A/N - Darlings, I'm home! Sorry for the disappearance. I just had a lot of crap I had to pull together. But don't worry, I'm back. I won't be updating quite as frequently, due to school and such, but damned if I won't try my hardest!

Also, SIX THOUSAND VIEWS WHERE ARE YOU PEOPLE EVEN COMING FROM.

ShiningInTheMoonlight - Oh, thank you! I'm glad I got the characterizations right. Especially Jauffre. He's a cool old man, but he's a pain in the royal arse to write in-character. And thank you for pointing out the typoes! :D

kiabella - Ack! Sorry. I've just been really busy lately. But don't worry, I'm back. ^_^

Rynn15 - Oh, thank you! And don't worry, you can always get your fill of snarky socially-inept assassin Bosmer here.

harari24 - Well, I'm really late in delivering this chapter, so we can just call it even, no?

"What do you mean?" Rosemonde asked, at the exact same time that Baurus said, "What's this about the Amulet?"

Ivar resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "I can't answer two questions at once," he huffed, crossing his harms. His intent to antagonize clearly worked, as Rosemonde gritted her teeth and glowered at him, and Baurus raised an unimpressed eyebrow. "For the sake of clarity, since most of the future conversation will revolve around the answer to Baurus's question... We lost the Amulet of Kings."

"You what?"

"Yes. We lost it. It slipped right through our fingers like a baby slaughterfish. Imagine that, sending one of the two inexperienced tagalongs from a prison cell to deliver one of the most important objects in all of Tamriel was a poor idea. Figures. After all, when have the Blades ever shown some degree of competence?" That was meant purely to ire. He didn't want to hang around, playing ask-and-answer all day. He wanted to get the Amulet back and get out of the way. Preferably far out of the way.

He heard Skyrim was lovely this time of year. Fresh air, very much free of political and magical turmoil.

Baurus's eyes narrowed, and he turned to Rosemonde. "Is this true?"

"Y-yes." Rosemonde was gripping the book tight enough to turn her knuckles snow-white. "He... well, he is phrasing it a little differently than how it happened. And omitting his own part in its loss." Another glare. "It was delivered safely. But... the Priory was attacked, by the same people who killed the Emperor."

"The Mythic Dawn," Baurus said. "A Daedric cult. They managed to attack the Priory itself?"

Rosemonde nodded. "The shepherd was an agent of theirs, and managed to get out with the Amulet. We... we let him. He was right there, the Amulet was within our reach, and we let him go because we thought he was just a terrified bystander. We were stupid." Her gaze was downcast now. "It was pretty stupid of us."

Ivar, on the other hand, felt completely guiltless. "Hey, now, there's no need to go blaming yourself over it, Rosie," he said. "After all, I think we all know that it was really Jauffre's fault. He was the one who hired the shepherd in the first place." He shook his head dramatically, pointedly ignoring the glare he received from both Rosemonde and Baurus. "We did manage to get the dear old Emperor's bastard son. He was in Kvatch. After it burnt down. Long story, that."

Rosemonde seemed to brighten noticeably at the very mention of said Emperor's son. "Yes. His name is Martin, and he's safe at Cloud Ruler Temple."

"'Safe' is not the word I would use. Honestly, why are you lot so willfully blind to your own flaws? And why does no one watch the windows?"

"Ivar!" Rosemonde snapped. "Now is not the time! Honestly!"

"All right, all right, I'm not going to argue with someone who can throw me across the room without blinking." Ivar raised his hands up in mock defeat. The truth was, he just didn't particularly care enough to push the matter. Watching Baurus grow steadily angrier was fun, he could always use some entertainment, and the Blades were an easy target, his heart just wasn't in it. His heart wasn't really in a lot of things, really.

Baurus had breathed a sigh of relief. "Then not all is lost. Still, we must find the Amulet and retrieve it as soon as possible. And Ivar was right," he added reluctantly. "That book can help. How much do you know of the Mythic Dawn."

Rosemonde shrugged. "Nothing but what you just told me. They're a Daedric cult who assassinated-"

"They aren't assassins."

"Ivar, now's not really the time." Even Rosemonde seemed a bit more exasperated than normal. She wasn't even trying to quip back, nor did she seem particularly interested in what he had to say at all. What happened to you, Rosie? he though, scowling slightly. You're no fun. Granted, he couldn't exactly say he fit the definition of "fun," but still.

Baurus nodded. "Well, that's most of what I know. Apparently they worship the Daedric Prince of Destruction, Mehrunes Dagon, and that," he said, gesturing to the book, "apparently, is very important to them. Every cultist I've run into has had a copy of one of those books on them."

"One of?"

"There's a set, apparently." He leaned against the wall. "What I want the two of you to do is go to the Arcane University and talk to Tar-Meena. She's the-"

"She's the Keeper of the Mystic Archives," Rosemonde said. Her face had drained of what little color it possessed, and she clutched the book to her chest like a young Khajiit would cling to a toy Guar. "O-of course. We'll... we'll go right away." Ivar couldn't help but tilt his head and furrow his brow at this strange change of demeanor. Rosie was part of the University before she wound up in this right old mess, wasn't she? So why did she suddenly act as if the ghost of Uriel Septim himself had risen up from his grave and talked a bunch about silly things like fate and visions?

Then he remembered that she had been mumbling something about a fellow named Sondilar a while ago in her sleep, and how an Altmer by that name had died. Ah, he though. Someone doesn't want to be reminded of their dear old dead friend.

He understood that.

Baurus, surprisingly enough given that he was a Blade and Blades tended to lack things such as perception and intelligence, also noticed the shift in attitude. "You all right?" he asked, furrowing a brow. "You look a bit ill. Something you ate?"

By Sithis's arse. So much for being more perceptive than the common Blade. Ivar rolled his eyes.

"N-no," Rosemonde said, clearly trying to be firm. The trembling of her voice, though, sort of nullified said attempt at firmness. "I'm fine, Baurus. I-It's just... been a while since I've been to the University." She was lying. It was plainly obvious. By the Night Mother, she was a bad liar.

Baurus reluctantly nodded. "All right. If you're sure you're feeling well. I'll be here. Come see me once you're talked to Tar-Meena. Oh, and one more thing."

"Hmm?"

Baurus grinned. "It's good to see you again. And you too, Ivar, even if you've somehow become more of an ass than when we first met. I didn't think such a thing was possible."

"Oh, but that's just how I am. Constantly improving."

"I wouldn't call it an 'improvement.'"

"Aw, you don't like me? I'd be heartbroken if I actually cared about your opinion."

"If you didn't care, would you really be responding?"

"I like crushing people under the heel of my verbal boot."

"So you do care."

"I didn't say that."

While the two of them were quipping at each other, Rosemonde had remained silent throughout the whole thing, staring blankly off at nothing in particular. She didn't even look to be breathing, and if she was, Ivar didn't notice. He stopped in his verbal argument (which he was clearly winning, despite his rather weak attempts at wit), keeping an eye on her. "So, Baurus, as much as I'd like to continue this truly compelling conversation, we really must be off to inquire about this book. We'll be back in a bit. Come on, Rosie, don't want to be late." He grabbed Rosemonde's arm and pulled her away towards the stairs, smirking at Baurus as the two of them walked up and out of the basement and out into the wet streets of the Imperial City. Instead of heading towards the large gate leading out of the Elven Gardens District, however, he dragged Rosemonde into a nearby ally, his boots silent against the rain-soaked grass.

"Normally I'm not one to particularly care about this sort of thing," he said, "but would you mind explaining why you just sort of... whatever you did back there?"

A few seconds passed before Rosemonde said anything. Well, she didn't exactly "say" anything. Ivar only saw the barest glimmer of a warning in her hazel-gold gaze before he was pinned against the wall with her staff, the breath knocked out of him. "How can I know I can trust you?" Rosemonde demanded. Her hair had fallen free from its loose knot and was getting thoroughly soaked in the rain, somehow only highlighting her sudden ire.

"Ow!" Ivar exclaimed, more out of surprise than anything else. "What in the name of... what was that for, Rosie?"

"Stop calling me that!" Rosemonde shot back. "You didn't answer my question. You were sent to Kvatch to kill Martin, don't deny it, and the only reason you didn't the first time is because the Gate opened and destroyed the city! How do I know you won't try again?"

"Er, because I'm not a complete idiot?" Ivar said. "I heard what you and Jauffre were saying - oh, don't give me that face, how could you not know I was still in the room - and I know he doesn't trust me. If I was utterly stupid enough to kill off your precious emperor, he and you would know it was me. I could flee, yes, but what good would that do me? I still have business in Cyrodiil, and I'd rather not do it with the Blades at my back, incompetent as they may be."

The pressure against his chest lightened up, and Rosemonde's grip, but she didn't move. "So why are you helping?" she asked.

"Because I'm bored," he lied, "and because helping the bastard Emperor of Tamriel take his rightful place will help me in the long run, even if I don't want any credit for this."

"So that's it? You're just being pragmatic? You're not doing this out of the kindness of your heart or anything?"

"Rosie, I don't have a heart."

After what felt like an eternity, Rosemonde moved away, pulling her staff away from Ivar's chest. He let out a sigh of relief. "So, Rosie," he said, ignoring her livid glare. "You never did answer my question. Why are you so worked up over the University?"

Rosemonde hesitated a moment before answering. "I... I don't want to go back there. Bad memories."

"Well, they're not just going to let me in. I'm a stranger to the University, yes? And the Archives are closed off to anyone who isn't an official member of the University."

"So? Just break in. It's not like that's ever stopped you before."

"Yes, but we're supposed to talk to Tar-Meena. And I can just imagine her reaction if I broke into the Archives and tried to speak to her. 'Oh, yes, strange and handsome Bosmer who has just infiltrated the Arcane University, of course I'll help you on your mission of locating cultist writings!' Yes, because that's totally plausible."

"It's a lot more plausible that them welcoming me back with open arms."

"Why? So you probably killed someone. So what? I do it all the time." When Rosemonde didn't answer, Ivar rolled his eyes and sighed. "Listen, Rosie, I'm not going in there alone, not when there's a University member who knows the nuances of the way mages' minds work a lot better than I do. So, you can either accept that and come with me, or we can both stay here until the daedra take all of Tamriel. Your choice."

Rosemonde glared at him. "This is on your head," she said.

"I'll accept that. After all, what's the worst that could possibly happen? The guards will tell us to go away?"

"Huh. So, I suppose tearfully begging for mercy is out of the question?"

A silent glare from the battlemage was all Ivar got in response.

"Good. I'm not good at the whole 'fake tears' thing. That was more..." he trailed off, not wanting to finish the sentence. That was more Antionetta's ruse.

"I told you," Rosemonde snapped as they were ushered into the walls of the University at swordpoint.

"Indeed. When were you going to tell me you murdered your friend through necromancy, anyways?"

"Shut up."

"I'll take that as a 'never.'"

A/N - Because of how long it's been, I sort of cut this chapter short. Fear not, though, the next one should be upwards of 3000 words. It's good to be back.