Ruminations

The duo continue talking about various things, projects, and businesses. When finally it came time for both of them to depart.

Michael brushes off the dust from his robes and gets to his feet before giving Brynjolf a firm handshake, "It's time for me to go, you know how the missus is if you're even a minute late."

Brynjolf shrugs, "Eh, not really. My only love glints under the light and has Tiber Septims face printed on one side." he chuckles, "Not that I don't feel envious of you lad, tales of your lass's beauty has been sung of in most taverns in Skyrim... Keep her away from the Bard's College in Solitude if you know what's good for you, those fair-faced milk-sops won't be able to hold themselves back..."

Michael nods, "I'll keep that in mind then.. Ah, before I go, remember to watch your mail. I have another project coming up that I'll need your help with. In the meantime, if you could compile of list of trustworthy stone masons and carvers, that'd be perfect."

"I'll get to work on it, just keep the gold coming and we'll be dandy." he says before walking to a blank wall and glancing over at Michael, "Could you...?"

Michael waves his hand, conjuring a Dimension Gate from the room to Brynjolf's room in the Thieves Guild... After all, meeting the man in Riften with all the eyes and ears around would be retarded... Thus he meets the man in this cabin in the woods via teleportation to work on shit without worrying about prying eyes.

Once Brynjolf leaves, he changes the Gate's destination from Riften to the College of Winterhold, specifically his room, where an older Tiffania wearing lingerie was already waiting for him on his bed.

"For someone who makes clocks, the times you show up are all over the place, Michael." she says with mock anger.

"When everyone's drooling over my clock, it's hard to stay focussed sometimes... Just remember that you're the one who gets to experience it."

...

"Your clock?"

He grins, "Ah, I misspoke." he jokes, quickly throwing his clothes off and jumping into bed, not forgetting to apply a muffling spell to prevent sound from getting out.

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It's been a year since the group had first entered Skyrim, and months since Michael had started putting some plans into action. Saya and Saeko were settling in Skyrim well enough, he'd taken both of them to the Guardian Stones once they'd learned to fluently speak Tamrielic, with Saeko receiving the Birthsign of the Warrior, and Saya getting the one from the Mage.

Saeko wasn't still in the College, of course, he'd sent her to join the Companions to both have her learn from local warriors, as well as get her out of the College before Tiffania throws her into Oblivion or something.

Saya on the other hand had been sucking up knowledge like a dry sponge. Months of work and she'd already begun mastering Adept level spells. Aside from that, she'd also become close friends with Megumin, the duo becoming somewhat of a nuisance to regular mages, who found their talent and antiques incredibly aggravating.

The Civil War had begun in the meantime, literally cutting Skyrim in half as each Hold chose their side. Riften and Whiterun had both chosen to remain neutral, the new Jarl Brynjolf and Balgruuf creating a sort of Defensive Pact to keep them both from being surrounded and invaded.

Whiterun was more protected than Riften currently due to its more central position, making any aggression towards it difficult since the other side would react to it. Still, since Brynjolf was the leader of the Thieves Guild, even Ulfric needed to give proper dues...

The Thieves Guild wasn't the weak organisation that it once was, combined with the SkyRend company, they'd gotten their hands in every single Hold in Skyrim. If Ulfric attacked Riften at this point, he'd almost immediately lose the war after that... After all, Brynjolf controlled most merchants and suppliers around the East of Skyrim... Windhelm would starve in a matter of months, if not weeks.

The Holds that made up the Stormcloaks were Eastmarch, Falkreath, The Pale, and Winterhold.

On the Imperial side, there was Haafingar, Hjaalmarch, and The Reach. To most, it would look like the Imperials were outnumbered, but when you take into account the fact that Winterhold was little more than a bug compared to everyone else, things were pretty even across the board.

The College of Winterhold had stayed neutral of course, the Arch-Mage rejecting Jarl Korir's attempts to garner their assistance. His known hatred of the College and continual attempts to have them removed or limited hadn't made him well-liked amongst the mages.

Michael's relationship with the man was better than most, he'd retrieved the Helm of Winterhold for the man, along with doing some other small tasks that'd put him, if not in the mans 'good books' his 'not hated books'.

Michael still hated nobles of all sorts of course, but getting the Jarl's backing was required for his future plans.

The Civil War itself had been mostly cold if you'd mind the pun. Neither side wanted to engage in any large scale conflicts as of yet, as negotiation was still on the table. High King Torygg and Ulfric both hoped to get the other side to surrender, but both knew there was little chance of that happening.

Indeed, the first battle of the Civil War had occurred not that long ago, the Stormcloaks had attempted to completely cut off the crossroad West of Whiterun in an attempt to stop Imperial holds from trading with Balgruuf, or at least, make it more difficult and too expensive to profitably do.

The Imperials caught wind of this and laid an ambush, leading to a full clash between the small armies. There was no decisive victory for either side, and both retreated to lick their wounds. Not much had happened after that aside from the grandstanding you'd usually expect.