The morning fog was just beginning to burn off as Brynjolf started north out of Riften, and by the time he had passed Fort Greenwall it was a beautiful day with a light, clean breeze, as fine and rare a day as the Rift ever saw. He breathed deeply, tipped his head up to the sun, and for a moment set aside all the worries he’d been harboring. He was approaching Shor’s Stone when he heard rapid footsteps behind him, and turned to meet the courier.
“Wait! Wait, sir!”
The young Bosmer was trying valiantly to catch his breath. Brynjolf watched as the courier reached into his satchel and fumbled around in it, finally pulling out a parchment sealed with wax and tied with a black ribbon.
“Gosh I’ve been everywhere looking for you. I guess I just missed you in Riften. I’ve got something for you. She paid me a pretty penny to get it to you from Solitude! Your hands only.” He thrust the document toward Brynjolf, motioning for him to take it.
“She? Who sent this?” Brynjolf asked, taking possession of the scroll.
“She didn’t give her name, but she gave me the creeps, if you don’t mind my saying so. Wore a big hood. I didn’t catch more than a glimpse of them but I didn’t much like her eyes. They were… odd.”
Well, well. It’s been a long time. What do you suppose she wants me for?
He dug into a pocket and pulled out several gold pieces, handing them to the boy. “Here, lad. I know she paid you well but this is for the extra effort. Thank you. I’m sorry you had to chase me.”
The boy’s eyes brightened as he took the money and a grin spread across his face. “No, thank you! Well, that’s it. Gotta go.” He turned toward the south and started trotting back down the road to Riften.
Brynjolf tucked the scroll into his pack and continued north, waiting until he was well past Shor’s Stone and starting down the slope into Eastmarch, stepping into the fog that had not yet burned off in the lower elevations before pulling it out to give it a look. He slipped the ribbon off the parchment and smiled as he broke the wax seal.
“So, Serana, what’s on your mind?”
He skimmed the message quickly. He startled after just a few words, and shook his head, a frown taking his face and deepening as he went back to the beginning to read once more.
Brynjolf, I hope this finds you well.
I wish I had better news to share, but the fact is that I need your opinion and, possibly, your assistance. Vingalmo is dead. I witnessed his killing. More than that I cannot share in writing; but the killer must be dealt with and I need the benefit of your observations in deciding what to do. It is obviously not safe for you to come here and I don’t dare travel as far as Riften for fear of arousing suspicions. Please meet me in Dawnstar as soon as possible. I will contact Babette and rely on her to find a suitable place.
I thank you in advance.
Serana
He read the entire thing twice before stuffing it deep into his pack. This missive would need to be burned as soon as he could find an appropriate flame.
Vingalmo, dead? That hardly seems possible.
He knew better than most that while the world thought of vampires as immortal – and, given the right set of circumstances they could live as close to “forever” as anything else – they were capable of being killed, all too capable of dying. His life might be very different if not for that.
It wasn’t terribly uncommon to hear the remnants of the Vigilants of Stendarr and other fanatic groups brag that they’d taken out some vampires here or there. Usually those were fledglings – the weaker sort, newly-turned vampires not yet possessed of their full powers. The older vampires rarely turned up in those stories, or in anything, really, aside from nightmares. They were simply too strong, too experienced, and had too many varieties of skills to be easily taken out. They also sent thralls and lesser vampires to do much of their dirty work. As a practical matter the vampires at the highest levels of power were, for all intents and purposes, immortal.
Vingalmo had been one of those.
And yet.
Even those tremendously strong vampires could be killed, if not easily. If taken by surprise a vampire could be burned, or staggered by silver-tipped weapons and torn asunder physically. A starving vampire could be killed by the sun, as Vitus had been. It had taken three strong opponents and a weapon imbued with the power of a god to kill Harkon, Lord of the Volkihar, but they had done it. The strongest vampires could be killed; but it wasn’t easy to do so. The vast majority of people who attempted to kill ancient vampires ended up turned, or dead.
Someone had to have caught Vingalmo by surprise. He was far too clever to put himself in harm’s way. It almost had to have been an inside job.
I can only think of one or two who might have done it. Garan Marethi had no reason to kill Vingalmo and no desire to upset the balance of the court. Having us return the castle to something like order was as close to happy as I’ve ever seen him. Orthjolf wanted the throne for himself but I can’t picture him killing his favorite rival. He enjoyed the constant game of insults and politics too much. None of the others are strong enough, singly, and I can’t imagine them rising up against him together now when they didn’t before this. Serana might have done it, from what I saw, but she wouldn’t have written to me about it.
That leaves Edwyn Wickham.
He trudged down out of the crisp mountain air onto the steaming volcanic tundra, deep in thought the whole way. All of his previous interactions with the Archmage replayed in his mind. The man was pushy, that was certain. He was ambitious – that also was clear; and part of that ambition involved his desire to find Auriel’s Bow. He was genteel to a fault – at least externally; but Brynjolf remembered the sharp, palpable threat just under the surface of every exchange they’d had.
I played with him. He knows from others that I was once a vampire and he knows from speaking with me that I’m not one now. I played with him, not telling him how that came about, just to make him frustrated. If we hadn’t been right there in Riften I might have had some concerns for my own safety. That is a man who is capable of violence. I don’t know whether he’d measure up to Vitus or not on that front but still… it was a good thing we were in town.
And what should I do, if that’s who Serana saw? How do I advise her? I guess I need to wait and find out what she needs.
It weighed on him, all the rest of the way through the wilderness. He detoured through Kynesgrove, quietly checking the inn and the mine and knocking on the door of Roggi’s home in the off chance that the two of them were, for some bizarre reason, there.
I’d like to talk to them. Particularly Roggi. He always manages to settle my mind.
They weren’t in Kynesgrove. There hadn’t really been any reason to expect them to be there, but he couldn’t help feeling a bit disappointed. He rubbed his eyes and yawned as he made his way back out to the road.
The wee lass has been keeping me awake. I’m just tired. That’s all. There’s nothing horrible going on.
Then he laughed at himself.
What am I saying? I’ve been called to Windhelm by Ulfric Stormcloak himself and called to Dawnstar by Serana. Something’s up and even if it’s not horrible, it’s not good.
The war had barely ended and now things were stirring again. He fully expected the Thalmor to mount an attack while things were unsettled still. They’d be foolish not to, if he looked at it from their point of view. After all, he also was planning to take advantage of the unsettled state of things to start up his own business. In spite of all that, though, this didn’t have the scent of an impending attack to it.
Brynjolf wasn’t a superstitious man, or a religious one; but the events of the past several years had impressed on him that life on Nirn was more complicated than he’d known, more complicated than a few instances of local politics. There were echoes of past actions down through the years, down through the ages for that matter; and those actions frequently seemed to involve people and things greater than any of the world’s current cast of mortal characters. That’s what it felt like, getting summoned by both Ulfric Stormcloak and Serana in the space of just a few days. He didn’t like it. It made him nervous; and he didn’t like being nervous. It was too reminiscent of the years of desperately trying to hold the Guild together in the face of power that he hadn’t even known was working against him.
Well, I survived the Soul Cairn and I’ve survived Nocturnal, so far anyway. I can survive this.
That was the set of his mind as he trudged at last up the ancient stairs and pushed open the great doors of the Palace of Kings. He had cast his eyes downward, so as not to trip on the threshold; when he stepped through and looked up, he broke into a smile. They were all there: Ulfric, of course; Roggi and Dardeh; and, looking particularly lovely and nothing like the girl in warrior’s clothing he’d met before, Frina. He moved very slowly down the room toward them, listening to them speak, gathering information, surprised at how happy he was to see at least three of the four.
“What’s this about family, lass?”
She looked at him then, smiled, and called out. “Brynjolf! I’d heard you were on your way here. It’s good to see you again.”
He took a few steps forward and stood with his arms crossed, smiling. It was good to see them again, too.
“Glad I made it in time for the reunion,” he said, turning to Ulfric – the one man in the room he knew but had never been formally introduced to. “Pleased to make your acquaintance officially, Jarl Ulfric. I’m Brynjolf of Riften.”
One of Ulfric’s eyebrows rose and the tiniest hint of a smirk crossed his face. “I wondered if perhaps you were the person in question. I remember you from the day before our wedding. Welcome to my court, and thank you for coming so quickly.”
“I don’t often get letters from the Jarl,” Brynjolf said with a grin.
“I don’t often write them to people I haven’t met,” Ulfric answered smoothly, his eyes twinkling.
Ulfric had Jorlief clear the room except for several of the guards, who moved to the far end of the great hall. Frina stepped out for a moment, and he could hear her giving instructions to someone, most likely the staff. While they were busy seeing to those matters, Brynjolf stepped next to Roggi and leaned close to his ear.
“I’m glad to see the two of you here,” he said. “I was feeling the need for a little good advice.”
Roggi gave him a look that he couldn’t decipher. “And you thought you’d speak to me, of all people?” He chuckled, but it was a grim, sardonic chuckle, not a laugh of amusement. “I have to admit that I’m interested to find out why Ulfric called you here.”
“So am I, lad. I have a feeling things are stirring again. People are starting to take advantage.” He dropped his voice and leaned closer. “Maybe later we can speak alone.”
“I believe you’re correct, Brynjolf. Someone is trying to take advantage of the uncertainty of the times.” Ulfric’s deep voice caught everyone’s attention, as he returned to the table. “And thus it is a very good thing that we have noticed it early. It’s time to prepare for the future. Please, have a seat. I need your counsel, all of you.”
“Even me, Ulfric?” Frina said, grinning.
“Especially you, my Stormblade. You and Harald will play a prominent role in our future.”
“Harald?” Brynjolf asked.
“My lord Ulfric’s child to be will be named Harald if he’s a son,” Frina said, smiling. “If not, well… I have a name in mind. But I suspect it is Harald I carry at the moment.”
“That’s wonderful, lass.” He smiled at her, his mind going instantly to the tiny redhead in the cradle he’d made with his own hands. “Well, if any of you want the experience of changing an infant, I’ll invite you to Riften,” he said, grinning at them. “Qaralana decided to appear quite a bit earlier than we had expected her. So I’m now father to two. I think it’s a good thing Sayma and I moved into the house with lots of space in the children’s room. She thought I was crazy. Maybe I was. But it sounds like we can have quite the gathering some day.”
Everyone chuckled; but Brynjolf watched Roggi’s eyes and wondered if he’d managed to pour additional salt into an open wound. With as different as she looked now, and as long as it had been, it was easy to forget that Roggi and Dagnell had once been together. He kept staring at Roggi, thinking “are we alright, lad?” until finally, after several very long moments, Roggi gave him a confused look, followed by a small smile and nod.
I wonder what Vitus would think if he knew how much better I’ve gotten with that. There was a time when it was a struggle to do anything more finessed than getting someone to attack.
They chatted like that for a few more minutes while getting settled. Then Ulfric cleared his throat.
“Let me get down to business, then. As you know, Brynjolf, your earlier suggestions that we look into piracy were invaluable. Now, though, we are finding that the attacks are starting up again. This is unacceptable. We need the EETC to be flourishing.”
Dardeh made a noise, a cross between a snort and a question.
Brynjolf looked at him, saw his confused expression and nodded, then turned back to Ulfric. “I agree with Dardeh. With all due respect, Jarl Ulfric, I thought you wanted the Empire out of Skyrim.”
It was Frina’s turn to snort. “Aren’t you the one who told me not to confuse business with politics?”
Brynjolf chuckled. “Aye, lass. I’m just trying to get a sense of things right now.” I need to know the lay of the land before I can plot a course across it, and I’m not certain that I trust Ulfric Stormcloak.
Ulfric nodded. “And that is a wise approach. Here is my answer to your question. I do want the Empire out of Skyrim, so far as religion and rule are concerned.”
“I could have told you that, Bryn,” Roggi murmured. “That’s one thing Ulfric and I have always agreed on: the Empire needs to keep its hands off our religion. That’s more a Thalmor thing than the Empire as a whole, but…”
“They are intertwined because the Empire vowed to uphold the White-Gold Concordat,” Ulfric finished, as if they’d both been speaking the same sentence. He and Roggi grinned at each other for a moment, and Brynjolf saw Dardeh roll his eyes.
Well, well. I wonder what went on here.
“However,” Ulfric continued, “it’s important for Tamriel as a whole that trading is allowed to proceed. It’s the only way to rebuild, and you surely know how much rebuilding is required after years of conflict. There is nothing about trade with the Empire that is at odds with having a strong and independent Skyrim ruled by Nords.”
He paused to stare at Brynjolf for a moment, clearly waiting for a reaction. Seeing none – for Brynjolf was very careful not to let his expression change – he continued. “In fact, I was urged to send agents against the Emperor several years ago when he visited Solitude. I refused. That would have a declaration of war against the entirety of Tamriel rather than simply a fight for independent rule as a province of the Empire.”
“Isn’t that what we ended up with anyway, Ulfric?” Dardeh rumbled. “A war with the Empire?”
Frina shook her head. “No, Dardeh. If Ulfric had been declaring war on the Empire itself he would have seized the throne when we won Solitude, without waiting for the Moot. He would have sent someone against the Emperor when he had the chance. He didn’t do those things. They would have bled the province dry. All he wanted – all any of us wanted, really – was for the High King not to give in to demands that we abandon Talos. You know that part well enough.”
“And yet someone did kill the Emperor,” Dardeh argued.
The alarm bells in Brynjolf’s head started ringing. It was definitely time to get this conversation back on track before Ulfric started wondering more closely who exactly had killed Titus Meade II. He felt confident that Ulfric had no reason to lament the late Emperor’s absence but as High King he might well be called upon to investigate the deed. The less he knew, the better.
“And trade went on as well as it could until the Blood Horkers started getting more active,” he said, leaning forward. “I understand you were responsible for shutting them down, lass.”
Frina nodded. “Inadvertently, but yes. It was ugly. And now they’re starting to operate again.”
Brynjolf nodded. “I’ve begun to have a theory about why this is happening.”
“Ah, and that is exactly why I had hoped to speak with you,” Ulfric said, nodding. “I thought that might be the case, since you were the one who alerted Frina earlier.”
Brynjolf nodded again. He was about to take another step toward his own independence, and while it felt very good, it was nerve-wracking.
“For a very long time now, the organization I work with has had a contact within the East Empire Company in Solitude. For a period of time – ah, how do I put this – his contacts with us were dropping off, and thus our income from the, uh, arrangement was as well. When Frina disrupted the Blood Horkers, things returned to normal.”
Ulfric nodded. “And you were making money again, your… organization.”
“That’s correct.”
“Oh for the love of Talos, just tell him who you are, Bryn,” Roggi snorted. “There’s no reason he should be the only one who doesn’t know.”
Brynjolf felt his temper flare.
At the same time, he heard Dardeh hiss. “Roggi!”
“Don’t say a word, Brynjolf,” Ulfric said, holding up a hand and turning to Roggi. “Roggi, I understand what you are getting at. However, you of all people should know better. What I suspect has been unsaid will be better left unsaid. If I can legitimately say that I do not know as a certainty what organization Brynjolf leads,” – and with that he turned to wink at Brynjolf – “the better it will be for all of us. I may be reasonably certain that I know this information but the future High King should not be in the habit of deliberately lying.”
Well, well. He is clever and fairly devious, isn’t he? I shouldn’t be surprised but somehow I am. I do believe I could come to like this man.
Roggi sighed, frowning down at the table. “I’m sorry, everyone. You’re right. I should know better. I do know better.” He tossed his hands up. “It’s just as well I don’t work for you anymore, Ulfric. I’ve lost my edge.”
“Hardly,” Dardeh said quietly. “I’ll tell you all sometime about how we managed to get lumber flowing to Helgen again and you’ll be able to judge for yourself.”
“And there’s the small matter of finding Sayma,” Brynjolf added. “You were instrumental in that, and you had to work around… me. I hate to see you looking down on yourself, lad. You’re a rare find. Let’s just leave the unspoken understandings unspoken for the moment and we’ll all be better off in the long run.” He met Ulfric’s gaze and saw that they agreed. “I think we understand each other fairly well, Jarl Ulfric.”
Ulfric gave him a small smile. “Feel free to dispense with the title, Brynjolf. But do continue.”
“Yes. Not long ago, my wife was in Solitude and had a discussion with this very contact of ours. He mentioned that shipping was being disrupted again. He said there were rumors that someone was trying to use the Blood Horkers to corner the market on shipping. I believe I know who this person might be.”
“You don’t mean… her? Do you?” Roggi asked.
Brynjolf laughed. “And you thought you’d lost your edge. You’re sharp as a whip. That’s exactly who I mean, Roggi.”
“Who… are you talking about?” Frina asked, frowning.
“I would expect we’re now discussing the woman who was very briefly Jarl of the Rift, Maven Black-Briar,” Ulfric said quietly. “Few have as long a record of grasping for power and control.”
Impressive. He already knew.
“What makes you think she’d take such a round-about way of grabbing power, Bryn?” Roggi asked, his brow wrinkled.
“It turns out that you know more about this than you realize, Roggi,” Brynjolf said. “Do you remember working with Dagnell, several years ago, on a job in Whiterun?”
Roggi flushed. “You know I do, Bryn. The meadery. What about it?”
“What if I were to tell you that Maven was using that job to put in her own man – Mallus Maccius – by getting rid of Sabjorn? That’s how she works. Round about. Indirect. Weaving webs. I’ve been watching her for a long, long time now. If there is anyone alive who would go to such lengths to corner the market on shipping, it is Maven. She wants to control everything and is happier to do it behind the scenes, even if it means she doesn’t sit in a throne.”
“But why now, Bryn?” That was Dardeh, rumbling his question.
“Not just now. I guarantee you she’s been working on it since the Emperor was killed. It gave her the opening she needed to start putting her own people in place, slowly, starting by pushing out the Emperor’s family.” He looked up to see Ulfric staring at him intently. “Now then. I thought you’d send troops in to disrupt the Horkers, earlier. That’s why I planted the seed in Frina’s ear.”
“I would have, had she not run off and single-handedly disrupted their operation.” Ulfric smiled at Frina. “I am continually grateful that she managed to escape that with her life.”
“Well, at that point I was under the impression that I was helping our organization by doing that. What I didn’t realize until recently was that I inadvertently thwarted Maven’s plan. She’d gotten very bold about it, being named Jarl…”
Dardeh groaned. “And that was my fault.”
Roggi shook his head. “Not this again, Dar. You did what you had to do. Even Galmar understood that.”
Ulfric chuckled. “Even Galmar, indeed. Even Ulfric Stormcloak, though he was not happy at that moment, understood what you were trying to accomplish, Dragonborn. And we disrupted her plans not only through winning the conflict but through the actions of Brynjolf, here.”
“Wait, I’m still not sure I understand,” Dardeh said, running a hand up over his head and scratching his scalp. “How does the Blood Horkers disrupting shipping help Maven?”
“Because, lad, every time one of those events happened, there was always an EEC employee or two gone missing or found dead, and it just happened that there was someone ready to step in to fill the gaps.”
“Maven’s people,” Roggi said.
“Exactly. It’s taken me a long time to figure it out, but the message from our contact in Solitude was the key. You see, a while back we were having a… let’s call it a slowdown in proceeds from that person. We sent a representative to show him the error of his ways, thinking that we were returning things to their proper status. And yes, it started the flow of funds again but Maven was mad as a wet hen and I didn’t understand why. It’s finally fallen into place. She wanted to send her own man in to ‘rescue’ the operation.”
Roggi sighed, and ran a hand down his face. “So out of the goodness of her heart she ‘saves’ the EETC and oh, by the way, ends up with more power than anyone else in the Empire aside from the Emperor.”
“Who is deceased,” Ulfric added. “You have the right of it.”
“So what do we do about this?” Dardeh asked.
“Now that Brynjolf has confirmed my suspicions, I will be increasing my support of shipping in every way I am able,” Ulfric said. “If that means assigning soldiers to every ship, we shall do that.”
“What about the ports, dear?” Frina murmured.
“We will of course increase the numbers of eyes here in Windhelm. The other two ports require the cooperation of the Jarls. Jarl Skald of Dawnstar has always been a staunch supporter, but I have not heard from him recently. And then there is the matter of Solitude.”
“I thought Jarl Elisif agreed to support you, Ulfric,” Dardeh asked. “I know she did. I was there with you.”
Ulfric nodded. “Yes, but as you may or may not know, the Jarl has recently remarried.”
“Yes,” Brynjolf muttered. “Lord Edwyn Wickham, originally of High Rock and more recently of Cyrodiil, Archmage of the College of Winterhold…” He trailed off, not wanting to mention Volkihar Island.
“I take it you have met the man, Brynjolf?”
He nodded. “Yes, Ulfric. Several times now. He, uh, swooped in and purchased a mansion in Solitude that I had hoped to buy. It used to belong to…”
“Andante?” Roggi finished. “So the Archmage bought Proudspire, eh? And then married Elisif. And that means…”
“That means, Roggi,” Frina said in a sour tone, “that Ulfric and I will have been very fortunate if we managed to conceive before Elisif did. The succession, you know. That is not what I set out to do,” and she glanced at Ulfric with one eyebrow raised, “but that is what has happened. And here we are.”
“Ugh,” Dardeh said. “I thought we’d have peace after we won the war, Ulfric.”
Ulfric shook his head. “There will be peace for a time, during which we must rebuild Skyrim into the land it once was. Strong. Self-reliant. The center of mankind. This is one of the reasons we need shipping to be secure.”
“Because it’s never really over, is it?” Roggi muttered, shaking his head.
“That’s right,” Ulfric said quietly. “Getting rid of the Empire was only half the problem. Soon, the elves will again seek to rule the world. We must ready ourselves to fight them. For it will be Skyrim that shall lead Tamriel in those dark days, when the fate of the world is finally determined.”
“That’s undoubtedly the case,” Brynjolf said. “But what part of Skyrim?” What if it ends up being Edwyn? He shuddered, in spite of himself. I can’t let that happen. We can’t let that happen.
“I would sooner see it be you than anyone else, Ulfric,” Dardeh said firmly. “You at least have the best interests of Skyrim in your heart. This is something I trust my gut about. I suspect that Maven Black-Briar does not.”
“I can guarantee that, lad. Maven Black-Briar is concerned, first and foremost, with protecting the interests of Maven Black-Briar. Even her own family comes second. I also feel fairly certain Edwyn Wickham is not the person we want in charge.” Brynjolf inhaled deeply and blew it out. “I’ll tell you what, Jarl Ulfric. It happens that I have business in Dawnstar. Why don’t I get the sense of things there, while I’m at it, and report back to you on my way home?”
Ulfric nodded. “That sounds like an excellent idea.”
“And then,” Brynjolf said, grinning, “I have another idea that I will be putting into play, very soon. I suspect it will take a bit of the wind out of Maven Black-Briar’s sails.”
“Let me know if I can assist,” Ulfric said, shooting him a small smirk.
I think the Jarl of Windhelm and I understand each other very nicely. Who would have thought it?
“I appreciate the offer. But I suspect this is also one of those understandings that should be left unsaid, all things considered.”
They spoke for a few moments longer, then began to take their leave of each other. Brynjolf was partway down the hall when Roggi tapped him on the arm.
“So what is it you needed an opinion about, Bryn?”
“I got a message on the way here, Roggi. From, ah… one of Andante’s former associates.”
Roggi frowned. “From the island, I would assume?”
“Aye. There’s been a senior person there killed. I have my suspicions about who the killer was, but not why. If I’m right…”
Roggi stroked his beard thoughtfully. “There’s something going on with vampires, Bryn. They’ve been after Dar for awhile now.”
Brynjolf glanced at Dardeh, who was talking with Frina. “Is he alright?”
“Well, now he is. He doesn’t want to believe that they’re after him, Bryn, but …”
For the next few minutes Brynjolf’s frown got deeper and deeper as Roggi caught him up on some of the things they’d encountered in the past few weeks. The attack that had led to Rayya’s death had him particularly disturbed.
“Listen, lad. I have a feeling we’re going to need to talk more after I get back. Any chance I can talk you two into going home by way of Riften? Just tell Sayma you’re there to meet your niece.”
Roggi’s face softened into a smile. “My niece. I guess she is, isn’t she? Well then. Dar made me come out here to talk to Ulfric; I guess he won’t mind if I insist we go see his sister. Be careful, Brynjolf.”
Brynjolf patted Roggi on the shoulder. “I’ll make it as quick a trip as I can manage. Take care, Roggi. I…” He hesitated for a moment. I don’t suppose I can make it any worse.”I don’t know what happened just before I arrived, but I can tell it was difficult. Take care of yourselves. Both of you.”
Roggi sighed. Then he straightened his shoulders and smiled. “I will, Brynjolf. We’ll be fine. See you soon.”
Brynjolf nodded and pushed open the doors of the keep. It was time to find out what was going on in Dawnstar.