“Eran, are you miffed that you missed everything?” Gelur asks, grinning.

“Not really, no,” Eran says. “Fortunately, Neri didn’t get distracted by something shiny and wander off this time.”

“Heyyy…” I protest weakly.

Eran goes on, “I’m almost glad that you didn’t miss out on beating up Veiled Heritance but I think I’d rather them not having wound up in Valenwood too. Seriously, their precious Veiled Queen is dead. I helped kill her!”

“That’s a mere inconvenience that could readily be solved by use of necromancy,” Merry says with a shrug.

“Ugh, no,” Eran says firmly. “No, no, no. I don’t even want to think about the image of an undead Estre.”

With the latest racist traitor in custody and being interrogated, I take the time to do more teleportation practice. I take my friends to every wayshrine we’ve previously visited, sometimes having to bring them one at a time at first but slowly getting the hang of it. The real difficulty in it is that it requires both focusing and relaxing simultaneously, which is paradoxical and complicated. Kind of like battle, I guess. You’ve got to stay mobile and flexible, but have to apply firm force where it’s needed.

We stop by the college so Ilara can say hello to her former classmates and see if they’ve managed to replace the teachers with people who are less racist. Although they’re still dealing with staffing shortages, the senior students have been promoted to teaching assistants in the meantime, and the junior students now appear to include several goblins. The new headmaster is a tough-as-nails elderly Altmer woman with a very long name starting with a vowel, but I’m not entirely sure which one without asking her to spell it and I really don’t feel like it. I ask Ilara to discreetly ask a few questions and ensure that there are no beatings going on here toward anyone of any race.

We check in at Phaer and learn that a couple of priests of Arkay have shown up and are having success in recuperating the former vampire thralls. They apparently have methods of dealing with things like vampirism, and inform us that should we ever believe we may have been infected, to stop by one of their temples immediately to ensure that we do not transform.

A stop at Vulkhel Guard, and I sort through what I want to store in my closet, take to my new house in Brackenleaf, or sell. I check in at the Mages Guild and leave some books for Sahira-daro (who isn’t present at the moment) while I’m at it. She might find that one on the Towers interesting. She might even be able to make sense of it. I also let Lyris and the Prophet know that I’ve gotten a transportation solution worked out.

Dropping in at Skywatch leads us to running into Telenger, who has finished up at the ruin I encountered him at before and is making preparations for a trip to the mainland. Much to Merry’s relief, he does not recognize him as Merormo. I spot a few goblins here as well, generally in menial positions but appearing clean and healthy. In the manor house, I find Byz sweeping the floor and stop to talk.

“Byz happy! Byz sweep big elf house. Chief Koth talk to Queen!”

“Really?” I ask. “How did that go?”

“Elf Queen is nice!” Byz says. “Gave Byz job for sweeping and tell people no beating goblins! She speak with Chief Koth like she speak to elf. Koth seem happy! Koth no tell Byz all about meeting with Queen but Byz think everything good!”

“Is the Queen here now?” I ask.

“Queen upstairs! Queen work on lots of papers. Queen very busy and gotta be everywhere.”

I head up to speak with her, quietly informing the guard that I’m with the Eyes of the Queen here to make a report, and he lets me in. Queen Ayrenn looks frazzled and overworked, and relaxes upon seeing me as if glad to take a break from endless paperwork.

“Neralion, it’s good to see you,” Ayrenn says. “Are you heading to Elden Root now?”

“I’ve already been there,” I say. “Also I found a way to teleport to any wayshrine I’ve been to, so that’s convenient. There’s been some things going on in Grahtwood you need to be aware of, though.”

“I was afraid of that,” Ayrenn says. “Has there been trouble?”

“I’ve uncovered Veiled Heritance activity there,” I say. “It turns out Ambassador Tarinwe is a traitor.” (I am needlessly proud of myself for remembering that name without having to look it up.) “She’s in custody now, but there’s no telling what she might have done to sabotage your ceremony or how many others there might be lurking about.”

“Ugh,” Ayrenn mutters, putting her face in her hands. “I had hoped their influence had not spread beyond the Summerset Isles. It seems if anything will be the death of me, it’s optimism and wishing to see the best in everyone.”

I give a small grin. “And yet where would we be if we didn’t? That’s what a potential Empress has to do, isn’t it? Bring everyone together, regardless of the difficulties along the way.” I pause. “I heard you met with the goblins.”

“Yes!” Ayrenn says, brightening. “I’ll admit I was skeptical at first when I heard a goblin wanted to negotiate for admittance into the Dominion, but I realized that not treating them as I would any Bosmer or Khajiit would be the same sort of racism the Veiled Heritance embrace. And they’ve surprised me. As slaves in Alinor, they work slowly and begrudgingly, doing the bare minimum and doing it poorly at that. As free people, they’re cheerful and enthusiastic, and willing to put their faith in the ‘yellow bird flag’.” She smiles at that. “I’m ashamed to say I’d never thought about it before.”

“That’s good to hear!” I say. “They’d seemed reasonable enough when I spoke with them, at least the ones who I didn’t have to kill for being idiots.”

“Unfortunately, this is resulting in even more paperwork in attempting to free the remaining goblin slaves in Alinor, ensure that their owners are compensated so that they don’t revolt, give the goblins education and job opportunities… I envy you getting to fight enemies you can handle with an axe.”

I speak with the Queen for a short while longer before bidding her good day and letting her return to her paperwork.

Silsailen, Dawnbreak, Greenwater Cove, and Firsthold are all busily rebuilding and grateful for the relative peace they’re now enjoying. Here’s to hoping fewer places in Grahtwood are on fire when I get there. Here’s also to hoping Elenwen turns out to be a less crazy canonreeve than her father. (It’s hard to get crazier than setting fire to your own town, although I’m sure someone could find a way if they were trying. Maybe hurtling your entire town into Coldharbour? I’ve seen that happen a few times.)

Finally, we return to Brackenleaf to sleep in our own beds for the night. This is possibly the most convenient thing about teleportation. It won’t help us travel to new wayshrines faster, but once we reach one, we can just come home for the night and teleport back out there in the morning.

“That was quite a trip, hopping all over Auridon like that,” Gelur says over dinner back in Brackenleaf. “You’ve had quite a bit of adventure already.”

“Sometimes I feel like we’re only getting started,” Eran says. “It’s like we can’t take five steps without tripping over some sort of problem that requires hitting.”

“These are chaotic times we live in,” Gelur says. “Hopefully I can help with the next problem you trip over.”

Come morning, I teleport us back to Elden Root (only needing to take three hops to get everyone there this time; I’m improving!). Prince Naemon is looking even more sour than usual this morning, and that mood does not improve any when he sees me.

Naemon looks toward Merry and Ilara instead of at me. He mentions how the interrogation of Tarinwe is going (it’s not, or at least they haven’t done anything but politely ask her questions that she has refused to answer, since the Thalmor are being slow to give permission), and that it’s likely she has attempted to sabotage some sort of ritual Ayrenn was going to conduct with the Bosmer. Something about an Orrery (isn’t that a thing that shows how the sky is arranged?) that will somehow tell Ayrenn is fit to be Empress of Tamriel. He clearly isn’t very clear on the whole thing either, and is stupendously unimpressed with it in general.

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“If Ayrenn became Empress of Tamriel, would you become King of Summerset then?” I ask.

Naemon pauses and finally deigns to look in my general direction. “That thought had not occurred to me, although that would make sense, wouldn’t it? I will need to speak with my dear sister on the matter, I believe.”

Since we’ve proven ourselves sufficiently competent, he sends us to a Bosmer by the name of Melaras or something to make sure the ratification ceremony thing proceeds without any further problems. While I doubt he’s ever going to be exactly fond of me, he’s not above making sure I make myself useful toward something he needs done.

Mel (who turns out to be standing right next to Naemon and waves his hand when he notices I’m looking around the room for him) tells us about how the Orrery is going to need an operator (by the name of Daraneth), an Ayleid power source, and a ‘divine spark’. This is going to involve wandering all over the general vicinity collecting things. Fortunately, the ‘divine spark’ he mentioned is apparently an artifact of the Khajiit thief god, and nothing to do with Lorkhan. I’m sure the Khajiit thief god wouldn’t mind his things being stolen.

“Alright, let’s get started, then!” I exclaim. “This sounds like a splendid adventure.”

“Yes, you do that,” Naemon says deadpan.

I’m honestly glad that this isn’t really an urgent quest, either. Eran doesn’t need to drag me into saving anything right this minute, at least. Still, it’s hard to tell where to start. I’ve acquired a map of the Grahtwood area and made notes of the general locations Mel mentioned to me, and they’re definitely all over the place.

On the bridge overlooking the Middens, there’s a mer looking in the opposite direction of the Middens, who waves to get our attention as we walk by.

“Are you adventurers?” he asks. “Maybe you could help me out with something.”

“Yes, of course!” I say.

He looks at me dubiously. “But I haven’t even said what my problem was.”

Eran nudges me. “Yes, perhaps we should find that out before blindly agreeing to whatever?”

The mer introduces himself as Orthelos, and tries to explain something called the Right of Theft, looking to Gelur for some help in clarification. Apparently in Bosmer society it’s okay to steal something if you’re clever about it and give it back when asked or something. Anyway, he stole a bow, an orc stole the bow from him, and now he can’t give the bow back, and he’s forbidden to leave town so he needs someone to go find the orc for him.

“Yes, of course!” I reiterate.

“Fine, now that we know what we’re agreeing to, we can agree to it,” Eran says.

“Do you know which way he went?” Ilara asks.

“Last I heard, he was heading toward a place called Vinedeath Cave,” Orry says.

“Why would anyone want to voluntarily go to a place called Vinedeath Cave?” Merry wonders.

“Probably to prove how much of a great warrior he is or something,” Orry shrugs broadly.

He marks on my map the location of the cave in question, which is a good ways east of here and nowhere even close to any of the locations I was told to go for the Orrery. I bid him good day, and head off.

“I’m guessing we’re going to put off the Orrery thing for a bit,” Eran says with a smirk.

“Yes,” I say. “Orry first, then Orrery! There’s too many R’s in that word anyway.”

“I suppose I’m voluntarily going to a place called Vinedeath Cave, then,” Merry sighs. “I will note that I will be standing firmly behind Neri and Eran, as usual.”

“This is honestly as much about activating wayshrines as anything else,” I admit. “That and making damned sure the racist bandits aren’t causing more trouble here. Or Worm Cultists. Fortunately, we are probably unlikely to run into problems from sea elves this far inland.”

“They’d feel very silly,” Eran says. “We might have to stop and give them directions.”

Not too far from Elden Root, we come upon a temple, if the word ‘temple’ could be construed as including a structure made from living trees whose branches weave together into pretty patterns overhead. The smaller tree in the middle holds small statues and bone windchimes, and a wood elf woman is reciting a prayer as she circles the temple. I light the wayshrine at one side of the temple, and stop and listen to her for a bit.

As we’re resting, a Khajiit woman comes up to us and tells us how her husband and dog (whatever that is) are missing. I quickly agree to go find them, much to Eran’s amusement.

“Right, I’m sure the orc we’re looking for us more likely to be able to take care of himself?” Eran chuckles.

“He’s a thief,” Merry says with a shrug. “Who cares if he meets his death in Vinedeath Cave? Let us find this poor lost dog, then.”

“And hopefully the husband, too,” Gelur says.

The dog’s name is apparently Eat Eat. I’m sure there’s a story in there somewhere. Probably one involving eating. It doesn’t take us long to locate the animal in question. Apparently a ‘dog’ is a furry animal with four paws. Oh, right! I saw one of them in a cage on Khenarthi’s Roost. Ilara thinks he’s cute, but I’d still rather have a guar.

Eat Eat leads us up the road and right up to a ravine where a Bosmer man is laying, injured but conscious and feebly yelling for help when he realizes someone is near. Gelur and I climb down carefully to give him some healing and get him on his feet again.

Rather than try to climb up the steep sides again, we follow the bottom of the ravine down to where it comes out closer to the road. We meet up with the others who had stayed up top, and part ways with the Bosmer and dog, who head back toward the temple. Something has caught my attention, though, and we run across a small camp and a skeleton hanging from a tree. This poor fetcher certainly didn’t fall down a ravine. An amulet (obviously magical) hangs around his neck, which I take, and a journal lays nearby talking about his adventures and misfortunes. Mostly misfortunes after finding the amulet. Also, a voice in my head is calling me a murderer.

“Did I just pick up a cursed item?” I ask, showing the journal to my friends.

“Yep, looks like you just picked up a cursed item,” Gelur says lightly.

Merry sighs as he reads over the journal. “And it won’t let you get rid of it?”

“Well, I can’t seem to let go of it, at any rate,” I say, waving it in my hand, which refuses to unclench.

Suddenly, Eran slams my arm with his shield, almost breaking my wrist and causing me to drop the amulet. Gelur immediately heals my arm.

“That’s one way of dealing with it, I suppose,” Merry says.

“On the downside, we should probably dispose of it so somebody else doesn’t run across it,” I say.

“It’s hardly our responsibility to dispose of every cursed item,” Merry says. “In any case, it’s already been here long enough to turn this person into a skeleton.”

“That doesn’t take as much time as you’d think here in Valenwood,” Gelur points out. “Some scavengers don’t even wait until you’ve stopped moving…”

“This one agrees with Neri,” Ilara says. “We may not be responsible for stopping every misfortune that might befall someone, but if there’s something we might do to help, why not do it?”

“From the looks of things, this amulet made this person feel so guilty that they killed themselves,” I say. “If I tried that, I’d just respawn at a wayshrine naked. I don’t think I’m in much danger from that. And failing all else, Merry could turn me into a chicken.”

“Let me see first if any of my magic can harm this thing, although magic items are usually quite resilient,” Merry says. “We would feel quite foolish if we did not check, though.”

Merry tries a number of spells and succeeds at doing nothing more than charring the dirt it’s laying on. He shakes his head. Seeing as that’s not working, I go to pick it up again, but again Eran stops me.

“You know, the sensible thing to do would be to try to find a way to destroy it before picking it up again,” Eran says. “Even if you don’t think it would be much of a problem for you, there’s not much need for it, is there?”

“Would we be able to find this spot again?” I wonder.

“I sure could,” Gelur says. “We’re not too far from one of our shrines, actually.”

We take the skeleton down and bury it, making sure to cover the amulet in the process. It’s probably for the best. If my slightly more sensible friends hadn’t been here, I’d probably have worn the thing until it drove me mad. I mean, more than I already am.

“Does this happen often?” Gelur asks Eran quietly, although not quietly enough not to overhear it. “Random people approaching us asking for help? The easily distracted legendary hero flitting off from one shiny thing to another?”

“You have no idea,” Eran says with a sigh. “There’s a reason why we decided to follow him around and make sure this easily distracted legendary hero stayed pointed at anything that was actually urgent. Oblivion left him a tiny bit mad and his judgment’s shot. I must say, I’m glad you’re here to make sure that us following him around to keep him on track doesn’t get us killed.”

With that taken care of and the not-cursed journal in hand, we stop and pray at the shrine Gelur mentioned as we head back to the temple. The Bosmer we rescued and his dog have made their way back in the meantime and have been reunited with the Khajiit woman. It’s good to see.

Less good to see is the sky to the east growing dark and crackling, and the distant sound of a Dark Anchor dropping. The newly-reunited couple look worriedly in that direction, but the priestess just continues her prayers unabated. I am constantly impressed at the determination of people to ignore the impending doom of their world as it announces itself several times a day. It might be more worrisome if any of that impending doom became sufficiently doomy to actually involve an attack on this temple. As it is, I grab my axe and head toward the dolmen, and my party follows suit.

The group of fighters holding this dolmen at the moment is comprised of an Altmer with a bow, a robed Dunmer, and the biggest Khajiit I have ever seen wielding a hammer like a mallet and swatting scamps as if it were a game. They don’t complain of the assistance.

When we finally locate Vinedeath Cave, we find that it contains a number of angry plant creatures that attack us on sight. Gelur had mentioned that the Green Pact many Bosmer follow forbids the harming of plants of Valenwood, but apparently the sort of plants that fight back don’t count or something. Further in the cave, we find a Skyshard across from the body of a dead orc who was carrying a nice bow.

“Fortunately,” I say, holding up a piece of paper, “he wrote down his name and what he’d done, or we might have to wonder if we’d been looking for a different orc who’d stolen a bow in a cave full of angry plants.”

“Fortunately, he knew how to write,” Eran says. “Although I’m sure we could have inferred it regardless.”

When we get back to Elden Root, Orthelos is happy to have his stolen stolen bow returned so he can return it to the mer he stole it from. All in a day’s work. (Or a week’s, or whatever.)