imminent release of power.  She heard Isdra scream for the guards as the Prime Concubine fell over the Mane protectively. But the blast was already on its way and it’s target was Ra’Jirra’s unprotected breast.

The morning dawned cloudy and ominous, with dark clouds looming from the west. Ra’Jirra was up with the sun’s rise and leaned out of her window, taking in the morning’s coolness, while noting the odd glow of red that underlit the clouds. The morning sun’s rays shone on them from somewhat underneath. She wished Dar’Amon was here with her, but that would have to wait till after today’s big meeting, and her wedding tomorrow.

While it was true that she no longer felt the anxiety over the outcome of this meeting that she once had, she was far from feeling confident. It felt more like a situation that was out of her hands, and that no matter what happened, her vague fears of a genocide of her race were unfounded. And there was that nagging feeling that the Hist had something of their own to say, through her.

She closed the window and went to the bathroom to begin her morning routine. She put on the special underwear that she’d bought specifically for this occasion - more a bodysuit really, in the same shade of blue as the translucent Raba. Once she’d carefully pulled the Raba on over it, she looked at herself in the mirror and smiled. She was happy with the look. Not as blatantly sexual as nothing at all, but something about wearing normal underwear also hadn’t felt right either. That felt like you were peeking through a dress.  This, however - it was as if it was how the Raba had truly meant to be worn. The bodysuit reminded her of her climbing outfit, close fitting to the point of being a second skin, allowing her complete freedom of movement. While leaving little to the imagination, it felt right. No doubt Isdra would raise an eyebrow over it.

She stepped into the sandbox and wiggled her toes. Things were going to happen today. Big things. She felt it. And like a spot of warmth in the back of her brain, she felt the Hist there, standing by and waiting to talk to her - to talk through her. They didn’t press, but they were there, calmly waiting for the proper time. It gave her an added feeling of confidence. She wasn’t alone. 

Outside her room two guards waited for her to emerge. They escorted her to the main palace, where Isdra and the Mane greeted her personally. Devline too was there, along with other palace dignitaries. She saw Em speaking with someone, but she wasn’t allowed time to join them.

“So, how goes life for my latest concubine, Ra’Jirra?” asked the Mane after she bowed to him. “Still setting fashion trends I see.”

She looked down at herself and smiled back. “Sorry, it just felt… right. I hope I don’t offend.”

Isdra, dressed traditionally in just the Raba, shrugged. “What can I say? I’m a conservative. But I must say, that looks better than the underwear - if you’re going to have to wear something under it anyway.”

“Thank you. Have the others arrived yet?”

“I understand they’re on their way,” the Mane replied. “But we will seat ourselves at the table now as the hosts. If you would join us, we’ll go in.”

Ra’Jirra, as the junior member of the triumvirate, followed them into the inner chamber last. This was a large room, though not as large as the main hall where she had been first Presented to the Mane. In the center, a large triangular conference table had been placed with her Khajiit side facing the entrance. The Mane sat in the center of course, with Isdra on his right and Ra’Jirra taking the seat on his left. She noted the symbols carved into the table for each of the races, and was pleased to see that the Argonians would sit nearest her. Their tree symbol seemed appropriate, and she wondered if it was some official insignia or just the carpenter’s whim.

“I will lead the discussion for our part, Ra’Jirra,” Isdra said. “The Mane, as befits his stature, will probably not comment directly. If you have something to say, let me know with Tail-Speak and I’ll clear the way for you. Understand?”

Ra’Jirra nodded.

“Don’t worry too much, Ra’Jirra,” the Mane assured her. “This will be a closed-door meeting. While we will try to follow normal diplomatic protocols, there are no set rules here. The Dominion will present their case first, as the proponent of the question before us. The Argonians will follow, and then Isdra will present our introductory statement. From then on, we simply will talk.”

Ra’Jirra was about to respond when a horn sounded from outside the room. The three stood, and she saw the three Argonians, with the Histess, Quill-Weave, leading as they entered the room. Isdra indicated the side of the table nearest Ra’Jirra and they took their seats, though she noted that Quill took the seat right next to Ra’Jirra rather the center seat. Perhaps the Argonians followed a different standard of order though. They had just sat down when another horn blast signaled the arrival of the Altmer, whereupon they all stood again.

Number One entered with two others: a female Altmer behind him and a tall male Dunmer behind her. They took their places at their side of the table as expected, with the female to Number One’s right and the Dunmer to his left. All were naturally resplendent in gold, silver and crimson.

They stood facing each other for a moment, until the guards had gone and the large entry doors were shut, whereupon all sat and the meeting began.

“As hosts,” Isdra began, “we have claimed the privilege to set the agenda today. Number One, since this meeting was your proposal, I suggest you start by introducing us to the question before us.”

“Indeed, Prime Concubine,” Number One said, rising in his turn and using her position as a title.

Ra’Jirra had to admit, she liked the sound of it. Prime Concubine. But he was continuing…

“Before we begin, please, if you would, excuse my partner Lisidra here a moment as she erects a ward of silence around the room.”

The Mane nodded and Lisidra cast a spell, sending glowing runes around the chamber which embedded themselves into the very walls. When she was satisfied, she returned to the table and Number One began to speak again, though the Dunmer rose from his chair and began casting another spell. As Number One outlined the issue, the Dunmer cast the vision of the future she had seen before, and she listened only halfheartedly, though she noticed the Mane and Isdra were completely engaged with the incredible vision of the future cast in front of them.

Lightly, Ra’Jirra felt the tap of a tail on her rump. She turned to see Quill-Weave eyeing her. Her tail encircled the Argonian’s own and they began to communicate silently in Tail-Speak.

“Look familiar?” Quill-Weave’s tail motioned.

“I’ve seen it before before,” Ra’Jirra’s tail responded.

“It’s exactly the same,” the Argonian noted.

Ra’Jirra renewed her focus on the images being cast. Quill-Weave was right. This was not just another vision of the same future. This was exactly the same vision she had been shown months ago on the island of the Dominion submarine.

She nodded back to Quill-Weave and reached her tail behind the Mane to Isdra and requested permission to speak. However, it was denied. Isdra said they must wait for the presentation to conclude before interrupting. Ra’Jirra concurred in Tail-Speak and tried to concentrate on what Number One was saying…

“We’ve shown these visions to the Argonians, as well as your Agent Ra’Jirra,” he was finishing. “As we’ve explained already, they are not a guarantee of the future, but they are the most likely outcome if we do not take action. Already the Humans are advancing beyond what you or we can match. You Khajiits are clever, I freely admit, with your adaptations of the Human technology. You are quick to grasp and revise their inventions. But you do not create technology yourselves as the Humans do. As for the Argonians, you appear to shun technology completely, preferring agriculture to clockwork gears, fuel and engines. Surely you must see the danger inherent in this. Even without these visions, the future looks bleak for our species on Nirn. The Humans will continue to advance, and we will fade into obscurity and eventual extinction. The time has come to act.”

“As for us in the Dominion, we have striven to do so on our own, trying to sew discontent between the Hammerfell and Cyrodiil factions, and we have had some success doing so - despite some interference.”

At that, he smiled directly at Ra’Jirra who nodded in agreement, smiling back even more easily. She was rather proud of her “interference”. But Number One was finishing up.

“By pitting Human against Human, we had hoped they would assist in mutually assured destruction and allow the world of Nirn to return to its former glory days from before all this technology advancement began. We therefore had to use less than scrupulous methods, admittedly, but without doing so the Humans would have seen their true enemy and refocused on us. As the last of the skilled magic users on Tamriel, we and our brethren the Dunmer, Bosmer and other Mer are best positioned to be able to fight the ever growing menace of the Humans, but we cannot do it alone. We need your help. And that is the crux of this meeting. Will you help us, militarily or otherwise, to bring the Humans and their vaunted ‘technology’ to heel? Will you save the future for your own posterity by joining us? Or will you slowly fade into irrelevancy, obscurity, subjugation and extinction under the yoke of the Humans?”

With that, the vision faded and Number One sat back down, the Dunmer mage that had called up the vision taking his seat again too.

The room was silent. The Mane and Isdra had not seen the vision directly before, and seeing it firsthand - so lifelike before them that they could nearly touch it - was a powerful experience, Ra’Jirra knew well. It had affected her similarly once.

Isdra stood. “Thank you, Number One of the Dominion. You have stated your case well. Next I would like to call on the Histess of Argonia to speak. What is your opinion of what you have seen, Quill-Weave?”

Beside her, Ra’Jirra watched the Argonian stand proudly and clear her throat.

“I thank you for inviting me to these proceedings, Mane of the Khajiit. This is truly an historic meeting between our kind. A meeting of equals, rather than one race lording over the others,” Quill-Weave began, with an eye to the Dunmer.

Ra’Jirra didn’t fail to understand the meaning, the Dunmer having once enslaved the Argonians. But Quill-Weave continued.

“However, I fear you are all under a mistaken impression of my role in Argonian society. Though it’s true that we hid the role of Histess from the outside world for thousands of years, yet I am not in any way a ruler of my kind. I am, in a real sense, merely an interpreter of the Hist. I will certainly tell those back in Argonia all we say and do here, and they will listen to me, but they are under no obligation to follow my recommendation - for that is all I can possibly provide.”

Number One was about to interrupt, but Isdra motioned for him to sit back down, and he did so while Quill-Weave continued.

“But as to the Question, my personal feelings on it are ambivalent. I represent life, as does the Hist. Life has no fondness for war, and surely it is war you propose. Yet on the other hand, this technology as styled by the Humans raises much concern for us. We are not blind to their progress and encroachment on our beloved homeland. Even now as they grow in number, they begin to create settlements ever closer to our borders. War may well come. There is a growing restlessness among our kind. Surely some will agree with your assessment. In fact, they already do. Your demonstration was most impressive.”

“But you, Histess,” Isdra interrupted. “What are your thoughts?”

“I follow the Hist in all things, Prime Concubine Isdra. If you knew them as I do, you would understand.”

“And what does the Hist say?” Isdra asked.

Quill-Weave looked at Ra’Jirra when she replied. “It is not given to me to speak for the Hist in this matter. I was given a different task by them when I agreed to come here. That task has already been accomplished. Now I watch events transpire, and will report back to my kind - if I survive.”

“If you survive?!” Ra’Jirra blurted out, suddenly forgetting her circumstances. “What do you mean?”

“Ra’Jirra!” Isdra scolded her. “Please do not interrupt. You will be given your turn to speak at the proper time!”

Ra’Jirra sat back, chagrined and nodded.

“Is that all you have to say, Histess?”

“For now, yes,” said Quill-Weave, and resumed her seat.

“Then it is time for the Khajiit to speak,” Isdra said, standing. “You give us much to contemplate, Number One of the Dominion. But we have questions of our own. I would like to start with a simple one. What is your goal in this meeting? Is it a declaration of war you would have us sign? How do you envision our role, should we agree to this… alliance?”

“Each of our races,” Number One responded, rising to answer officially, “has their own special gifts. We should use those gifts to the fullest. The Khajiit are unequaled in the art of, shall we say, surreptitious knowledge aquisition. Indeed, before us here you bring one of the most talented of those agents you are known for. Yet she has been removed from that post. That is a mistake we would suggest be remedied. No, we would not expect, nor even request, any outright declaration against the Humans. Instead, we would hope that you would direct your agency’s efforts against them instead of us. Let us know what they are planning. Stop thwarting us in our own machinations against them. And provide us with your own derivative technology, so that it might be used against them. But the time will come when warriors are needed. When that time comes, the unleashed fury of the beas… I mean, tailed races would be unstoppable.”

Ra’Jirra snorted derisively at the faux-pas. Yet she was surprised to hear that Number One was actually supporting her return to the HMSS. Maybe she had misjudged him?

“I see,” Isdra said as Number One resumed his seat. “Do you still call us Beasts then?”

“We may,” said Number One standing again and, realizing he had committed a blunder. “I will not deny some of us do. Others have come to respect both the Khajiit and Argonians as equals. We would not come to you as we have otherwise. Surely you must know we - just the three of us Mer - could bring the walls of this palace crashing down with magic if we so desired. But we do not. We are here to request - no, to ask you to consider joining us as equal partners, bringing your own talents to join ours.”

“Racism is a thing we all must deal with,” Isdra nodded. “We are not immune ourselves. You answer honestly, and that is commendable. All know of the Altmer disdain for the other races, but we have plenty who feel our own racial superiority. That you come to us thus as equals, having accepted our requirements, speaks well of your intentions.  But now I must ask a single, simple question of the Histess.”

Number One retook his seat while Quill-Weave rose again. “Yes?”

“The Hist are unknown to us, Histess. But we gather they have their own sense of things that we do not. For my part, I do not question their existence, even if I don’t understand them. I have just one question of them, through you, if you can answer it.”

“I will answer to the best of my ability and in all candor,” Quill-Weave said.

“The visions that we have seen today, they are impressive and extremely worrisome. You have seen them some time ago already, and have surely consulted with your Hist.  My question is this - is what we have seen true? Will this future come to pass if we do not join this alliance?”

Quill-Weave closed her eyes, and Ra’Jirra knew exactly what she was doing. She was speaking with the Hist. She stood as a statue for a full minute before opening her eyes again.

She woke up early and dressed quickly as Dar’Amon roused himself.

“Raj? Where are you going?”

“Just… stay here, will you? I’ve got something to do. I should be back before midday.”

“Can I come along? It doesn’t take me long to get dressed!” he said with a cat’s smile.

“Sorry Dar, not this time. But you’ll thank me if this works. Just stay here, and when the maids enter, for goodness’ sake don’t talk!”

“Okay. If you say so.”

She rushed out of the palace and to the headquarters of the HMSS, but at the door she was halted by the guard.

“Please, I need to see Queue. Can you get him for me? Please? It’s… important!”

“I’m sorry, Ra’Jirra. You know you’re not allowed in anymore,” said the guard she had known for years. “And there’s no one else here to take over for another ½ hour for me to go find him.”

Ra’Jirra nervously sought for some solution, but the outer door opened before she could think of anything, and in walked Em’s secretary, Ms. Ponsonby.

“Ms. Posonby! Thank goodness you’ve come. Could you do me a huge favor? I need to talk to Queue. It’s urgent!”

The old khajiit squinted at her. “Ra’Jirra. I’d not thought to see you back here again. Now what’s all this nonsense about? You’re not even supposed to be in the building as an ex-agent.”

Exasperated, Ra’Jirra appealed to the crotchety old cat, “I’m only a concubine of the fucking Mane now! JEEZE! Please Ms. Ponsonby! You helped me once. Just this once more!”

“Why?” she asked with suspicion. “What do you want Queue for?”

“I need something, and I think he’s got it in his lab.”

“What?”

“Ms. Ponsonby! Copper chloride, if that means anything to you!”

“Hmm...  Well, I suppose I can ask him to come out to talk to you. On one condition.”

“Anything! Just name it!”

“What’s my first name?”

Ra’Jirra blinked. “Your first name?”

An evil smile crept across the old lady’s face. “Yeeeees, what’s my first name?”

Ra’Jirra searched her memory while the smile grew larger.

“Loelia!” she blurted out at a sudden insight, and the smile fell off Loelia Ponsonby’s face.

“Hmpf. A good guess. I’ll go see if I can find him,” she said and turned on her heel.

The guard turned back to Ra’Jirra, shaking his head.

“Bitch,” she muttered, then went to sit and wait in a chair nearby.  The minutes ticked by like hours, but at last the big argonian came out through the door behind the guard’s desk.

“Ra’Jirra! Oh, it’s good to see you again! What did you do to Ms. Ponsonby?”

Ra’Jirra hugged the argonian in greeting. “Good to see you again too, Queue. As for that… person, I just made her day, that’s all.”

“Well, what can I do for you Ra’Jirra? You name it.”

“I need a chemical. Copper chloride. Do you know what that is?”

“Copper chloride? Ra’Jirra, I’m not a chemist. But we have some on staff of course. What on earth do you need that for?”

“It’s a long story, Queue, but it’s really important!”

“Well, come on back into the lab with me. I’ll ask my lead chemist if he has any of… whatever that is.”

“Thanks Queue!”

She looked at the guard as she passed, but he only shrugged and waved her on.

“I am the head of the whole research department, after all!” Queue said when she caught up with him. “He’d better not say anything!”

Within an hour, Ra’Jirra was heading back out with Queue, a bottle of blue powder in her hands.

“Em won’t like it,” Queue was saying. “If it works, you’re going to cost him one of our best agents, you know.”

“Em be damned, he can’t stop me!”

“No, but he can browbeat me for allowing it,” Queue said as they stopped at the door, and he opened it wide for Ra’Jirra.

“Come on, Queue. Em’s not that kind of boss. At least, I never thought he was.”

“He’s not. Go on, Raj. And good luck! Stop by again sometime to see us though. Sometime when you’re not on a Quest.”

“I will!” She said, and then turned and practically climbed up the tall argonian’s chest to give him a kiss on his cheek - if argonians can be said to have cheeks.

Queue stood at the door, watching her go, and touched the spot where her lips had been. He looked at his hand, then back at the outer door where she’d left.

“I’ll miss that cat,” he said to the guard.

“Me too,” the guard said, looking back at the closing door.  “At least you got a kiss.”

Queue smiled at the guard. “Some of us have it, and some of us don’t,” he chuckled, then went back to work.

---------------

When Ra’Jirra returned to her room, Dar’Amon was nowhere to be seen.  She had a moment of panic, until the maid came in and told her about the cat they’d found in her room.

“Where is he!?” she demanded so forcefully that the maid cowered before her.

“I’m sorry Lady Ra’Jirra! I put him out back not five minutes ago. He’s probably still around I think.”

“Oh, sorry. He’s… he’s mine. Please, show me where, would you?”

She followed the maid to the back of the building, and Dar’Amon was there, stuck up in a tree while a dog barked at him from below. The Alfiq looked scared to death before he saw Ra’Jirra.

“Maid, would you mind shooing that dog away while I get my cat?” Ra’Jirra asked.

“Certainly!” she answered, obviously relieved that the lady’s cat hadn’t been harmed. She dragged the barking dog back to it’s kennel while Ra’Jirra caught Dar’Amon as he jumped down from the tree.

“Thanks, Raj!” he said as she carried him back inside. “That dog nearly had me!”

“Sorry Dar. But come with me to the main dining room. I need to light a fire.”

“A fire? It’s nearly summer. You look weird. Are you feeling alright?”

“You’ll see,” she smiled and was glad to see the room was currently unoccupied. It took her just a few minutes to get a nice blaze going. Then she sprinkled it with the copper chloride. Immediately the flame began to glow a fierce blue.

Dar looked at her strangely. “Is that… No. It can’t be!”

“Flame of the Harbinger,” Ra’Jirra smiled.

The Alfiq looked at her. “How on earth…?!”

“Don’t ask questions, Dar. Just approach the flame, if you want your lycanthropy to be cured.”

Cautiously, he did so. Suddenly a tongue of flame lashed out and covered him in a blue glow. Ra’Jirra screamed and rushed forward, fearing that she’d managed to kill her lover, but before she got to him the glow flared brightly then disappeared. At her feet, Dar’Amon lay in Cathay form, if somewhat under-dressed for proper palace etiquette.

“Dar! Dar, are you alright?” she said as she lifted his head.

His eyes opened and he blinked, then looked down at himself.

“I’m… back!” he said, grinning up at her.

Ra’Jirra got him to his feet as two guards rushed in.

“Back off, scum!” shouted one, brandishing a wicked looking spear.

“No! He’s my fiance!” Ra’Jira shouted, putting herself between the spear and Dar’Amon.

One of the guards looked at the other, who shrugged.

“Fiance or not, he’s not allowed in the palace. Gr’alt, go fetch the Chief.”

The other guard ran off, while another two guards came in, spears drawn.

“She says he’s her fiance,” the first guard explained.  “Don’t worry Lady, we’ll get this sorted out. Why don’t you two have a seat till then, okay?”

Ra’Jirra and Dar’Amon gladly assented. A few minutes later the leader of the palace guard entered along with the prime concubine, Isdra.

“What’s this all about, Lady Ra’Jirra?” she demanded. “Who is this?”

Ra’Jirra rose and bowed to Isdra. “This is my fiance, Dar’Amon. He is an agent of the HMSS.”

Isdra turned to the naked Cathay. “Well,” she said. “Speak up young man. How dare you enter the palace?! Fiance or not, we’ll have no mating of the Mane’s concubines here!”

“No!” Dar’Amon protested. “It’s not like that! I wasn’t…”

“It’s a long story, Princess Isdra,” Ra’Jirra interrupted. I’ll explain everything. You can ask Em. He’s the head of the HMSS. He’ll corroborate our story!”

“I know who Em is, Ra’Jirra.  Guard, go and send for him.”

One of the guards left the room hastily, while three of the other concubines entered to see what all the fuss was about.

By the time Em came in an hour later, Ra’Jirra and Dar’Amon had told the story twice to the prime concubine. Of course, nearly the entire harem had entered by then, leaving Dar’Amon unable to get out of his seat for modesty’s sake. Finally, when Em had corroborated their story, Isdra sent for some clothes for Dar’Amon and shooed the other concubines from the room till he was able to get dressed.

“Be that as it may,” Isdra was saying, “you cannot have him in your room here. Surely you must see the sense in that.”

“I do. And I won’t,” Ra’Jirra assured her. “This was… an aberration.”

“All right. I’ll give him an official pass till nightfall, but by then, I don’t want to see him in the concubine’s domicile again! As for you,” she said, turning to Em, her voice magically transforming into the sweet coquette,  “Thank you for coming.”

Em stood, and the Princess Isdra left the room, leaving only Raj, Dar and Em.

“Well hell, Dar, you still want to work for me? I’m afraid your value in our operation may have decreased somewhat, but I’ve still got work for you.”

“Of course! But… maybe I could take a vacation? I’ve got a wedding to attend,” he said, squeezing Ra’Jirra’s hand.

“Fair enough. I’ll see you next week then?”

“And a honeymoon after that…”

Em sighed, “Okay! Two weeks.”

Ra’Jirra leaned on Dar’Amon’s shoulder. “It’s been a long time since I had him back in Cathay form, Em.  A looooong time!”

Em scrunched up his face in disgust. “Okay, okay! You’ve got the month off, Dar. You’d better not wear him out, Raj! I expect him in good condition when he gets back.”

“As well as can be expected, given the circumstances,” she smiled evilly at Dar’Amon.

“Enough!” Em declared, standing up. “When’s the wedding?”

Ra’Jirra looked to Dar’Amon who watched her shrug.

“Tomorrow’s the big meeting. How about the day after that? Too soon?”

“Can’t be too soon for me, Dar,” she answered. “But it needs to be kept quiet. Concubine and all that, you know.”

“Just a small group then at Mara’s chapel. Day after tomorrow. And Em?” Dar’Amon declared firmly.

“Yeah?”

“Would you mind being my Second?”

Ra’Jirra got an idea at that too, “And walk me down the Aisle? I don’t have any family, you know.”

“Of course. Any other requests?”

“I… do have one,” Ra’Jirra replied and Em rolled his eyes. “I’d like Queue to be my second.”

“Queue? Isn’t that a job for a female?”

“Someday I should tell you a little something about argonians, Em,” she snickered. “But I don’t care anyway. I want Queue if I can’t have you.”

“Queue it is then. Well, Good luck you two. You’ve killed my afternoon. I’ve got to get back!”

They watched him go before returning to Ra’Jirra’s room.

She closed the door behind them, already breaking one of the rules.

“What do you think? We can celebrate now!”

“You know I’d love to, Raj. But Isdra made it pretty clear she wouldn’t approve. She’s been pretty decent really. I don’t think we should.”

“You’re probably right. Dammit. And I should stay here, what with the meeting coming up tomorrow.”

Dar’Amon kissed her passionately, which she returned in kind.

“I guess I should go find myself a room somewhere then,” he said, tearing himself away.

“Do that. And see if you can think of somewhere we can honeymoon.  Somewhere far away, where I can forget about all this.”

“I will.  I’ll be back outside the palace gates tomorrow after your meeting. Then we will celebrate for sure!”

As she rushed out of the room and down the hall, Ra’Jirra’s mind was racing. Dar’Amon was back, but what mood would he be in? He might be here to say goodbye. And how had he found out where she was anyway?

As she got to the top of the stairs, she heard voices below, and the unmistakable high-pitched voice of Dar’Amon in Alfiq form was among them.

“Well,” she thought, “so much for Alfiq anonymity!”

She decided to descend the stairs as calmly as she could. She would try to play it cool. But as she came down, she realized that Dar’Amon was angry and shouting - as well as he could given the limited capacity of Alfiq lungs.

“Where is she, damn it?! I swear if you snakes have hurt her, I’ll...”

The sound of an argonian laughing followed. “What? What will you do little cat? Scratch us to death?”

Ra’Jirra saw that Quill-Weave’s two sisters were standing guard at the bottom of the stairs, not allowing Dar’Amon to pass them. And he hadn’t seen her behind them yet.

“She’s a damn concubine of the Mane! You can’t keep her here!”

“I told you, we’re not keeping her at all! She’s in a meeting with the Histess. Fiance or no, you’re not interrupting her.”

“But that was hours ago! Look, just tell her I’m here at least. Can you do that? Otherwise I’m going right out there and tell the guards that you’re holding Ra’Jirra prisoner!”

The other argonian crossed her arms and replied in a low and menacing voice, “As I understand it, Mittens, this house is an embassy, and that means you are on Argonian soil here. You may have slipped past your own guards outside, but you won’t pass us! Even your vaunted Mane has no jurisdiction here. As for being her fiance, as you just said, she’s the Mane’s concubine. How can you reconcile that, little cat?”

“It’s… complicated,” Dar’Amon’s voice replied sheepishly.

“It is,” Ra’Jirra spoke up. “Hello Dar.”

The two argonians spun around. “Khajiit-mother.  This… thing has been here demanding to see you. The Histess requested to be left alone with you.”

“His name is Dar’Amon,” Ra’Jirra said, adding a touch of scorn to her voice. “And he is my fiance, concubine or no!”

She turned to Dar’Amon, who now raced up the stairs and leaped into her arms.

“Dar!” she said, hugging him as much as she dared.

The two argonians looked at each other as if the sight had left a bad taste in their mouths.

“True love knows no limits, I guess!” said one of them to the other.

“Hmph!” Ra’Jirra snorted and walked between them haughtily, her nose in the air.

Dar’Amon mimicked her with his own little “Hmph!” which set the two argonians giggling.

She was about to open the door when the voice of Quill-Weave came from the top of the stairs.

“Khajiit-mother?”

“Histess,” she responded, stepping back towards the stairs to be able to see the argonian.

“Will you return tomorrow? I would like to talk more with you, if you are willing.”

Ra’Jirra looked down at Dar’Amon, then back to the Histess.

“No, I don’t think so. My fiance has been away for quite some time. We have a lot of catching up to do. As you and the Hist have assured me, this meeting is pointless anyway. I’ll not be worried about it anymore. I’ll see you at the palace, Quill-Weave.”

“Wait!” the argonian said as Ra’Jirra turned to go.

She came down the stairs quickly and stepped between her sisters.

“Speak to the Hist again,” she said enigmatically. “About him.”

Ra’Jirra looked at Dar’Amon, who was obviously confused, then back to Quill-Weave.

“I will,” she said, and then turned her back on the argonians and left the house.

Outside, Dar’Amon took his accustomed place on her shoulder as she passed the khajiit guards and turned down the darkened street.

“Talk to the Hist?” Dar’Amon said quietly in her ear.

“Afraid I’ve got an awful lot to tell you, Dar. But first… I need to know where we stand, you and I. You’ve been gone a long time.”

“Can we go back to the apartment?”

“I don’t live there anymore. I have a room at the palace now. You want to come there?”

“The palace? Will they let me in?”

“If you’re with me they will,” Ra’Jirra assured him.

“Then sure. Let’s go there, Princess.”

“Hey, you don’t have to call me that! But seriously, I need to know what you’re thinking now. About us.”

Dar’Amon cleared his voice, as if he had been practicing the speech he was about to make.

“I’ve been back for a while, Raj. I came to visit you at the palace once, but… you weren’t alone.”

“Huh?”

“Devline is his name, as I understand it. I thought you said he…”

“He is. Dar, he stayed with me a couple of nights. Nothing happened. He was lonely and I was lonely. That’s all. What about you and your ‘partner’? Can you say the same? I know the moons aligned while you were gone.”

“They did. I didn’t.”

“Didn’t what?”

“I didn’t sleep with her, if that’s what you’re implying. Jeeze Raj, just because I become a Cathay doesn’t mean I automatically have to bed any woman I see!”

“Oh. Sorry. I… well. I didn’t know what you would do.”

“She wanted to.”

Ra’Jirra stopped and looked at Dar’Amon. His small cat eyes were wide and dilated in the moonlight.

“Raj, I don’t care if you’re a concubine. I found I can’t stay away from you. Unless you tell me to. I shouldn’t have left.”

“When have I ever even…” Ra’Jirra said, getting angry now. It was, after all, Dar’Amon who had left her.

“You haven’t. But even if we can’t be married… even if you must lie with the Mane, I want to stay in your life. Somehow. If I can.”

Ra’Jirra looked around. There were few people out on the streets at this time of night, but the city was never empty. She spied a bench in a small park a little way ahead.

“Hold that thought, Dar,” she said as she entered the little green-space. Here, away from the torchlights of the streets, it was even darker and even the moonlight barely filtered through the leaves overhead. She sat on the bench and Dar’Amon jumped down to sit beside her.

“First,” she began, “the Mane does not lay with his concubines. He is monogamous with the Prime concubine. Second, I would not be the only concubine that is married. I know of two that are married, and those are just the ones that allowed me to find out. It’s not to be public knowledge - it wouldn’t look good in this male-dominated society of ours - but the Mane doesn’t mind.”

Dar’Amon was looking at her now, his eyes shining.

“Are you still my fiance, Dar?”

“Absolutely.”

They sat in silence for a while then, just looking at each other. Finally Ra’Jirra reached down and began to pet her fiance. He purred in response and climbed onto her lap, then stretched up to touch her lips with his own, lightly.

“Well. That’s settled then. Just try not to get so angsty again, okay? You don’t seem like you trust that I can love you, but I do. Do you think I’d agree to marry you if I didn’t? Dar, we need to be inseparable. We need to trust in each other, even when we’re not together.”

“You’re right,” said the Alfiq. “I’ll try to do better.”

“Good. Now, when is the next moon alignment anyway?”

“Not for another month, according to my chart.”

“Damn. A month! Well, I guess we can’t exactly celebrate, but we’re together again, right?”

“Right!”

“Okay, then let’s get back to my room.”

“Our room?”

“Our room,” she agreed, and picked him up again as they continued toward the palace grounds.

“Oh, by the way, I sucked on an argonian’s boobs today!”

“WHAT?!”

----------------------

Back in her room, Ra’Jirra set Dar’Amon down on the canopied bed.

“Nice place,” he said, pacing on the top of the bed while Ra’Jirra changed into a nightgown. “A little too much pink for me though.”

“Well, I’m sure we can add a few masculine touches. I’ll need to tell them about you tomorrow, but tonight, I’ve just got a new pet.”

“Meow!” he said as she came back to bed and climbed under the blankets. She let him in with her.

“So that’s what she meant about talking to the Hist,” Dar’Amon said as he curled up next to her. “Do you know how to do it?”

“Yeah. Actually I think I do.”

“Wish I could do that.”

“I could make arrangements with the Histess.”

“From what you tell me, it would be pointless unless the Hist agreed.”

“Well, I can do that then. But if they do agree, don’t you go all Scalie on me!”

Dar’Amon nuzzled her chest. “I don’t think you need to worry about that.”

“I’m glad you’re back, Dar,” she said quietly when he yawned.

“Glad to be back. Goodnight Raj.”

“Goodnight,” she said, and she closed her eyes.

The house had been converted to serve as the first ever Argonian embassy - as far as Ra’Jirra knew, anywhere in the world. Though they were expecting a larger contingent of Argonians than the three who actually arrived, it still felt cozy when they arrived. Ra’Jirra made herself useful by showing them around the place and how the various fixtures worked.  Quill-Weave introduced her companions as Ereel-Na and Kassha-Na, who turned out were actually two of Quill-Weave’s sisters.

At Quill’s insistence, Ra’Jirra stayed behind after the security detail left to stand guard around the house, and the three retired to a main room just inside the front door.

“So, Ra’Jirra,” Quill began as she settled in between her sisters on the deep couch that had been provided, while Ra’Jirra sat to their right in a similar but smaller couch. Ra’Jirra tried to ignore her unusual clothing that left nothing to the imagination, but was finding it difficult to overlook.

“Is it true that you understand Jel?”

“Not well,” she admitted in that language. “It is a difficult language to learn without deep immersion in Argonia. Yet argonians seem to have a knack for learning other languages that we khajiit don’t.”

“We all have our advantages and disadvantages,” said the Histess. “Our tongues are fluent in many things.”

“So I understand. I had a friend who studied your physiology. He was quite impressed, especially by your tongues!”

“False modesty is worse than false bravado,” Quill-Weave nodded, switching back to Ta’agra. “Linguistically we excel. Is it also true that you will be accompanying us at the meeting between your Mane and the Dominion?”

“You are well informed,” Ra’Jirra said. “Yes indeed, I am honored to be one of the Mane’s concubines that will be attending. You may also know I am not… a fan of the Dominion. This is why I was invited, in fact.”

Quill-Weave leaned forward at this. “Indeed, I’m afraid I must agree with you there. The Dominion’s tactics have been less than honorable. Were it up to me I would not be here. But those that I serve suggested that it would be good to come.”

“They seek an alliance between us, you know,” Ra’JIrra said, not sure if this topic was off limits in this circumstance.

“Yes. They see the humans as a threat. They are right, you know.”

Ra’Jirra looked directly at the Histess. “I have seen their… projections. Do you agree with this prediction then? Are we all to be subsumed by the humans?”

Quill-Weave laughed. “In a sense, yes. But the altmer, even with all their magic, are not omniscient. They see a moment in the future, but they cannot see all that passed before that moment. None of us can. Our lifetimes aren’t long enough to see that. It could well be that we will not survive the coming future of the humans. But only the Hist understand these things.”

“Then you side with the Dominion?” Ra’Jirra asked, feeling the fur on her back tighten. She couldn’t help it. As much as she wanted to like this argonian, recalling that they had come at the behest of the Dominion rankled.

“I honestly don’t know, Ra’Jirra. The Hist will let me know when it is time for me to know. However, I did not come for them, Ra’Jirra. I came for you. The Hist would like to commune with you.”

“For me? I really don’t understand. I’m nobody really. I became a concubine recently. Before that I was… well, I was in covert operations - the HMSS. I’m surprised you even knew my name honestly.”

“I know of you, Ra’Jirra. More importantly, the Hist know of you. But it is not for what you have been or done that I come, but for what you will do in the future. You are khajiit-mother, though you don’t know it yet. After you have met the Hist you will understand better. It is for that meeting that I have come, not a pointless alliance against the humans.”

Quill-Weave leaned back then, before continuing, “But you worry so, Ra’Jirra. The burden of this decision is not yours to make. The Mane will make his decision. Yours is just to tell him what you think. That is all.”

Ra’Jirra could see the truth in that, and she nodded.

“Sisters,” Quill-Weave said, turning to her companions. “Will you excuse us? I’d like to talk to the khajit-mother privately.”

Yet it was not the sisters that stood, but Quill-Weave, who beckoned Ra’Jirra to follow her. They climbed the stairs and walked the darkened hallway to the room at the end that Quill-Weave had established as her own private quarters.  Within, the Histess lit a single, small candle, then closed the door behind her, laying upon the bed. The candle’s fragrance was odd but somehow comforting.

Ra’Jirra looked around but noticed no other furniture was in the room. In the flickering shadows, Quill-Weave motioned beside her on the bed. Ra’Jirra hesitated, but then succumbed. Something about the argonian had changed in her mind, and she felt suddenly relaxed. She lay beside the Histess as if in a dream, the smell of the candle almost becoming an incense.

“What do you know of the Hist, khajiit-mother?” said the soft voice beside her, as her eyes closed.

“Sentient trees,” she replied drowsily. “Made the argonians…”

“They are not trees,” said Quill-Weave quietly. “Though that is what they appear to be to others. But they have as much in common with trees as we do with lizards, or you with cats. Saying they are ‘sentient trees’ is like saying you are a ‘sentient cat’. Sentience defines the species, not the other way around. But their ‘sentience’ is a different form than ours. We live within the shells that are our bodies, but they… they are one yet many. Trees house them, but they are not the trees themselves. I can feel them, even now. Can you feel them, khajiit-mother?”

“No… I feel only you,” Ra’Jirra said as the argonian snuggled beside her, the odd and unusually large breasts resting heavily upon her own chest. She felt them rise and fall with her deep breathing, and Ra’Jirra found herself breathing in sync.

“Perhaps, somehow, you will be able to feel them,” Quill continued in her deep, quiet voice. “Do you know of Hist sap, Ra’Jirra?”

“Gift of the Hist… without it argonians cannot achieve intelligence.”

“Yes, indeed. We argonians envy all you other species, do you know? Without the Hist and their sap, we are by nature truly nothing more than beasts. Is it any wonder that we regard the Hist as our Creators? They are, in a very real sense, the reason we exist as more than just aquatic reptiles. The Hist have given us more than just our minds too. Our bodies they have shaped over millennia, as we would shape a house-tree. You often call our reverence for the Hist a type of religion, but it is not. A religion requires faith and belief in something unseen. The Hist are not gods, and we fully know this. But they are still that which gives the argonian life and purpose. We are their willing servants, do you see?”

Ra’Jirra opened her eyes and pulled Quill-Weave close. “It must be awful for you,” she said, sympathetically.

“Oh, it’s not so bad. We are not blind servants. We have complete free will, save only that our young must drink of the sap if we are to continue our race. Did you know that, long ago, we had no Hist glands? We didn’t know male from female. But the Hist, in their wisdom, knew that our race was venturing ever farther from them. We needed some way to ensure our offspring would mature properly, even without the Hist’s direct intervention. So they gave us these…”

Quill hefted her Hist glands, and Ra’Jirra noticed that some of the scales had parted, revealing quite mammalian looking teats.

“Now we can give birth anywhere on Nirn without fear that our children will be nothing more than animals. And in their wisdom, the Hist has made them so similar to your own milk glands that we are accepted even more so by the other races. It is a wonderful thing. It would be nice to think that the other races could accept us as equals without simple physical similarity, but it is too much to expect. Yet these serve both purposes admirably. The Hist are wiser than you know.”

“Quill,” Ra’Jirra said, looking up at the reptilian face. “Am I… drugged?”

“Yes, Ra’Jirra. Well, yes and no. The incense can release inhibitions, though it inspires is nothing that wasn’t already being repressed. I would like to give you a gift, Ra’Jirra, but in your misplaced sense of propriety, you wouldn’t accept it. The incense will overcome that. I regret the necessity, but this is important.”

“I’m in love with another, you should know,” Ra’Jirra said, her eyes fascinated by the pendulous orbs as Quill-Weave raised herself up.

“Well, I should certainly hope so!” the argonian said with a laugh. “I certainly can’t impregnate you even if I wanted to! I have no such desire, silly woman. But you khajiits - you have such potential. You have native intelligence that we argonians lack. What heights, then, could the khajiit achieve if you were able to join with the Hist as we can?”

The argonian shifted upwards slightly, then began to lower herself to Ra’Jirra’s open mouth.

“I cannot say, but the Hist know. They have sent me to you, khajiit-mother. You will be the first, not born of the Hist, to taste of the sap. Drink. Accept this gift. I give it to you so that you may know the Hist as we do. Others before you have tried, but the sap is fruitless without the Hist’s approval. You are the first they have allowed.”

Ra’Jirra nursed the sap from the Histess’ breast, hesitantly at first, but then with growing hunger and abandon, before she lapsed into a dream of colors and memories.

----------------------

She could not say she spoke with the Hist, as the collective beings were too unlike her own understanding of consciousness to even make sense of the term. But she received understanding that she hadn’t had before, and her mind sorted the communication into a conversation when afterwards when she tried to describe it, though the actual communion was much less coherent.

“You are khajiit-mother. We are the Hist.”

“I am khajiit. I am not a mother.”

“You are khajiit-mother, inhibited by your sense of time that is linear. We sense you are disturbed. Why are you disturbed?”

“The Dominion says we are doomed. They say the khajiit will be annihilated, along with the argonians and the mer. They say only the humans will remain if we do not join together to fight them.”

“All things are doomed, khajiit-mother. All things end. New things begin. Until the end of days, when no new things will begin. You know this.”

She could not respond. It was beyond her conception. Instead she replied factually, “This is why I am disturbed. Will the argonians join to fight the humans?”

“Our children are free to do as they choose. We do not interfere except where required. But do not be disturbed, khajiit-mother. You shall live, and your children shall live, until their time too is at an end. Events shall transpire. Unforeseen events. Time will continue, until it does not.”

“I don’t understand. Is what the Dominion saw true? Will none but the humans remain?”

“It may be. It may not be. Why do you worry so? The future will come and pass, as it always has. But the khajiit will continue, through you, khajiit-mother. As will our children. Others will not. The humans will not. They will remain. Behold...”

What followed, she could not put into words at all. It was as if she had been given the answer, and then it had been taken away from her. She could no longer recall what that answer had been, but she knew it was going to be all right in the end. And, even without knowing the answer, she knew peace in her heart. Whatever the future brought, she had glimpsed it for a moment, and all her answers were given. She could no longer recall those answers, but her mind was clear. There were answers, and that was very reassuring.

She awoke in the arms of the Histess who looked at her curiously.

“You have communed long with the Hist. But you are at peace. I can see it in your eyes, khajiit-mother.”

Ra’Jirra came to her senses and sat up, as if coming out of a daze. She looked at Quill-Weave. The Histess’ breasts were featureless once more, as if she had only dreamed of their change.

“I…” she started. “Did I, um...  Your...”

“Yes, khajiit-mother. You fed of my sap, freely given. Do not be alarmed.”

“Alarmed? No. I’m not alarmed, though I’m not sure why I’m not. That’s a pretty weird thing to do, after all. I mean, I’m not even your species! But… I feel better, somehow.”

“Even among your kind, do you not nurse at the breast of your own mother, both male and female?”

“Well, yeah. When we’re infants!”

Quill-Weave smiled. “You were an infant, Ra’Jirra. You are no longer. You have awakened.”

“You’re not going to agree to this alliance, are you?” Ra’Jirra asked.

“I have no right to agree to anything, Ra’Jirra. I don’t speak for any other argonians. The Dominion is foolish if they think I do. I am closer to the Hist than any other of our kind, but I understand them no more than you do, and the other argonians don’t look on me as their leader even if I wanted to. I only tell them what the Hist tells me. But they mean well - for us, and now for your kind as well. Ra’Jirra, you are now of the Hist too. You may speak to them as readily as I. Probably more easily since you were conscious before you met them, unlike myself. What did you get from them? I cannot see what they have shown you. Can you tell me?”

“I’m not sure myself. They are too different. But, somehow, I know it will be alright. No matter what happens here, at the meeting, and in whatever follows. They assured me of that. And I believe them.”

“Good. That is my understanding as well. We, their children, don’t concern ourselves with the future much, Ra’Jirra. We only protect the Hist, and the Hist will protect us. We believe this completely, khajiit-mother. Perhaps you understand how that can be, as we do now?”

“They will. Protect us, I mean... and I think there’s something I need to say at the meeting. It’s not clear yet, even in my mind, but they want me to say something to the altmer, and to the Mane. Even to you.”

Quill-Weave nodded. “You will know when the time is right what to say. You have the Hist within you now.”

Ra’Jirra laughed and stood up. “You make them sound like a parasite. They’re not going to control my mind are they?”

Quill-Weave scoffed, “Ra’Jirra! You have met them. Do they seem as if they want to control you? Surely you know better. What you have within you now is only a means to commune with them, not some sort of mind control.”

“I think so too. I don’t feel any different. But I guess I am, in a way. I’m not worried anymore.”

“Good. You shouldn’t be. But it’s getting late and I expect there are some who are awaiting you that may already be concerned for your safety. Someone awaits outside. A little one who looks like a cat, but is not a cat.”