This chapter picks up from here.
Trygve was only too happy to be back in the Rift. One night in Ivarstead with Gwilin, a chipper and garrulous Bosmer with whom Trygve maintained occasional intimate contact, changed his calmly stoic (some would say smug) demeanor into outright, albeit subdued, delight. Also, the tables were turning on the events that happened in the Pale and Elspeth could no longer hold the disintegration of her relationship against him. Continue reading
Part One is here. Many, many thanks to Pyrell for some dialogue help.
It was true what they said, Solstheim didn’t have weather, just ash. The women pulled their scarves tighter around their faces as they trudged toward the fort. The lulls in the storms were long enough to gain some momentum, but when the winds blew, the ash whipped around them, settling into the cracks and creases in their clothing and skin. It was terribly unpleasant and Evangeline was beginning to regret pushing them to go to the Fort. Continue reading
The Sparrows are Evangeline Sigeweald’s spies, with agents now throughout Tamriel. Initially, they were the mages who were first to arrive at Frostcrag Spire, when Evangeline’s resistance movement was still in its infancy. They were the ones who quite literally built the movement from the ground up, constructing the village, amassing supplies, gathering intelligence, and developing covert relationships with the world outside of Frostcrag. Evangeline called these busybodies her Sparrows and the name stuck as they developed a more elaborate spy network. I’ve been working on a bunch of short stories about these spies and decided to have the amazingly talented needlesslycryptic paint two of my spy characters, Mannbjorn Raven-Stone and Zephyra, both stationed in Skyrim. Continue reading
(Author’s Note: This chapter picks up from here.)
Arkay says: Honor the earth, its creatures, and the spirits, living and dead. Guard and tend the bounties of the mortal world, and do not profane the spirits of the dead.
~ The Ten Commands of the Nine Divines
“I said no.”
Xeri rubbed the back of her neck. She wasn’t used to this. In Cyrodiil, when Xeri Tharys demanded something, it was hers. But here in Castle Dour, she had no clout, no connections. All she had was a made up story and a strong admonishment from Nerussa forbidding any physical altercations. On this last point she conceded—reluctantly. Initially, Nerussa was meant to contact Jarl Elisif’s court but the number of Thalmor seen wandering in the city put Xeri in the castle in her stead. Continue reading
I finished the latest chapter. All I have to do now is proofread and clean up the fight scene. I will do that over the weekend. Before I post it, however, I will post a summary of the plot to this point.