The Fighters Guild and Mages Guild in Baandari Trading Post are located in the same large building, and Valaste is sitting on some fluffy Khajiit pillows when I arrive, reading something that does not look Madgod-related. I’m amazed that she took a moment to take a break and do some light reading. Even if the light reading is Folly in Fixation.

“How do you always know where I’m going, anyway?” I wonder.

Valaste gives me a look. “You are many things, but keeping a low profile isn’t one of your strengths. I finished deciphering the book some time ago. I heard you were solving a crisis involving werewolves. That seemed important, so I decided to sit here and wait until you were done and catch up on my reading of non-mad books.”

“I’m glad to see you taking a moment to relax,” I say. “Even if it was just from enforced downtime. The crazy Hircine worshippers hopefully won’t be a problem anymore, at least.”

“I hadn’t realized how much it might help to approach something with a clear mind after taking a break,” Valaste says. “It didn’t take as long to finish deciphering this book.”

Valaste explains to me about how she’d located the last book for Shalidor in a place called the Chateau of the Ravenous Rodent, located deep within Dementia, a dark and ominous region in the Shivering Isles. She still seems a bit tired despite her break, but is able to open a portal for me.

“Alright!” I exclaim. “Jingles, you’re with me. To the Shivering Isles, my faithful monkey!”

I arrive in a place of twisted trees and heavy purple fog, glad that even though Dementia is dark and ominous, it’s dark and ominous in a very different manner than Coldharbour. Archmage (or Arch-Mage? Why does that need to be hyphenated? Eh, whatever.) Shally greets me when I arrive, fervently ignoring the monkey, although he doesn’t have much worthwhile to say before Sheogorath shows up and banishes him.

Sheogorath stares at me for a long moment, making some very interesting expressions as he does so.

“Look at that, look at that,” Sheogorath drawls, looking at that. “I always thought you’d have made a good Orc, considering you got betrayed so much before that you might as well have tried to mantle Malacath. I might not have even recognized you if you didn’t still have my melodically musical mark on you.”

“You’re not mad that I picked him over you?” I ask.

“Oh, no, I’m definitely mad, but angry? No,” Sheogorath says.

“Wait, do I really look like an Orc to you?”

“Of course,” Sheogorath says. “You don’t really think you’re still a Chimer, do you? Oh, some of you might still be a bit confused, but the important pieces are all Orc.”

I have no idea how much of that’s accurate or how much Malacath just made it look like that. Possibly both? Did he just paint my insides green or something? I’ll not question it too much, honestly. It’s fine either way.

“At least you didn’t pick someone boring like Meridia,” Sheogorath goes on. “You were really sounding like you wanted to suck up to the light bitch for a little bit there, and let me tell you a little secret. She’s got plans, even though she doesn’t know you are you. Lady of Too Much Light, planning in the dark, hah!”

“Can you give me a hint?” I ask.

“Oh, don’t you worry about that right now,” Sheogorath says. “She still thinks her chosen hero is a Dark Elf woman, currently off saving Skyrim or trashing Skyrim or something.”

“Who is that Dark Elf woman, anyway?” I wonder.

Sheogorath grins toothily at me. “How about I throw in the name as a bonus if you do well here? I know you don’t care about Shally’s silly books.”

“Okay.”

“Now, are you going to introduce me to the fancy monkey or not?” Sheogorath wonders.

“Ah, I’ve been remiss in the introductions,” I say. “I got distracted. Allow me to present His Majesty, Jingles, King of the Monkeys. Jingles, Sheogorath, Prince of Madness and Stuff of That Nature.”

“Ah, I am in the presence of royalty, I see!” Sheogorath gives a shallow bow to the monkey, who bows back.

“Did I actually talk to you in a dream, or am I just going mad?” I wonder.

“A dream?” Sheogorath says, peering at me intently. “Oh, I daresay you’re already mad, and I say that with a dare, too. If you’ve been dreaming of your ol’ Uncle Sheo, I’ll be flattered! Was it a good dream? A fun dream? A raaaunchy dream? Or a bloodthirsty sort of dream?”

“I don’t remember at all,” I lie, not wanting to get into that even slightly.

If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

“Oh, very well.” The Madgod gestures off toward a building in the distance. “Without further ado, then, welcome to the Chateau of the Ravenous Rodent!”

He goes into a long-winded description of the place that I don’t pay terribly much attention to. I’m busy admiring the auroras streaking the sky above giant mushrooms. If I didn’t know this were Oblivion, I might have thought it were night somewhere in northern Vvardenfell. Perhaps Sheogorad, fittingly enough. The architecture of the building itself also looks like something my ancestors or their descendants might have constructed.

According to Sheogorath, there are three guests in the chateau and one of them is “not fitting in”, while the other two are apparently insane cannibals. Because I’m sure sane cannibals would have fallen under Namira’s jurisdiction instead.

I head inside the building and help myself to a pie and a couple of pieces of cheese laying on the table in the middle of the room, and toss them into my pack for later. I’m sure Sheogorath won’t mind, or he wouldn’t have left them there. The firepit is full of corpses, and the room is furnished with a guillotine, a stockade, a bunch of cages, and a forge. Given the rest of the decor, I’m not sure that I want to consider too hard what the forge might be used for, and yet wind up considering it anyway.

I speak to the guests through doors barred on this side. One threatens to wear my face as a mask, one rambles something about the poetry of her soul, and one threatens to sue me. Right, sue me. I open the door and shoo him off as he spews threats of lawsuits all the way. It would be hilarious being sued just to see if any lawyer in Summerset would actually take his case. Sheogorath opens a portal, and Lawsuit Guy refuses to take it, rushing for the front door instead. I’m not sure how he thinks he’s going to get out of the Shivering Isles that way, unless Valaste still has the portal open.

Next, Sheogorath sends me to navigate a shadowy maze full of transparent animals and to light braziers along the way. Fortunately, Jingles is smart enough to evade anything that tries to bother him. And Shalidor won’t stop trying to do commentary and give “advice”, annoying me almost as much as he’s annoying Sheogorath.

“Please shut up, Shalidor,” I sigh, rolling my eyes. “I’m here for the game, not the prize.”

I light all the braziers. I also set fire to all the Dunmer furniture I run across along the way, at least the bits that are flammable. That part probably wasn’t necessary but I do it anyway. I successfully navigate the maze, with or without Shalidor trying to “help”, and emerge on the other side.

“Well, I only meant for you to light the braziers and not the chairs and sofas too, but what’s a little pyromania between friends?” Sheogorath says.

Sheogorath sends me into another building to “meet the family”. This mostly involves killing madmen who attack me. It’s quite nice and relaxing. I’ve been doing entirely too much not-killing lately. I’m still half-cursing myself for taking the practical approach with bandits and mercenaries. There are times I wish I could just think like an adventurer and ignore the larger ramifications of my actions.

I make my way through the large building, and come upon a sealed door. Purple beams waver out from crystals toward it, sealing it closed. Oh look, it’s a stupid light puzzle. I always love stupid puzzles. This one looks so stupid that there’s only four light crystals, unless Sheogorath is fucking with my head by hiding a fifth light somewhere, and I really wish more of these puzzles would employ that sort of trickery. As it is, this one is so simple I’m sure even a monkey could solve it.

“Jingles!” I say. “Let me show you how to do light puzzles!”

I hope no one is in any particular hurry about this, because I am totally teaching this monkey how to solve stupid light puzzles. Sheogorath, at least, seems to find it hilarious. When the monkey finally gets the solution, it’s probably completely by accident.

Sheogorath tells a long-winded story about someone called Uncle Leo. This Leo apparently made a deal with Sheogorath, something about having a lot of sex so long as he didn’t have sex with the same person twice. He then tried to cheat his way out of it by not-cheating, and Sheogorath claimed him for it. Naturally, now I have to go beat him up.

Uncle Leo is now a flesh atronach with a brazier and mace for hands, which is really not going to be getting him much sex unless the people he’s trying to have sex with are incredibly kinky. (And probably Daedra.) I kill him. He’ll probably be back. That’s kind of one of the other things I love/hate about killing things in Oblivion. They come back, sooner or later, so you don’t need to worry terribly much about holding back or feeling bad about it.

(I’ve heard some dumb rumors by ignorant people that if you kill Daedra in Oblivion, they die permanently and never come back. This is blatantly not true and I don’t know where this rumor started. Perhaps from idiots, perhaps from the Daedra themselves spreading misinformation. Daedra are immortal, meaning they cannot die, ever, just be temporarily inconvenienced.)

Back at the top of the stairs, Sheogorath is standing next to a book that’s glowing purple and floating like a butterfly as the other ones had, having appeared there while my back was turned. He starts applauding.

“Good show, good show!” Sheogorath says. “I particularly liked the part with the monkey. Have you trained him to juggle yet?”

“Not yet, but that’s a splendid idea,” I say.

“Now, I believe I promised you a name,” Sheogorath says, grinning. “Not that a name by itself will do you much good, but you asked, and I shall oblige. The name is… Theryn Teldras.” He chuckles at my expression. “Yes, it doesn’t mean anything to you, yet. Don’t worry, you’ll probably loathe her. She’s terribly boring.”

“Huh,” I say. “Thanks. I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Anyway, here’s your prize,” Sheogorath says, gesturing to the book. “Or Shally’s prize. Or Valaste’s prize, really. Give her my regards, would you? She’s been a dear. I’m sure I’ll be seeing you again before too long.”

I retrieve the last floating book with my butterfly net, and Sheogorath sends me back to the guildhall in Baandari Trading Post.

“Welcome back,” Valaste says, eying the book. “I take it your trip was successful? I hope he didn’t ask you to do anything too distressing.”

“Nah,” I say, hanging the book over to her. “It was practically a vacation. Arson, murder, and stargazing.”

“Well, that’s… good? I think?” Valaste chuckles, taking a look at the book. “A Gift of Sanctuary, hmm? That sounds considerably more pleasant than it probably is. I’ll get started on it, and then show up later at whichever guildhall you are going to visit next.”

“Sounds like a plan,” I say.

I head back to meet up with my friends again to assure them that I am still alive and no more mad than I already was to begin with. Probably.

“Hey, guys,” I say, pulling out the pie from my pack. “Who wants pie?”