Chapter XCI: The Scarab And The Beetle

(General POV, a slight bit earlier)

Almeril Faren, House Brother of the Great House Redoran felt his brows crease as he and his retinue were led through a portal below the city of Winterhold. That the hold was on a war footing against beasts of legend only served to make him more tense as the resident Nords all looked at him and his followers with harsh suspicion.

A reasonable suspicion of course, but going through thrice the scrutiny and even getting stared at by the Archmage of the College for a while to ensure a lack of Dragon Cult influence.

An insulting proposition for most nobles, but not for a dutiful son of the Redoran. Nay, Almeril understood full well why the Nords were tense, the dragons were a menace and he himself participated in heading off one of their raids, where his house managed to slay one of the beasts at great cost.

The shoulder pad of red accentuated blackened dragonbone on his right arm was his reward for maiming the vile thing and letting the Archmaster finish it off, even as the memories of getting burned nearly to death now haunted his every dream.

Even the priest's assurances that he was now under the gaze of Boethiah did little to bring up his dour mood. Too many had died for just one dragon and now he would bear the honor of the trinket till his dying days for the luck he had in surviving.

And so, heaped with honors they did not desire, he and his men were sent to Skyrim, to treat with the resurgent House Dagoth and its immensely powerful leader, if rumors and reports were to believed. He was no diplomat, but as one of the Redoran he'd obey the orders of his superiors without question, even if he did internally question the Archmaster's apparent belief in his abilities.

The Archmage, who was also rumored to be the apparent grandsire of the Dagoth, wasted no time on pleasantries and went to work the moment he teleported into their presence, a show of power no doubt but Almeril could appreciate the expediency. He cast a few spells, none of them hostile, and sent them on their way with a small invitation to visit the college and converse once they were done.

The Redoran nobleman wanted nothing but to slink back into his homeland the moment he was done but the opportunity to gather information from the Archmage was too great to let slip through his fingers and so he accepted the invitation with all the gruff stoicism his family had beaten into him.

They were led to a walled off section of the city, a small fortified compound inhabited primarily by his fellow Dunmer and decorated with numerous black flags emblazoned with the purple beetle of Dagoth.

As for why he felt his brows crease as they passed the portal situated under the compound, it was the fact they were teleported in front of a series of white city walls, smack dab in the middle of a great valley vibrant with plants he could not recognize.

For a moment he thought they had been betrayed but the relaxed posture of his masked guide, a proper soldier if his equipment was any indication, soon disabused him of that notion.

No, what truly made him frown was the fact that they were teleported right in front of the city when he knew damn well that they could have been led straight to the lord's residence with equal effort. No mage ever sacrificed comfort for practicality, he knew this as he knew the sun rose in the morning and the moons came at night.

Keeping most of his annoyance in check he turned to the guide "Is there any reason we were led here?" The implication would be clear enough for all but the least of simpletons.

The masked guard looked at him for a moment but remained silent.

He went to ask again but the sound of the wall gates opening drew his attention, as did the trio of figures stepping from them.

One was a tall elf, clad fully in white plate accentuated with gold, while the other was clad in the same way his guide was except for the far greater embellishment present on his arms and armor.

A distinction of rank or experience? He wondered.

The figure in the center drew most of his gaze however, a short but not quite short enough to be called small, Dunmer clad in some very expensive looking leathers which were no doubt enchanted with more power than Almeril's entire unit put together.

He looked unassuming at first, a bit well off looking for a Dunmer commoner but nothing special beyond his obviously expensive clothing. And yet if Almeril had to select the strongest of the three he would definitely choose the short one.

He felt that one wrong move was likely to end with him with a dagger in his throat and no idea how it got there.

It did not take him long to connect the dots from the reports he received "Lord Davos of House Dagoth?" He spoke first, in a rather ill thought but necessary attempt to get some kind of advantage in the talks, ill thought in Almeril's mind by any standard.

"That I am, Sera." The short Dunmer nodded, a slight raising of the eyebrow showing he was more impressed than surprised by the naming. Though his almost switch from Sera to Serjo did confirm the reports of him being commoner born. Davos continued as if he didn't just notice the Redoran catch his slip "Beside me are the Captain Oren, and the Paladin of Auri-El Anondor."

"Paladin of Auri-El?" Almeril's brow raise "I had heard rumors of Lord Dagoth consorting with Aedra but I did not think he would go so far as to create a knightly order for one."

"As amusing as the attempt at gathering such information is" Davos grins lightly, annoying Almeril to no end but not enough for his facade to break "There is no need for it. Anondor is not Dunmer and has entered Lord Dagoth's service after he liberated his people from their... unfortunate state."

The Paladin, almost as if the scene were choreographed, unclasps his helmet and removes it "Indeed, Lord Dagoth has been gracious enough not to attempt to lead us from our faith."

So the rumors of Falmer were true. Almeril's mind races but he makes a point of keeping his face still.

"As fun it is looking at you trying to hide your surprise." Davos interrupts his racing thoughts "I would appreciate it if you could introduce yourself and your people?"

"I am Almeril Faren, House Brother of Great House Redoran. Accompanying me are my retinue of Kinsman and Oathmen." Almeril bows lightly, his training snapping him out of any confusion "Here on orders from Archmaster Varan Sarano to negotiate with Lord Reyvin Dagoth about the import of his Dwemer contraptions, as offered by one of your agents."

Davos nods lightly "One of mine was indeed instructed to deliver such a missive." He turns and signals for them to follow "If you would follow me?"

"If I may, Lord Davos." Almeril speaks up as they begin ascending through the walled canyon, the many crossbowmen manning said walls quickly showing why their welcoming party was so low in number.

"Just Davos if you please." The short elf waves his hand "For the sake of expediency if not for my own comfort."

"Very well, Davos." Almeril nods along without bother "Why exactly were we delivered before the walls and not directly to our destination?" The question of 'Are you playing games with us right now?' went unsaid but not unheard.

"My lord is currently busy with preparations for a strike against the dragons." Davos reveals easily "His Steward thought it prudent that we lead you through the city, to dispell any... unfortunate ideas our kin from Morrowind may hold of our house and its practices."

"Prudent." The Redoran warrior nods "Many a noble of Morrowind felt threatened by the return of the sixth house, though none reacted or could not react due to our land's current state."

"Ah yes, rather amusing that." Davos chuckles, to Almeril's confusion. Noticing the expression, the short Dunmer smiles at his guest "Merely laughing at the early attempts some of the lesser nobility made to hire the Morag Tong, the rumors of the different Masters of the order throwing the money back in their faces were quite entertaining until they stopped."

Almeril did not show it, but he could easily admit that such a scene would have been greatly entertaining "It is very rare for someone to be protected by the guild." Is what he said instead.

"Maybe my lord is just that lucky?" Davos smiles, uncaring that his guest could now see the necklace bearing the sign of the Webweaver in plain sight.

The Redoran knew better than to immediately speak, even as the implied revelation was more than enough to shut him up for a while.

He and his party were then led through the series of walls, all of them good magic reinforced fortifications which could hold off great armies and survive a lot of punishment under siege weapons.

The city they entered afterwards, Silruhn Fell, proved to be a wonder in miniature, especially to a group of dark elves who were used to their homes being covered in ash more often than not. Even in the current state of Skyrim, the residents all looked eager and motivated, all of them dressed in respectable clothes and looking to be well fed, bustling around like bees in a beehive and yet somehow managing to avoid creating a commotion.

A true orderly chaos was the long and short of it in Almeril's mind, and he did not know what to think of it.

He was unsure if his hosts were fools then, when they brought him to the House Dagoth's own training grounds. Hundreds of Dunmer and some Falmer were being trained in marching formations and how to fight against other units with surprising efficiency.

None of them were of the level of a Redoran champion, that was beyond doubt. What they surpassed them on however was their equipment. Every. Single. One. of their armors carried weak enchantments, and the veterans amongst them were even more endowed with power.

Almeril could see quite easily how such a force could butcher anyone in front of them, and those foolish rumors of Dagoth's army being a bunch of peasants and fools playing at soldiers while their liege did all the work were swiftly dispelled as he watched the orderly line of shields and halberds smash into another of its kind.

When he saw the repeating crossbows at work though, he wanted to cry. Some things in this world were just that unfair.

Some hours into their tour they were suddenly led to the distant tower by the sun god's temple, the opulence of both city and resident growing with each step they took.

The insides of the tower far surpassed the outsides, and Almeril knew then that should the Redoran ever face the Dagoth their victory would be a bloody one, even if he grudgingly admitted it would not be a thing of certainty.

It was not the magic he felt in the air, nor the size of the thing which surpassed all the great mushrooms of the Telvanni by a grand margin. Nay, the thing that brought him to such a conclusion was the well over a hundred magi of respectable power walking about, talking to each other, practicing and cooperating in pursuit of their power.

'They aren't killing each other?!' Was his reaction in short.

They were then brought to a vast dining hall, and Lord Davos excused himself so that he could call on his master for the meeting.

His men were tired and showed it, he was also but kept his discipline, and when they were offered with a veritable feast on their table he could do nothing but accept, gorging himself and thus leading his men to do much the same without a singular care about their state as guests.

They were not important enough to poison in any case, he reasoned.

Fed and watered as they were by the end of the hour, they all relaxed in their plush seats and awaited their much renowned host.

And just as they managed to collect themselves, and not look like a group of barbarians, the master of the tower entered the room.

Tall, well groomed, and more importantly incredibly young for his position. The presence of Lord Reyvin of House Dagoth may as well have been that of someone who did not share in his kind's mortality, nor in their lack of personal power.

Almeril felt like an entire mountain was pressing onto both his shoulders and mind as the glowing red eyes met his.

And in the next instant the pressure disappeared, their host feeling as if he was not even there in the first place as he took his seat at the head of the table, the slightest glance of his eyes trailing Almeril's shoulder pad.

Remembering his manners, and the not so subtle warning, Almeril bowed his head "Greetings to you Lord Dagoth. House Redoran has come with an answer for your offer."

"This has been relayed to me, yes." The young lord smirks lightly "I do hope that you can forgive my earlier lack of hospitality, there was some work to be done, and I could not delay it any further."

"It is no issue, my lord." The Redoran speaks "Your subjects were gracious hosts in your name."

"And the food was no doubt a good balm on your pride." The mage lord smirks further but quickly schools his face after "Alas, that is all the time I have for pleasantries. The slaying of the dragons approaches and my participation will be instrumental."

"You aim to end the dragon god?" Almeril spoke before he could think.

"Well we can't just leave him running about." Lord Dagoth shrugs "Besides, we have a Dragonborn on our side and a good plan already in motion. Those of the Dovah who can't control themselves will soon find their hides used for my undergarments."

The insulting ease with which the young lord spoke of ending the dragons, and his reputation for slaying them in droves, swiftly drove any and all duties to his house from Almeril's mind, leaving only his burning hatred for the beasts which killed his kinsmen at the fore "This plan." Almeril spoke slowly "How certain you are it will work?"

The lord of a great house shrugs again "It will work or the world will end. No point in overthinking it."

"The world will end?" Almeril hears his Kinsman mutter with horror.

Apparently their host had heard them for his expression turned wry "Why exactly do you think the little shit is called the World Eater?" He asks, as if speaking to a small child.

Uncaring for the deepening color on his follower's face, Almeril grins almost manically "We want in."

"And what about your house?" Reyvin Dagoth smirks, his purpose fulfilled "Were you not sent here with a purpose?"

The Redoran elf stands up with a bloodthirsty gleam in his eyes "I am sure they will spare my life after I help stop the dragon raids ravaging our lands."

Lord Dagoth chuckles and stands up as well "Well then." He claps his hands "Welcome to the raid gentlemen."

Almeril was a tad confused at the 'raid' name but he found he did not much care. There was vengeance to be had!

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The house hereby presents thee with a time limited offer

grant us the stone your weak hands have mined and you shall be given a front row seat to the dreaded raid! (Actual seats may or may not be provided, as such was not actually offered)

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