The wind had kept picking up all night. A sleepless night for Castorius.

He'd been wandering aimlessly until the first rays of sun were caught in the thick veil of dark cloud enveloping the sky. None of them reached all the long way to him. Not that he would have noticed if they had.

It didn't matter to him that the woods were teeming with beasts, predators, and bandits. Each of his steps could have very well been his last in this dangerous terrain, in the dead of night. He knew this, but he didn't care. There was an awfully strange quality to what little sound his most primary instincts of survival were still making.

What does it matter?

What did any of it matter? This was the world of predators and beasts. Of bandits. Of murderers and monsters. They would get you anyway, in the end. The only way to fight them was to join them. To become them.

Was that what he'd been doing?

Questions, questions, and more questions, doubt and self-accusation. Those had been the only company he'd had in the long hours of the night—the only predators to come after him. In comparison, he would have almost welcomed a set of sharp teeth biting into his leg. An arrow in the back. An axe to the head.

So far, he'd managed to dodge all of those. But to what end? Did his survival entail anything more than the death of someone else? That was certainly how it was starting to look. Did the survival of a little shitweasel like him unavoidably come at the cost of the life of someone innocent? Was that the necessary sacrifice? Was that the great alchemy behind everything, the scheme of things?

With such a price, certainly it would have been better to just die. Better for everyone. Who was there that would even miss him, to hold on to his memory? Who would cry for him?

No one, that's who.

And was that the sort of world he'd been helping to create? If it was with the help of murderers and monsters that Ulfric was to overthrow the Empire, then what next? How was he to ascertain he could keep them reigned in indefinitely?

Gods knew Castorius hardly loved the Empire, but even he had to wonder. At least it kept up law and order to some extent. It may have, gods forbid, even been the only force keeping the beasts out, from keeping the predators from running the whole show.

Or did it?

He was so very tired, more tired that he'd been in his entire life. Only when he stopped moving did he feel the ache all over in his body. Even his bones hurt. Was it simply the exhaustion, or was it the other sort of heavy burden he'd been logging around?

He slumped against a tree and let himself slide down. The hem of his tunic rode up his back, and his bottom was soaked upon hitting the wet ground. He was currently unable to muster any concern for such things.

Sitting down made the traffic in his mind even worse. Rubbing his temples, he tried to bring clarity back into the mix. He wasn't having much success with it, such was his exhaustion. A thought trailed a thought trailing a though, but what resulted made no coherent sense. Just a jumble of one notion feeling more pathetic than the last.

If only I could get some sleep . . .

No! He gave his head a violent shake, enough to feel momentarily dizzy. This was no time for sleeping. He had to think!

Think what?

He needed to do something. For all he know, what had gone on had been all his fault. He didn't know who had given the order to kill Fair-Shield and his family, but he had a nasty suspicion. If that Argonian pirate, Jaree-Ra, had survived the mountain collapsing on his ship, there was no question of who he would hold accountable. He couldn't, of course, have known that Castorius himself survived, but might have simply assumed as much when not finding the body.

He doubted any captain, let alone a pirate captain, would take the destruction of his ship very well.

Jaree-Ra would want revenge. And if he couldn't get to the perpetrator himself, he might deem it sufficient to go for the substitute. Castorius had specifically wanted no one to get hurt, that's why he'd volunteered to reason with the Commodore. Jaree-Ra had obviously understood this, so going ahead with the slaughter of the man and his family might suffice for at least a temporary revenge.

That is, until he could get his hand on the real culprit.

For all Castorius knew, the Argonian might have gone to Captain Malaney himself. Could be the Blood Horkers had put a price on his head. Could be he was a dead man already. All the more reason he should think of something. If he was a goner already, he'd have nothing to lose.

Nothing, that was, other than his soul.

Even though he'd never even believed in a soul. Perhaps he didn't have one.

He might soon find out.

On the other hand, nothing about the murder specifically said it had been Jaree-Ra. It could have just as well been Malaney. All the letter said, was "Captain's orders". Castorius had come across a lot of captains these past couple of days. And if it had been the Argonian trying to get to Castorius, would he not have left some cue for him? To let him know he was alive and looking for blood? He knew Castorius would arrive there eventually, he might have even waited there himself for him. It would have been the perfect trap.

But no one had been there. They'd come, killed the family, and left.

Now that he thought of it, it didn't make much sense. So maybe it hadn't been Jaree-Ra, after all.

Malaney, then.

The mere thought of the repulsive man was enough make him feel sick to his stomach. He'd entertained violent fantasies these past hours, thinking of bashing in Jaree-Ra's skull over and over again. But if the one to blame had been Malaney instead, that would change everything. He entertained no doubts: in real life he could not have even gotten one punch in at Jaree-Ra before the Argonian would have wrung his neck. But with Malaney, it was an altogether different matter. The man scarcely even felt real—how could he be attacked? Not to mention him being surrounded by able-bodied thugs there to protect him.

Castorius was obviously not going to settle this with his fists. But he couldn't just go along as if nothing had happened. That option had vanished the moment he'd found the bodies; the corpse of the woman hunched over to hopelessly protect her dead son, caught in a final, timeless embrace.

And, at the latest, the option had vanished as he'd gazed into those terrified eyes in the wardrobe. The little girl, stained by the blood of her own family . . .

The girl. How had she managed to avoid her fate? Castorius tried to imagine her, hiding in the closet as her parents and baby brother were being murdered. Listening to their cries for mercy, their screams of terror. He thought of her seeing them there, dead and bloodied. Her mother. Father. Baby brother . . .

He couldn't do it. He'd bawled his insides out back at the house, he couldn't go through with it again. That might just mean the end of him.

He'd walked back and forth in the house a while after, trying to decide what to do. Burning the whole thing down had been on the table. Now that he thought back, he should have done it. But he couldn't bring himself to do it, he'd been so numb. So he'd just left. Simply left the dead behind him. Though he felt like he was still carrying them around. Eyes, dead ones, alive ones, looked at him when he closed his own. Their stares. Fearful, hateful, accusing.

Dead.

Focus!

Time and time again, Castorius had to rein his mind back in from its melodramatic excursions. He couldn't let himself be absorbed by the abyss, not now. He might never get up again.

It's hopeless! he thought. What could I possibly do? Where's there for me to go to? Who's there who'd ever—

He lifted his head. An idea quickly formed. It might be a long shot, but he had nothing to lose.

He would have to try.

Painstakingly, Castorius got back on his feet. A gust of wind nearly dropped him back down, he felt so weak. But he felt a little heartened now. A flicker of hope inside him, he had just enough strength to start walking again. He'd left his horse behind, and though he felt a touch of remorse leaving the animal at the mercy of predators, there was not enough time to go back now.

That, and he never wanted to see that house again. Ever. If he laid his eyes on it again, he swore to any gods listening he'd burn it to the ground.

Castorius hunched his shoulder, pressed his head down against the wind, and walked ahead as fast as he could.

The High King Torygg was in the habit of spending the time after his forenoon reception until the late afternoon at Castle Dour, in various meetings with official commissioners and representatives of both his own domain and the Empire at large. And, as a man of habit—and of great responsibility—that's where he was now, too.

That left his wife, Elisif the Fair, to hold court at the Blue Palace's throne room. Not that there was really all that much for her to do, for most of the real matters were dealt with by her husband. Mainly it was her job to sit there, to make it seem like the governing body was present and prepared to hear the concerns of its people. That, and, of course, to look good.

The last bit, as it went, came quite naturally to her.

At precisely twelve 'o clock, she would hold an hour-long break, which she usually chose to spend by herself in the bedroom she shared with Torygg. The High King himself, unfortunately, could find no time in his busy schedule to join her.

Well, that was just fine.

The tapping of her boots on the marble floor and the rustling of her dress accompanied her as she entered the bedroom. She gently pushed the doors closed behind her, and leaned her head on her slender hands. Closing her eyes, she let out a tired sigh.

She was every bit as beautiful as Castorius remembered. Apparently three days' time had not changed that.

"Elise," he said quietly, stepping out of the back corner of the room.

The woman started, letting out a little yelp.

"Janus!" she said, after getting a look at him. Her large eyes were wide and her hand pressed against her chest. "What are you doing here? I thought you a thief!"

Elisif was the only person Castorius would ever let call him Janus.

"I'm sorry," he said, "to barge in like this. But I had to speak to you alone."

Elisif's brow knotted up into a disconcerted furrow. "What's this about? We haven't spoken for weeks."

"Not by any choice of mine," Castorius reminded.

Elisif blinked, drew back a hint. "Nor of mine, if that's what you're suggesting." Her eyes flicked back to the door, hesitation flashing on her face.

Castorius had not blamed Elisif for getting Torygg to send him away, though in the back of his mind, he couldn't have helped but wonder. But that didn't matter now.

He frowned, regarding the young woman. Why was she being so jumpy. If was almost as if she was . . . afraid of him?

"What's wrong?" he asked.

Elisif frowned back at him. "What's . . ." her lip curled into a disbelieving scowl, "What do you think is wrong? Janus, you're trespassing in the personal quarters of the High King of Skyrim! Do you realize what a serious offense that is? You could be charged for high treason . . again!"

She lowered her voice to an urgent whisper. "Not to mention what Torygg would do if he caught you here with me. Janus, he'd have you quartered! Then he'd have you sewn back together and quartered again!"

Castorius smiled a small one sided smile. "Elise, you can stop that. I know he's not a cruel man. But I do appreciate your concern." He took a step closer, did his best to assume the carefree bearings of his former, playful self. "I can see you still care for—"

"This is no time for levity!" Elisif interrupted sternly. "What is it that you want?"

Castorius, taken aback by the woman's asperity, lost what little humor there was left in him. He spread out his harms, as in a gesture of surrender. "I just want to talk"

Elisif straightened her posture, and her features hardened. "Speak, then," she said in a chilled voice.

Castorius stepped closer to Elisif, who stood her ground. "There's something very important I need to tell you."

He wondered passingly if he'd ever before spoken to her with such a serious tone. It felt like a violation of the very nature of their interaction.

Elisif's eyes would not soften. "I'm listening."

I can't do this!

It felt all wrong talking to her like this. Castorius could not say what he had to say if she was acting as if he was some convicted criminal attempting to plead innocence. "Elisif, please. Don't be so angry."

The woman hesitated. "I'm not angry, Castorius," she said. It sounded so harsh now when she used his family name. "But you're putting me in a very difficult spot. I should be calling the guards . . ."

"But you're not," said Castorius, trying to use the slight opening.

Elisif stiffened up again. "Perhaps I should, though. You are a convicted criminal."

So was that was this was about? "I'm not a bad man, Elisif!" Castorius said.

It was like he was looking to convince himself, more than anything.

The queen hesitated, softened a touch. "I didn't think you were. It's just . . ."

Castorius pressed on. "I know what they say of me. And, well, quite frankly a lot if it is true. Most of it, maybe. But I'm not a traitor." If he was trying to convince himself, he wasn't doing too good a job. He looked at the ground, and sighed. "I am a crook, though. A petty hustler. An amateur hustler."

Roggie's words that had so offended him, rang painfully true in the end.

He picked up his gaze off the floor, looked deep into Elisif's blue eyes, now considerably more amendable. He felt exactly the way he always did when he was doing his honesty act for some woman—all the while lying his arse off.

Yet, it was not what he was doing now.

They say honesty hurts, but I didn't think they meant being honest.

"And a fool," he completed his list, and lowered his eyes again. It disturbed him to no end that he couldn't shake the feeling that he was putting on a show. I'm not, am I?

"Janus," said Elisif quietly after a short silence.

Castorius looked up, hopeful. There was ample uncertainly in the eyes that looked back at him. "Yes?"

"What do you want?"

It was the best he would get, so Castorius stepped right in front of the young woman. "There's something I need from you."

Elisif frowned a little. "I'm not sleeping with you."

"You're . . ." Castorius blinked, then shook his head. "It's not that!"

He grabbed both of her hands in his. She didn't resist, or in fact respond much at all. "This goes beyond mere sex, Elise. I know that's all I seemed to care about before, but this is different." He did his best to lock those eyes into his, just like he used to. "I've made mistakes before, but now, maybe for the first time in my life, I know what I need to do. And it's not just because it feels good, but because I know it's right!"

Right then, the last of Elisif's iciness melted away. Her eyes opened wide, like they had all those times Castorius had brought her to climax.

"Oh," she said, looking at him with something like genuine affection, only with some other undecipherable emotion mixed in with it. "Oh, Janus," she said, but not with sort of tone you'd use with a lover. It was more like one of a mother comforting her son who was afraid she'd abandon him.

"I see it now." Elisif gave a little laugh. She looked freely into Castorius' eyes, and smiled an understanding, even a little pitying, smile. Again—a strangely maternal expression. "Look, I know what you must be going through. And while I know that what you're feeling feels like it's love, believe me—it's not. We just had some good times, that's all. But all things come to an end, Janus. You're just confused now. Give it some time, and you will come to see—"

Castorius listened to Elisif talk, his eyes getting wider with incredulity. He interrupted the woman, dropping her hands and putting up his.

"What?" He gave his head rapid shake. "No, no! That's not it! That's not it at all."

Elisif raised her brow, looking unconvinced. "No? Then you tell me what it is?"

Castorius drew a long breath. "Please, just listen. I will explain."

And he told her everything.

Once he was done with his story, Elisif was quiet for a long time. She'd been letting him speak uninterrupted, only stopping to ask a few brief clarifying questions. He'd left some parts out, obviously, like the carnal minutiae of his encounter with Captain Caro, and the whole bit about Sanguine. Elisif did not need to learn those particular details.

"Huh," she said to herself, face contemplative. She'd started pacing back and forth in front of him. "That's quite the story."

She stopped, gave him a sober look. "And quite a lot to ask, to be honest." Before Castorius had a chance to reply, she continued her pacing. "But of course, if what you say is true, I can certainly see the necessity." She stopped again. "Are you sure they were pirates?"

He spread out his arms. "They sure as Oblivion weren't fishermen!"

"Yes, of course," Elisif replied, biting her lower lip. Castorius was suddenly overcome by the desire to kiss her, to grab her into a tight hold. Not let go. Not this time.

He expelled any all such desires. "What I'm telling you is the truth! Every word of it, I swear."

The woman studied his face a long moment. "I believe you," she finally said in a quiet voice.

"You do?"

For a second, it looked as if Elisif was asking herself that question. "Yes," she replied then.

"Then you'll do as I asked?"

Another pause. "I will see what I can do."

If that was the best he was to get, he'd take it. "Thank you."

"Don't thank me yet," said Elisif. "It's not over."

"No," he conceded.

Elisif gave him a look strangely significant in a way he could not interpret. "I could be very dangerous." There was definitely genuine concern behind her words.

Castorius nodded slowly. "I know. But I don't know what else to do."

Elisif in turn was nodding her head in a thoughtful way. "Yeah, I guess you're right." The nodding then turned into shaking. "Oh, Janus! What have you gotten yourself into?"

It was not meant as a real question. She gave Castorius a brief sad look, then walked to the window.

"Tell me about it," he muttered, staring at her back. Elisif had a slighter build than he normally went for, but he would have very much liked to walk up to her right then, to put his arms around her, press his face into her soft, slender neck.

Maybe—

The thought was broken off, but not on account of its hopelessly wishful nature. Something else caught his eye.

In the corner, leaning against a heavy wardrobe, was a peculiar object that had somehow escaped his attention until then. He frowned, and walked to it. Elisif did not pay any to him. She looked lost in thought, gazing absentmindedly out the window with the ghost of a frown across her brow. The thing was a long, heavy stick, like a wizard's staff. The only difference was that it was green and shaped like the stem of a flower. A few thick and sharp looking thorns stuck out near the top, and at the end stood an interlocking bundle of pink petals. It looked exactly like a giant rose.

It's no ordinary rose . . .

Castorius stared at the thing with his mouth open. Sanguine's rose. So it was actually a staff. He picked it up—surprisingly light. A staff. A weapon of some sort. It all made sense now. Except for—

"Sam," he said to himself, frowning. He then turned to Elisif, who hadn't changed position. "How'd you get this?"

The queen was shaken out of her thoughts. For a second she looked confused, her brow scrunched up like she was trying to figure out what she was supposed to focus on. Then the brows jumped up, as her eyes went to the staff. She did not say anything, however.

She did not have to.

"Sam?" Castorius asked in a half-whisper; as if Elisif had uttered the name, and he could not believe it.

Elisif seemed to be searching for a proper response. "I, uh . . . "

"Sam?" he repeated.

The young woman recovered from her stupefaction. "I'm not accountable to you as to whom I spend my time with. You, of all people."

That stung a little. "Yeah, but . . . Sam?"

"Yes, Sam," replied Elisif sharply. "Sam. You keep saying that. Yes, I, uh, met with him. What of it?"

Her hands went on her hips, and she gave him that look that always made men everywhere want to choose their words very carefully.

Castorius looked away. It was true he was the last man to tell anyone who or what they were allowed to go to bed with.

"And he left this?" he muttered, short for anything more eloquent with which to try to steer the conversation to a safer port.

"Yes, he did," Elisif replied curtly.

"Must have been in a hurry."

Elisif's eyes narrowed, but she said nothing.

Castorius sighed. He would have to let this go, though he was loathe to do so.

It only occurred to him then: if the rose had been here all along, then what about . . .

Yes, of course. The whole rose thing had just been a ruse to get him to plant the explosive diamond into Jaree-Ra's hands.

Castorius cursed internally. That unreliable daedric piece of—

Oh.

He raised his gaze to Elisif, herself still regarding him with scornful eyes. "So you didn't . . ." Should he even tell her? "About Sam. You didn't know what he—"

Elisif's eyes went wide then. She sharply raised her finger between them, shutting Castorius up.

"What's that?" she hissed. Her face snapped towards the door. "Do you hear that?"

Castorius listened. There was some muttering from the main hall. Male voices.

Elisif turned her alarmed gaze to him. Her hand went to her mouth. "It's Torygg! He's returned!"

"What?" A jolt of panic went from Castorius' stomach and all the way down to his toes. He felt dizzy. Despite his earlier contention, he could now see himself being pulled apart by strong horses. He looked around, heard the voices coming closer—towards the bedroom. "What will we do? There's no way out!"

The windows, maybe?

"Quickly!" Elisif beckoned him towards the wardrobe. She pulled one of the doors open, and shoved her hand inside it. A second later, there was a scratching sound, and a panel opened up on the wall next to it. A stone door slid aside, revealing a dark staircase leading down. "Hurry, down there!"

Castorius blinked into the darkness. "What's down there?"

"It's an ancient safe passage for whoever inhabits the palace. It will take you out, just for the love of gods, hurry!"

He hesitated. "I can't see anything."

"There's only one way down," Elisif said with an urgent whisper, shoving him in. "You can feel your way, just go!" She put her hand back inside the cupboard, but stopped for a second before pressing the button again.

She regarded Castorius for a mere second or two, shifting her gaze back and forth between his eyes.

For him, the moment seemed to stretch and stretch. He desperately wanted to say something, but could think of nothing.

Then Elsif took him completely off guard. She closed her eyes, and planted a kiss on his lips.

It was by no means the most passionate kiss in history, but he took it with the fervor of a drowning man drawing air into his lungs. He nearly fell forwards when Elisif retreated.

Just like that, it was over. Way too soon.

She pinned him one more time with her pale blue eyes. "I wish never to see you again."

Then she pressed the button, and the panel started to slide between them.

Even before the door had closed all the way, she was gone. Castorius heard her voice by the door. "Oh, Torygg!" she cried. "I think there's been a thief here. Quickly! Let's go downstairs, we might still catch—"

Then it got silent.

And it got dark.

No amount of blinking and waiting around activated Castorius' night vision; he remained blind as a bat. The silence was broken only by faint rustling sounds carrying from down the stairs. Rats, maybe. Perhaps skeevers. Castorius shuddered at either of the prospects.

But he had no other choice. So set his palm against the wall, and carefully dragged his foot across the sandy floor until he felt it give away for the fist step.

The stairs were not all even in size, which he learned after the second time he almost stepped onto nothing. This made the going even slower. It did not help at all that they were also very steep. So steep, in fact, that he had to descend them in an uncomfortable squatting position. At least, after some fifty steps, the steepness eased up a bit, as the stairs started to wind slightly towards the right.

After a time ranging from just a few minutes to an hour, he came to a sudden stop. What had that sound been? Almost like someone screaming. He listened but it did not come again. Only the sound of his heart beating alongside his scratching breath, and the ambiguous scuffle in the dark.

I'm imagining things! he concluded. He ignored the cacophony of myriad voices of panic and terror stirring within him, and continued his slow shuffle. He did try to pick his pace up as much as he could, though, which was not much.

Finally and without warning, he ran into a wall. Walked into it, to be exact.

About time! His sense of time was as useless to him as were his eyes, but he could swear it had taken him at least an hour to find his way down.

Castorius felt around the wall with both hands, but found nothing in the way of an opening mechanism. The passageway had remained narrow the whole way down, and did not expand now, either. It simply ended.

He was already starting to feel some of the internal panic that had been his constant latent companion for the past minutes seep through his mental barriers, when he felt something. It was at the wall opposite to the one he'd been hugging during his descent, located right next to the end wall, just above his head. The link of a pull-chain.

Considerably relieved, he pulled it.

The first rays of light to leak through the crack appearing at the side of the stone door hurt his eyes so much he immediately had to close them. As he opened them up again, he saw nothing but gray. Above, the sky was still engulfed inside the billowing mantle of ash-like silver. Ahead of him was stone: right outside the opening the rocky ground sloped up towards the sky, gentle enough to climb.

Castorius stood in front of the door for a second, re-adjusting his eyes to natural light, when the rock groaned behind him. The door closed up. After the heavy panel had locked back into place, no one could have guessed it had even been there. Castorius ran his hand on the seams, but felt nothing in the way of cracks.

Only then did he realize he still held the staff in his other hand. He'd been aware of it of course, but only vaguely. He'd been carrying it like a grudge you'd had so long you barely even noticed it anymore.

Staring at it now, he did indeed feel the bite of bitterness.

Sanguine! he thought acrimoniously as he started to hike up the slope. This is all his fault!

If it hadn't been for the treacherous Daedric Prince and his petty revenge, the Fair-Shields would still be alive. He'd deceived Castorius, led him into believing it was just a simple stakeout mission. He could have just told Castorius to give Jaree-Ra the jewel and then split. What was the point of putting him in danger?

And he could have made sure that the portal would send Castorius back at the same time that he'd left. Even if it hadn't been Jaree-Ra that killed the Commodore's family, there might have still been enough time for him to go warn them.

Sanguine had fooled him with a false promise of reward.

I guess this is it then, he thought, looking at the rose with distaste. "You can keep it if you find it" . . .

"If". Probably he'd known he would. Likely it was just another prank. Just so the foul demon could let Castorius know that it had slept with his . . .

Not mine, he interrupted himself—a thought painted with the blue of resignation. Elisif had never been his, not for a minute.

He immediately felt the wind of anger fade out, leaving him dry and deflated.

No, he realized. No one at all had forced his hand. There had never been a point at which he couldn't have turned back. He'd only been fooling himself this whole time. Him and his desires. His vanity and pride. His lusts. What was it that Sanguine had said? That his job was doing nothing more than to bring out people's natural tendencies?

What a self-evident fact that was.

What have I done?

But there was little virtue in mulling over it now.

He was now standing at the top of the supposed hill. It turned out to be the bottom part of the massive stone structure Solitude stood on. Right above him was the Blue Palace, though he could not see it from where he stood. In front of him there were more rocks, behind which opened up a view of the marshes. A gauze of mist hovered above the smelly waters, and in the distance there was some movement.

Mudcrabs. Nasty things, to be sure, but there would doubtless also be nastier. Things you could not even eat.

Castorius looked back at where the door had been. It was positioned low enough to be safe from any curious eyes. There was a drop at his feet of maybe twenty feet or so; enough sloping there to skid down without too much trouble, but still too steep for anyone to climb up.

Clever design. Royal quality, as it was.

Sliding down off the slab and descending off the rocks altogether, Castorius made his way to the swampy water. His stopped once the ground started to squelch underfoot, stood there a few minutes, just staring at the stagnant pools stretching into the distance. The wind was blowing hard, individual gusts nearly strong enough to upset his balance, but the mists still hung as tight as the stench did.

He looked at the staff once again. It's existence only rubbed his own failure in his face. A fitting reward.

Probably there was some powerful magical effect contained in the thing, but Castorius could not imagine anything coming from those demonic beings doing any more than creating more trouble.

It's not worth it.

He grabbed a good hold of the shaft, and wound his arm back. Then, as hard as he could, he threw the arm back out, opening his hand. The staff flew—surprisingly far for all the wind—into the distance, straight like a javelin, and ended up hitting a small patch of grass swimming in the water. A shot he'd never had made if he'd tried it.

For a few seconds the staff stood up on the grass, like the pole of a victory flag. Then, to serve as a more fitting symbol, it slowly started to sink. The whole patch went down with it. For a second, only the rose at the top stood out, and then it also sank out of view.

Castorius stared a while after the thing had disappeared. He was trying to decide what it was that he was feeling.

Not much at all, as it turned out.

"Lovely weather."

He started.

Seemingly from nowhere, a man had appeared by his side, an old geezer dressed in a weather-beaten old overcoat made of deer hide. Deep grooves ran across his ruddy cheeks, like crevices in stone. His pale blue eyes stared at the marshes, a knowing look in them like the man and the waters shared a secret that was going to stay between them.

As the man noticed Castorius' nonplussed stare, he smiled. "I'd get indoors for the remainder of the day, if I were you. There's a storm coming. Could be a big one."

If only that was an option. "Well, you're not me," Castorius replied, more bluntly than he'd intended.

The man did not seem to take it too badly. "Aye," he said contemplatively. "Suppose I'm not." He gave the waters one more look, then back to Castorius, and tipped the hat he was not wearing. "Well, have a good one."

Then he turned around and went where he might have not come from.

"You too," Castorius muttered inaudibly at the retreating man's back. Where did he come from?

He rubbed his eyes. He'd have liked to just lie down and sleep. But that wasn't an option either. He had to keep moving. If he as much as sat down, that would be it for him.

Sighing, he started walking toward the road. There was one more thing he needed to do.

The Stormcloak camp was peaceful, everyone mostly huddled inside the tents. The wind flapped the canvases and shook the poles, but the surrounding rocks and trees created enough shelter to keep them from falling. The couple unfortunate ones keeping watch outside couldn't be bothered to pay much attention to arrivals.

Inside her small personal pavilion—as she was the only female present—Kirsten was sleeping, her back turned towards the entrance. A brazier stood at the foot of her bed, the hiss of the coals mixing with the wind howling outside.

Castorius slowly walked up to her, and gently placed his hand on her slumbering shoulder. He made his voice scarcely louder than a whisper.

"Kirs—"

She snapped around, fast as a Mountain Lion, grabbed him by the collar and shoved that big knife of hers in his face.

Castorius put his hands up as a sign of surrender. He opened his mouth, but his throat was constricted by the pounding beat of his pulse.

Kirsten's eyes were alight with the fury of the freshly awakened. She blinked at Castorius for a moment, trying to decide what it was she was looking at.

"You!" she said then. "What are you doing here? I thought you were a thief!"

"Who's to say I'm not?" Castorius had no emotional connection with the little smile on his lips.

Kirsten didn't seem too infected by it either. Her lip curled. "What do you want?" she hissed.
She did, at least, let go of Castorius' collar, but kept the knife at the ready.

He decided to start on the diplomatic foot. "Look," he said. "I've gotten a pretty good feeling of what you think of me."

As to exemplify, Kirsten said nothing, just regarded him like he was a particularly large cockroach.

Castorius sighed. "And I know how this must sound, but I need something from you."

Kirsten sniffed. "Again?" She shook her head. "Forget it! Sure, it was alright once. But I've no interest whatsoever in—"

"Not that!" Castorius interrupted. "Why does everyone—" He sighed louder this time. "Look, I don't care how low your opinion is of me. And maybe it's completely warranted. Gods know you seem to have everybody unanimously behind you on it! But this is different."

He tried to grab Kirsten's hand but she pulled it away. "Just please listen!"

For a few seconds, Kirsten just regarded him with a frown of hesitation. She then let out a deep breath, rolling her eyes.

"Alright," she said. "I'm listening. Speak!"