We’re on the road again, heading north in the generation direction of Dune while still stopping at absolutely every possible bit of procrastination along the way. I know I should probably take the threat of the Dark Mane more seriously, but I really don’t want to deal with this shit.

Off the road, I spot an ogre eating the remains of some hapless traveler. I might have left it to him if it weren’t something to fight and I hadn’t spotted a book among the corpse’s scattered belongings. 16 Accords of Madness, Vol. VI. (Summary: Sheogorath once made a really annoying bird.)

Our arrival at Hadran’s caravan (which I’m totally not just visiting for the games) is heralded by a Khajiit (Sind) begging us to help find his husband (Tand). Tand came here hoping to wind a bunch of gold gambling so that they could open a tavern somewhere. And now he’s missing and Sind is afraid something bad might happen because Hadran deals in skooma and slaves.

“Right, well, I don’t actually give a fuck about the skooma so long as he’s not peddling the tainted shit that makes people die horribly,” I say. “But I’ll object to slavery on principle. It never turns out well. How long has your husband been missing? Hopefully he’s not halfway to Morrowind by now.”

Hadran’s caravan (or should that be capitalized? eh, who cares, if this goes poorly for him it’s not going to be named after him any longer anyway)… Hadran’s caravan is primarily comprised of Khajiit-style tents and wooden scaffolding presumably for the games, and I catch a glimpse of what looks like an arena over to one side.

Sind gives a description of the missing man, and suggests that I speak with a Khajiit woman named Azum, who we spot standing in front of some barrels of beverages. She’d refused to talk to Sind or give him any useful information, so I think I’ll try a different approach than “concerned family member”. And if this one doesn’t work, I’ll have one of my friends try a different one until Azum starts wondering why everyone is suddenly so interested in Tand. In any case, we split up to explore the caravan and try not to look like we all came into town together.

“Welcome to Hadran’s caravan, walker,” Azum says when I walk up to her, and she starts going into a spiel about the games and food and stuff.

“Sounds great,” I say. “I got some other shit to deal with though. You seen a young Khajiit by the name of Tand around here?” I hold out a hand. “Yea high, kind of a moron?”

Azum replies cagily, “We don’t normally disclose the comings and goings of our patrons here. They tend to value their privacy, yes?”

I snort. “That dull-clawed furball owes me money. Hired me on as a bodyguard and skipped out on paying up. I’d really like to have a pleasant chat with him about it.”

“Mm, that does sound like a problem,” Azum says noncommittally. “Perhaps if you ask the gamekeepers and spend some money, they might remember having seen him.”

My group and I play a few games, and talk to a few people. After comparing notes, it seems they have the sensible policy of “let the angry Orc win but overcharge him for the drinks and drugs”. Spikeball would have been more fun if people hadn’t been too terrified to spike their balls at me. Or maybe they did and I just didn’t feel it. Perhaps I should try this without my armor on but I don’t feel like being an Altmer right now. Maybe later.

Dammit, if I want to come out and enjoy this den of blatant cheating and mind-altering substances later, I’ll need to make sure not to burn it to the ground and kill everyone today. Life’s tough sometimes and you’ve got to make difficult choices.

Actually, couldn’t I just set up my own den? Perhaps with an alter ego. You just can’t run a skooma den as a king. Look, part of the thrill of it is because it’s illicit. Moon sugar being legal to obtain is sweet and all but things that are illegal are spicy. Even if they’re also sweet. Would it cause a scandal if people found out all the shit I got up to? I mean, more than simply being an “Orc”? Guess I’ll just need to be someone else. Obviously, Neri the Orc King just came here to investigate allegations of slave trading.

Azum shows up while I’m at the arena. Sadly, it doesn’t look like they’re going to let me arm wrestle trolls in their arena. Their loss.

“You’ve certainly been loudly looking into everything,” Azum says.

“That’s me,” I say. “Noisy and nosy. You did suggest I ask around about my hapless client.”

“True,” Azum says. “I suppose it was too much to ask for you to get bored and leave.”

I laugh. “Oh no, not even the slightest chance of that. This place is fun. So, you got anything to add to what I’ve already found out?”

From Azum, I learn that Tand has already been taken by Hadran and is “working off a debt” by which I mean he’s about to be sold. It’s probably pointless to suspect any of the handful of Dunmer hanging around here to be secret slave traders. That would be too obvious.

“So, let me get this straight,” I say. “Your boss is gonna sell my client into slavery, and I’m not getting a cut? Because let me tell you, he owes me a lot of money. You know how many senche and bandits I had to kill to keep that idiot safe? I don’t help people out of the goodness of my heart. I want coin.”

“Perhaps some appropriate compensation may be made so that Tand can repay your debt as well,” Azum says. “But you will need to speak with Hadran himself to arrange that sort of thing. This one can take you to him.”

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Hadran is a Bosmer man in a house on a hill overlooking the sketchy carnival. He makes no secret about selling debtors into slavery and practically boasts about it to my face. To be fair, I am pretending to be an unscrupulous mercenary, but still. At least they’ve stopped being so cagey about it.

“I don’t care what you do with the cat, but I will get my cut, one way or another,” I growl.

Hadran grows more and more nervous as I pretend to become angrier. “I’m sure we can work something out.” He keeps glancing at my axe. “Follow me. I’ll take you to him.”

We head outside to an “employees only” section of the caravan area, by which I mean it’s the place where they keep slaves. He also now no longer has his back up against a wall, which might have made for a better opportunity had the window behind him not been closed.

Hadran’s body suddenly jerks. Ilara is behind him with a knife in his back.

“Khajiit thinks selling slaves is bad for one’s health, yes?” Ilara snarls. “Mistreat Khajiit, Khajiit might rip your throat out with their claws.”

Ilara rips his throat out with her claws. Although it was probably unnecessary at that point.

“I did say I’d get my cut, one way or another,” I tell Hadran’s corpse, and turn to Azum. “So, it seems this is now Azum’s caravan.”

Azum eyes me, and the bloody Khajiit beside me, and very quickly considers her options. “Ah, yes, so it would appear. Were you only interested in Tand, or was there anything else you need?”

“Yes, there was,” I say. “Perhaps I didn’t introduce myself. My name is Neri gro-Drublog, King of the Wood Orcs, and I came here investigating a slavery ring and to secure supplies of moon sugar.”

“You lied,” Azum says, twitching her whiskers. “Do kings normally investigate things like this personally?”

I shrug. “Well, this king does. Orcs aren’t ones for being afraid to get dirty.”

“I see. Was there ever really a debt?”

“Never seen that Khajiit before in my life,” I say cheerfully. “Now, I’m sure you’re a reasonable woman. Let’s make a deal.”

“A deal,” Azum repeats, still nervous. “Deals are good. What do you propose?”

“Shut down the slave trade here,” I say. “And give me any information you have on who has been buying Hadran’s slaves. The operation here is yours. It’s fun and I’d rather not have to shut it down.”

“Of course,” Azum says. “And… you said something about moon sugar?”

“Oh, yes,” I say. “Make sure to have that on hand, too. I can make it profitable for you.”

“That sounds like a good deal. I will go get that information for you.” Her eyes fall to the corpse again. “Do what you wish with the trash.”

“Ah, right,” I say. “I forgot that was here.” I take my axe and cut off his head, causing Azum to jump a little. “Do you want the trophy outside the caravan as a message, or shall I take it home?”

Azum gapes at me. “… Take it away, please.” She scurries off back into Hadran’s former office.

“Can Ilara-daro stop looking intimidating now and try to clean off the blood?” Ilara asks me quietly once Azum is out of earshot.

“Ah, yeah,” I say, reaching into my pack. “Although standing there casually dripping the blood of her former employer was probably pretty intimidating for her.” I pull out a wooden spear and spear it through Hadran’s head. (Because I absolutely carry around spears just for this purpose.)

“This one never literally ripped out anyone’s throat with her claws before,” Ilara says, trying to wipe off her paws. “It is surprisingly messy.”

“Did you ever get the hang of cleaning spells?” I ask. “They’re quite good for that.”

I absently glance at the building Azum went into, although I’m not terribly worried about her fleeing (it would be pretty sensible under the circumstances) and I’m not especially fussed over whether I get the names of any slavers.

While Ilara is repeatedly casting a cleaning spell over and over, I spot a book nearby that turns out to be Azum’s journal. I flip through it just to test how much I really need to read something for it to show up in my mind library. Conclusion: That was enough. I “read” through the journal in my mind as we proceed through the camp. Azum had apparently found Hadran’s slave peddling distasteful, and the carnival was meant to be a front for it that wound up being more profitable than expected, she was hoping to get some dupe to stick a knife in him so she could take over, and also she calls Queen Ayrenn a cow. I’ll need to have a little chat with her about that.

I go to free all the captives. Hadran’s thugs are all over the area, or his former thugs, really. They take a good look at the dead face of their former boss and most of them decide not to mess with us. There’s still a few idiots who need to be smacked, though. There’s always got to be the idiots.

The captives are terrified of me, but grateful to be rescued. I wasn’t really intending on inspiring terror in them, but I suppose it can’t be helped when you’re carrying around a severed head on a stick.

Leaving Tand and Sind to a heartfelt reunion, I return to the office Azum had gone into. She’s at the desk, shuffling around with some papers, writing things down, and very likely selecting some scapegoats to sell out to save her own pelt.

“I have the information you requested,” Azum says when I come in. “Names, descriptions, where you can find them…”

“Oh, by the way,” I say, gently placing the journal onto the desk. “You misplaced this.”

“Ah… thank you, can’t imagine how that might have gotten lost…”

Khajiit ears and tails are very expressive, and Azum has been going through a lot of expressions today. I’ve spent enough time around Khajiit that I feel like I’m getting a pretty good grasp of reading their moods.

“And I’m sure you are under no illusions about who rules here any longer,” I say pointedly.

“… you do,” Azum says.

I chuckle. “You know, I’ve gutted people for saying lighter things about Queen Ayrenn than comparing her to livestock, but you didn’t say it. I have a journal too, and it’s got worse things than that in it.”

Azum makes a forced laugh. “Really.”

“But if I ever hear you say anything bad about Queen Ayrenn in public, I will skin you alive and turn you into a rug. Am I clear?”

Azum nods hurriedly. “Of course. Wouldn’t dream of it.”

“Excellent,” I say. “I’m glad we understand each other.”

“I understand that if I cross you, I may never see the retribution coming,” Azum says. “Hadran was so focused on the Orc in front of him that he did not notice the Khajiit behind him.”

“I make a very good distraction,” I say lightly, flipping through the pages Azum handed me to make sure they’re slaver information and not cookie recipes (although I’d honestly be happy with cookie recipes too). I shove them into my bag. “Pleasure doing business with you. How many of these are actual slave traders and how many are fetchers you just want to make disappear?”

“Um…” Azum had been starting to relax but immediately tenses up again at that.

I chuckle and wave a hand. “Oh, don’t worry about that. I’m always killing people on the most tenuous reasons. Hmm, maybe I shouldn’t admit to that aloud. Eh, what’s a bit of murder between friends.”

Azum laughs nervously. “Heh. Yes. Friends.”

I head out and meet up with my friends again out by the main road, and share what happened.

“We are, of course, going to check that the names she gave you belong to actual slave traders, right?” Eran asks. “Right?”

“Of course,” I say. “When do I ever kill people without looking deeply into what I’m doing?”

“Less frequently lately,” Eran says.