Outgrowing Skyrim

“Hey buddy… how's it going?” I ask, trying to only look above the nipple line.

“I’m doing well. This place is filled with Kyneraths glory. A man doesn’t need much else.” Hrongar says, still smiling in the nude.

“So you just hang out here now?” I ask.

“That’s right. What else would I be doing?” Hrongar laughs.

“What about your quest?” I continue.

“Quest? I don't know what you're talking about. Maybe you should lie down.” he says.

“Good idea.”

I think I'm done asking questions. Hrongar's not really receptive to constructive conversation right now. I'm pretty sure I know why. I spriggan have the power to control animals so perhaps they can do the same to more intelligent life. Problem is I don’t remember them controlling humanoids in the game. It hardly matters, this is the reality now, not the game I used to play. There should be a small squad of them here, hidden inside the trees and larger shrubs. This area always spawns a spriggan matron in addition to the normal ones, so perhaps she's responsible. I don't really know of a counter to mind control other than killing the mind controller, which could be a shame. If the hagraven was anything to go by, the spriggans are probably gorgeous. Why did I make everything sexy?

Despite not being in his right mind Hrongar doesn't really pay us any more mind as we continue further in. Lydia and I continue down the path and then up the path around what seems to be a geothermal mound of small geysers that marks the end of the ridge. It’s definitely warmer here thanks to it and I'm guessing it's what preserves the plants in the winter. Now above the ridgeline I can finally see the Eldergleam in all her glory. A massive pink canopy dominates the chamber, easily twice as tall as the Gildergleam. It reminds me strongly of cherry blossom trees, if cherry trees were ten stories tall and perpetually in bloom. It's framed roughly by twin waterfalls that come from the cracks in the ceiling that also let in natural sunlight, suffused by the water to illuminate the chamber evenly. The tree itself has entwined atop another much higher cliff, its roots thicker than most trees yet spilling down the hill. I can't see any spriggans yet despite their obvious effects on Hrongar. They are probably waiting for a direct threat to the Eldergleam. 

We stand now on what amounts to a mid level, above the path below us but beneath the plateau the Eldergleam sits on. This is generally as far as most pilgrims usually go and the space reflects that with low grass, easy access to some of the small streams, and places that look like they were made to lay down as Hrongar suggested. Sitting down on a smooth rock I contemplate the next steps. It's not really that complicated but if I do this poorly things will go… poorly. After a few moments I rise with a general idea of how I want to do things.

“What's the plan?” Lydia asks excited.

“Find Nettlebane and kill the spriggans holding Hrongar’s mind hostage.” I reply.

“Sounds good.”

The first step is to find Nettlebane as it's the only thing that can threaten the Eldergleam and draw the spriggans out. We make our way back to Hrongar who's still sitting on the far ledge, watching the water. He acknowledges our presence with a small nod and I notice that from the back he seems a bit smaller than I remember without his armor. I wait for Hrongar to evenly move, acting like I’m enjoying all the nature and stuff. If he realizes what I'm really up to he'll almost certainly attack and possibly alert the spriggans before we’re ready. I cast Clairvoyance once I get behind the geothermal mound out of line sight of Hrongar. This should give me an idea of where Nettlebane went without having to ask. The spell works even better when you're more familiar with the thing in question so the magic should be fairly precise this time. The spell's energy condenses into a small but dense steam of arcane mist down the path that leads out of the sanctuary. It then deviates left of the stepping stones and in the stream. Hopefully Hrongar doesn't notice or doesn't care.

I groan a little bit before I hit the water. Thieves Guild boots are enchanted so they should be fine but I still don't want to get wet. At least not like this. After a small splash I’m much less happy now that my boots are filled with water. We follow the stream for just a short way until we abruptly reach an end. The stench of death assault's my nostrils here. The stream slides underground but the crack it slides under isn't big enough for the two bodies that washed up here. At least not yet. The bodies are rapidly liquefying, with only their clothes and hair identifiable in the corpse goo. Everything else is bloated or sloughing off. Casting Candlelight for a better look I can see that the knife has wedged itself underneath what I think is a slimy pale white thigh. I really wish I had the spell Raise Dead. I couldn't find it anywhere and it would be really, really useful right now. I would much rather have the corpse hand it to me than dig under its slimy decaying appendage. Holding my breath I retrieve Nettlebane in one quick slimy motion and walk back up the stream. I hold the mucus covered knife like a dead rat much to Lydia's amusement. Hrongar is still gone so I stick the blade in the first bit of soil I can find and blast the knife off with Flames to sanitize it.

I can't burn my hands off, although it's so gross I want to try, so instead I produce some soap from my inventory and thoroughly wash my hands. When I'm done I lead us back out a bit, away from where Hrongar could reasonably see if he went looking for us. Decently hidden I start to change into my Dwarven armor with only a little assistance from Lydia.

“Something wrong?” I ask her when she stares a little too long.

“No. I forgot how well made Dwarven armor is. There's hardly anything to fuss with once you put it on.” 

Dwarven armor fits together like lego blocks, easily making up for how cumbersome the total coverage can be. I thought that maybe Hrongar would know what we were up to immediately after I came back in full metal armor but he pays us almost no mind, much as before. I feel like I’m wearing a suit of power armor, minus the power. Though my vision is limited I spot that a second smaller tree has sprouted from the Eldergleam. Well smaller is a relative term. I can already tell that she's significantly taller than me or Lydia. Branch-like accents adorn nut brown skin as a spriggan matron stares down at us with eyes glowing an autumnal orange. Atop her head is a crown of branches, twisting like antlers above her head as her brown hair flows around and behind her. Her heaving bosom is evident even from here, hanging like perfectly ripe fruits, held aloft by an organic bra of sorts composed of branches that the flesh bulges against while still being exposed. Thick, powerful thighs end in more of this branch-like material that forms clawed feet. It's much the same for her arms but the claws there are elongated and monstrous. 

“When we start stabbing the roots, “ I start explaining to Lydia, “Hrongar will most likely attack us. That brown spriggan at the top is probably the one responsible for the mind control. I need you to kill her as quickly as possible so we can minimize the damage Hrongar does to himself. And us..” 

“Sounds easy enough. What about you?” Lydia asks.

“I'll try and fight off Hrongar and anything else that pops up down here. There's a nice choke point here at the base so I should be fine.” I say.

“Very well. Be careful.” Lydia says. She brandishes Nettlebane and faces the massive roots. “Ready? Three, two, one!”

All hell breaks loose. With a loud birdlike cry the spriggan matron shakes the whole sanctuary, pointing at us. Hrongar immediately roars and runs at us. I look around everywhere for the rest of the spriggans to emerge while Lydia makes her way up the path. I summon my Flame Atronach and give her the blanket order to fire on any spriggan she sees, but ignore Hrongar. Massive roots thicker than regular trees curl away in fear as Lydia nicks them with the ancient cursed dagger. Despite their responsiveness it's still going to take her a minute to ascend to the top just from the sheer volume of ancient tree roots.

That gives Hrongar more than enough time to charge me. I meet him with my shield as he hurls his bare fists against my Dwarven shield. He bangs, wrestles and screams all in an attempt to dislodge me. He's apparently lost his sword somewhere or simply forgotten how to use one while under the wood spirits spell. This goes on for several more moments before I get irritated by a naked man practically mounting me and push him back with Force.

“Fus Ro!” I shout, knocking the surprised Hrongar over.

Normally my shout can't pick people up, not without the final word, but the slope I'm defending coupled with Hrongar's reckless abandon cause the Nord warrior to tumble away from me comically. My amusement is short-lived as I spy something concerning attached to Hrongar. His penis. Or rather what's happened to his penis. Easily a foot and a half long, it's almost as thick around as a soda can flaccid with nuts that rival apples. I don't have any baseline for size but what really worries me is the color. Deep and splotchy purple, it looks severely abused. I should know. As Hrongar scrambles up I notice that his body also doesn't just appear smaller. It is actually smaller. He's emaciated significantly since last I saw him, body beyond shredded and vascular. Though still fairly muscular, his unnatural leanness and smaller stature make me think he hasn’t been getting any food. Undoubtedly due to the mind numbing effects of the spriggans control but it doesn't explain what's wrong with his groin.

I see fire fly overhead so I know Lydia and my atronach have made it to the top and found an enemy. I have full confidence in Lydia but fear floods me as I consider the possibilities. What new powers the spriggan matron could have and how many other enemies could be up there. My thoughts cloud my judgment and I get distracted just long enough for Hrongar to slip past me. Cursing I give chase but Hrongar's never been lighter in his life and I've never been heavier even without the armor. I could catch him with Whirlwind Sprint but I'm still on cool down. To Shout now would tear my throat apart. The next moment I feel my Flame Atronach die and hear the corresponding fire explosion overhead. Lydia flashes in my head dead, like I've seen her so many times before in-game, except now I can't console command resurrect her anymore. I decide that my throat doesn't matter anymore and mentally prepare myself to bypass the instinctual limiters telling me not to Shout right now. It's a lot like preparing to inhale water. I focus, take a deep breath and Hrongar falls to the ground limp. I stumble in surprise and then over Hrongar trying to maintain my balance and momentum. Breathing heavily I make it to the top of the sanctuary a few moments later. There Lydia stands triumphant and proud over the large body of the spriggan matron. Nothing else is up here save for the Eldergleam but I can see the scorch mark the death of my Flame Atronach made. Lydia is breathing heavily though not half as much as me and she waits for me to catch my breath.

“Good job.” I finally say, taking off my helmet for oxygen.

“Thank you my Thane. It was the least I could do.” Lydia replies smiling.

For good measure we toss the body of the matron over the side of the cliff down into the gorge, carved out by a waterfall. She’s just as heavy as she looks and lands with a loud splash. I can’t help but feel bad for killing such a gorgeous creature. I know there's a Shout that can make them and other creatures peaceful, for a time, but I make a mental note to search for a language or something that can lead to a longer term solution next time. Hrongar, for the most part, seems fine. He’s snoring face down in the dirt when we bring him up to the top and prop him up on the Eldergleam. I can’t do anything for the starvation he’s experienced but I can fix the wounds he suffered by punching a suit of solid Dwarven armor. As the healing magic goes to work his genitals return to a much healthier color as well, giving me a bit of relief, although it's still abnormally red and ridiculously swollen. That last part might be normal though, this is only the third dick I’ve seen ever in this world. Satisfied that his wounds are healed we dress Hrongar with his clothes and armor that Lydia found while I was patching him up. I check to see if he has any food or water in his inventory and I'm shocked to see that he has more than enough for days and days. More evidence that he simply hasn’t been eating due to the effects of the spriggan control. He also has what looks to be the Eldergleam sap already on him so I don't need to touch the tree. He was likely ambushed during the saps collection. Now we just need to focus on getting him out of here. 

“We’ll have to get a kart for him. Anything will work.” I say.

“Couldn’t we just carry him?” Lydia asks.

“If we have to drop him because we’re attacked he might not make it. The kart will at least provide a bit of cover and make him easier to defend against everything except a dragon.” I reply.

“What if a dragon does attack?” Lydia asks with a hint of worry.

“We’ll probably want a hand pulled kart so we can quickly pull him under cover, or at least dump him in a ditch in that case.” I say thinking out loud.

“Alright. I’ll go get the kart and be right back”

“No. We’ll go together.”

“Do you think Hrongar will be alright without you?”

“He’ll probably be safer here than we will be out there.” I say.

“Alright.”

Lydia seems satisfied with my answer and we leave Hrongar in the sanctuary. I truly do think he’ll be safe here, at least for a short trip. Along the way I spy some of the spriggans I was expecting earlier. Or rather their corpses. What's left of their pale green flesh is deflated and pulled in, consumed as fertilizer for the shrubs they are becoming. Perfectly camouflage in death. I try to ignore them and enjoy my time with Lydia as we walk back to Darkwater. Without gold as an issue we find a decent hand pulled kart to carry Hrongar in almost no time, which Lydia all but insists to pull. On the way back we see a bear but for once it didn’t seem to care about us and we make it back to the sanctuary with plenty of daylight left. Which makes Hrongar's disappearance all the more shocking.

“He’s gone!” Lydia exclaims.

I say nothing as I begin to investigate the scene. Upon finding nothing I activate Clairvoyance. The trail swirls at the spot we left him for a moment before streaming down the same path we just took and out of the sanctuary. Topside the mist flows north before dissipating to the point of being almost useless. Powerful people, even non magically trained people, are harder to find with Clairvoyance. Particularly if they don’t want to be found and I tell Lydia as much.

“What do we do now?” she asks.

“Nothing. Whatever else happened Hrongar’s probably fine now. My spell wouldn’t have such a hard time tracking him if he was still weak or unconscious. I can’t be certain but he’s probably headed to Windhelm- or Whiterun if he’s feeling stubborn.” I explain.

“You’re probably right. If he had food on him he should be fine. So uh… what do we do now?” Lydia asks.

After returning the kart we’re reliably told we can make it to Ivarstead around nightfall, and more importantly to their inn, if we move fast. What they neglected to mention was that the incline up was so severe that I may as well crawl up the path on my hands and knees. Not up any mountain but just to get to the Rift, a name that now seems very apt as we scale what feels like a massive fault line of a mountain. Eastmarch (Windhelm hold) is technically a lowland and the Rift lives all the way up here, violently elevating for no good reason. What really gets me is the fact that this is one of the two main roads that connect these provinces, maintained and everything for commerce. Not well maintained but there is an effort with the occasional pathetic wicker fence acting as flimsy railing to keep you plummeting to your doom. I imagine this one rift between the provinces is responsible for fifty percent of the Stormcloak rebellions logistical and economic problems. Thank the Gods for this new body, I don’t think I could have made it up otherwise. Certainly not without a rock climbing rope. Or a helicopter. 

Finally after literal hours of climbing the path acquiesces to more reasonable angles. Not far after the path becomes walkable again do we come across a large waterfall and a stone bridge that diverts to another path. I can see a ruined tower much like others I've encountered. The locals mentioned it as one of the landmarks and said to keep moving and to walk past the bridge, not across. We do not succeed as propped up against one of the walls of the bridge appears to be a wounded man in red merchant's attire. Bags and crates strewn about in various states of ruin in the surrounding area and it looks as though he's been the victim of bandits. He looks up as we approach, a pleading look in his eye.

“Please help me!” he whimpers.

“What happened?” I ask automatically.

“Bandits attacked my caravan! Please help me make it back to my camp! I promise you’ll be richly rewarded!” he says desperately.

Lydia looks at me and I nod. This all seems very familiar to me somehow but I can't remember why. Regardless, I'm not about to abandon the poor man over it. The merchant stands up spryly and hurries across the bridge with impressive speed, beckoning us to follow. It's more than enough to jog my memory. I smile as I follow behind. Looking now I can see he carries a much coveted-by-me Dwarven bow. How lucky for him to have acquired such a wonderful piece. 

“It’s just past the bridge at Nilheim. I can’t thank you enough.” he says, continuing hurriedly. We only walk for another minute or two before we arrive at the tower grounds.

“I just need to get your money, I’ll be right back.” the false merchant says, heading for the tower.

Nilheim is apparently one of those old accent towers that bandits love to camp at. I give Lydia one look and she knows. We were left at the bottom of the grounds just below the tower where three bandits sit at a camp table finishing a meal by a cooking fire. They know it'll soon be time to work and start scarfing down the remainder of their food before my new merchant friend brings in the rest of the gang to ambush Lydia and I. They should have taken their time. That's a terrible way to enjoy your last meal.

“Fus Ro!”

I blow the table and its scraps away, flooring the bandits. Lydia is on them in an instant and executes the surprised cutthroats as if they were children. Our merchant friend returns angry and with two more friends. Poor fool. He only had a chance with three times that number, perhaps more. The fight is brief, I have a Lydia, but I do get to kill one of the bastards myself. The spoils are nominal, with the best thing they had being the Dwarven bow their leader had. As I examine the weapon Lydia approaches me from behind.

“I want you. Now.” she whispers.

The next afternoon I awake in the inn with Lydia who's already up. This new body is pretty receptive to waking up earlier but I've still got nothing on her, especially after last night. My pelvis is still a little stiff. She's been more… aggressive lately, says it's the fighting that really gets her going. I hope that's the case because I don’t think my body will survive. I guess it comes with the territory when your fiance is more muscular than She-Hulk. Maybe more muscular than Hulk-Hulk, relative to body size, now that I think about it. Getting dressed I head over to the small breakfast table in our room. Pulling out the Dwarven bow I examine it with the glee of a child at Christmas. It will complete the Dwarven automaton look I'll be going for once I gain a better mastery of the growth spell. Dwarves are pretty famous everywhere for making larger than life constructs so it’ll be more than a plausible explanation so long as I play the part right. It might take some of the fun out of the whole experience but it’s just the cost of secret magics I may have or have not accidentally downloaded into this reality. Maybe when I'm bigger than a house I can flirt with Lydia and get to be the dominant one. Maybe.

I find myself evermore grateful than ever for her as we climb the Seven Thousand Steps again to High Hrothgar. We fight no less than three bears, each a different color, an ice wraith and another frost troll. I would have thought our previous climb would have cleared the path of rabid death fuzzy machines but apparently not. The ice wraith I can understand, they are more like elemental spirits, but the most ferocious critters in Skyrim on these narrow slopes? Again? It doesn't make sense. Thankfully Lydia makes all of them wonderfully trivial and I give her a quick kiss before we enter the monastery. We find Master Arngeir quietly meditating in the first chamber as if he had been waiting for us.

"Ah! You've retrieved the Horn of Jurgen Windcaller. Well done.” he says, taking the horn. “You have now passed all the trials. Come with me. It is time for us to recognize you fully as Dragonborn."

The other Greybeards must have heard my return. They are already gathering to this central chamber. When the last one arrives, Arngeir speaks again.

"You are ready to learn the final word of Unrelenting Force, ‘Dah’, which means ‘Push.’”

Master Wulfgar steps forward and speaks into the stone floor "Dah..."

I once again approach the newly carved word and absorb its base meaning. Dah and push mean the same thing to me now without having to think about it at all.

"With all three words together, this Shout is much more powerful. Use it wisely. Master Wulfgar will now gift you with his knowledge of ‘Dah’.”

What little I can see of Wulfgar's face beyond his beard becomes serious as he somehow imparts a deeper, more substantial meaning of Dah to me. It's as if all my life I've been shoving everyone and everything I’ve ever met, if that makes any sense at all.

"You have completed your training, Dragonborn. We would Speak to you. But first your companion should wait outside. We cannot guarantee her safety. When you are ready stand between us and prepare yourself. Few can withstand the unbridled Voice of the Greybeards. But you are ready."

I look at Lydia and make a motion as if to say ‘It's your choice.’ She nods but only steps back, not leaving. I think I understand. If the Greybeards destroy her here just by being in proximity to me then she’d have no use as a housecarl. It's a strange kind of warrior's challenge to earn the right just to exist next to your master. It's a surreal reminder of my standing. Martially Lydia is above and away superior to me but she wouldn’t have been able to so much as open the door to this place without me. Worry floods me again, just like in the sanctuary, as I don’t have enough experience with Thu’ums to know if she will survive or not. Logically I believe she will but it would be the worst kind of hell to explain to my daughter that her mother exploded because a group of old men started talking to me.

“So be it.” Arngeir nods, accepting Lydia’s determination. I then step squarely into the center between the Greybeards and prepare myself for the incoming storm. Without warning  the Greybeards speak. Really speak. Their voice is like thunder so powerful it causes an earthquake at my feet.

"Lingrah krosis saraan Strundu'ul, voth nid balaan klov praan nau.”

I’m forced to crouch just to be stable. The world rumbles around me.

“Naal Thu'umu, mu ofan nii nu, Dovahkiin, naal suleyk do Kaan, naal suleyk do Shor, ahrk naal suleyk do Atmorasewuth.”

It’s easier with the second time, like leaning into a strong wind.

“Meyz nu Ysmir, Dovahsebrom. Dahmaan daar rok.”

When the shaking stops I immediately search for Lydia who didn't fare much better. Flat on her ass and smashed against the wall but I can tell she's okay as she slowly gets up. The Greybeards seem pleased with this outcome.

"Dovahkiin. You have tasted the Voice of the Greybeards, and passed through unscathed. High Hrothgar is open to you." Arngeir says solemnly.

With that the other Greybeards bow and disperse, leaving just the three of us. Lydia clambers to her feet while Arngeir patiently waits for me to speak.

“Sooo… what did you say?” I ask, curious

"We spoke the traditional words of greeting to a Dragonborn who has accepted our guidance. The same words were used to greet the young Talos, when he came to High Hrothgar, before he became the Emperor Tiber Septim."

“Yes but what did you actually say?” I insist, having only a vague memory of this moment from the past.

"Ah. I sometimes forget you are not versed in the dragon tongue as we are. This is a rough translation: Long has the Stormcrown languished, with no worthy brow to sit upon. By our breath we bestow it now to you in the name of Kyne, in the name of Shor, and in the name of Atmora of Old. You are Ysmir now, the Dragon of the North, hearken to it.”

“I’ll try and remember it. Do you guys have a dictionary or something I could borrow to learn more?” I ask.

"You have learned so much already, Dragonborn.” Arngeir cautions. “Growing your gift too quickly would be dangerous. But there are many Words of Power in Skyrim, carved in the Dragon tongue. Even from here, we can feel the Thu'um resonate from them. Finding these lost Words would be a sufficient test, to temper your abilities with experience. Ask when you are ready to search."

“But what about just learning the language?”

“There is no distinction. Least of all for you, Dragonborn. Every word you learn becomes a part of you. As long as you are willing to follow the path we will help you fill in the gaps of your learning.”

“Well alright. I'm ready.”

"We have felt the whisper of a Word. Give me your map, and I will show you where its echo can be found.”

After Arngeir marks the spot I go to leave. I give Lydia her map back and we say goodbye to High Hrothgar for now.

"Sky above, Voice within." Arngeir says to wish us goodbye.

Outside the sky is clear blue and the wind is gentle. Beyond freezing cold but gentle. Even from the steps of the monastery I can see Whiterun below, its yellow roofs standing out from its grey walls and roads. Further beyond I can just make out Solitude from a gap in the mountain range far behind Whiterun. To the left I can almost touch Bleak Falls Barrow it seems so close on the adjoining mountain peak. It seems more sinister than I remember, the shadows of the arches almost dig into the mountain. I step up to the edge, following in a line down from Bleaks to where I know Riverwood must be. My heart swells when I see the cozy hamlet. From this distance it's perfectly picturesque, replete with wisps of chimney smoke you always see in the movies. It's too far to really see people but I try anyway, hoping to see my little girl. After a moment Lydia touches my shoulder.

“Come on, we'll see them sooner if we start walking. It's too cold up here anyway.” she says.

I nod and head the way down the mountain.

"Word on the street is that poor Sabjorn has found himself in Whiterun's prison. How unfortunate for him."

“I’m sure Maven will be happy.” I say.

"Exactly! Now you're beginning to see how our little system works.” Brynjolf replies with a smug grin. He's the Nord npc who introduces the player to the Thieves Guild. I mostly remember him trying to chase me down around town in the game, trying to start his questline. He's just as tenacious in the flesh, brow beating me into joining even when that's what I had planned to do from the beginning. Roguishly handsome with reddish brown hair, he always seems to have a scheme cooked up. The only thing that detracts from his face are the pock marks somewhat hidden by his beard, probably a sign of rougher times in his life. His grin melts as he starts to talk business.

“Did you find anything interesting in Sabjorn's books about who might be funding him?”

“Another paper with the same marker as Goldenglow.” I say handing him the parchment.

"Then this is beyond coincidence.” He says reading the letter. “First Aringoth and now Sabjorn. Someone's trying to take us down by driving a wedge between Maven and the Guild."

“Sounds serious.” I say, trying to act like this is new information.

"Mercer thinks he knows a way to identify this new thorn in our side. He wants to meet with you right away.” Brynjolf says, handing back the paper. “And if I were you I'd hurry. I've never seen him this angry before."

I nod and leave the training room to head back to the main cistern the Thieves Guild calls home. It's actually fairly impressive for a sewer. It almost looks like it was made for people to be down here. Clear water sits neatly in a cross-shaped aqueduct. It frames four platforms, connected by makeshift wooden bridges and at the center by four stone arching bridges. They meet at a central raised platform well large enough for the whole guild to stand on and is often used for meetings or proclamations. Of the other four quadrants two house sleeping quarters, one equipment and one the guild masters desk.

"Ah, there you are. I've consulted my contacts regarding the information you recovered from Goldenglow Estate, but no one can identify that symbol." Mercer says calmly.

Mercer is a serious looking man, to say the least. Long salt and pepper hair frames a darkly handsome face that's sunken in as to appear skull-like. He wears a black leather version of Thieves Guild armor that fits him perfectly. This is the man who's my biggest threat and he's also my boss at the moment.

"It would seem our adversary is attempting to take us apart indirectly by angering Maven Black-Briar. Very clever." he continues.

“Do you have a plan?” I ask, already knowing the answer.

“I’m working on something, don't you worry. For now I have something different planned for you.” Mercer says with a smirk.

I don't remember this part.

“The Thieves Guild doesn't abandon its own and right now one of ours is being held prisoner. Unfortunately we don't know exactly where he is and that's where you come in.” he says, barely hiding a smirk.

“What do you need me to do?” I ask, hiding my trepidation.

“You my friend are going to have to infiltrate the Thalmor embassy.”