#rayhe

She was in a cellar. It looked surprisingly ordinary, for a place which had a passage to sewers full of ferocious ghouls, rotting bodies and other interesting things. It was rather spacious, with some crates, barrels and sacks in the role of decoration. Most of them were empty, some contained unidentified organic mess – probably few years ago it was food. Thick layer of dust covered everything, clearly nobody was living here anymore. She stood there for a moment, allowing herself to catch a breath and to calm down. She was confused, really, really confused. She could no longer tell what was happening, where she was, or where she was going, but she wanted to find out. And of course, the further from ghouls the better. Horrible creatures... she still shuddered at the very thought about them. But they were locked away, maybe some of them even dead – and that was a comforting thought. After a while she went up the stairs, which she noticed at the opposite side of the room.  

She walked carefully, trying to be as silent as she could. When she reached another floor, she found herself in a huge hall. It took her a while to adjust to the brightness, after walking through the sewers and the cellar the moonlight which shone through the tall window in front of her was a sight as beautiful as painful. When she began to see again, she looked around. The place was even bigger than she thought – it had to be one of the mansions, pretty impressive even in such terribly ruined state. She could see some debris lying around, pieces of furniture, ripped curtains and tapestries hanging on the walls... there was nothing of value to be seen anywhere too. Certainly looters already visited this place many times since it was abandoned.  Dust danced and shimmered in the moonlight, as she walked to the centre of the room, still looking around. It made more sense now – many mansions had hidden passages leading to the sewers, which made a perfect escape route in case of any trouble... or when somebody needed to remain unseen while leaving his own house. Still, it was odd that the entrance wasn’t even secured properly – she just walked right in.

In the moonlight she could see almost everything clearly now – it seemed so bright after sticky darkness of the sewers. In front of her, just under the triple window, she could see stairs, built around the ornamented front door. In front of windows she could see three statues, which were a bit harder to distinguish as anything more than dark figures. After a while she saw that the middle one – bigger than other two – had a crossbow. She also noticed to fountains under the stairs, in better days probably a nice ornament, now the were both clogged, filling the room with a musty smell. Still, it was nothing compared to what she saw in the sewers. She could also see some dead bushes in the cracked vases, chairs covered with dust and tall candelabra with pools of wax under them. The silence in the room was overwhelming. She could feel the emptiness almost physically, as well as the cold of stone under her feet and the odd feeling of being watched. She took few steps towards the stairs, still looking around carefully and wandering what could be the link between the assassin and this building.

Then, she heard a click of metal, unpleasantly familiar – somebody was loading a crossbow.  She stopped suddenly, trying to find the source of the sound, and began to walk away slowly yet still ready to dash if somebody tried to shot her. The source of sound appeared to be the statue with a crossbow, now loaded and aimed at her.

-  Be so kind and stop right there, or else I'll have to shoot you in the leg. – the statue said with a deep, masculine voice – I would really prefer not to, you see, since you would start to bleed heavily. Some time ago it would definitely make me happy to see you bleed like a slaughtered animal, but after you sabotaged my plan I would rather watch you facing much slower and more painful death than this. I've had enough of your "heroic" interference, you Ashlanders' whore.

(Bigger image-> LINK )

Dalance stopped, rooted to the ground, clutching sword in her hand. After all this chase she ended up trapped.  At this point she was just overwhelmed and scared, feeling completely helpless in current situation. Showing none of those feelings was her only advantage. Unwilling to move after the threat she heard, Dalance raised her eyes to look at her opponent.

From where she was standing she could see some more details, when one of the "statues" moved a bit for better aim, entering the ray of moonlight from one of the holes in rooftop. He was rather stout, not very tall, dressed in dark robe - definitely a new one, maybe even unused. Moonlight shimmered on the surface of the silver mask, which covered his face. It looked like the exact copy of the same mask, which all ordinators were wearing, except for the metal being more polished and of different colour. Man was hooded, so Dalance couldn't see anything but the mask.

Two other statues unsheathed their swords, twinkling with silver in the moonlight, just as their masks. Instead of robes they wore dark clothes, and probably dark versions of Indoril armours - Dalance wasn't sure, it was rather hard to tell, since they both remained in shadow, unlike the man in robe. It all looked like some kind of grotesque play, though neither the spectator expected the actors, nor they expected her.

- Instead of dying in the very beginning, just as it was planned, so everything would be perfect, everything would look the right way and nobody would have doubts, you had to ruin everything. You ruined the picture I kept painting for so long, a picture, which would finally make people see, what Temple tried to hide from them, what king covered with his lies. We are being calmed, lied to like a bunch of clueless children, humiliated, stripped of our culture and identity, led by imperial puppet on the throne. With my plan everything would be clear and terrifyingly beautiful in its dramatised form. Ritual murder, cruel and impertinent demonstration of imperial power, spit in our faces and a gauntlet thrown so boldly. This time neither Helseth nor Fedris would be able to hide such a crime, to lie looking in the eyes of their own people, enraged people in despair. Finally all Dunmers would feel an impulse, which would motivate them to rise against the oppression of the Empire. Finally their souls would once again burn with fire, an unstoppable force, which would make the imperial dogs beg for mercy, as they would purge our land from their filth. But no, you had to ruin everything! As every damn hero who lives after his heroic deed. Did somebody listen to me, when I said to kill you before you start making trouble, when you still were obedient and scared? No, of course nobody did!

Dalance stared at him blankly. Her thoughts were racing as she was confused with his words,  simultaneously trying to find a way out of this situation. The only thing that came to her mind is not to show quite obvious helplessness, her expression saying  "I'm still in control.". But she wasn't.  She had no idea what to do. The crossbow was still aimed at her, ready to fire. Damn range weapons. She would handle a sword fight, even in this state. But the bolt will probably end the fight before it begins. When dunmer finished his speech she raised her head and said:

- I once heard about a similar plan to enlighten the humiliated people, stripped of their culture and identity, led by imperial puppet. To burn the fire which would make the "imperial dogs beg for mercy". Yes, this same ambition with same one-sided measures to enforce it. Do you know who created it?- she paused for a while, temporising. In quiet voice she added - Dagoth Ur.

- Shut up, whore. Dagoth was a madman, an abomination, who turned against his own people instead of the real enemy. He has gone insane and abandoned his true role long time ago, like each of these accursed gods. You should have died on the Red Mountain with him, remain a tragic hero, a beautiful legend remembered forever. All you did afterwards was just a shame, shame to the Temple, shame to our house, which kindly took you in, and shame to your own tale. Living among the barbaric heathens, endless roams in the heart of the Empire, wedding with not only a Hlaalu, but also an outsider, a man who should be licking our boots, thankful that we even let him be a part of one of the great houses, instead of bragging about his position like a dog in a gilded collar. Then more wandering from one tavern to another in naive hope that nobody will recognize you. Seriously? I understand that during fulfilling the prophecy you had to contact these... flea-ridden heathens, but you should have nothing to do with them later. You were supposed to be a symbol, an incarnation of the founder of our great house, the one who would help us rise above others. And who you became? You, a vagabond dressed in Ashlanders’ rags, vomiting under tables in filthy taverns, letting some Telvanni mongrel to ride you like an animal in return for a bowl of soup and a place to sleep? – he laughed mockingly – Yes, we know about this too. Was it at least good, when he was fucking your scarred ass? Was he moaning as much as he did few years ago, when the Ministry of Truth took care of him?

As every megalomaniac, the masked man seemed to love the sound of his own voice. He didn’t even need much encouragement to go on and on – after all he was in much better position than she at the moment. Still, the remark about Dagoth Ur seemed to provoke him to perform even longer speech than the first one. As Dalance listened to him, she found it odd how vulgar and foul language he used with rather elegant manner of speaking. It was obvious that he was educated, probably even being a member of one of many noble families living in Mournhold. There was also something very theatrical about the way he spoke, something exaggerated in his gesticulation, which made him oddly fascinating to observe. Clearly, it wasn’t the first time he made such a speech, he actually seemed to have quite an experience with it.

"I'll bite your head off"-  this thought became one of the most vivid ones in Dalance’s mind. She was given her faults and things she could feel guilty for in front of House Indoril leaders, all inclusive.  Plus some issues that Great House should not be intrusive about. The worst thing about all this was that he was right. She regretted nothing and was not ashamed at this point but her previous anger turned into the feeling of bruising disappointment.

How could she be deemed as ungrateful pet? Even if she herself could agree with some of his accusations, they were painful. Probably more painful than quick bolt in the ribs before she had to start this conversation- came to her mind, but she quickly chased this thought away. Dalance decided to play his game, there were not many directions she could go in. She smiled bitterly and forced herself to speak in strong voice so tell her made-up threat with confidence:

- Maybe I'm just a sinful mortal but I was also chosen as a Saint and Champion of Azura. I care about people of this land. I never participated in your political games and I'm not going to. You can kill me here as undesirable obstacle but let me tell you that I will return to foil your plan!

- Indeed? Oh, I am so afraid of you, little bitch. I am as afraid of you, as I am afraid of Vivec, Almalexia and Sotha Sil, who happen to be dead. Oh, of course I am very afraid, and of course I believe they are going to return... stop talking shit, really. Gods are mortal, you proved it yourself when you murdered them. And you are the same – now powerful and mighty, but cold and rotting after death. And that’s now it’s supposed to be, when the gods remain in books and tales, not in palaces. They only cause trouble, slowly descending into insanity. I saw her, you know. Almalexia, the beautiful and powerful, great warrior, merciful lady. Vain, egoistic bitch, filled only with love of herself and her power. She cared about nothing more than the halls of her palace, which she never left, her gilded prison, where she locked herself willingly, delusional, still believing in her own importance. Maybe she was important, maybe even vital, but only for such idealistic fools like Her Hands and Fedris. “Archcanon Hler, the trusted servant of our merciful lady”... I don’t know who put him on this position, but he was a complete idiot...

As the masked man spoke, he seemed more and more engaged in his own monologue. He began to gesticulate with both hands, careless about the crossbow, he seemed less focused on Dalance and more on his own thoughts, probably the effect of years of hidden hate and despise. And with every passing moment it became clearer to Dalance, that it was very possible that in such state the man will miss if he tries to shot her. Crossbow was heavy, of the type which could kill a fully-armoured person without problem, but it needed reloading after every shot. Fortunately, it seemed that these people were not very fond of lighter and faster imperial models.

Dalance watched him with attention, keyed-up for a perfect moment to act. She was still hesitant if her movement won't cost her a leg. It was quite a distance but on the other hand she can try to maneuver after reaching stairs. Balustrade was a very conveninent element in this case.

He was still talking. And Dalance was annoyed and could not listen to it any minute longer. At this point it'll be almost a pleasure to stab his guts with a sword, she made up her mind.

She violently rushed forward, trying to reach the stairs. The speech was interrupted in the middle of the sentence what appeared to infuriate masked man much more than the fact Dalance still wanted to attack. Dunmer raised his crossbow surprisingly swiftly, sending a bolt in her direction. And he did hit his target. Kind of. The bolt just dabbed her shoulder but the impact of it left a wide cut. She felt twinge of pain but kept running. She could still fight, she had it worse. Marksman had his chance and Dalance was not going to give him another one.

He panicked when she reached the stairs and fiercely headed their direction. It was not going as planned. Actually meeting the Nerevarine was not a part of his plan. Assassin was hired to have her killed and they were waiting here to meet him. At first, when the killer was not the one who entered the building, it was quite entertaining. They were prepared to fight and finish any intruders life with the crossbow.

But he wasn't prepared for this scenario. The dunmer sweared loudly and backed away few steps, looking around. His two guards reacted immediately. They enclosed the attacker when she reached the top of the stairs to prevent her from reaching their boss. She stopped to have a stable position to parry their hasty attacks. Dalance could feel pain in her burned palms when she strengthened the grip on the sword but the only thing that mattered was to reach the fucker with the crossbow. She was forced to focus on two opponents instead when another blows landed heavily on her defences. Not fond the idea of killing them, she was trying to outmaneuver masked warriors but standing lower on the steps it turned out to be harder than she thought. They were well trained and experienced. And soon Dalance was almost sure that she could recognise the fighting style they showed. They were Indoril military members or guards, trained is this Great House ways.

- Traitors!- she hissed to them, still mostly parrying their attacks. She tried to see where their boss is, to make sure he didn't run away yet. Masked man got to the other side of the stairs and scamper downstairs. He was slow, clearly not used to running or anything connected with fast movement. He was not able to fight well in that case- and judging by his shape and tendency to preach, was just a priest. But  Dalance still was not able to do anything. He was running away while she was struggling with his guards, impatient and still disturbed with what she had heard.  

-  Kill her! Don't let her get away!- The priest shouted, making Dalance even more annoyed with the situation. One of the opponents' sword slammed into the carved balustrade just next to her arm. Distracted, she rushed to parry another blow and took a step back. Straight away she leaped forward and hit nearest guard in the mask with grip-side of her sword as he was still trying to pull his weapon out of the stone ornament. Metal headpiece gave a loud clang and the owner loosened his grip, standing a bit wobbly. His companion took advantage of this situation and pushed the stunned Indoril at Dalance. She hit the balustrade with her back; Overbalanced and having just a short moment to recover. The first guard leaned on her limply. He dropped his sword and didn't pose a threat to her. Unlike the other one. The second opponent, as stubborn as violent, raised his sword to deliver final blow. Dalance had no place or way to maneuver. At this point she was basing mostly on her reflexes. Those guards were not the only ones well prepared for fighting.

She was going to push off the balustrade to increase the distance but she didn't manage to do it on time. With no other way to dodge the attack, she griped the stunned elf and shoved his body forward. It was the matter of his or her life and she chose not to die that day. The blade sunk into an armoured body of the first guard. His companion seemed to be confused, still holding the grip. He was trying to recover his blade but it was stuck with the wound bleeding heavily because of his struggle. Dalance picked up her weapon and bumped his mask hard with the dull side of her blade. Then she kicked him on armoured leg to throw him off his feet and send downstairs. It was terrible idea! She completely forgot about being barefoot so she ended up leaning on balustrade, gritting her teeth in attempt not to scream. After the first wave of pain was over she looked at the unconscious guard at the bottom of the stairs. He was weighed down by his, most probably dead, friend with a sword sticking out of his stomach. She hobbled down the stairs but it was no point to chase the masked priest. He was long gone. She felt mad, still feeling the rush of fighting and running. Ready to give another chase, no matter of her fatigue or pain. No matter that she had no idea where he went. She felt almost painful urge to do something and take her anger out. Dalance approached the defeated and not thinking much about it, slammed her sword into the one that probably still lived. Her whole body was shaking, mostly because of exhaustion and overwhelming powerlessness.

Masked man was gone for good – she couldn’t even hear his footsteps anymore. The two warriors were laying motionless in the growing pool of blood, which splattered on the floor around them. Silver masks seemed so lifeless now, even more than previously. There was something haunting about them, something that made her turn her gaze away. She felt nauseous, when the adrenaline rush which kept her deadly in the battle faded away, she began to feel only cold and weary, with reason and panic screaming alarmingly somewhere in the background, overwhelmed by growing weakness. Before she could realise what was going on, she collapsed on the floor. Last thing she remembered was something wet and warm on her cheek and the sickening smell of blood. Still, it all faded away in overwhelming darkness, which covered her as a thick shroud.

Darkness.

Somebody is yelling in the distance, it feels almost like a memory. Somebody shakes her, turns her on her back. Blinding light, everything is so cold... her head hurts terribly, she feels sick. Something sticky and cold covers her hair and cheek. Unconsciously she turns her head and throws up.

Darkness.

Everything is moving, something smelling of dust, mud and smoke enwraps her, constricting her movement. Foul taste in her dry mouth, wet hair sticks to the cheek, feet are cold. Somebody carries her, she hears the clatter of his armour. She hears as people speak, but she doesn’t recognize the words or their meaning. Just voices, fever, sickness.

Darkness...

----

Dalance woke up suddenly, with a strange impression of being observed. The room was silent. For a moment she thought that it was only her imagination or impact of a bad dream. But then she saw a movement; there was a dark figure standing close to her bed. It froze for a moment  when it noticed that she wasn’t sleeping anymore. Before she could do anything the intruder rushed to the window, visibly panicked. Waking her up wasn't the part of his plan, definitely not. Dalance heard a sound of metal hitting the floor, as the dark figure moved swiftly to the window, opening it. For a moment she could see clearly a dark-haired dunmer dressed in leather armour and armed with a crossbow. She sprung out of the bed, grabbing her sword – habitually placed next to her, even during the night... or especially then. The dark figure jumped out. It was a ground floor after all. Dalance didn’t hesitate, and followed him, just grabbing her coat. She never was one to think a lot before doing things, rushing into every situation, without hesitating even slightly or thinking about the danger. Her habit of doing things fast, with not always justified confidence  used to save her life or put her in lethal circumstances. On her way to the window she noticed a dagger, laying on the floor. Though the day was nice, night appeared to be rather cold. Dew on the grass drenched legs of her pants very quickly, but she ignored it, running after the man, who dashed through the garden, heading to the main gate. This guy clearly was there for another assassination attempt and this time she as not going to let him run away. She was aware that she was given some guards to watch over her life but she used to do troubleshoot on her own. Especially when the damn assassin managed to enter her bedroom despite of all the protection. When she passed the main entrance to the inn, two of the guards saw her, and yelled after her. She didn’t answer though, focused on the intruder. It took a lot of effort not to lose him in the streets, but at least the night was quite bright, with two full moons shining in the sky. Soon Dalance heard heavy steps behind her, as the guards managed to follow her. Man with the crossbow was quick, but not quick enough to run away from her – she had quite impressive endurance, both in battle and in running – so after few minutes he turned suddenly, and dashed into one of many entrances, leading to the sewers, disappearing in the darkness. She had no problem following him – the padlock seemed to be broken recently. One of the guards followed her, while another stayed, to call for reinforcements – he had trouble keeping up with their pace anyway. It was no easy task to run in a full armour after all. They descended into the darkness, which quickly proved to be rather difficult to navigate in. The man they were following was ahead of them, they could still hear echo of his footsteps. Guard took one of the torches, which were kept in the barrel next to the entrance, and lit it – if the man was so far already, there was no need for them to stumble into the walls in the pitch dark corridors. Soon the warm light surrounded them, revealing a passage in rather poor condition. Fortunately, this district was left abandoned after the plague and sewers under it were more bearable to walk through than during the times they were in use. It was something. They followed the sound of footsteps and in some areas they could see some footprints in the muck covering the floor. With the light they managed to keep quite a good pace, still not able to catch the intruder, but definitely able to follow him. After some time – though it was hard to say how much, in the darkness everything seemed to go forever, including the long, ruined passages with dirty walls – they walked into a much bigger hall. Dalance remembered these, they usually were place where the drains from few parts of the sewers met, and the sewage was flowing down the central one, to the older part of the sewers. When she saw them first, she was shocked over how big and complicated the whole construction was. One could say that the sewers under Mournhold were almost as big and impressive as the city itself. This hall though was a bit different from what she remembered from when she had to go down the sewers last time, few years earlier. There were piles of debris laying around, quite a lot of it to be honest, and the layer of dark, sticky muck covered the whole floor. And it took her only few steps into the hall to realise that not only it was much harder to breath here, as the air was filled with disgustingly sweet odour of decay, but also the piles consisted of more than just rubble. Corpses. Thousands of corpses piled up, some reduced to the dried bones, some still covered with half dried and half decayed skin, all just laying there in a grotesque mass of bones, limbs and rags. The guard seemed more disgusted than shocked, like he knew about it.

(Bigger Image-> LINK)

- Wha... what is *that*?! – she asked quietly, looking around in horror. - During the plague this district had it really bad, it was cut out from the rest of the city in a quarantine. Soon there were more dead then living left there, and since there was not much room to bury the bodies within the district itself so... you know, they had to do something to remove them. So... they began to throw them down through the drains. – he said pointing to the ceiling, where Dalance could see some big grates, probably meant for rainwater to flow down the sewers. – And later nobody really wanted to go there to clean up, people still afraid of the plague or... other things. Dalance didn’t answer, still beholding the horror of the scene. Suddenly she felt that leaving the shoes by the bad was a serious mistake. She didn’t dare to look down and tried not to think about what the thick layer of muck really consisted of, for her own sanity. Fortunately, she didn’t step into anything sharp yet, so there still was a chance to avoid any infections or amputations. Suddenly, she noticed something. The hall was brighter thanks to the grates in the ceiling, so she was able to distinguish some shapes in the distance. And one of them, a familiar dark figure, moved away from one of the larger piles of corpse and debris, heading to the western corridor. Probably he didn’t notice them, with the distance between his and theirs position being rather long, but Dalance told the guard to stay behind one of the crumbling columns. Then she followed the man silently, trying not to step into anything... nasty, which wasn’t an easy task. Fortunately, the man was walking slowly, probably still catching breath after their pursuit, so she managed to get quite close to him, close enough to see that the crossbow he was holding in his hand was a local one, light model mostly associated with smugglers and highwaymen. Unfortunately, it was much darker in the tunnel where he headed, so soon once again she could barely see the tip of her own nose, not to mention the man in dark clothing. Dalance reached the end of the corridor and tried to figure out where to go next. Before she could see anything in the darkness she heard the terrible scream behind her. It was the guard. She reacted immediately, reaching for her weapon. The assassin appeared to be ahead of her. He was alarmed by the scream and just then noticed Dalance and decided to attack. He had a quite clear shot but not enough time to aim. She clinged to the wall to avoid the bolt, uneasy because of the darkness. It was the guard who carried the light and he was nowhere within view. After the loud whoosh cut the air beside her, she leapt forth to reach the attacker before he could reload the crossbow and attacked blindly with her katana. Assassin dodged it, noticeably better managing the darkness. He grabbed her wrist to prevent another attack and tried to disarm her but it wasn't that easy. Dalance fought back, trying to free her hand and give him no chance to reach for any other weapon he might have. They scuffled for a while. Having no shoes wasn't helping, leaving aside feet freezing to the point Dalance wasn't feeling much pain in them, kicking the opponent appeared to be a mistake. She finally managed to free the hand and unbalance her opponent, thrusting elbow into his face, what felt strangely satisfying after the trouble he caused. Then she saw something out of the corner of her eye and froze motionlessly. The assassin muttered few swears under his breath but suddenly stopped fighting as well- they were not alone in the corridor.

(Bigger Image-> LINK)

A whole herd of nasty looking creatures surrounded them, lurking out from darkest nooks of to dilapidating walls and underground ruins. They seemed to be nimble, effortlessly climbing walls, gripping to uneven stone with bony skeleton-like hands with long claws. Their wide jaws were full of sharp teeth and the round heads with small, glassy eyes were focused on two intruders. The beasts were the corpse eaters, ghouls. Considering the amount of dead bodies in the sewers it stroke Dalance that they didn't think of this possibility before.

(Bigger Image-> LINK)

She was accommodated in a spacious, maybe even quite fancy, tavern built in the style of the old architecture of Mournhold, with a small garden around it. The inside, including the room she got, was clean, bright and classy, with many windows overlooking the sunny grounds. The place was quiet and peaceful but well maintained. No other guests were currently there- just Dalance, a few guards and two maids the Temple provided. After meeting with archcanon she had no other business to attend to in the city. Quiet as always, she observed her surroundings, getting used to the new situation. She usually cared for herself, demanding no  privileges from the temple or authorities. All she wanted after fulfilling the prophecy was some peace. She never felt absolutely sure about the temples intentions after being chased by them as false incarnate before. After they accepted her as a possible ally  and even after she actually killed Sharmat. She felt like no hero, more like a tool in  games of the gods. Vivec expected her to follow his plans, temple- to respect their position and ask no questions, blades watching her steps even after Cosades has left to Cyrodill and Dagoth ur with his sleepers trying to drive her mad in her dreams, telling that she fought for wrong reasons. And all this time she was just trying to stay alive and understand what was going on. Strength and endurance became her greatest adentages. Being infected with Corpsus played a big role in it, she kept the vigor  of casualties of this curse, paying the price of magic usage, manipulating mana became one of the most awkward activities for her. Even though she was declared a hero, she wasn’t a well-known person, avoiding attention as much as possible. Only her name, and tales about her deeds were truly known, mostly told by people who knew her, even briefly. She attended some temple ceremonies from time to time, but she preferred to avoid even these celebrations. Not long after that period she left to Mournhold, to investigate the reason of her being chased by Dark Brotherhood. She didn’t like the city, it seemed cramped, cold and the whole visit ended up with a fight with the only remaining member of the Tribunal. After killing Almalexia she left the hold as quickly as possible, disappearing almost completely for few years. Therefore it was quite a surprise for Her, when she was called by the Temple to help them. She observed the city, not speaking a word to the guards who accompanied her. She needed to adjust to the surroundings and to the atmosphere of a big city – something she hadn’t seen in a while. It was louder and more colourful than she remembered, it seemed almost welcoming, especially since many people recognized her as a hero. She took a while to look through one of the big windows in her room, enjoying the pleasant view, before she left, leaving the bag with her belongings under it. There wasn’t much inside, she took only the most necessary things with her. - I’m going for a walk – she muttered, as she passed her guards, sitting and chatting in the main hall of the inn. She had no intention to spend a whole day in the room, even such a nice one. When she was going out, she noticed one of the servants, cleaning windows. The woman wasn’t a Dunmer, she was a bit shorter than Dalance and had a bit darker skin, but was probably an Altmer – quite a similar to her in fact. At least from afar – slender build, brown, shoulder-long hair... nothing of importance, but Dalance noticed it with a vague interest. The weather was nice, and the city seemed much warmer and more pleasant, than she remembered it. She took her time, enjoying the walk around more representative parts of the hold, including gardens, the rich districts and one of the marketplaces, full of colourful stalls and exotic wares. It was a nice break from the hasty travel and cold halls of the temple office, where she met with archcanon. After returning to the inn she headed straight to her room, first informing the guards briefly, that she was back. She wondered,if there would be something interesting on the bookshelf which the innkeeper provided. Yet, when she opened the door her thoughts focused on something completely different from reading. The corpse of the servant, which she passed by earlier, were laying on the ground in a pool of blood, which also stained the furniture and some parts of the walls. The woman had a bolt sticking out of her back, but her body was mangled, as if somebody took a great pleasure in desecrating it. And from behind, as Dalance looked at the dead woman, she realised how similar they had to look like from afar. Some of her things were taken out of the bag, including a silken shirt, dropped near the window. The bloody writings on the walls were all slurs and threats towards the Dunmer, finished with a big, but quite hastily drawn symbol of the Empire. She stood there, dumbstruck, torn between the urge to help the woman on the floor, and the realisation, that no help could save her at this point. There was too much blood everywhere, and the cuts on the body were too deep. She didn’t move anymore. Dalance glanced around the room quicky, and noticed that one of the window panes was shattered, with pieces of glass shining on the floor. She went back to the main hall, deciding not to touch anything on her own. -There’s a body in my room. – she told the guards with a nervous voice. She tried to remain calm, though. One of the guards looked at her surprised, like he didn’t really believed what he just heard. - There’s a body in my room. – she repeated, looking at the corridor anxiously. Se didn’t seem to joke. This time both guards reacted properly, rushing to the room after her. One stayed with her outside, and another one entered the room to inspect the corpse. After a while, which seemed to last forever, the guard walked out, looking quite nauseous from what he saw. The view was rather brutal after all. He affirmed her words, saying that – indeed – there was a body in her room. - One of the servants was killed in an extremely cruel way. Somebody mangled the corpse... rather severly. – he leaned against a nearby bookshelf, looking like he was about to throw up.

(Bigger picture-> LINK)

The second guard looked more and more nervous, he passed the first one and looked into the room, but he didn’t seem eager to enter it. The sole view of the crime scene was enough for him – he still tried to look rather professional and calm, not to make the situation any worse. It was serious enough as it was.

This is a story of a slow downfall of the Tribunal Temple.

It began one late summer’s evening, in the Telvanni tower of Tel Vos, overlooking the cold shores of the Sea of Ghosts. In the house of Rayhe, an apprentice to master Aryon, a disciple to the wise woman of Ahemmusa, and somebody of great significance to me. The Indorils came without any warning, out of nowhere. One moment we were sitting in the dim-lighted room, enjoying the evening, and another we stood face to face with two guards. They requested audience with me. It appeared I was needed, immediately, maybe even desperately, in the Mournhold. They had an official letter from the archcanon of the temple in Almalexia, Fedris Hler. He requested that I followed the two guards, positively without informing anybody of the destination of our journey. Rayhe was reluctant and distrustful, as always, but I had little to say in it – as the Nerevarine I felt obliged to serve as the defender of the Dunmer, and as the champion of the Tribunal Temple. Even if I managed to spent the last few years successfully avoiding medling in politics. I feared these peaceful moments were over the moment I saw my new travel companions.

We traveled to Mournhold, first by boat, then by carriage. My entrance to the city was publically announced, almost celebrated, just as you would expect for a famous hero. I wasn’t accustomed to such celebrations, though – most of time I stayed incognito, rarely revealing my name and position to others. Still, the view of these people, cheering and welcoming me with joy, was a pleasant surprise.   I met with the archcanon Hler, and listened to what he had to say. And this time the archcanon wasn’t very precise, telling me only vaguely about the situation. It appeared there began some unease among the people of Almalexia, especially the aristocracy of house Indoril. With their house devoted so strongly to the Temple, the high born stood in its shadow for centuries – and it looked like they began to question this ancient pact recently, in gradually less and less shy attempts to reach some independence. I was supposed to just stand around and look importantly, to remind the restless nobility who was in charge, and to appease the rest of people in the city. I didn’t really mind – truth be told, I was rather indifferent about my role in it. Whatever the Temple said, I did. After all, my role was supposed to be purely representational.