Chapter VI: Thorn

Neither wore armor, except what little protection sackcloth could offer. Neither carried a sword. One of the two men held a club. The other, a knife at his belt. The former held Princess Elysana, who had been blindfolded, tied, and—judging by her smell and the state of her once-white dress—taken against her will through the sewers of Wayrest. Her handlers only offered Levoline a nod as she approached, as though they'd expected her all along. The Princess glanced up at her, before quickly looking wide-eyed to the ground. She stayed silent.

”Hurry it up, elf. Only a matter of time before we’re discovered. Palace is probably crawling with rosebuds by now.” One of them spoke as she entered. He had a gruff, ugly voice, a face obscured by shadow. “Got your information—the Underking promised us safe passage out of the city once you had it—so take it already.”

Playing with the lives of our royals, are we, Uuelmo? She was no stranger to the Underking, nor the mythology that clouded him. A great battlemage. A necromancer. An incarnation of Talos. The rumors of what he was—and if he even existed at all—were as numerous as the brothels of Camlorn. Her briefings offered clarity the locals were unlikely to accept: the Underking was a criminal, simply put. A well-connected, ruthless, and potentially useful criminal overlord, yes—but a criminal nonetheless. Knowing Uuelmo made a deal with such a man, no matter how well he might have covered his tracks—or her own—made her uneasy. Especially when that deal meant trading a young woman for information. The idea of that alone made her skin crawl.

”The information then, if you please.” Levoline answered, her voice level. Whatever deal Uuelmo struck up between himself and the Underking, it had not been made with her in mind. Should she take the information and be on her way? Allow the princess to be taken to whatever horrible fate might await her? No. There was more to leverage in this moment than simple intelligence—Uuelmo must have known that. The Underking would be blamed for this, not the Thalmor. They were too small to be noticeable, at least for now. He must have arranged this meeting for Levoline to rescue Elysana herself. To curry the King’s favor. And what better place was there for her—an upright Altmer aristocrat—to be, than to be saying her prayers to the Eight? Regardless of whether Uuelmo intended it for her or not, it was an excellent alibi. Levoline stifled a smile to herself, maintaining her composure as the man approached. He leaned in close.

”The Underking knows what you are—and that your enemy has arrived in Daggerfall. They seek the same prize, and are closer to it than you realize. Work with him, and he can ensure you find it first. That’s all I was told to say. Now, where’s the way out? Took your sweet time getting here, elf. Would’ve left without you, if only we knew which damn passage to take.”

Levoline made an effort to survey the room—as though the correct passage might reveal itself. In truth, she had no inkling of which dark threshold might keep the key to their salvation—and the Princess’ dark fate. She had no intention of delivering them, busying herself only to hide her surprise. 'Your enemy.' The Blades. She’d been a servant of the Rising Dominion for but a day, and already, she might have to face the Emperor’s wandering hounds. What's more, the Underking was aware of their efforts, even while their plans were still so young.

It was a heartbeat before she steeled herself. Her hand tightened around its place on Thorn’s hilt. There was no nervous instinct this time. She was the stillest she’d been since coming to the Iliac Bay. “I’m afraid you’ve made a fatal mistake, ser. Whoever your original deal was with, it would seem they’d turned craven on you. I've no dealings with the Underking, to tell the truth. Neither do I have much love for thugs plucking princesses from their towers. I will offer you two choices: release Her Majesty and be spared,”

One of the men groaned, retrieving his mace from his belt. “Self-righteous elf-bitch…” The one closest to her drew his knife. “And the other?” he snarled, a cruel satisfaction creeping through his words.

Levoline answered him first by drawing Thorn, then by saying: “We settle this like gentlemen—or whatever you have here that’s closest.”

The rapier’s black blade gleamed in the low candlelight. Ebony, forged from the veins of Red Mountain, inlaid with gold filigree woven over an ornate basket hilt. A gift from her father many years ago. Her constant companion in the decades since.

The men took notice of the blade immediately, shrinking back before they must have realized what a handsome profit it might turn. Levoline noticed the shift: the way her opponents immediately turned their attention from the Princess to a new prize. She’d seen this sort of obsession before in the races of men. She would have no problem ending their lives—if they forced her hand by trying to take her sword.

She caught the first’s knife as he thrust it at her, in the cage of steel that protected her hand. With a twist and a jerk, she wrestled it free of his grasp. A slash to the bicep ensured his arm would hang uselessly at his side. The man yowled furiously, seconds after he realized what happened. His companion, the larger of the two men, pushed him aside. He came close enough that Levoline had to put Thorn’s point at his throat, stopping him in his tracks.

”Princess, if you wouldn’t mind.” She held the sword between herself and the kidnappers, circling them, gesturing for Elysana to follow. The girl’s tear-stricken face held a wide-eyed, slack-jawed expression. She stood quickly, hurrying to cower behind her rescuer. “Yes, that’s it. Stay behind me, Your Highness. We’ll be out of here quickly.” Levoline put on her most soothing voice, along with a serene mask of confidence. Elysana’s only answer was a choked whimper of gratitude. With the Princess safely behind her, they began to slowly back away. She kept Thorn’s point leveled at the Underking’s thugs, daring them to follow.

They were beaten, but Levoline knew that men in their position could act desperately. She was walking away with their prize—leaving them trapped inside the undercroft for the crown to collect. The slack-armed thug roared in frustration, before commandeering his companion’s mace. He charged them both. Elysana squealed in terror as he raised the weapon high.

Levoline could not have deflected the blow safely. Not with the Princess at her back. Neither could she meet it head-on. He was larger, sure to overpower her if she gave him the chance. Decades of training with Thorn taught her limits, but it also taught her alternatives.

She swiped out at the man’s raised hand before his blow could fall.

A heartbeat later, his smallest finger fell to the ground.

The mace followed it a heartbeat later. The thug came crashing down beside them, sinking to his knees, clutching his leaking hand. It took a moment for his mind to register what had happened. When it did, he began to scream.

Levoline left them in the undercroft, leading Elysana up the stairs and into the cathedral proper. It was still empty—silent save for the echoing cries of the man she’d maimed—and his companion, swearing furiously below. Footsteps sounded from the undercroft, growing louder with each step. She moved quickly, pulling Elysana by the arm, out the great cathedral doors and onto the stone steps; Thorn in hand as she watched for pursuit.

”Halt!” came the voice of a guard, carrying the confidence of a man in plate. Levoline turned, and saw that the blind informant was with him—along with a contingent of two dozen armored men, tabards bearing the pink blossom of the Knights of the Rose.

Elysana ran to their captain, a tall, dark-haired man in red-tinted harness. The rest closed in around her. Levoline realized she was still holding Thorn, and that the black blade was still dripping blood. She stowed it quickly, hiding her indignation with the same haste. Is this some sort of jest? I’ve just rescued your Princess—and now you treat me like a common criminal? The Wayrest guard closed in, half a dozen men with pikes, another half with swords. All wearing enough steel to sink a galleon.

She caught sight of the blind man, whose face was as still as stone. No doubt he was a servant of the Underking—but had he betrayed her, or merely called the guards when the fighting broke out? Was he privy to Uuelmo’s deal? She cursed herself. She’d forgotten about him. Her first mission, and already she was compromised. Had this been Uuelmo’s plan all along? To frame her for his own crime—all for information that amounted to ’Your enemies are trying to stop you?’ That couldn’t be true, not after everything she’d sacrificed to be here. Rage began to well within her. The frustration of knowing she’d failed, and so soon. She had half a mind to draw, to take down as many of the king’s men as she could before—

A second later, and one of Elysana’s kidnappers burst into the street, shouting for her head. The Princess cried out at the sight of him, hiding behind the captain. It was an instant before a volley of crossbow bolts nailed the thug to the cathedral door, just as it swung closed behind him. The Princess began to sob.

Levoline forced herself to relax. To adopt the most perfectly pleasant smile she could given the circumstances

It will no use dying here, not with so much left to uncover. Elysana was likely unaware of the deal—and even if she was, Levoline was never made a part of it. If she could get an audience with Eadwyre; convince the Princess to vouch for her… She might have a chance to escape with her life—and more importantly, her cover—intact. She had to rely on Elysana. On the Underking’s infamous reputation. If the beggar gave his testimony, she would have to leverage her already tenuous reputation with the court to smother it. She could ask a favor of some noble. She had her alibi. Yes. There is enough here to leverage—enough to survive. Enough to gain an audience with Eadwyre. She repeated those words in her mind until she could believe them.

Levoline followed gracefully as the Knights of the Rose led her back to the palace.