Your Truth Cannot Stand
A Skyrim Fanfiction
Chapter 2: Strange, Meet Stranger
Table of Contents:
Chapter 1: Descent into Darkness
Chapter 2: Strange, Meet Stranger (you are here)
Chapter 3: Enchanted
Chapter 4: A Dragon, a Daedra and a Justiciar Walk Into a House…
Chapter 5: Oh No, She’s Relatable
Chapter 6: I Need to Speak to the Thalmor’s Manager
Chapter 7: All I Should Have Been
Chapter 8: Paralysis Analysis
Chapter 9: It’s the End of the World as We Know it
Chapter 10: Gods and Pawns
Chapter 11: I Was Like You, Once
Chapter 12: Solace from the Sky
Chapter 13: Awakening
Chapter 14: Second Chances
Chapter 1: Descent into Darkness
Chapter 2: Strange, Meet Stranger (you are here)
Chapter 3: Enchanted
Chapter 4: A Dragon, a Daedra and a Justiciar Walk Into a House…
Chapter 5: Oh No, She’s Relatable
Chapter 6: I Need to Speak to the Thalmor’s Manager
Chapter 7: All I Should Have Been
Chapter 8: Paralysis Analysis
Chapter 9: It’s the End of the World as We Know it
Chapter 10: Gods and Pawns
Chapter 11: I Was Like You, Once
Chapter 12: Solace from the Sky
Chapter 13: Awakening
Chapter 14: Second Chances
3 months earlier…
It was her armor that caught his attention first. All horns and spikes, and scales so large that they made him wonder if she’d killed a dragon herself, or if she’d had the gold to pay someone more formidable for such exotic spoils.
A moment later, he noticed her tail, feline face, and digitigrade legs, and felt his eyebrows rise. It was rare to see a Khajiit in Skyrim at all, let alone within the city walls; the citizens of the Dominion’s client states were almost as unwanted in this province as their Thalmor rulers were.
From her quick, tense footsteps and the stiffness of her tail, he suspected she was no more at home in this wretched city than he was. Perhaps he might find common ground with her – maybe even an ally.
Hopefully an ally with fingers as nimble and morals as flexible as her race’s reputation implied.
A second after the thought crossed his mind, her companion jogged into view, and he found himself staring even harder.
This second newcomer was even spikier than the first, all rough ebony ominously lit by the bloody glow of Daedra hearts. It took him a moment to be reasonably sure that the person inside that armor was female, but beyond that, the only thing her appearance revealed was that she lacked a tail.
He picked up his pace slightly, positioning himself to intercept them as they approached the Mournful Throne. The Khajiit noticed him first, a gaze as yellow as his own darting sharply from him to his bodyguards, and her tail went disappointingly stiff before resuming its tight, rhythmic sweep.
Probably not an ally, then. Still, he wanted to know what such formidably and outlandishly dressed outsiders were doing in a keep in his jurisdiction – and besides, any attempt to evade them now would require jogging or stopping to let them pass, and both actions were beneath his status.
No, he would play his role in a manner befitting the ruling body of the Aldmeri Dominion. As their paths intersected, he drew himself up to his full formidable height, and stared down at the Khajiit.
She came to a halt, meeting his eyes with a mix of curiosity and tense, subtle wariness. Behind her, her companion – bodyguard? – watched him closely, and he wondered if their reaction to a Thalmor Justiciar was based on anything more specific than the populace’s general dislike.
He would find out soon enough. “You have the honor of addressing a member of the Thalmor,” he informed them. “Bask in it.”
The Daedric armor made it impossible to confirm, but he was gratingly certain that its wearer rolled her eyes.
The Khajiit, meanwhile, cocked her head as if evaluating him, and a soft thumping sound came from inside her helmet. For a second, he wondered what was causing the noise; then the feline took her headgear off, leaving her twitching ear free to dart unhindered, and her companion followed suit as if by reflex, revealing a dark-haired Nord.
“That depends on what kind of Thalmor you are,” the cat replied in a casual, matter-of-fact tone that he’d never before heard directed at him by anyone less than his superior officers. “The ones I’ve met were mostly rude, and sometimes downright hostile. It’s hard to bask in that.”
He raised one eyebrow, silently warning her that she was moving toward some very thin ice. “You’re rather blunt, aren’t you?”
Her tail flicked, and her ears angled slightly. If she’d noticed his warning, she did not see fit to respond. “So are you, so I’m guessing that’s a good thing in your book. Or would you prefer I lied to you?”
She had a point, but her lack of respect was troubling. Was the Thalmor’s influence in Khajiit territory slipping? “Of course not. Dishonesty toward the Thalmor is unwise, but mind how you express your thoughts.”
A defiant flicker flashed through her eyes, as if to say she would express herself however she damn well pleased, and for a moment he wondered if she was going to start a thoroughly ill-advised fight.
To his relief, she restrained herself from making any overly confrontational statements, and instead changed the subject. “How come you’re in Markarth? I don’t often see Thalmor in the capital cities, and from your rank and accent, I’m guessing you’re not from here.”
From here. What a ludicrous thought. “As if this craggy wretch of a city could give birth to a superiorly bred Mer such as myself. No, I’m not from Markarth. I was sent here to lead the Thalmor’s interests in this corner of Skyrim. It’s my mission to root out all Talos worship in this city.”
Her fuzzy head tilted again. “Why are you after Talos worshipers?”
Was she truly ignorant enough not to know? Or was she inquisitive and interested enough to seek out his personal motives, as opposed to those of the Thalmor as a whole?
The former would be exasperating, but the latter would be a refreshing change from the closed-minded Nords he’d been enduring for the last several years. “It’s a religious matter,” he explained. “The Thalmor do not recognize Talos as a god.
“He was only a man, and does not deserve to have a place in our pantheon. The Empire has agreed to accept our beliefs, and its citizens have a responsibility to cease their heretical worship.”
As he spoke, he watched her eyes carefully. There was skepticism there, and a hint of disapproval and distrust… and yet, when he said Talos did not deserve a place in the pantheon, there was a spark of something else. Solidarity. Agreement.
Maybe there was something to work with here. “You’re awfully inquisitive, aren’t you? I like that.” It wasn’t a lie, but the flash of wariness on her face made it clear that she suspected there was a plan behind the compliment.
He saw no need to allay that suspicion, and he doubted an attempt to do so would work anyway. “Perhaps you’d care to solve a little problem I'm having?”
Her ears angled downward, but didn’t lay flat, as if caught halfway between decisions. “That depends on what kind of problem it is, and if it would involve hurting someone who doesn’t deserve to be hurt.”
So she’d already guessed the nature of his request. Of course, there were only so many things a Justiciar would ask of a random traveler. He had a disappointing feeling that their assessments of who did and did not deserve to be hurt would differ, but it couldn’t hurt to try.
“Ogmund the skald,” he explained. “He’s old, respected, and I know for a fact that he worships Talos in his home. But the Jarl has been hesitant to call for his arrest. I want you to break into his home and find evidence.”
Sure enough, her ears dropped flat. “I see,” she replied, a hint of tension straining her voice. “I was worried it would be something like that.”
“Worried?”
“Yes. I don’t want to be a part of that. I swore an oath not to seriously harm people except to protect their victims, and getting a person imprisoned or killed just for worshiping in his own home in a way that doesn’t hurt anyone would definitely break that oath.”
“Hmph.” He’d half expected her to refuse, but he hadn’t expected her to be bound by an oath. Having taken oaths himself as an officer of the Aldmeri Dominion, he could understand, but… as a citizen of the Empire, she had an obligation to help root out Talos worshipers.
Still, trying to force someone to illegally break into and steal from a private residence was probably a bridge too far. He settled for dismissively straightening his robe. “Fine.”
~*~
“And you let her go?” Carnaril interjected, and Ondolemar forced his bruised, swollen face to lift an eyebrow.
“It was hardly worth trying to force her. She probably would have just hidden the evidence instead of bringing it to me.”
“Perhaps. And perhaps the lack of consequences for her refusal to cooperate encouraged others to do the same. Thanks to your suspicious lenience, we’ll probably never know what would have transpired had you done your job correctly. For now, tell me what happened after that.”
~*~
He expected her to walk away. Instead, her expressive ears perked. “You’re not going to try to kill me?”
The thought hadn’t even occurred to him, and it took him a moment to process it. And yet, she spoke as if it was the default response.
A few startled blinks later, he silently scolded himself for letting his surprise show on his face, and coolly raised an eyebrow. “You expected me to?”
There went that ear flick again. “Isn’t that what Thalmor do? Kill whoever doesn’t agree with them quickly and loudly enough?”
Behind him, one of his bodyguards snorted, clearly aware of the absurdity of her claim. The response was inappropriately undignified, but Ondolemar had more important things to react to at that moment.
“If that were true,” he pointed out, “you would most likely be dead. I am curious as to what gave you that impression.” An ominous thought darkened his mind, and his eyes narrowed. “I don’t suppose there’s something you would like to confess?”
Her shoulders tensed, as if she’d heard that line before, and it had heralded something bad. Nevertheless, she kept her eyes on his, and forced her stance to remain deceptively calm. “No, but most Thalmor I’ve met would’ve probably tried to kill me by now.
“Sometimes I meet them on the road, and I ask them a few simple questions like I asked you, and they get angry. They ask if I have something to confess, and if I don’t insist that Talos isn’t a god as fast and firmly as they want me to, they decide I’m a heretic, and need to die a heretic’s death. They don’t investigate, or try to get proof. They just try to kill me, right then and there.”
The missing Justiciars… He’d heard reports of Justiciars not returning from their missions. He’d assumed they had fallen prey to dragons, bandits, or any of the countless natural hazards of Skyrim’s untamed wilderness.
He’d never suspected it could be one Khajiit and her Nord bodyguard. And now he might have to try to arrest them.
He opened his mouth to seek more details, but before he could speak, the feline continued. “But you seem a lot more reasonable than them. You asked for proof before going after Ogmund, and you actually listen and see if there’s evidence before making a big decision like starting a fight to the death.”
A small smile curved her furry lips. “You’re a lot smarter and more civilized than the usual brutes I run into.”
A warm swell of pride rose in Ondolemar’s chest, then collided with a wall of disturbing implications, muddying the once-clear waters of his mind.
Her words were true, of course, and well-deserved. It wasn’t just his breeding that made him superior, and it was always good to have his intellect and his cultured demeanor recognized.
On the other hand, she had just insulted the Thalmor, and from the fact that she was still alive despite her claims of having been attacked by Justiciars with the intent to kill, it was far too likely that she was responsible for the deaths of some of his subordinates.
But then… if they had been so sloppy as to try to kill a random traveler for merely expressing curiosity, they were clearly doing no credit to the Thalmor or the Dominion, and it was probably for the best that their dangerous mediocrity was purged.
Still, it was his duty to get more information. “Of course I am,” he affirmed. “But obviously, it is now my duty to inquire: do you worship Talos?”
She met his narrowed, piercing stare, her eyes bright and honest. “Talos isn’t part of the Khajiit pantheon. But you’ve probably heard of Riddle’Thar.”
“My studies of theology did include your quaint pantheon, yes. I have no quarrel with the concept of Riddle’Thar, but I don’t see what it has to do with the subject at hand.”
And yet, he wanted to know. He should probably get back to his duties, but his curiosity had been piqued, and he knew all too well that the reason he liked inquisitiveness in others was because he had so much of it himself. “I don’t suppose that’s the reason for your oath?”
Her shoulder rolled in a half-shrug and her eyes darted astray, as if he’d only partly hit the mark, and she was glancing at the part he had missed. “Well…”
Her stare returned to his. “That’s part of it. You see, the Riddle’Thar commands us to be curious so we don’t fall prey to deception, clever so we can outwit what we can’t outfight, and kind to ourselves and others.
“As a kitten, I was taught that being curious and clever means when something is disputed or controversial, instead of just accepting one side’s story or the other’s, we should find the truth for ourselves, and make up our own minds, based on evidence and facts.
“If the people whose beliefs are being questioned are all right with that, that means they know that searching for evidence will prove them right. And if they have a problem with people asking questions and doing research, that means they’re lying, and are trying to scare people out of exposing their lies. Wouldn’t you agree?”
“Of course…” Her words made perfect sense, but something didn’t feel right. Why am I so uneasy about this? Is it?… Yes. It has to be the context. “But how does that relate to my question about Talos?”
He suspected he already knew the answer. And he hoped he was wrong.
Surely she couldn’t be saying she’d found evidence that Talos was a god. That couldn’t be possible. No one could find evidence for something that wasn’t true.
“Well… when the Thalmor said one thing about Talos, and a lot of Nords said another, I decided I would rather listen to my own senses. So I decided to run some tests.”
Run some tests… on an alleged god. Even to a Mer who was fervently against the concept of Talos’ divinity, the sheer casual arrogance of the idea seemed sacrilegious.
Ondolemar’s eyes flicked to the Nord, wondering what one of Skyrim’s stubborn natives thought of such a flippant trespass on what might, to her, be sacred territory.
Her lips had thinned, and her eyes were on her companion, but her face was disappointingly unreadable, so he returned his attention to the more expressive traveler. “What kind of tests?”
“Well… first off, do you know what the difference is between amulets made and enchanted by mortals, and amulets of the Divines?”
“Of course. The amulets of the Divines were enchanted with magic from beyond this world, while the rest were enchanted by mere mortals.”
Her shoulders sagged slightly, as if his answer had disappointed her. “Yes, but I meant… what are the differences we can see and test? If a mortal made an amulet that looks just like an amulet of Mara, and enchanted it so Restoration spells cost ten percent less to cast, how would you tell the difference between that and a real amulet of Mara?”
That… was a question he had never thought to ask himself. How would he tell the difference?
Come on, Ondolemar, THINK! You’re a representative of the Thalmor; don’t dishonor your title by letting this young Betmer woman outsmart you! I’ve studied theology for possibly longer than she’s been alive – there has to be SOMETHING in all the books I’ve read.
But his mind was drawing a blank. Never had he had the blasphemous audacity to test the Divines or their sacred implements the way this woman so casually suggested.
In the end, he had to force his shoulders not to droop in defeat. “The Thalmor have not tested such things before. What method would you propose?”
She raised a finger, like a lecturer in a classroom. “You try to disenchant it.”
Disenchant?! His feet stayed fixed in place, but he couldn’t help but recoil a few inches. “You would attempt to destroy a holy artifact made by the Divines?” He hadn’t meant for his voice to rise, but in the face of such scandal, how could it not?
She frowned, clearly confused by his horrified anger. “If it’s a real divine amulet, it can’t be disenchanted, so why does it matter? And if the disenchanting DOES work, then the amulet was clearly fake, so why would the Divines care if a counterfeit gets broken?”
She had a point. And judging by the small, amused smirk on her companion’s face, the Nord knew how much that rankled him.
Focus, Ondolemar. You’re lagging behind – get a step ahead of her. “Are you saying you tried to disenchant an amulet of Talos?”
“Yes.”
“And?” Even as he said the word, his heart and stomach sank. If I was going to like the answer to this, we wouldn’t be having this conversation.
To his shock, she actually had the audacity to pull the symbol of blasphemy out of her pocket and hold it up in front of him. Behind him, he heard his bodyguards gasp, and from the way the cat’s eyes and ears flicked toward one of them, he suspected a hand had strayed to a sword.
Without glancing back at them, he gestured for the guards to stand down, but he could still feel the tension radiating off of them as he fixed his gaze on the Khajiit’s eyes. “I take it that’s the amulet you tried to disenchant?”
“Yes. But…” She extended it closer to him. “Maybe you’d like to try? I hear Altmer tend to have more of a natural talent for magic than Khajiit, and you look like you’re a fair bit older than I am, so maybe you’ll be able to do what I couldn’t.”
The reminder of the Altmer’s powerful birthright, and the possibility of a way to refute her disturbing discovery, drained the tension from his shoulders and back.
Khajiit weren’t known for their skill in magecraft; agility, stealth, and unarmed combat were their strengths, along with an unsophisticated but dangerous animal cunning. It was good to see that this one knew her place, and recognized the superiority of his people.
“Of course.” He held out a hand to accept the amulet, and she lowered it into his palm. “It is my duty to purge the heresy from this land, and if the destruction of this amulet lends itself to that cause, I’ll be happy to gather evidence that can be used to further persuade the local populace.”
Her ears perked at that, in a way that made him wonder if he’d implied more than he’d intended to. “So, you care about persuading them?”
“Of course. There are many who wish to evade their obligations to root out the Talos heresy. My job would be much easier if they were convinced of the rightness of our cause.” His voice dropped an octave, and his eyes tightened warily. “Why?”
“Well… I’d been hoping for a chance to speak with a Thalmor about your mission, and why it’s so important to you, and my research about Talos. But the ones I’ve met were all impossible talk to for more than a few sentences without them starting a fight. It seems like some people can’t tell the difference between curiosity and worship.”
Her tail bounced upward, her ears perking eagerly toward him and her eyes shining with the familiar gleam of a hopeful student, inquisitive and thirsty for knowledge. It reminded him of the expression he’d seen in the mirror during his own early training.
“But you said you like inquisitiveness,” she continued, “you’re interested in persuading people instead of killing whoever doesn’t think the way you do, and you seem a lot smarter and more level-headed than any other Thalmor I’ve met. So if you have a few minutes to talk, maybe I can finally understand a way of thinking that’s confused me ever since the Great War.”
“Of course.” A quick glance at the Nord showed that her lips were pressed tightly together, as if in almost-veiled amusement, and he wondered if the Khajiit’s flattery was sincere.
It seemed to be, but the catfolk were notorious for successfully veiling their true feelings and intent, and the human’s mirth suggested that she was enjoying watching him get played like an oversized lute.
It didn’t matter, he decided. Whether the words were sincere or not, they were true, and if she thought otherwise, further conversation would tell. A member of a lesser race could only hide her thoughts from a Mer of his superior breeding and intellect for so long.
Besides, if she didn’t believe her own flattery now, she would after he granted her a taste of his knowledge and magical prowess. And, just as importantly, perhaps she would recognize the validity of the Thalmor’s mission – enough so to persuade herself and others to finally cooperate with him.
“There’s an enchanting table in the court wizard’s laboratory,” he told her. “We should only need it for a few seconds. Now, come with me…”
He trailed off on a questioning tone, awaiting her name, and she took her cue. “Kierska. And this is Lydia.”
“Kierska and Lydia.” He made sure to memorize the names. “A pleasure to meet you. Now, let us go put this heresy to rest.”
~*~
“And your attempt to disenchant the amulet? Did it succeed?” Carnaril was twirling the mace between his fingers, and Ondolemar forced himself to wrest his gaze from its slow, dreadful rhythm and look the other Thalmor in the eye.
“Unfortunately, no.” And by the Divines, he wished it had. Life would have been so much simpler, so much less miserable. Talos would have been discredited, Ondolemar would have had a priceless tool with which to persuade the Nords, and it would have been Ogmund who was in custody right now, not him.
Instead… “I spent nearly half an hour trying to rend the enchantment from the amulet, and to banish it from existence. But it refused to yield.”
“And what conclusions did you draw from the attempt?”
Ondolemar clenched his jaw, biting back the embarrassing urge to growl like his feline acquaintance. His moment of hesitation was rewarded with a rib-cracking blow and a stern demand to speak, and his next words were forced between gritted teeth. “The amulet was clearly not made by mere humans, unless…”
He trailed off, unable to find words of his own, and a wave of shame poured like salt across his wounded pride. Was he truly reduced to falling back on the well-placed probe of a deceptively clever beastwoman?
Yes, he was. It was the only answer that might not get its speaker condemned – a belief Kierska had no doubt held when she shared her assessment with him. “Unless you believe humans are capable of creating an enchantment that can resist the expertise of the Thalmor.”
The torturer raised an eyebrow, and the mace froze in his ruthless grip, ready to strike. Rallying his will, Ondolemar forced himself to keep his tone measured and his words from tumbling out too fast, his fingers clenching at the thought of being cornered into scavenging the disclaimer that a Khajiit had used to placate him.
“Of course, that does not necessarily mean it was created by a human who became a Divine. It could just as easily-” watch your words, Ondolemar! “-no, it must have been a mischievous Daedra, seeking to stir up trouble in our realm. Their artifacts also resist disenchantment.”
“And is that what you truly believe?”
Curse the treacherous mouth that betrayed him, and the heretical doubts that poisoned his certainty and turned his own words against him! “While that conclusion has not been proven, it is the most logical theory I have so far.” At least, it’s the most logical possibility I dare admit to entertaining.
“And did this Kierska reveal any other… ‘research’ she had done?”
“Yes, there were a few other experiments she’d attempted.”
“Tell me about them.”
I’m going to get her killed. No… she’s beaten Thalmor Justiciars before. Damn it, why am I even worried about that? My first loyalty is- it MUST be to the Thalmor!
He forced a slow, deep breath into his aching chest. The movement sent knives of pain through his broken ribs, and the urge to grit his teeth and hiss was suppressed into a small tightening of his face. “Of course. Like I said when I was first arrested, I will tell you everything.”
It was her armor that caught his attention first. All horns and spikes, and scales so large that they made him wonder if she’d killed a dragon herself, or if she’d had the gold to pay someone more formidable for such exotic spoils.
A moment later, he noticed her tail, feline face, and digitigrade legs, and felt his eyebrows rise. It was rare to see a Khajiit in Skyrim at all, let alone within the city walls; the citizens of the Dominion’s client states were almost as unwanted in this province as their Thalmor rulers were.
From her quick, tense footsteps and the stiffness of her tail, he suspected she was no more at home in this wretched city than he was. Perhaps he might find common ground with her – maybe even an ally.
Hopefully an ally with fingers as nimble and morals as flexible as her race’s reputation implied.
A second after the thought crossed his mind, her companion jogged into view, and he found himself staring even harder.
This second newcomer was even spikier than the first, all rough ebony ominously lit by the bloody glow of Daedra hearts. It took him a moment to be reasonably sure that the person inside that armor was female, but beyond that, the only thing her appearance revealed was that she lacked a tail.
He picked up his pace slightly, positioning himself to intercept them as they approached the Mournful Throne. The Khajiit noticed him first, a gaze as yellow as his own darting sharply from him to his bodyguards, and her tail went disappointingly stiff before resuming its tight, rhythmic sweep.
Probably not an ally, then. Still, he wanted to know what such formidably and outlandishly dressed outsiders were doing in a keep in his jurisdiction – and besides, any attempt to evade them now would require jogging or stopping to let them pass, and both actions were beneath his status.
No, he would play his role in a manner befitting the ruling body of the Aldmeri Dominion. As their paths intersected, he drew himself up to his full formidable height, and stared down at the Khajiit.
She came to a halt, meeting his eyes with a mix of curiosity and tense, subtle wariness. Behind her, her companion – bodyguard? – watched him closely, and he wondered if their reaction to a Thalmor Justiciar was based on anything more specific than the populace’s general dislike.
He would find out soon enough. “You have the honor of addressing a member of the Thalmor,” he informed them. “Bask in it.”
The Daedric armor made it impossible to confirm, but he was gratingly certain that its wearer rolled her eyes.
The Khajiit, meanwhile, cocked her head as if evaluating him, and a soft thumping sound came from inside her helmet. For a second, he wondered what was causing the noise; then the feline took her headgear off, leaving her twitching ear free to dart unhindered, and her companion followed suit as if by reflex, revealing a dark-haired Nord.
“That depends on what kind of Thalmor you are,” the cat replied in a casual, matter-of-fact tone that he’d never before heard directed at him by anyone less than his superior officers. “The ones I’ve met were mostly rude, and sometimes downright hostile. It’s hard to bask in that.”
He raised one eyebrow, silently warning her that she was moving toward some very thin ice. “You’re rather blunt, aren’t you?”
Her tail flicked, and her ears angled slightly. If she’d noticed his warning, she did not see fit to respond. “So are you, so I’m guessing that’s a good thing in your book. Or would you prefer I lied to you?”
She had a point, but her lack of respect was troubling. Was the Thalmor’s influence in Khajiit territory slipping? “Of course not. Dishonesty toward the Thalmor is unwise, but mind how you express your thoughts.”
A defiant flicker flashed through her eyes, as if to say she would express herself however she damn well pleased, and for a moment he wondered if she was going to start a thoroughly ill-advised fight.
To his relief, she restrained herself from making any overly confrontational statements, and instead changed the subject. “How come you’re in Markarth? I don’t often see Thalmor in the capital cities, and from your rank and accent, I’m guessing you’re not from here.”
From here. What a ludicrous thought. “As if this craggy wretch of a city could give birth to a superiorly bred Mer such as myself. No, I’m not from Markarth. I was sent here to lead the Thalmor’s interests in this corner of Skyrim. It’s my mission to root out all Talos worship in this city.”
Her fuzzy head tilted again. “Why are you after Talos worshipers?”
Was she truly ignorant enough not to know? Or was she inquisitive and interested enough to seek out his personal motives, as opposed to those of the Thalmor as a whole?
The former would be exasperating, but the latter would be a refreshing change from the closed-minded Nords he’d been enduring for the last several years. “It’s a religious matter,” he explained. “The Thalmor do not recognize Talos as a god.
“He was only a man, and does not deserve to have a place in our pantheon. The Empire has agreed to accept our beliefs, and its citizens have a responsibility to cease their heretical worship.”
As he spoke, he watched her eyes carefully. There was skepticism there, and a hint of disapproval and distrust… and yet, when he said Talos did not deserve a place in the pantheon, there was a spark of something else. Solidarity. Agreement.
Maybe there was something to work with here. “You’re awfully inquisitive, aren’t you? I like that.” It wasn’t a lie, but the flash of wariness on her face made it clear that she suspected there was a plan behind the compliment.
He saw no need to allay that suspicion, and he doubted an attempt to do so would work anyway. “Perhaps you’d care to solve a little problem I'm having?”
Her ears angled downward, but didn’t lay flat, as if caught halfway between decisions. “That depends on what kind of problem it is, and if it would involve hurting someone who doesn’t deserve to be hurt.”
So she’d already guessed the nature of his request. Of course, there were only so many things a Justiciar would ask of a random traveler. He had a disappointing feeling that their assessments of who did and did not deserve to be hurt would differ, but it couldn’t hurt to try.
“Ogmund the skald,” he explained. “He’s old, respected, and I know for a fact that he worships Talos in his home. But the Jarl has been hesitant to call for his arrest. I want you to break into his home and find evidence.”
Sure enough, her ears dropped flat. “I see,” she replied, a hint of tension straining her voice. “I was worried it would be something like that.”
“Worried?”
“Yes. I don’t want to be a part of that. I swore an oath not to seriously harm people except to protect their victims, and getting a person imprisoned or killed just for worshiping in his own home in a way that doesn’t hurt anyone would definitely break that oath.”
“Hmph.” He’d half expected her to refuse, but he hadn’t expected her to be bound by an oath. Having taken oaths himself as an officer of the Aldmeri Dominion, he could understand, but… as a citizen of the Empire, she had an obligation to help root out Talos worshipers.
Still, trying to force someone to illegally break into and steal from a private residence was probably a bridge too far. He settled for dismissively straightening his robe. “Fine.”
~*~
“And you let her go?” Carnaril interjected, and Ondolemar forced his bruised, swollen face to lift an eyebrow.
“It was hardly worth trying to force her. She probably would have just hidden the evidence instead of bringing it to me.”
“Perhaps. And perhaps the lack of consequences for her refusal to cooperate encouraged others to do the same. Thanks to your suspicious lenience, we’ll probably never know what would have transpired had you done your job correctly. For now, tell me what happened after that.”
~*~
He expected her to walk away. Instead, her expressive ears perked. “You’re not going to try to kill me?”
The thought hadn’t even occurred to him, and it took him a moment to process it. And yet, she spoke as if it was the default response.
A few startled blinks later, he silently scolded himself for letting his surprise show on his face, and coolly raised an eyebrow. “You expected me to?”
There went that ear flick again. “Isn’t that what Thalmor do? Kill whoever doesn’t agree with them quickly and loudly enough?”
Behind him, one of his bodyguards snorted, clearly aware of the absurdity of her claim. The response was inappropriately undignified, but Ondolemar had more important things to react to at that moment.
“If that were true,” he pointed out, “you would most likely be dead. I am curious as to what gave you that impression.” An ominous thought darkened his mind, and his eyes narrowed. “I don’t suppose there’s something you would like to confess?”
Her shoulders tensed, as if she’d heard that line before, and it had heralded something bad. Nevertheless, she kept her eyes on his, and forced her stance to remain deceptively calm. “No, but most Thalmor I’ve met would’ve probably tried to kill me by now.
“Sometimes I meet them on the road, and I ask them a few simple questions like I asked you, and they get angry. They ask if I have something to confess, and if I don’t insist that Talos isn’t a god as fast and firmly as they want me to, they decide I’m a heretic, and need to die a heretic’s death. They don’t investigate, or try to get proof. They just try to kill me, right then and there.”
The missing Justiciars… He’d heard reports of Justiciars not returning from their missions. He’d assumed they had fallen prey to dragons, bandits, or any of the countless natural hazards of Skyrim’s untamed wilderness.
He’d never suspected it could be one Khajiit and her Nord bodyguard. And now he might have to try to arrest them.
He opened his mouth to seek more details, but before he could speak, the feline continued. “But you seem a lot more reasonable than them. You asked for proof before going after Ogmund, and you actually listen and see if there’s evidence before making a big decision like starting a fight to the death.”
A small smile curved her furry lips. “You’re a lot smarter and more civilized than the usual brutes I run into.”
A warm swell of pride rose in Ondolemar’s chest, then collided with a wall of disturbing implications, muddying the once-clear waters of his mind.
Her words were true, of course, and well-deserved. It wasn’t just his breeding that made him superior, and it was always good to have his intellect and his cultured demeanor recognized.
On the other hand, she had just insulted the Thalmor, and from the fact that she was still alive despite her claims of having been attacked by Justiciars with the intent to kill, it was far too likely that she was responsible for the deaths of some of his subordinates.
But then… if they had been so sloppy as to try to kill a random traveler for merely expressing curiosity, they were clearly doing no credit to the Thalmor or the Dominion, and it was probably for the best that their dangerous mediocrity was purged.
Still, it was his duty to get more information. “Of course I am,” he affirmed. “But obviously, it is now my duty to inquire: do you worship Talos?”
She met his narrowed, piercing stare, her eyes bright and honest. “Talos isn’t part of the Khajiit pantheon. But you’ve probably heard of Riddle’Thar.”
“My studies of theology did include your quaint pantheon, yes. I have no quarrel with the concept of Riddle’Thar, but I don’t see what it has to do with the subject at hand.”
And yet, he wanted to know. He should probably get back to his duties, but his curiosity had been piqued, and he knew all too well that the reason he liked inquisitiveness in others was because he had so much of it himself. “I don’t suppose that’s the reason for your oath?”
Her shoulder rolled in a half-shrug and her eyes darted astray, as if he’d only partly hit the mark, and she was glancing at the part he had missed. “Well…”
Her stare returned to his. “That’s part of it. You see, the Riddle’Thar commands us to be curious so we don’t fall prey to deception, clever so we can outwit what we can’t outfight, and kind to ourselves and others.
“As a kitten, I was taught that being curious and clever means when something is disputed or controversial, instead of just accepting one side’s story or the other’s, we should find the truth for ourselves, and make up our own minds, based on evidence and facts.
“If the people whose beliefs are being questioned are all right with that, that means they know that searching for evidence will prove them right. And if they have a problem with people asking questions and doing research, that means they’re lying, and are trying to scare people out of exposing their lies. Wouldn’t you agree?”
“Of course…” Her words made perfect sense, but something didn’t feel right. Why am I so uneasy about this? Is it?… Yes. It has to be the context. “But how does that relate to my question about Talos?”
He suspected he already knew the answer. And he hoped he was wrong.
Surely she couldn’t be saying she’d found evidence that Talos was a god. That couldn’t be possible. No one could find evidence for something that wasn’t true.
“Well… when the Thalmor said one thing about Talos, and a lot of Nords said another, I decided I would rather listen to my own senses. So I decided to run some tests.”
Run some tests… on an alleged god. Even to a Mer who was fervently against the concept of Talos’ divinity, the sheer casual arrogance of the idea seemed sacrilegious.
Ondolemar’s eyes flicked to the Nord, wondering what one of Skyrim’s stubborn natives thought of such a flippant trespass on what might, to her, be sacred territory.
Her lips had thinned, and her eyes were on her companion, but her face was disappointingly unreadable, so he returned his attention to the more expressive traveler. “What kind of tests?”
“Well… first off, do you know what the difference is between amulets made and enchanted by mortals, and amulets of the Divines?”
“Of course. The amulets of the Divines were enchanted with magic from beyond this world, while the rest were enchanted by mere mortals.”
Her shoulders sagged slightly, as if his answer had disappointed her. “Yes, but I meant… what are the differences we can see and test? If a mortal made an amulet that looks just like an amulet of Mara, and enchanted it so Restoration spells cost ten percent less to cast, how would you tell the difference between that and a real amulet of Mara?”
That… was a question he had never thought to ask himself. How would he tell the difference?
Come on, Ondolemar, THINK! You’re a representative of the Thalmor; don’t dishonor your title by letting this young Betmer woman outsmart you! I’ve studied theology for possibly longer than she’s been alive – there has to be SOMETHING in all the books I’ve read.
But his mind was drawing a blank. Never had he had the blasphemous audacity to test the Divines or their sacred implements the way this woman so casually suggested.
In the end, he had to force his shoulders not to droop in defeat. “The Thalmor have not tested such things before. What method would you propose?”
She raised a finger, like a lecturer in a classroom. “You try to disenchant it.”
Disenchant?! His feet stayed fixed in place, but he couldn’t help but recoil a few inches. “You would attempt to destroy a holy artifact made by the Divines?” He hadn’t meant for his voice to rise, but in the face of such scandal, how could it not?
She frowned, clearly confused by his horrified anger. “If it’s a real divine amulet, it can’t be disenchanted, so why does it matter? And if the disenchanting DOES work, then the amulet was clearly fake, so why would the Divines care if a counterfeit gets broken?”
She had a point. And judging by the small, amused smirk on her companion’s face, the Nord knew how much that rankled him.
Focus, Ondolemar. You’re lagging behind – get a step ahead of her. “Are you saying you tried to disenchant an amulet of Talos?”
“Yes.”
“And?” Even as he said the word, his heart and stomach sank. If I was going to like the answer to this, we wouldn’t be having this conversation.
To his shock, she actually had the audacity to pull the symbol of blasphemy out of her pocket and hold it up in front of him. Behind him, he heard his bodyguards gasp, and from the way the cat’s eyes and ears flicked toward one of them, he suspected a hand had strayed to a sword.
Without glancing back at them, he gestured for the guards to stand down, but he could still feel the tension radiating off of them as he fixed his gaze on the Khajiit’s eyes. “I take it that’s the amulet you tried to disenchant?”
“Yes. But…” She extended it closer to him. “Maybe you’d like to try? I hear Altmer tend to have more of a natural talent for magic than Khajiit, and you look like you’re a fair bit older than I am, so maybe you’ll be able to do what I couldn’t.”
The reminder of the Altmer’s powerful birthright, and the possibility of a way to refute her disturbing discovery, drained the tension from his shoulders and back.
Khajiit weren’t known for their skill in magecraft; agility, stealth, and unarmed combat were their strengths, along with an unsophisticated but dangerous animal cunning. It was good to see that this one knew her place, and recognized the superiority of his people.
“Of course.” He held out a hand to accept the amulet, and she lowered it into his palm. “It is my duty to purge the heresy from this land, and if the destruction of this amulet lends itself to that cause, I’ll be happy to gather evidence that can be used to further persuade the local populace.”
Her ears perked at that, in a way that made him wonder if he’d implied more than he’d intended to. “So, you care about persuading them?”
“Of course. There are many who wish to evade their obligations to root out the Talos heresy. My job would be much easier if they were convinced of the rightness of our cause.” His voice dropped an octave, and his eyes tightened warily. “Why?”
“Well… I’d been hoping for a chance to speak with a Thalmor about your mission, and why it’s so important to you, and my research about Talos. But the ones I’ve met were all impossible talk to for more than a few sentences without them starting a fight. It seems like some people can’t tell the difference between curiosity and worship.”
Her tail bounced upward, her ears perking eagerly toward him and her eyes shining with the familiar gleam of a hopeful student, inquisitive and thirsty for knowledge. It reminded him of the expression he’d seen in the mirror during his own early training.
“But you said you like inquisitiveness,” she continued, “you’re interested in persuading people instead of killing whoever doesn’t think the way you do, and you seem a lot smarter and more level-headed than any other Thalmor I’ve met. So if you have a few minutes to talk, maybe I can finally understand a way of thinking that’s confused me ever since the Great War.”
“Of course.” A quick glance at the Nord showed that her lips were pressed tightly together, as if in almost-veiled amusement, and he wondered if the Khajiit’s flattery was sincere.
It seemed to be, but the catfolk were notorious for successfully veiling their true feelings and intent, and the human’s mirth suggested that she was enjoying watching him get played like an oversized lute.
It didn’t matter, he decided. Whether the words were sincere or not, they were true, and if she thought otherwise, further conversation would tell. A member of a lesser race could only hide her thoughts from a Mer of his superior breeding and intellect for so long.
Besides, if she didn’t believe her own flattery now, she would after he granted her a taste of his knowledge and magical prowess. And, just as importantly, perhaps she would recognize the validity of the Thalmor’s mission – enough so to persuade herself and others to finally cooperate with him.
“There’s an enchanting table in the court wizard’s laboratory,” he told her. “We should only need it for a few seconds. Now, come with me…”
He trailed off on a questioning tone, awaiting her name, and she took her cue. “Kierska. And this is Lydia.”
“Kierska and Lydia.” He made sure to memorize the names. “A pleasure to meet you. Now, let us go put this heresy to rest.”
~*~
“And your attempt to disenchant the amulet? Did it succeed?” Carnaril was twirling the mace between his fingers, and Ondolemar forced himself to wrest his gaze from its slow, dreadful rhythm and look the other Thalmor in the eye.
“Unfortunately, no.” And by the Divines, he wished it had. Life would have been so much simpler, so much less miserable. Talos would have been discredited, Ondolemar would have had a priceless tool with which to persuade the Nords, and it would have been Ogmund who was in custody right now, not him.
Instead… “I spent nearly half an hour trying to rend the enchantment from the amulet, and to banish it from existence. But it refused to yield.”
“And what conclusions did you draw from the attempt?”
Ondolemar clenched his jaw, biting back the embarrassing urge to growl like his feline acquaintance. His moment of hesitation was rewarded with a rib-cracking blow and a stern demand to speak, and his next words were forced between gritted teeth. “The amulet was clearly not made by mere humans, unless…”
He trailed off, unable to find words of his own, and a wave of shame poured like salt across his wounded pride. Was he truly reduced to falling back on the well-placed probe of a deceptively clever beastwoman?
Yes, he was. It was the only answer that might not get its speaker condemned – a belief Kierska had no doubt held when she shared her assessment with him. “Unless you believe humans are capable of creating an enchantment that can resist the expertise of the Thalmor.”
The torturer raised an eyebrow, and the mace froze in his ruthless grip, ready to strike. Rallying his will, Ondolemar forced himself to keep his tone measured and his words from tumbling out too fast, his fingers clenching at the thought of being cornered into scavenging the disclaimer that a Khajiit had used to placate him.
“Of course, that does not necessarily mean it was created by a human who became a Divine. It could just as easily-” watch your words, Ondolemar! “-no, it must have been a mischievous Daedra, seeking to stir up trouble in our realm. Their artifacts also resist disenchantment.”
“And is that what you truly believe?”
Curse the treacherous mouth that betrayed him, and the heretical doubts that poisoned his certainty and turned his own words against him! “While that conclusion has not been proven, it is the most logical theory I have so far.” At least, it’s the most logical possibility I dare admit to entertaining.
“And did this Kierska reveal any other… ‘research’ she had done?”
“Yes, there were a few other experiments she’d attempted.”
“Tell me about them.”
I’m going to get her killed. No… she’s beaten Thalmor Justiciars before. Damn it, why am I even worried about that? My first loyalty is- it MUST be to the Thalmor!
He forced a slow, deep breath into his aching chest. The movement sent knives of pain through his broken ribs, and the urge to grit his teeth and hiss was suppressed into a small tightening of his face. “Of course. Like I said when I was first arrested, I will tell you everything.”
Author's note:
In case you thought it odd that Ondolemar did not pursue it further: the matter of the missing Justiciars will come up again. Right now, he's just super distracted by the need to disprove evidence that Talos might be a god. PRIORITIES.
Also, Kierska is a Suthay-raht in my head, even if her in-game sprite only allows for Cathays. Needless to say, this digitigrade among plantigrades HATES shoe-shopping.
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