I’m so tired when I get back to Vulkhel Guard finally that I just crawl into my closet and fall asleep on top of the pile of furs. Maybe something about coming back to life is draining. Or maybe it was just that I ran up and down the beach several times.

Watch Captain Astanya turns out to be the first person I’d spoken to when I arrived in Vulkhel Guard, who had boredly asked me my name and business and very clearly did not actually do anything about the Maormer staging just up the beach. She’s also extremely busy this morning and has some errands that she can’t spare guards for, and still doesn’t seem to want to do anything about the Maormer just up the beach. I really hope this involves hitting something, at least.

Adviser Norion (thank my foresight that I didn’t incinerate my journal) is standing outside a warehouse near the docks. Something about a burglar that stole some important documents and is now cornered inside. Right, I can hit a burglar!

Inside the warehouse, I am to be disappointed at the prospect that I do not get to hit the burglar. As I enter, some guy wearing all black stabs him, despite his protests that he did as was asked of him. And then the assassin disappears in a puff of smoke. I hate when things disappear in puffs of smoke! Must have been a teleport effect because there’s only one way out of this warehouse and the door doesn’t open nor do I find any trace of someone hiding in the building. What’s more, the assassin didn’t even take the paperwork, so what was even the point of that? I grab them and head back outside.

Adviser Norion is less than interested when I tell him what happened. “Who cares? Just a criminal feud, most likely. At least this other person didn’t want the plans. You can take them to Watch Captain Astanya. I have things to do that are much more important than running errands like a peon.”

I don’t let his dismissal bother me. If I were allowed to stab everyone who was rude to me… well, maybe I’ll still get a chance to stab him, anyway.

Next up, I need to talk to Steward Eminway. No, wait, that’s Eminwe. For some reason high elf women seem to frequently put ‘we’ at the ends of their names but pronounce it ‘way’. She seems quite flustered and needs help inspecting the food supplies. Some suspicion of poison or sabotage or something. They’re preparing to cook a feast for the Queen (What was her name again? Need to write it down this time.) and want to make sure nobody’s poisoning the Queen.

So, I go over and search barrels and crates of apples, fish, wine, weird cheese, spices, more wine, what is it with Altmer and wine anyway? Is that the only beverage fit for a Queen? Rumor has it that she did some adventuring in her youth, so she’s probably tried some more exotic cuisine and beverages at some point. Anyway, I eventually come across a crate of salted meat that smells weird (almost as weird as the Bosmer cheese). I take a piece of it back to the steward to see if she can confirm my suspicions.

“Ah, good!” Eminwe says. “Watch Captain Astanya will want to see that.”

I wrap up the tainted meat and head back to the captain. Who, as it turns out, does not want to see that. Something about one of her guards cornering a guy who has been plotting against the Queen. And then she doesn’t even want me to give her the evidence I found.

“Just hold onto it for the moment.”

“Seriously?” I say. “You want me to carry around tainted meat while I’m—”

“We don’t have time for this,” Astanya says. “This lowborn scum won’t speak to a member of the guard. Just head right up the stairs and talk to my guardsman, Heldil. He’ll tell you want to do.”

I sigh and shove the meat into my pack, glad I’d wrapped it up first, but I’m really hoping the cleaning spell I learned will get the stench out.

Watchman Heldil is near the wayshrine standing in front of a small house, and once I tell him Astanya sent me he starts going on about how this guy has valuable information and they need him alive but he’s half-crazed and will probably spout nonsense when I go inside. Well, I’m half-crazed too and probably spout what sounds like nonsense to people around me, so maybe that’ll even out to something that makes sense. And right now, I’m more annoyed at these guards than I am at anyone else. Except the Maormer. Well, in the case of the Maormer, it’s more of an honest sort of annoyance, now that they stopped pretending to be the nice, friendly people protecting the innocent catfolk from the invading Dominion.

I go up and knock on the door. “Excuse me? May I come in?”

“No closer or I’ll cut my throat!” comes a slightly muffled voice from inside.

“Well, that’s a bit unnecessarily extreme. In any case, I’m not with the guards. Actually, I’m pretty annoyed at them myself at the moment. They’re kind of bastards. I just want to talk.”

Watchman Heldil, still in earshot, just smirks at my badmouthing the guards, probably assuming it’s just part of the act to get this guy to trust me and not entirely sincere.

There’s a pause. “Fine, you can come in, but no sudden moves, you hear?”

“Perfectly.” I step inside slowly.

Inside the building, there’s an Altmer man who introduces himself as Fasion. “I must tell you quickly, Captain Astanya is corrupt.”

“You don’t say,” I drawl. “And here I thought she was just kind of a bitch.”

“She’s part of a group called the Veiled Heritance,” he continues.

“I’ve heard of them,” I say. “Who, exactly, are the Veiled Heritance?”

That was a name mentioned on some of the sea elves’ incriminating correspondence… and someone high in the ranks with knowledge of ship movements had been feeding them information. This is entirely too plausible.

“A subversive group,” Fasion explains. “They’re going to try to murder the Queen! They believe she’s not a legitimate ruler and they have members everywhere. Please, you have to warn the Queen! She can’t trust her guards—oh no, they’re here.”

The guards come in and arrest Fasion, not particularly gently, either. I do my best to keep my face neutral, and while they assure me that he will be given a fair trial, I’m less certain of that than ever. On the way out, they tell me ought to report to Watch Captain Astanya again, who is at the big manor in the middle of town preparing things for the Queen.

I’ve been being run ragged with errands all day, people have been rude to me, and I haven’t even gotten to hit anything. Astanya wouldn’t even listen to me about the Maormer! I’m about to go give her a piece of my mind. Not literally. That would be painful.

The building in question is quite large and is, in fact, difficult to miss. Also there’s a skyshard on an upper balcony. I can see the shaft of blue light from the ground. I’m busy staring up at it and wondering if I can get up there without pissing anyone off when Captain Astanya’s voice grabs my attention.

“Hold!” Astanya says. “Stop right there. You’re under arrest. Did you really think that you could get away with this?”

“Uh, what?” I ask dumbly. “Look, I swear I didn’t bring any skooma back from Khenarthi’s Roost!”

Astanya stares at me. “This isn’t about skooma, you fool! Don’t play coy with me. You’ve been conspiring to murder the Queen! I’m going to need to search your pack.”

“I’ve been trying to give you this shit anyway,” I say, pulling off my pack and handing it to her. “That’s the evidence you’ve been having me run errands to collect.”

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

Astanya sifts through it. “Deployment plans for the marines? Poisoned meat? And… a Maormer cookbook? You’re involved with the Maormer too! And what’s this, a journal, full of incriminating evidence no doubt!” She pauses as she opens it and looks through it. “Neralion’s Journal, and it’s full of names… you’re planning to kill me, Adviser Norion, and Steward Eminwe, too!”

“Seriously?” I say with a sigh. “I’m bad with names and I write them down so I don’t forget them or how to spell them.”

“There’s no use arguing it, scum,” Astanya says.

They have me surrounded, and while I could probably take out some of them before they got me, starting a fight in the middle of town is liable to attract all sorts of the wrong attention. Not to mention the time it would take to get my axe out and my dagger is less likely to be able to do much against their armor. (What does the Queen do if her own guards are against her?)

I hold up my hands. “Look, I surrender. I’m not confessing to your stupid accusations, but I’m not going to fight you.”

Being arrested is bad enough when the guards don’t knock you in the head, too. Is that really necessary?

…

I wake in a cell with my head still ringing. I sit up too quickly and wind up clutching my head in pain for a minute before I can focus enough to get a weak healing spell off. They took my axe and my knife but at least they didn’t put magicka-suppressiong shackles on me. Probably saw the axe and thought I didn’t know enough magic for it to matter. They’d probably be right.

Once I’ve managed to get the headache to die down, I take a look at my surroundings. It’s only then that I notice the body beside me. Dead. I turn him over and recognize his face as Fasion. Dammit. I knew that whole ‘fair trial’ thing was a sham but I’d kind of hoped they wouldn’t have killed him yet. Did they stick me in here with him just to demoralize me?

The cell door’s going to be a problem. I don’t have anything usable as a pick and I don’t know any unlocking spells. And that’s the only way in or out of this cell. No windows, no grates, nothing. I mean, failing all else, I could probably manage to kill myself and reappear at the wayshrine, but the closest one is in the middle of town and I don’t think I can choose which one to ‘respawn’ at, so I’d have to slip out of town afteward and that would really defeat the point of trying to protect the Queen. I might as well stay put for now and see what happens. It’s really rather pleasant in here. It’s warm, and there’s no Daedra torturing people, after all.

After a while, a familiar face appears at the door, topped by a familiar orange hair ridge. “Raz did not think he’d be seeing you again already. He was here looking for Fasion, but it seems he was too late for Fasion, but not too late for you. How are you doing, my friend?”

“Oh, I’m doing pretty good, aside from being arrested after being framed for conspiracy charges,” I say. “It was really not necessary for them to hit me in the head. And it was really not necessary for them to kill poor Fasion, either.”

Raz opens the cell door for me. “Aye… Raz knew him well. He was also an agent of the Queen, and when he would not give up our secrets, well, you can see the aftermath. Raz also thought he knew Astanya. But it seems he did not know her as well as he thought.”

“Veiled Heritance,” I say, slowly climbing to my feet. “They’ve been passing on fleet information to the Maormer. Why would they work with the Maormer?” I cast another healing spell to make sure my headache is completely gone.

Raz starts telling me about Astanya’s plans to kill the Queen and how I needed to warn her and the battlereeve, whatever a battlereeve is. I’d already figured that part out. And then he starts telling me to meet someone in the marketplace whose name I immediately forget and tell her a code phrase that I also immediately forget.

“Raz,” I say, rubbing my head. “I have difficulty remembering names even when I don’t have a poorly-healed head injury, and they took my journal from me. Do you know where they’re keeping my belongings?”

Raz chuckles softly. “Apologies. It is likely in the evidence chest upstairs. Eshaba is a Khajiit woman with cream-colored fur and tan stripes. You should be able to find her near the forges and tailors. Remember: You want a souvenir of the First Auridon Marines.”

“Alright. And can you stop insisting you’re just a ‘simple Khajiit’ and tell me exactly what you do for the Queen now?”

His whiskers twitch. “Raz is, indeed, one of the Eyes of the Queen, as you claimed to be. Raz thought it best that you not be arrested on the island. Little did he realize you’d get yourself arrested here! And not for skooma peddling, either.”

“I think I’d rather have been arrested for skooma peddling,” I say.

We part ways, and I retrieve my pack and weapons from the guard tower when no one is looking. And take the opportunity to get rid of the stupid poisoned meat and cast a cleaning spell on my pack for good measure.

A marine guarding an archway prevents me from getting to the marketplace through the middle of town (thankfully without arresting me again, that would be embarrassing) so I wind up having to go the long way around through the docks district.

I find the correct Khajiit in the marketplace and receive a marine uniform, which I put on after popping into a nearby building to change. Hopefully they’ll let me keep this one. Having a marine uniform on hand could be handy sometimes. The uniform lets me get past the marines guarding the town center.

And then I see her. Wearing resplendent blue and gold armor, with a winged crown atop her white hair that’s as much a helmet as it is a symbol of royalty. Although not tall for a high elf, she stands upright with a confidence earned from battle, not empty arrogance.

No! Bad Nerevar! It would be completely inappropriate for an ordinary Altmer soldier to court a Queen! (But not inappropriate for a Chimer lord…) And I am not checking out the Queen’s boobs, no no no!

I take a deep breath and shove my stray thoughts out of my head. I have a job to do, and if I don’t do it, she’s not going to survive the day. Also it would be extremely embarrassing if this regal mer turned out not to be the Queen but the battlereeve or some random noble or something. Well, if she’s not the Queen, the Queen needs to tell her to be a little less eye-catching, and gods-dammit I’m going to remember the Queen’s name this time. She doesn’t even need to murder me to make me remember her name!

Right, the battlereeve. He’s a mer in golden armor (gold-colored, that is, actual gold would not make very practical armor) with a bird on the front, and his name is apparently Urcelmo. I’ve diligently written it down. He questions what I’m on about when I approach him.

“My name’s Neralion. I have to warn you, there’s a plot against the Queen’s life. Razum-dar sent me. Captain Astanya is behind it.”

Being a raging bitch is an excellent way to get me to remember your name.

Urcelmo is taken aback. “What, the captain of the guards? That’s absurd.”

“Absurd is never considering a threat until it’s too late,” I say. “Everyone has their price. I wonder what hers was.”

I wonder what mine is? Oh, right, I’ll probably do almost anything someone asks me to because why not? Apparently I’ll do anything just to experience something novel. Probably not kill the Queen unless she turns out to be anything like my ex-wife, though.

Far from it, though, she’s stepping forward to interrupt Urcelmo and insist that my claims be taken seriously and investigated. And her voice is like the song of a silt strider—wait, Altmer probably wouldn’t find that comparison flattering. Come on, silt striders are helpful and it’s not like I’ve regularly compared my ex-wife to a cliff racer (I totally have). Okay, maybe a kwama, would comparing the Queen to kwama be more complimentary? Shit, I think there’s a reason why I never took up a career as a bard.

Everyone is looking at me and fortunately I didn’t say any of that aloud.

“Uhh… sorry, head injury,” I say. “Astanya insisted on giving me a hard whack to the head earlier and I’m not a very good healer and I should really see someone about this when we’re done here.”

Urcelmo sighs. “If you’re up for fighting, then, come with me. I’m going into the temple where Astanya is currently.”

“Yeah,” I say, slowly bringing my axe to hand. “Stormy and I got your back.”

We go into the temple of Auri-El or Akatosh or whoever, and on the floor we find Steward Eminwe wounded. Weakly, she manages to warn us that it’s a trap, even though it was pretty obviously a trap to begin with, and Astanya appears on the balcony overhead and starts taunting us and going on about how the Dominion sucks.

Assassins start appearing in puffs of smoke around the room. I much prefer when things appear in puffs of smoke, because then it means I can hit them. Grinning gleefully, I cut down every cutthroat she sends after me.

“Bah!” Astanya yells. “I’ll kill you myself!”

“Overconfident a bit, are you?”

I knock her down with a well-aimed javelin of light, which she still manages to recover from, but the battlereeve and I finish her off anyway. She’s a better fighter than most, but far from a match for the two of us. Maybe if she hadn’t thrown her assassins at us two at a time they might have… no, they’d still probably have died, they were terrible, honestly.

“Sorry about the mess, Auri-El,” I say to the air.

We go back outside and tell the Queen what happened. She’s highly disappointed in Astanya, not that that’s entirely relevant for a cooling corpse, but rather impressed with me.

“It would seem that despite troubles and head injuries, you have gone out of your way to protect me and foil a plot against me,” the Queen says. “I need people who are loyal and capable. You are already acquainted with Razum-dar, the head of the Eyes of the Queen. Would you be willing to join him, and be my hand in this realm?”

“Fuck yes,” I say. “I mean,” I clear my throat. “It would be my deepest honor to serve you in any manner, my Queen.”

The Queen, far from being offended, quirks a small grin, and then formally pronounces me to finally actually be an agent of the Queen so I don’t have to keep lying about it.

“May I ask you one small thing, my Queen?”

“Of course, Neralion,” she says. “What is it?”

“Um…” I look about sheepishly. “What is your name?”

The Queen actually laughs aloud at that. “Ayrenn. My name is Ayrenn.”