The Tharn Barn

“That was an order. An order that you did not have the option of saying no to, and from a Battlereeve, no less. Now, I’ll tell you again, Her Majesty and I are ready to see Arlen As—”

“Shush, Urcelmo.” Ayrenn said, and Urcelmo obeyed. Yet his dour expression remained.

“You are small.” The Queen said, cupping the younger Urcelmo’s face in her hands. “And I don’t mean in terms of your height. I mean that you are insignificant. You are insignificant to me and my Dominion. A hundred others could have taken this assignment and done a better job with it.”

"Like a dog," Razum-dar muttered. "And while Razum-dar has a sincere appreciation for all animals, he is not particularly a dog person, no?"

"No." Urcelmo was perspiring and he knew it, possibly right through Ayrenn's hand-tooled leather expedition gloves. "I mean yes. No, Razum-dar's a cat person--er--man. Cat man. Cat man person."

"Khajiit?" Raz said, his countenance crinkling. This one was a particularly sweaty Altmer.

"Khajiit, human, elf, I don't care! You cannot see Askew at this time." Urcelmo straightened himself again with a little knock of his boots. "For, uh, for he is also having his bath!"

"Askew bathes while he sleeps?" Raz asked, rightfully dubious.

"Listen!" Another knock. "Nobody gets into this cottage until--"

--the upper part of the bungalow door slowly swung open. It was altogether startling, a merciful end to the conversation and a stomach-churning melange of emotions that didn't sit well together, like the tangerine and pork gravy breakfast he had that morning. Urcelmo was not a cook, and he had become accustomed to the meals his young charge tenderly prepared for him each morning. That lad's sudden and mysterious absence nicked a pit into his gut in more ways than one. Askew had left a bowl full of Senchal tangerines on his table and Urcelmo knew there was a leftover boat of gravy from yesterday morning's breakfast still in the icebox.

Unfortunately, the rest of the place had been cleaned out.

Also unfortunately, the tangerines were wax, but Urcelmo didn't realize that until the thing was too far down his gullet.

But now the top half of the double door swung open. It was surprising. It was a merciful end to the conversation.

It was Arlen Askew, sunny as usual, clad head to toe in a sunshine yellow three-piece, complete with a white gerbera pinned to his lapel.

"What is going on?" he asked, politely. "I heard this dreadful commotion, but nobody came to fetch me. And then I assumed you must be engaged in quite the conversation and of course, that you would soon wish to take the conversation inside for tea and biscuits so you could have a proper, civilized conversation. Ah. Salutations to the most well-traveled and surely well-exhausted Queen of the Aldmeri Dominion and her entourage."

Arlen sketched an odd little bow.

Urcelmo fainted.

---🐝---

When the Dremora general who informed him of the incident stood in waiting for him to give orders, he snapped out of his thoughts.

"I shall go greet them personally", he said finally. "No matter what the circumstances are, I would not miss the chance to witness it. If you sent anyone to check on them, be sure to call them off. I will be the first one to see that fetcher Tharn's face if it truly is him."

When he appeared from the portal, the genral in his tow, there was quite a crowd waiting around the door of the lightless prison room. News travels fast in Coldharbour, it seemed.

"Make way", he growled to the crowd of Kyn, stepping through the dividing mass of individuals in swift steps. He had hoped for a bit more intimate meeting, but then, if this was to be some kind of trap designed for him, it was good to have a decent amount of backup in hand.

He took a breath of anticipation before reaching out his hand to the door. If the news was true, this was going to be the highlight of his week - no the whole year, really. But what if it was a trap? He conjured an aegis around himself, preparing for the worst.

And then, he slowly opened the door. The crowd was silent is anticipation.

Light crept to the room, and the vision that greeted him was one of great amusement. The aegis dissipated. There sat indeed Tharn, not quite in his usual arrogant demeanor - and the Bosmer, for a reason only open for the wildest of speculations, seemingly fondling a severed head next to a pile of other atronach parts. The necromancer smirked, his mood instantly risen to a new high.

He did mean oldest, every wizened hair of the word. Mannimarco exceeded in many things, years chief among them. Showmanship was another, though this recent entrance of his lacked a certain flair.

He didn't even have so much as a Scamp with him.

Tharn knew why. He bared his crooked, sparse teeth, a gesture not to be mistaken for a smile. "Besides, I'd imagine you'll want to keep this reunion brief and uneventful, considering what you've been up to and what we've been through," he said.

And it had been a nasty knuckleduster; immediately after Tharn and Arlen "artfully rearranged" the deadbolt on the door to Tharn's old office, they were ambushed by two Kyn who had the good mind to "artfully rearrange" a few something elses. Teeth, for one.

In Tharn's mind, that fight was nothing more than a vague recollection of stars and stripes. But Mannimarco had cast a dismaying light over the situation and now Tharn could see the actual results of the bout.

In short, it was another notch in the loss column. Tharn's Imperial Battlemage Elite Rank armor was missing a few fringes and pips and an epaulet. He wanted to stand, but his leg ached tightly, like it'd been compressed into his greaves like a sausage into its casing.

His partner had thankfully abandoned his heroic attempt to revive a severed head and was now sniveling quietly behind him. Arlen was not taking any of this well.

"Are you going to kill us?" Arlen asked, trying to steady the tremolo in his voice. Tharn could hear the tiny bells sewn into the lad's mittens, jingling faintly.

"Askew, hush."

Arlen stepped forward. Tharn noticed the lad's spectacles were all frame and jagged, smoked holes where the lenses once shined. A foolish warrior never thought twice about approaching something he couldn't see, and right now, Arlen Askew couldn't see anything.

It had taken weeks of discussion to come to an agreement about how her agent should be dealt with, and only then did it happen because of a few bottles of baltic bitters and assurances that Urcelmo would handle all paperwork himself. Yet even though the Queen had certainly got the better end of the deal, she made it abundantly clear to all involved that if something were to go awry, Arlen Askew would not be the only one fitted for a noose.

Urcelmo was not worried by her threats, nor was he worried about the possibility of anything going wrong. He had worked too hard for that to happen, after all. So when he and the Queen headed to Arenthia, he was the picture of positivity, though this positivity did not do much to relieve Ayrenn’s own apprehensions, nor did it make her scowl any less.

They arrived on time in Arenthia and were greeted by spectacular weather which Urcelmo pointed out excitedly to his Queen, who responded with a quiet “mmm.” Her lack of enthusiasm was of no concern to Urcelmo, who continued to chatter more about the weather, provoking even more “mmm”s from the Queen. He smiled at her as he helped her from the carriage but received no smile, smirk or grin in return. Instead she just chose to make her way down the path, causing Urcelmo to hurriedly close the carriage door behind him so he could catch up to her and be by her side.

The man to greet them was the Sub-Commander of the Aldmeri Dominion Civil Forces, also named Urcelmo, evidently after the Battlereeve himself. He was a good enough lad, though the Battlereeve found him rather uncanny, but he was determined to not let that uncanniness get in the way of duty.

He said it again, this time a revelation. “Arlen. Askew.”

"Yes. Arlen Askew,” echoed someone else, a strong accent coming from the bottom of the steps. When he did it, it was imbued with a sibilant, sullen profile, which was very hip these days.

"And Razum-dar." Urcelmo could identify him by voice alone; Razum-dar was the sort of fellow who could take any word and make it cool simply by giving it the once-over with his teeth and tongue. He had a strong accent that the more savvy would trace to the northern badlands, possibly around Dune.

Beyond that, Razum-dar’s origins were an enigma, much like his general demeanor, his presence in the caravan and his particular choice of fashion that day*.

"Raz cannot speak for the Queen and her tin-plated kettle-bell of a bodyguard, but this one is very familiar with the names being bandied around right now, yes," said Raz, folding his arms. "Unfortunately, we came to see the one in question, not merely utter his name. Unless, of course, uttering his name three times will summon him like some unholy urban legend—”

"—n-no! No no," Urcelmo stammered. "It’s just that. Uh. You can’t see Askew right now, he’s, uh—he’s sleeping."

Disclaimer: I’m not an artist. I just don’t…art.BUT ANYWAY you asked, so here’s a picture of the Captain of my Heart, Abnur Tharn.

I think you are too concerned on the fate of your soul, mr. Askew. I believe making one flesh atronach doesn’t make you a necromancer quite yet, but I urge you to continue on the said path. What I’m more concerned about is that that damned Tharn is wasting my resources again, apparently he slept during the conference I just arranged on this specific subject in question. Thank you for reporting this incident. He’s getting a demotion to soul gem polisher if this kind of behavior continues. But rest assured, you are not to blame for this.

I do sit down sometimes, but when I do, I prefer to do it on an elevated surface, so I get to look down on any passerby. When you’re the boss, you need to show it, you know? I had to make a hard decision between the elevated seats and a mug that says “Boss”, but I ended up with the high chairs. I thought it was a bit more fitting.

I look forward to receiving any further reports of the transgressions made by my employees, and wish you a good day.