A short stay back in Firsthold gives me a chance to rest and catch up on my reading a bit. (Did you know high elves are racist? I can hardly believe it! The Thalmor even have an instruction manual on how to at least pretend to be less racist.) I get my armor patched up a bit, but I think I ought to just buy a new set once I get back to a town that has not recently been on fire.

We make a stop to check in on the College of Aldmeri Property. Prosperity. Propensity. Posterity. Oh, whatever the stupid thing is called. Sorry has arrived in the meantime and is doggedly practicing swordsmanship with a wood elf. I stop to catch with him a bit when he takes a break.

“This would be less embarrassing had my mother not come along,” Sorry says quietly. “I hope she will go away once she is certain that I am settling in well here. It’s going to be a lot of work.” He lowers his voice. “I still have nightmares about what happened in the Rilis vaults.”

I’m a little unclear on the timeline here. Sorry doesn’t seem that old, maybe two or three hundred at most, but people talk about his father as if he’d been imprisoned in the Banished Cells for a long time. I guess a few centuries does feel like a long time when you’re guarding a prison and not when you’re being a young and naive elf.

A new headmaster for the college has not been arranged yet, but Firsthold was able to spare a couple of tutors to fill in the gap until more permanent staff could be found. Considering how the First Auridon Marines have been running around in my wake putting out fires (frequently literally) over half the island, I’m surprised that they managed to spare anyone at the moment. Most of what’s going on here right now is just students practicing with and tutoring other students in what they know.

Ilara approaches us timidly, trying to gather her courage. “You are going out again, yes? Out into the world, for adventures? Out to find treasure and help people who need help?”

“I guess that’s a sufficiently accurate description of what we wind up doing,” Eran says.

“Yeah, I’m planning on covering the remainder of the island and making sure we haven’t missed any pockets of racist bandits, sea elf pirates, or whatever,” I say. “And then we’ll be making for the mainland and meeting up with the Queen in Grahtwood. Why?”

Ilara chews her lower lip hesitantly for a moment before deciding to throw caution to the wind. “Ilara would like to go with you.”

“Are you sure about that?” Merry says. “We get into some amazingly dangerous things.”

Ilara nods. “Ilara is skilled. Ilara can be brave. It will be some time before things return to normal here, or whatever passes for normal after so much wrong has happened. But maybe Ilara could learn more out in the world with you, and be a swift and clever adventurer like Neralion and Eranamo and whoever this new person is.”

“My name is Merormo,” Merry says with a chuckle. “I never exactly planned to get into the adventuring business, myself, but… well, circumstances.” He gestures toward me. “This mer is a lunatic who will lead you into random caves and dungeons, off roads and cliffs, into battle with undead and giant snakes and any stupid thing that might be threatening people. Are you really prepared for that?”

“Ilara can be brave! She is sneaky and quiet and good with a bow. Let this one help.”

“Well, so long as you know what you’re getting into,” Eran says. “I sure didn’t.” He snickers.

“Welcome to the team, Ilara!” I say, clapping her on the back but pulling away upon seeing her flinch. “Sorry. Not going to hurt you.”

“It is alright,” Ilara says. “This one will go pack her things.”

With Ilara in tow, we bid the college farewell and head out.

There’s another old ruin down on the coast near Dawnbreak. I find a chest washed up ashore outside, and find a rather lovely landscape painting inside. That might look nice in my closet. Good thing I can just shove that in my pack, because that would be a paint in the ass to carry around. (Eran is smacking me for that pun now.)

At this point, my companions aren’t even bothering to complain about me deciding to go in and explore this ruin just because it’s here. And we hardly get down the first set of stairs before we run across one of those stupid Maormer snake statues.

“The bloody sea elves are in here,” I say, indicating the statue.

“Ugh,” Eran says. “Are they just hiding in here, or plotting something?”

“Probably plotting something,” Merry says.

We find a note indicating that they’re looking for some sort of relic that will ‘blast the smug look off their stupid faces’. While I can’t argue with the sentiment regarding high elves looking smug, I’m hardly about to let them blast anything if I can help it. Ilara follows behind us, making sure to keep me and Eran between her and anything aggressive, but she’s a crack shot with that bow of hers.

Stolen novel; please report.

A ghost appears and calls to us, and directs us to what I assume is her own body, laying dead in a corridor with a fancy box laying in the sand by her hands. She introduces herself as a Mages Guild member named Beddi Alielle, and explains that she had had a bet with a fellow mage at the guildhall in Vulkhel Guard regarding finding more relics than her. Which, when the sea elves unexpectedly showed up and killed her, would have just been unfortunate but she’d apparently cast some sort of binding contract spell on the wager.

Merry sighs. “And people say I’m foolish with magic?”

“You were,” Eran says. “Although at least you were just trying to help people with your foolishness and not simply being greedy and petty.”

“I know, I know, it was a terrible idea,” Beddi says.

We agree to take the relic back to Vulkhel Guard whenever we get back there and speak to the person (Angrel) she made her bet with so that she can concede her defeat and move on to Aetherius.

This probably wasn’t what the sea elves were looking for in here, of course. I toss the relic in my pack and resume our search of the ruins.

In a large room flooded with ankle-deep water, I spot the blue shaft of a Skyshard, but it has a rather large snake coiled around it. It’s nowhere near any holes in the ceiling, so I’m guessing that these snakes just brought the lovely warm rock back to their nest from wherever it landed. Which was probably a sweet bonus to them up until a Chimer with a battle axe came along who wanted it.

In the next big room (that isn’t flooded), we spot what the sea elves are probably here for. Very likely the brightly glowing yellow rock affixed to a fancy sconce in the middle of the room. Their captain is next to it, so we kill him and page through his journal, in which he expresses his frustration about being unable to remove the crystal. They might have figured it out eventually, though, so it’s just as well that we came along and put an end to their attempts. Once we’ve made sure there are no more Maormer left in this ruin, we head back outside and move on.

“Congratulations, we’ve accidentally saved the island again,” Eran says lightly.

“Does that happen often?” Ilara wonders.

“More than you would ever believe,” Eran says, then looks to me. “So, where to now, fearless leader?”

“There might still be more caves we haven’t stumbled across yet,” I say cheerfully. “But for now, let’s head back to Skywatch, shall we? We’ve got a few things to return or report on, and I want to make use of these flowers I’ve been picking.”

“What if Telenger is there?” Merry whispers, glancing about as if afraid the mage in question were somehow listening in even here.

“Then you’re clearly not Merormo, the mage he dislikes for whatever reason, but Merry, the cheerful adventurer who he has never met before. Would shaving off your beard help?”

Merry groans. “Well, it might, but…”

“Or dye it black! And change your robes into something more badass. Maybe with spikes!”

“I am not wearing spiked robes,” Merry says flatly.

When we get to Skywatch, he does visit one of the traders outside the city to look for some fresh attire. I’m not sure how much I trust a vendor that says that she represents the ‘Trusty Skeever Emporium’, but Merry decides to buy a fancy red robe she claims was imported from Elsweyr, along with a matching hat with a face mask.

“How do I look?” Merry asks.

“Stylish,” I say, giving two thumbs up. “It’s really a look that says ‘I am not a racist asshole’.”

I find the wood elf Eye of the Queen who had given me a hit list for the Veiled Heritance officers, and inform him that they’re all dead except the one with a name starting with A (“Aranias,” Eran helpfully supplies after even the Eye fails to pronounce it correctly), who may have already departed for Greenshade.

Merry locates the woman who had asked him to pray at her children’s graves. She thanks him, pays him generously, and then immediately turns into a ghost and wisps away. Ilara jumps back in startlement at that.

“Uh… was she dead the whole time?” Eran wonders.

“I guess so,” Merry says, looking at the payment he was given. “And I guess she didn’t have anyone left to give her money to, either, or I’d feel bad about being paid for this.”

“But where was she keeping it if she was a ghost?” Ilara wonders.

“Eh, ghosts are surprisingly solid sometimes,” I say.

“If I ever wind up as a ghost, I want to be the kind that has pockets and can hit things and not just the kind that can’t do anything but whine at passing adventurers for help to fix their problems,” Eran says, looking at me.

“I would prefer not to be a ghost at all,” Merry says.

We return the scamp’s collar to a wood elf at the Mages Guild, who is grateful to us for returning her ‘dear little friend’.

“Where did you ever find him, anyway?” she asks.

“He was up in Mehrunes’ Spite,” Merry explains. “Some dremora had him for some reason.”

“Oh my! Well, I hope he doesn’t manage to get lost again. Here’s the payment I promised for returning him.”

I take the money and toss it in my pack and hurriedly walk off before Eran can start speculating aloud on what she does with that scamp. There’s no need to be crude; it’s not really any of my business.

Telenger fails to make the appearance Merry had feared, so with the coin in hand from various sources, we go shopping to make sure everyone is properly equipped. I need a new set of leather armor, as does Ilara, and she could definitely do with a better bow as well. She’s completely flustered and embarrassed by the amount of money I’m spending on her.

“This is a lot of money to spend on little Ilara,” she says quietly.

“This armor will protect you better,” I say. “And the new bow will let you do more damage. This one’s got more piercing power behind it. Or, hey, we can get a bow that will set things on fire!”

Ilara has a terrified look on her face.

“Maybe not that one,” I say. “You okay, Ilara? Was it the fire? I’m a little over-enthusiastic about setting things on fire sometimes.”

“No, no, it wasn’t the fire,” Ilara assures me. “Never mind, don’t worry about Ilara! She is happy with the things she has.”

“Ilara,” Eran says. “Just take the stuff. Adventuring makes plenty of money but we’ve got to keep our gear up to do it.”

“With all the junk I just sold, I can still expand my inventory and set aside money to buy a house on top of the equipment upgrades for us all,” I say.

“You want to buy a house?” Ilara asks.

“Yeah, I mean, I have an apartment in Vulkhel Guard, but uh, I don’t think we’d all be able to fit inside of it,” I say. “It’s more of a closet. Getting an actual house would be nice, though. And furniture! Maybe I should take up a hobby in interior decorating.”

“This is not what one would normally take as a ‘hobby’,” Merry says. “How many houses would you have to buy and furnish on your own time and coin in order to consider yourself as having an interior decorating hobby?”