Disclaimer: Oblivion and all characters, ideas, etc. within it are all property of Bethesda and associated companies. It's on my Christmas wish list, though!

A/N: Well, this took far longer than it had too. I apologize for that, but if any of you actually take the time to read my profile, you'll know why. In any case, hopefully chapter four won't take nearly as long. Keep you fingers crossed!

Chapter 3

I Need a Scapegoat

I hate this city. There is absolutely no exception to this. I hate this city. I have spent the last couple hours perched on the ground outside the bloody Copious Coinpurse waiting for whatever idiot runs this shop, earning the oddest looks from every single person that walks by. I gave each and every one of 'em my best impression of a lioness; that is to say, once again, that I bared my fangs and hissed like there was no tomorrow.

This, of course, earned more unwanted attention from the stupid guards, who would slow down on their patrols every time they passed me, hardly paying any attention to anyone but me. And of course, my wonderful friend Itius Hayne made a point of walking by a couple times, making sure to stare hard at me, giving me one of those 'I'm watching you' looks. You just keep on watching me; you're wasting your time and letting all the actual criminals sneak around without your attention. Stupid stereotyping guards. Even if this one does have a bit of a reason to watch me. Humph.

After already examining all the crud I had with me and guessing at possible prices for each item I planned to sell, I had nothing to do now but to twiddle my thumbs. Such fun. Finally, however, this large knot of some merchant-looking types walked through the gate leading to the palace district and began to split off to their respective shops. I rose from the ground as this short Bosmer fellow headed towards the Coinpurse.

"About time," I muttered as he took out his keys and unlocked the door.

"But didn't you know? The shops in the Imperial City open promptly at 8 o'clock. It's always been like that," he said as though it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"Well excuse me for being new 'round here," I muttered, rolling my eyes; the sun's up at 6; these folk are wastin' daylight by opening at 8.

I followed the Bosmer into his shop and glanced around his shop while he set up behind his desk, moving stuff around and the like. He had a good bit of food here and there, some cloth and shoes, books and a good deal of other things scattered about. The place wasn't cluttered; it was too open to be. However, it seemed to have a large amount of a variety of items. Hopefully this would be a one stop shopping trip.

"Now, what kind of deal can I make for you today?" he asked in that annoying voice that every Bosmer has. Gosh it makes my ears hurt.

"I got stuff to sell and gotta buy some new stuff," I said simply.

"Well let's see it, then," he said as though this was what he was expecting.

I went about finding all the stuff I had to sell, fishing it out of pockets and such, and put it all out on his counter, including the pretty enchanted sword I had grabbed from the gang leader. Now, if I were him, I'd have been surprised that someone so horridly dressed had so much stuff to sell, but he didn't seem surprised in the least. That just didn't seem right to me.

What I was selling included some poor quality gems off the goblins, the short sword I snagged off the Blades captain, a couple of scrolls, and some potions that I would never use. He looked through the gems first, a frown on his face.

"Most of these are near worthless, but I can give you, say, 10 Septims each," he said, looking up at me.

Ten each? Oblivion, I wouldn't have given someone more than five for most of these! What kind of merchant is this guy?!

"Fine by me," I said; I wasn't about to argue a price like that.

"So that would be…" he said, counting the gems, "100 Septims for the ten of them," he opened a box container on the counter and picked out a small bag that jingled with the sound of clanking Septims and handed it over, "Here you go." His voice is way too cheery.

He looked at the scrolls next, glancing over both to see what they did, then said, "Hmm, ten more for this one and 25 for this one." Now, last I checked, spell scrolls were worth a bit more than that.

"Ten Septims for a scroll? I thought you said you wanted to make me a deal. Or perhaps I should take them elsewhere?" I said, going to grab them from the desk.

"Oh no, that's not necessary!" he said very quickly, "Okay, 15 for the first and 30 for the second, will that satisfy you?"

"I suppose it's doable," I muttered; acting as I was, I was sure he'd give me a better deal on the next items. He handed over a smaller bag of Septims after removing a few from it; guess it'd kill him to overpay me a few coins.

Now it was the potions' turn; five restore fatigues of various strengths and three restore magickas. The latter was actually worth something—restore magicka ingredients were rare—the former was not. I'd hardly pay at all for restore fatigue potions; it didn't take a master of alchemy to make them, especially not this quality.

"There's not much demand for fatigue potions, I'm sorry to say; shall we say three each for them?" I nodded; it was a better price than I'd give. Though I was really starting to wonder how he stayed in business. "The magicka ones, however, I would give 20 each; they are in high demand at the moment." I saw my opportunity.

"Well then, if they're so needed, perhaps I should take them to a merchant who would better appreciate that need?"

"25, Khajiit, though it is more than I'd usually pay."

"Very well then," that netted me another bag; why didn't he just wait 'till we were done and give me one big bag? Or perhaps his memory span isn't long enough to remember the price of everything for that long…

"This short sword is only worth about ten Septims in it's condition,"

"Only ten? That's a fine steel blade!"

"My friend, I have to stay in business; the visit to the smith will cost me even more before I can sell this," he said defensively. Wait a minute; did he just call me his friend? Bosmer must be the most annoying beings on all Nirn!

"Fair enough," I muttered; I knew it was the truth, but I wanted my Septims!

"Now then," he said, handing me another bag and then turning to look at the sword from the Blackwater Brigands, "this is a most interesting piece of work. What enchantment is on it?"

I hesitated; you think I actually checked what enchantment was on it? Though I suppose that would be an important bit of information… I carefully lifted the sword and examined the red gleam along the length of the metal. It was a fine steel blade with intricate work along the hilt; probably what caught the Bosmer's eye, but that wasn't what I was looking at.

Now, I had been trained as a Witchhunter, and, being mages, Witchhunters are trained to recognize what enchantments are active on an item. But I was never any good at it. My strength comes with the bow; I can't aim a spell to save my life and I never was good at the rest of the magic. I just barely got by in my training as far as that went. So I couldn't for the life of me figure out what this blade was enchanted with. I briefly considered suggesting I cut him and find out that way, but decided against it.

"I'm not exactly sure," I said quietly, staring at the sword.

"There's a staff shop here in the district; the mage there should be able to tell you; but don't you go selling it to him!" He said and laughed at what he thought was a good joke. I fake chuckled.

"I will go ask him, then," I said, strapping the sword back in its place under my quiver.

"Thank you very much for you business, my good Khajiit," he said as I turned to go; I waved my hand in recognition without even looking back. I think my ears are going to start bleeding soon.

Now, when the little Bosmer man said that the shop was right here in the district, I figured it'd be easy to find. Apparently, however, I have no sense of direction. At all. The district ain't even that big, and I still spent what must have been half an hour looking for this bloody shop. I must've passed the same smith shop five times before I thought to look across the street from it. And lo and behold, there it was! Rindir's Staffs! By Jode and Jone, S'Rendarr must hate me! 1

"You're in Rindir's Staffs. And I'm Rindir. I sell magical staffs. Imagine that," I cringed upon entering as the little Bosmer man behind the corner gave his little welcome speech in a bored tone. I could have sworn this was Cyrodiil, and not Valenwood…

"I was told you could tell me what enchantment is on this," I said, dropping the sword on the counter with a rather loud clang, causing the Bosmer to jump about half a foot. I grinned, showing far more teeth than necessary.

Regaining his composure, the Bosmer stepped back up to the counter and picked up the sword, studying the faint enchanted glow it gave off. His brow furrowed for a moment before he finally looked from the sword back to me.

"It's a very simply enchantment, a lower quality absorb fatigue on strike spell, but given the quality of the sword as well as the enchantment, I'd be willing to pay about 200 Septims for it; that is, if you're looking to sell?" Since when does a staff shop buy swords? Eh, given his bored tone earlier, perhaps he's just looking for some excitement. Too bad I can't help him; I know another little Bosmer man I could sell to for a higher price.

"No, I'm not looking to sell at the moment; I simply wished to know what I had found," I said, replacing the sword under my quiver.

"Oh," he said, looking rather disappointed. I almost felt sorry for him. Almost being the key word there. "But perhaps you are interested in buying? My last customer threw in some fine robes with our bargain, and they just happen to be for sell, very cheap," he said, giving an obvious hint that I needed better clothes. Hey, if it saves me another stop, then…

"I'll take a look, sure."

His face brightened considerably at the prospect of business as he reached under the counter and brought out some relatively nice looking red robes. He handed them over the counter to me and I unfolded them to get a better look. It felt like silk, and was trimmed in some gold fabric here and there. They seemed to be one of those one-size-fits-all robes, but they weren't far off. And hey, I was pretty desperate.

"How much?" I asked, setting my gaze on the Bosmer.

"I could let them go for 15 Septims to such a fine citizen as yourself," he said, a wide grin on his face.

"I'll take them," I said, setting them on the counter to count the coins; I wasn't keen on bargaining right now, I just wanted to get away from all these bloody annoying Bosmer with their stupid flattery.

"Thank you for your patronage," he said as I handed over the coins.

I nodded, folded the robes, turned, and left without another word. Now to sell this sword to the other happy Bosmer man and find a smith for some better weaponry; if that was possible.

I was careful to situate the robes around my quiver so that they wouldn't fall, and so that poor Bosmer number one didn't realize I had indeed taken some of my business elsewhere. His face lit up like a bonfire when I entered his shop again; I cringed slightly.

"Ah, my favorite customer has returned. What did Rindir say?" he asked in that still ever-so-annoying voice of his.

I pulled the sword free and set it on the counter once again before speaking, "He said that it had a very fine absorb fatigue on strike enchantment, and combined with the quality of the sword, it'd be worth no less than 400 Septims, but I'd be willing to part with it for 300," so what if I might have exaggerated a little?

"Really?" he asked, taking the sword in his hands with this look on his face that said 'I'm going to scam this customer and sell this for twice it's worth'. I made a note to get far away from the city before he found out who scammed who.

"Oh yes," I said, "a fine piece of craftsmanship, don't you agree?"

He was practically drooling over the sword by now, "And you'll let this go for 300?"

I nodded.

"My friend, you have a deal!" he exclaimed, grabbing three good sized bags from his money box and tossing them over, carefully placing the sword beneath the counter where it couldn't be stolen. "Now, is there anything else I can help you with today?"

I glanced around his shop; didn't seem to be anything else, but there were some moccasins that looked as though they'd be far better than these stupid sandals, especially for sneaking. "How much for those?" I asked, pointing to where they sat near the counter.

"For you? 2 Septims, my friend," I glanced at the sandals I wore, wondering if he'd trade for them.

"How about a trade? These sandals are still in fine condition…"

"Of course, my friend," he said; how did this guy not notice the horrid smell and obviously horrid quality of these things? Ah well, his loss. I slid the sandals off and set them on the counter, grabbing the moccasin and putting them on instead; ah, much better.

"Anything else?" he asked when I looked back to him. I glanced around. Nothing, zip, nada.

"No, not today," I said simply.

"Alright, my friend, come again soon." Ha, not after you find out what that sword is really worth! I turned and left without another word, planning to head to the smith across from Rindir's.

…Except I still have absolutely no sense of direction and spent another ten minutes trying to find it before I finally stumbled upon it. And little did I realize that this was the armor shop, not the weapon shop. I was told this in no uncertain terms by the rather rude Redguard fellow in steel armor while the Imperial guy in chain mail snickered. I turned and left, not even bothering to fill their ears with colorful Ta'Agra. I hate this city.

I all that, neither one of them managed to point me to where the actual weapons shop was, so another half hour went into looking for it. By now, it was starting to get dark, so when I finally did find it, I rushed inside before it had a chance to bloody close. I was not spending another day in this Oblivion pit of a city.

"Welcome to 'A Fighting Chance'. I'm Rohssan, proprietor," I was greeted by an aging Redguard lady this time. At least it wasn't another Bosmer.

I slid my rusty bow off my back and set in on the counter, "Do you have anything of better quality than this?" I asked; I didn't particularly care what quality my next bow was, just as long as it was better than this piece of junk.

"I just got in a new shipment of perfect condition iron bows. Not a speck of rust on any of them," she said, noting the red coloring of my bow.

"How much for one if I was to trade this one and some Septims?"

She lifted the bow and looked it over for a while before answering, "15 Septims and this and one of the new ones is yours," she said finally, setting the bow back down.

"Deal," I said, and dug out another 15 Septims as she picked the bow off the rack from behind the counter. All things considered, this one didn't look like it would be too different; but at least my hands would not turn red upon use of this one. That done, I took my shiny new bow and left; now to find my way back to the Bloated Float.

Upon further consideration, I decided against finding my way back to the Bloated Float. Perhaps it was the thought of another wild adventure; or maybe just the fact that lo and behold there was an inn on solid ground right next to the smith I had just left. My S'Rendarr doesn't hate me that much after all!

So here I find myself, feasting on a nice selection of foods in a rather spacious room with a real bed. It was pretty spacious, with a chest, cabinet, desk, and table with a nice meal laid out for the convenience of the customer. All things considered, 20 gold for one night of this luxury definitely wasn't bad. And seeing as the chances of this inn being taken out to sea were nothing, I was pretty happy. Despite the fact that my time in this city was a lot longer than it needed to have been, I was content that tomorrow morning, bright and early, I'd be setting out for a hopefully better city.

Bright and early in the morning, while everyone still slept despite the fact the sun was shining, I left the Merchant's Inn to start my delayed journey to Weynon Priory. Dressed now in my new robes with a shiny bow and not too shabby quiver full of arrows on my back, I managed to make it out of the city with no further mishaps; the only strange look I earned coming from a certain Itius Hayne, whom I guessed was wondering where these robes had come from. Honestly, does that guy ever sleep? Or is he just stalking me?

I even managed to not get lost, and the day was still young by the time I made it to the Chestnut Handy Stables outside the city, with their every so nice selection of horses I had earlier noticed and actually not forgotten. I needed a horse if I was heading all the way to Chorrol. Looking around, I noticed two women, an Orc and Imperial, talking amongst the horses and approached them, hoping one of them could sell me one of these fine horses.

"Hail," I said, "I'm looking…"

"Yeah. Restita Statlilia. I work at the Chestnut Handy Stables. Have you seen our horses wandering around?" the Imperial said before I could continue. I shook my head in a negative, "No? Okay. It's just that they're missing…" …Okay then…

"Yeah, I'm looking to buy a horse…" She cut me off again.

"We stable horses for folks in the Imperial City. We'd sell horses, too. Except… we can't seem to keep track of them." I tilted my head, one of my ears flicking to one side briefly.

"They're all gone? Every last one?" somehow I didn't think this likely.

"As I said, we can't keep track of them." Then she turned away to tend to the many, many horses that surrounded us. These could not possibly all be just stabled here, so I decided to try my luck with the Orc.

"I'm looking to buy a horse," I said, dropping any formalities in my growing annoyance. It had looked like such a wonderful day, too.

"The Chestnut Handy Stables used to sell horses. But they're gone. Our horses. All gone. Big mystery. No idea where they went," she sounded incredibly shifty as she said this, and I was all the more suspicious when she failed miserably to hide a burp. Orcs and horses didn't mix well last I checked…

"Did you…eat them, by any chance?" I asked, tilting my head. I wasn't sure I wanted to know, by curiosity was simply killing my cat (ahem).

"Oh, just add some onion and…" she paused after starting so eagerly, seemingly realizing what she was saying, "wait. I almost walked into that one," she muttered, "No, of course not. That would be wrong. You shouldn't eat horses!" she said, desperately trying to cover up for herself. Yep, I think it's pretty safe to say that the so-called 'big mystery' was solved. And people wonder why no one likes Orcs. Ha!

"Of course," I said in this voice that really seemed to say 'I don't believe you for a second', smiled slightly, once again showing more teeth than necessary, then promptly turned on my heal and stalked off. Grass is decidedly better material for stomping on that the Imperial City's stone.

Okay, so my luck killed over dead already. Guess that'll teach me to expect a day might just be a good day for once in my horrid life. So, no horse. That meant I would be walking all the way to Chorrol to see this bloody Jauffre. And I got ten Septims that say that won't be the end of it. So, being in absolutely no hurry to make it to Weynon Priory, I walked leisurely across the enormous bridge that connected the City Isle to the mainland. Gee, you think they made it big enough?

As I crossed through the small settlement at the other side, I took my shiny new bow in my hands and rested an arrow on the string before following the ancient, moldy signs in the direction to Chorrol. With the wonderful luck I had already had this morning, how much longer did you really think I would go without finding more trouble?

As I expected, not very long. Since when did the Imperial Legion guards do such a horrid job clearing the paths of bandits? Heading uphill with a rather large boulder to block my sight, it was every so slightly too late when I realized he was there: one bandit with a war hammer half his bloody size. I got off two shots before he reached me, but it wasn't enough to drop him. As I expected, this bow was just a much junk as the last one.

One staggering blow from that hammer was all it took to knock me flat and let me know I'd best not take any more of those hits. I staggered back up as the Redguard prepared for another hit; thank goodness that thing was so heavy, because it definitely gave me the advantage of speed. Running, well, more like quickly staggering, backwards, I managed to get off another two shots before he could reach me again, and this time, because I was smart enough to keep moving, I dropped him before taking another blow from that thing.

Panting, I crouched by the bandit's body to search it. And it was at this point that I realized that, having the shoddy memory that I do, I had forgotten to buy more health potions. Brilliant! I settled for more Cairn Bolete to handle the rather large bruise forming from that hammer; but it merely dulled the pain; I'd definitely be feeling that in the morning.

Upon inspection, the only thing worth taking from the bandit was two of my arrows that I could manage to recover. The war hammer might be worth something, but there was no way in Nirn or Oblivion I was going to lug that thing all the way to Chorrol.

So, that settled, I continued on; however, this time, I decidedly went more carefully; these guys travel in packs more often then not, and if he happened to have a friend, I definitely didn't feel like taking another blow from another stupid war hammer. Or anything else. Thank you, very much.

As I moved on upwards the path, I passed an Imperial Legion soldier casually patrolling the path, and muttered quite a few colorful words under my breath. Oh, you couldn't possibly move any faster, could you? You couldn't have just, I don't know, arrived about five seconds earlier to help dispatch that bandit, of course not. Why would anyone want to do something that could be so easily forced on me?

Good thing I had continued onward so cautiously, because not very far after that I spotted my next meal: a deer a little ways up the path that had failed to notice me yet. I halted immediately and put another arrow to my string, drawing and sighting carefully. It flew true; the only problem was, my bow is a piece of junk. That thing took that arrow like it was nothing more than a thorn, caught sight of me, turned and ran.

Cursing as quietly as I could, I moved to give chase, but decided that sneaking would still be my best bet. If S'Rendarr was in a giving mood, the deer would stop once it felt safe, and hopefully another arrow would actually kill it. I also realized at this point that I had also failed to buy poisons, or to make any. That would have really helped me; but of course, with my horrid memory, I was without such luxuries.

As I topped the next rise, however, I quickly lost interest in the deer. By Jode and Jone that's a big fort. And right in the middle of the path too. My fur stood on end as I realized I was either to pass through it, or try to go around it. And after my escapades in the city and recent realization that I have no sense of direction, I decided against risking getting lost in the woods. So that meant risking whatever had decided to inhabit the crumbling old structure. Bandits and wolves and imps, oh my!

Fur standing full on end, I tensed with an arrow to the string of my bow and began to slowly creep through the crumbling arched doorway to the fort, hoping to kill anything inside without ever being seen. Too my immense surprise, the fort was empty; at least on the outside part, and from the stories I had heard, there wasn't anything that was going to make me head inside the fort.

Feeling slightly better, I relaxed and began to move a bit quicker onwards towards Chorrol, passing through another arched doorway on the other side of the fort to come back out into the open. No sooner had I done this than did a scowling Khajiit fellow coming running up to me, his hand on the mace at his belt, ready to attack with it at a moment's notice.

"Your money, or your life," he hissed, looking me up and down; either this was because I was a female of his race, or because of the fine robes I wore that suggested that I actually had money. In any case, I really didn't care. At the moment, I was having a cruddy enough day; my feet were starting to hurt, I had just lost my meal, and I still knew that I would likely find no relief in Chorrol. And on top of all that, here this guy was, adding to my problems. And you know what? I'd had enough.

"You do, of course, realize, my good sir, that you have indeed caught me on a very bad day?" I said in that same 'I'm about five seconds from exploding' voice I had used on that stereotyping Redguard. This caught him off guard, and he didn't answer. "I have just had a horrible stay in that Oblivion pit that is the Imperial City, and on top of that I now have to walk all the way to Chorrol because some Orcs just can't seem to control themselves.

"And as if that weren't enough, everyone I have thus far met has suspected me to be a thief. Do you know way that is?" I paused here; he was still stunned and for a moment didn't respond, but when he realized I was obviously waiting for an answer, he slowly shook his head, probably worried he had just run into a crazy person. "No? Well you should," I said in a rather belittling voice as though it were the most obvious answer on Nirn.

"Everyone seems to think I'm a thief precisely because of despicable Khajiits like you!" I shouted suddenly, causing him to take a quick, shuffled step back. "You are the precise reason why everyone stereotypes our race as law-breakers and thieves! You are the reason why we few honest Khajiit are given such a hard time! In addition to causing this, now you all of a sudden expect me to pay you?!" he was staring wide-eyed at me now; my guess is he never expected anyone to have such an outburst. Well, you know what? Too bad!

"I just spent the last two days trying to make any money at all and here you come expecting every honest, hard-working person to just hand over their Septims to you, just because you have a weapon! Well, here you go, sir, I do hope you are proud of yourself!" I finished, throwing one of the bags of Septims the Bosmer had given me at him, then stalking off in a rage of muttered words that I knew very well he'd understand.

I felt his still-widened gaze on my back as I stalked angrily down the path; I had no way of knowing what he was thinking, but one could only hope that my outburst would make him think twice before robbing the next poor civilian that came through here. In any case, it had definitely made me feel better to have nothing stopping me from speaking my mind. I failed to realize that I had effectively made that Highwayman my current scapegoat.

The rest of the trip was actually quite peaceful. I think my continued rant and constant stomping must've scared off anything that might have seen me as a prospective dinner. I did earn a very strange look from another Imperial Legion soldier, but at this point I really didn't care. All I wanted was to reach the stupid Priory, give the Blade Grandmaster the amulet, and be done with it. Of course, I still had that nagging feeling that I would by no means be done with it so easily, which, of course, did absolutely nothing to help my mood. That nagging feeling probably came from the fact that the Emperor had told me also to find his son, but I had completely forgotten that. Remember my faulty memory?

It was growing late in the day when I finally reached Chorrol. I passed a farm and another establishment on the way, but neither were marked by any name, so I had no way of telling if either was of importance. So I decided to brilliantly save time by continuing straight to the city to find wherever this Weynon Priory was. Of course, it was a brilliant plan until the guard standing outside the city gate told me I had just passed Weynon Priory. I'm not even going to comment.

Muttering, and likely causing a very amusing scene for anyone who cared, I turned and walked back to the large establishment the guard had said was Weynon Priory. I finally silenced my muttered Ta'Agra rant before I entered, deciding that it probably wasn't the best idea to enter this place and present myself not only as some random Khajiit, which couldn't be helped, but also as a muttering, very angry, and decidedly strange Khajiit. I also put my bow on my back; no need to look threatening, I suppose.

Upon entering what I assumed to be the main building—judging by size, mind you—I was immediately greeted by your classic monk: some guy in simple dark robes with the ring of hair that was the generalized monk hairstyle.

"Yes? Can I help you?" he questioned.

"I was told to speak with some guy named Jauffre," I said; he frowned slightly, likely from my disrespectful tone, but I could really care less at the moment.

"He's upstairs, go ahead," he said finally, gesturing towards the right side of the split upstairs.

I nodded and moved on, not bothering to say anything else as he returned to whatever it was I had interrupted him from doing. There, reading behind a rather large table that served as a desk in a relatively neat and empty room, was who I assumed to be Jauffre. So engrossed in his reading was he that he didn't even notice my approach until I stopped right in front of him and tapped a hand against the wood to get his attention.

"I'm brother Jauffre, what do you want?" he asked with a scowl, setting the book on his lap with a finger holding his place as though he expected this to not take very long at all.

"The Emperor sent me to find you," I said rather simply.

"Emperor Uriel? Do you know something about his death?" he asked, obviously more interested now as he put the book on the desk and gave me his full attention.

"I was there when he died," I started, but was unable to continue as he interrupted.

"You'd better explain yourself. Now," He said, rather forcefully for a man of his age, too.

"I would if you wouldn't interrupt me," I muttered; I was in no mood to be polite and proper. He gave me quite a withering glare that made me continue a bit more carefully, however, "He gave me the Amulet of Kings."

"You brought me the Amulet of Kings? This cannot be. Let me see it," he said; I sighed in annoyance and handed it over from where I had placed it in one of the pockets of this robe. "By the Nine! This is the Amulet of Kings!"

"Could have told you that…" I muttered and, in response, he glared again.

"Who are you? How did you get this? What do you know of the Emperor's death?" he assaulted me with questions rather rapidly.

"If I may speak without being interrupted?" I asked mildly, he glared for a while, then sighed in resignation and nodded for me to continue. I calmly explained the events that had taken place in and beneath the Imperial City Prison, most of the forgotten details coming back to now. Including the fact that I wasn't done, even now the Amulet was in Jauffre's hands. There was still the matter of the Emperor's lost son. Crud. Jauffre spent a moment frowning before finally responding.

"As unlikely as your story sounds," he said, rather pointedly, "I believe you. Only the strange destiny of Uriel Septim could have brought you to me carrying the Amulet of Kings," he said, then looked to me expectantly, as if he expected me to talk. Wonder-fricken-ful.

"So, who's this Prince of Destruction he mentioned?" I asked finally.

"The Prince of Destruction he referred to is none other than Mehrunes Dagon, one of the lords of the demonic world of Oblivion." Fascinating. "The Emperor's words—'Close shut the jaws of Oblivion'—certainly suggest that he perceived some threat from Oblivion." Oh, lovely.

"But all the scholars agree that the mortal world is protected from the daedra of Oblivion by magical barriers." Oh, so just because the scholars say something, they can't be wrong? Oh, then we shouldn't have to worry about anything, then. Guessing this was his opinion, I decided to ask my next question.

"How can Oblivion threaten us then?" there was the slightest hint of a challenge in my voice; I think he picked up on it, too, which must have been why he sounded so defeated with his answer.

"I'm not sure. Only the Emperors truly understand the meaning behind the rituals of coronation," he paused briefly, looking at the amulet in his hands, "The Amulet of Kings is ancient. Saint Alessia herself received it from the gods. It is a holy relic of great power. When an Emperor is crowned, he uses the Amulet to light the Dragonfires at the Temple of the One in the Imperial City. With the Emperor dead and no new heir crowned, the Dragonfires in the Temple will be dark, for the first time in centuries. It may be that the Dragonfires protected us from a threat that only the Emperor was aware of." Wow, and not one single interruption through that entire speech. Amazing how I did that.

"The Emperor asked me to find his son," I said finally when he looked expectantly at me again.

"I am one of the few who know of his existence. Many years ago, I served as captain of Uriel's bodyguards, the Blades," he paused, his gaze faraway, probably remembering, "One night Uriel called me in to his private chambers. A baby boy lay sleeping in a basket. Uriel told me to deliver him somewhere safe. He never told me anything else about the baby, but I knew it was his son. From time to time he would ask about the child's progress," he paused, considering something, and then finally said, "Now it seems that this illegitimate son is the heir to the Septim Throne. If he yet lives."

"Where can I find him?" I asked, slightly impatient. I was none to happy about still not being done with this matter.

"His name is Martin. He serves Akatosh in the Chapel in the city of Kvatch, south of here. You must go to Kvatch and find him at once. If the enemy is aware of his existence, as seems likely, he is in terrible danger," and what about me, eh? Why does no one care about what danger they put me in? "And please, let me know if there's anything you need. My resources here are limited, but I will help in any way I can," I probably should give him credit for that much, but I'm in too foul a mood to do so.

"How about some supplies then?" I asked, as though he should have known I'd need them.

"I keep a few things here in my chest to re-supply traveling Blades. Help yourself to whatever you need," he said, getting up and moving to unlock the chest before he returned to his desk. When I turned my attention to the chest, I saw him resume his reading out the corner of my eye. I do hope that is a very interesting book.

Looking through his chest, I found a set of a steel bow and quiver full of steel arrows, and nearly jumped for joy as I snatched them from the chest. These looked to be far better than the horrid iron junk I currently had. Deciding not to waste the time trying to sell either, I placed both my iron bow and quiver of iron arrows in the chest; they likely weren't worth the trouble of lugging around. In there place, I put both steel bow and quiver on my back, now in a considerably better mood.

Searching the rest of the chest, I found a supply of potions which I grabbed greedily; the health potions would be of great use, the rest I'd just sell. Hey, he ain't using them. I also snagged a scroll that would hopefully fetch a pretty price. As I closed the chest, life was good.

Then I remembered that I was about to have to walk all the way to Kvatch, find some priest, and then walk all the way back. I hate this province.

1. As told by wikipedia's article on the Khajiit, Jode and Jone are the Khajiit moon gods, and S'Rendarr is the Khajiit god of mercy. Who apparently has no mercy for poor Jo'Rawlith.