Author's note: All the bombings have finally started to disrupt trade, including the trade of resources we need to keep our electrical stations running, so now we've got power outages... yay...
On another note, my friend who works in the Riot Control unit got a literal bullet in the literal ass, courtesy of a mob of protestors/rioters...
The funny thing is that the bullet ricocheted at an almost impossible angle to the point where you could say it was more an act of God than assault... so yeah, that was a fun hospital visit, and you can imagine we'll talk for years about how a cap in his ass was technically divine will.
Ironically enough, that's not even the worst thing to happen to the rear end of someone who happens to be my friend...
Anyway, here's the chapter:
...
Torin couldn't help but frown, his earlier plans of a strategic retreat forgotten. He watched Auri, his mind racing through the brutal arithmetic of the duel she'd just invited.
He'd seen firsthand how lethally good she was with a bow. Her shots were fast, silent, and unerringly accurate. But a bow was a hunter's weapon, an ambusher's tool. In a sanctioned, face-to-face duel in an open courtyard? It was a severe disadvantage.
She might get off three arrows, maybe four, before the Altmer—who was undoubtedly trained to close distance against archers—got within sword range.
And while Torin personally viewed Rondin as more of an annoyance than a genuine threat to himself, he wasn't a fool. The elf was a Thalmor soldier, likely a skilled one, assigned to a diplomatic delegation. That meant he was competent, disciplined, and dangerous in close quarters. He wouldn't just stand there and let her feather him.
The real question was Auri's own close-quarters skill. Torin had no idea. She moved with a predator's grace, but that didn't translate directly to swordplay.
Still, she'd have seen the elf fight, or at least what Torin assumed, because why would she challenge someone blindly? She'd have seen him dismantle the recruits. If she was stepping forward anyway, she had to have some confidence in her ability to survive, if not win.
But why?
That was the bigger puzzle, and it made him more uneasy than the duel itself. Why would she go out of her way to make a direct, public enemy of the Thalmor? They had long memories and longer reach. No matter the outcome—win, lose, or draw—she'd have painted a target on her back for the most vindictive intelligence service in Tamriel.
Unless, of course, the Thalmor were already her enemies. That would make sense. A Bosmer with a grudge against the Dominion wasn't exactly rare.
But if that were the case, this was a spectacularly reckless way to reveal it. Rondin didn't seem to recognize her, which meant she wasn't a known fugitive. By fighting him, she'd be giving them her face, her fighting style, a direct line to start looking for her. It was the opposite of hiding.
Torin rubbed at his temple, feeling the distinct, throbbing beginning of a headache. He was paranoid by nature and necessity; it was the default setting for surviving in Skyrim. But his recent… interaction… with Sheogorath felt like it had cranked that dial up to eleven.
Now, every strange event felt like it had layers, hidden motives, cosmic punchlines waiting to land.
Something about Auri's intervention felt off. Wrong. But what? He'd have to ask her after this was over, assuming she was still in one piece to answer.
His paranoia was a double-edged sword. It had saved his life more times than he could count, spotting ambushes and traps others missed. But it had also led to more than a few false alarms—sleepless nights spent staring at shadows, treating harmless travelers with undue suspicion.
Was this one of those times? Or was his newly-jangled sense of reality picking up on a genuine threat?
Beside him, Echo let out another low, rumbling grumble, pressing her massive head against his leg. She could always sense his tension.
"I know, girl," he muttered, keeping his hand on her fur, his gaze locked on the courtyard. "Just watch."
The two elves had finished their initial sizing-up. They each took several measured steps back, creating a wide dueling circle in the center of the yard. The air was taut with silence, broken only by the distant cry of a gull.
Suddenly, Rondin stopped moving. It wasn't a pause; it was a coiled spring releasing. His hand shot toward the hilt of his slender, elegant sword.
Auri took that fractional second of movement as her only cue. She didn't retreat. She leapt. It was a single, graceful, explosive movement—pushing off with one leg, her body twisting in mid-air. As she spun, her hands were a blur of practiced motion: an arrow plucked from her quiver, nocked, the bow coming up in a seamless arc.
By the time both her feet touched the ground again, she was in a perfect, rooted archer's stance. The bow was fully drawn, the fletching kissed her cheek, and her focus was absolute.
Thwip.
The arrow flew with startling, flat speed, aimed not for a kill-shot, but for the center of mass—a disabling strike.
Rondin let out a guttural growl of surprise and irritation. His body flashed with a vibrant, emerald-green light. A Haste spell. Torin recognized the tell-tale shimmer instantly, the magic accelerating the elf's speed and reflexes to superhuman levels.
With a speed that was now a blur even to Torin's trained eye, Rondin's sword came up. The thin, singing blade became a wall of steel. Ting-ting-ting! He deflected the arrow, then a second one Auri had already sent streaking toward his leading knee, and then a third aimed at his sword arm.
It was a breathtaking display of Alteration-augmented swordsmanship. High Elves were natural-born casters, and they excelled in Alteration—the school of enhancing the self—more than any other race.
Torin's frown deepened into a grimace as he watched Rondin close the distance with that unnerving, magically-hastened speed.
Stripped of his arrogance, the elf's skill was undeniable. By pure swordsmanship alone, he'd rank high among the whelps in Jorrvaskr. Add in his magic and the natural, freakishly long reach of a High Elf… well, his arrogance started to make a sick kind of sense.
If Torin were fighting him, the strategy would be simple: pin him with sheer mass and use brute force to turn that pretty face into paste.
But Auri wasn't built for brute force.
His eyes widened slightly as he saw her response. With Rondin a mere dozen feet away and closing fast, she didn't try to run. Instead, she nocked another arrow and jumped—not away, but straight up, a high, acrobatic vault that bought her a precious second of airtime.
Below her, Rondin's face split into a savage, triumphant grin. Foolish creature, his expression screamed. She'd created a sliver of distance, bought herself time for one more shot. That was all.
He'd deflect it, as he had the others, and by the time her feet hit the ground, his blade would be waiting to run her through.
A fitting end to this forest-dweller's insolence.
The arrow flew.
Rondin's grin didn't falter. He saw the trajectory, calculated the parry. He didn't just raise his blade to block; he brought it down in a sharp, contemptuous chop, aiming to split the arrow in two with his fine glass sword—a final, theatrical display of superiority for the gaping savages in the yard.
The edge of his shimmering blade met the arrowhead.
There was no crack of splitting wood.
There was a sharp, piercing HISS.
A wave of intense, supernatural cold exploded from the point of impact. Frost, thick and blue-white, erupted over the glass blade. It didn't just coat it; it encased it in an instant, crawling up the hilt with terrifying speed.
It swallowed Rondin's hand, his wrist, his forearm in a crystalline shell of solid ice, the cold searing through his gauntlet and into his flesh.
His grin vanished. His eyes flew wide with a mixture of shock, horror, and searing pain.
The Haste spell flickered and died on his skin, useless against the magical frost locking his joints.
He had barely a heartbeat to process the agony and the impossibility before a second arrow arrived.
Blunt-headed, this one didn't aim for his body. It struck the frozen mass that was his sword and forearm with the force of a hammer.
CRUNCH-SHATTER.
The enchanted ice—and the limb trapped within it—exploded. Shards of frozen blood, bone, and glass rained down on the flagstones. The only thing that hit the ground intact was Rondin's severed hand, still gripping the useless hilt of his sword, clattering against the stone with a sickening finality.
A deafening silence blanketed the courtyard, broken only by Rondin's choked, disbelieving gasp as he stared at the bloody, frozen stump of his arm.
For a few seconds, the only sounds in the courtyard were the ragged, pained gasps coming from Rondin as he clutched the frozen, mangled stump of his arm, and the soft clatter of ice shards settling on the stone.
Then, someone finally found their voice.
It was the functionary, the same man in fine robes who had delivered the whispered warning.
His face was a mask of outraged authority, purple with indignation. He thrust a trembling finger at Auri, who was already calmly slipping another arrow from her quiver, her expression unchanged.
"How dare you!" he shrieked, his voice cracking. "You forest-dwelling savage! You have maimed a guest of the court! A member of the Aldmeri diplomatic delegation!"
He whirled on the nearest cluster of guards. "Seize her! Now! Arrest that murderous wretch!"
The recruits, especially the young Nords, stood frozen. Their expressions were a mixture of shock, awe, and a savage, suppressed satisfaction. They made no move to obey.
The Imperial instructors, caught between duty and the clear-cut reality of the duel, looked deeply uncomfortable. After a fraught moment, they slowly, reluctantly, drew their swords, stepping forward to form a hesitant ring around Auri.
Seeing this, Torin couldn't help but let out a weary sigh. This was exactly the kind of 'complication' he'd wanted to avoid. But he couldn't just stand by. Auri was Aela's friend.
She'd stepped in when he couldn't, and she'd done the realm a favor by permanently disarming that particular Thalmor prick. More importantly, this had been a duel, consented to by both parties.
The elf's lack of skill—or his failure to recognize a magically-enhanced arrow—was no one's fault but his own.
He opened his mouth, ready to bellow a challenge that would turn the guards' attention squarely back on him.
He never got the chance.
"What," a voice rang out, clear and sharp as a bell, "do you fools think you're doing?"
Every head in the courtyard snapped upward. Torygg stood at the balcony railing, no longer a passive observer. His youthful face was set in lines of cold, regal anger. "Lower your weapons. At once."
The functionary spun toward the balcony, his expression pleading. "Your Majesty, please, do not interfere! This… this savage has clearly—"
"Silence."
The single word, spoken with the full weight of the High King's authority, cut the man off as effectively as a blade. Torygg's gaze swept over the courtyard, landing briefly on the moaning Rondin being tended to by a panicked Thalmor aide, before fixing on Auri.
"This woman," Torygg declared, his voice carrying to every corner of the yard, "whom you so carelessly insult, is a personal guest of mine. I called her to Solitude and entrusted her with an important task."
He paused, letting the lie—or perhaps the newly-minted truth—sink in.
His tone grew noticeably colder, dropping into the range reserved for stating inconvenient facts. "What has happened to our friend from the Aldmeri Dominion is… unfortunate. A tragic accident in a bout of friendly sparring. But he did agree to the duel. He sought the 'instruction.' The risks were known."
He looked directly at the functionary, his eyes promising consequences. "Now, see that he receives the finest healing our temple has to offer. And you will not lay a hand on my guest. Is that understood?"
...
I'm motivated by praise and interaction, so be sure to leave a like, power stone, or whatever kind of shendig this site uses, and more importantly do share you thoughts on the chapter in the comment section!
Want more chapters? Then consider subscribing to my pat rēon. You can read ahead for as little as $1 and it helps me a lot! -> (pat rēon..com / wicked132)
You can also always come and say hi on my discord server -> (disc ord..gg / sEtqmRs5y7)- or hit me up at - Wicked132#5511 - and I'll add you myself)