Your Truth Cannot Stand
A Skyrim Fanfiction
Chapter 6: I Need to Speak to the Thalmor’s Manager
Table of Contents:
Chapter 1: Descent into Darkness
Chapter 2: Strange, Meet Stranger
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 (you are here)
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
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 (you are here)
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
One moment, Ondolemar was sleeping peacefully – far more so than he’d expected in the lair of a Daedric prince.
Then the grinding, mechanical growl of a conjuration spell clawed through the darkness. It was distant, but unmistakable: the sound of a creature being summoned from Oblivion.
He’s sending Daedra! The thought exploded through his mind, blasting his drowsiness away in a pulse-pounding flood of adrenaline, and he flung the bearskin across the room in his haste to free his limbs.
Magicka gathered in his left hand, even as the right one launched him off the bed. By the time his feet hit the floor, his skin was shimmering with Alteration magic, hard as iron. Hopefully hard enough.
He dropped into a crouch, slipping toward the source of the sound as quietly as he could. There was no sign of Kierska – was she already fighting whatever monsters Molag Bal had sent to punish them?
If she had been, the fight was already over. There was no ring of clashing metal, no sound of elemental magic striking flesh, no Words of Power resounding through the building’s cramped confines.
Is she dead? Should I call for her? I don’t know where she was sleeping – maybe the Daedra is still searching for both of us. I might be able to catch it by surprise.
A second arcane snarl sent an icy jolt through his chest and back, and frost magic flickered nervously in his hands. How many is he going to send?
He was getting closer now – the sound seemed to be coming from the tunnel leading to the altar. Not encouraging.
A third summoning noise reached him, and this time, it was followed by a quiet, frustrated mutter of “Dammit!”
“Kierska?” he called quietly, hoping he’d accurately recognized the voice.
“Ondolemar? Oh, shoot. Did I wake you? I’m sorry – I thought the tunnel would muffle the sound.”
The Justiciar straightened up, trading his stealthy crouch for a quick, irritable stride. “What are you doing?”
“I’m trying to summon food. I can summon creatures and weapons, so since we’ve got nothing to do but wait for rescue, now seemed like as good a time as any to see if I could invent a new spell.”
She finally came into view, her hands curled around orbs of magic, and Ondolemar raised his eyebrows at the sight of the burnt, gnarled sticks that littered the floor around her. “The fruits of your efforts, I take it?” he asked, pointing to the wood, and she nodded.
“Ironic choice of words,” she replied with a rueful smile, letting the magic fade from her hands as she lowered them. “I was going for an apple or something, but I’m starting to think this is the closest thing to a fruit tree’s extremities I’m going to get from… wherever in Oblivion bound things come from.”
She frowned. “Where DO bound weapons come from, anyway? Is there an armory in Oblivion just for that, or does some Dremora suddenly lose his sword, only for it to come back a minute later, covered in blood?”
Her quick, wandering mind really did have a way of latching onto questions Ondolemar had never thought of. “Hopefully while he’s in the middle of battle,” he supplied with a small, vindictive smile, “with the outcome being one less Dremora to worry about.”
Her head cocked. “So you’re saying, during the Oblivion Crisis, everyone should’ve started summoning bound weapons?”
“It may be a theory worth testing, if the occasion ever arises. Of course, it does present a flaw in your current plan.”
“What do you – oh.” Her voice dropped in mid-sentence. “Right – even if I did summon food, it would just disappear after one minute. Possibly after it was already eaten. I wonder what that would feel like. Damn.”
She shook her head. “This is why I read a lot of books, and make myself do a lot of research before making big decisions. Once I decide to do something, I tend to just careen ahead, details be damned. And given that I’m a Dragonborn, that can be dangerous for everyone involved.”
“Well, I suppose I can hardly speak ill of you for that, given our current situation. Speaking of food, though, I believe you said you had rations for several days?”
“Yeah. Think you can refrain from smashing it this time?”
“Ah… yes.” That was an embarrassing reminder he didn’t need. As if it wasn’t bad enough that I was eating with my hands instead of proper silverware, I crushed and dropped part of it like a careless savage. “Certainly. Let’s continue this discussion at the table.”
As they made their way toward the kitchen, Ondolemar glanced at his companion’s now-empty hands. “Do you often attempt to invent new spells?”
“Occasionally. To be honest, I generally don’t know where to start, and I usually just don’t take the time. Bandits, vampires, necromancers and dragons pop up faster than I can put them down, and as soon as we get out of here, I’ll be off to deal with the next batch.”
“A pity. As a mage, you seem to have considerable potential.”
Surprise bloomed across her face, as bright as the sunlight the stone walls denied them, and warm as the summer in longed-for Alinor. “Thanks,” she said with a small grin, and the sight brought a smile to his own face.
“See? You’re basking after all.”
“Huh?” Her stare went blank for a moment, then the memory pulled her mouth into a smirk of wry amusement. “…Oh, right, you did recommend that I do that. To be fair, it is much easier to bask in a compliment than in insults and bolts of destruction magic.”
“Hmh. I suppose that’s true.” And I suppose I should get a better idea of what kind of magic she knows. “On the subject of magic, you have gotten me curious: how many spells do you know?”
Her brain and body stalled halfway through the process of crouching on her chair. “I don’t know. Most of them? I mean, the last few times I visited Calcelmo, he didn’t have books for any spells I hadn’t already learned.”
She plopped onto her seat with a small, irritated huff. “Actually, it’s been a while since I’ve seen anyone selling a spell I don’t already know. Which is annoying, because I’ve seen scrolls for stuff like Mass Paralysis and Firestorm, so I know they’re out there, but I even the Mages’ College couldn’t teach them to me.”
“I can see why that would be frustrating,” he replied smoothly as he sat, concealing his consternation at the realization that she knew more spells than he did. It seemed nothing was safe from her ravenous curiosity. “If I find an appropriately advanced tome, I’ll be sure to pick it up for you.”
An instant after he made the promise, its implications jolted through his mind. Why did I just say that? She isn’t on the Thalmor’s side!
But her eyes were glowing like sunlight on the ocean, her tail bounced in a delighted arc, and she looked so happy, in a way people seldom did when they were reacting to him. “Really?” she chirped excitedly. “Thanks!”
“Of course.” He quickly stilled his racing thoughts, then turned them to a more strategic path, and schooled his voice into a tone of calm firmness. “On one condition, though.”
“Oh?” Her head cocked, her eyes wide and questioning, and he pinned her with an intense, commanding gaze.
“You will not use those spells against the Thalmor, or our allies.”
Her helmet concealed her expressive ears, but he had an unpleasant suspicion that they’d just tilted back.
“All right,” she replied, more slowly and reluctantly than he liked, “I’ll avoid using spells you bring me against your allies, but if they try to kill me unprovoked again, I’ll still use other spells to defend myself.”
Well, that was a bucket of cold water on an otherwise pleasant conversation. Ondolemar steepled his hands in front of him, trying to pierce her with his eyes and being thwarted by the fact that she was staring at the pouch she was fishing through.
She pulled out some apples, nuts and dried meat – mediocre fare, he observed, but well-suited for long journeys and waits – and handed his portion to him.
He thanked her, then resumed eye contact as she took a bite of dehydrated beef. “I would like to know more about your encounters with the Justiciars under my command. Tell me how the conflict came to take place.”
“All right. The first time it happened, I saw them escorting a prisoner, and I wanted to know what they were doing and what they were going to do to him. So I asked politely who they were, and they responded…”
Her voice shifted into a surprisingly close semblance of an Alinor accent, oozing with condescending scorn. “‘I am a Thalmor Justiciar on important business that you are interfering with.’
“Then I asked what they were doing in Skyrim, and they said, ‘We’re making sure your Emperor wasn't lying to his Elven masters when he agreed the Empire would give up false gods and foolish beliefs. Now go away.’
“So I asked them the same thing I asked you: what is so wrong about worshiping Talos that it warrants dragging people away, torturing them, and killing them?
“And instead of doing what you did, and explaining why they thought Talos worship might have worse consequences than what they were doing to stop it, they just said, ‘It’s immoral to worship a man. And it’s illegal. A faithful Imperial citizen would know that. Perhaps there’s something you wish to confess?’
“I tried to decide if I should tell them about my research or not, and I guess I took too long to speak, because they said, ‘I don’t like you. I think you’re a heretic. And so, you will die a heretic’s death.’”
Her jaw tightened, and her hand clenched on her dried meat. “They didn’t KNOW I was a heretic. They didn’t get PROOF I was a heretic – certainly not enough proof to kill a person over. They just THOUGHT I was a heretic, and that was good enough for them.
“And if they’d listened or asked questions for even just a couple minutes, like you did, they’d have known I don’t even LIKE Talos, let alone worship him. I just want to know the truth about him, because the decisions people make about him are a matter of life and death.
“But before I could say anything to clear up the misunderstanding, the two soldiers drew their weapons, and the wizard starting shooting lightning at me. Needless to say, my housecarl and my two atronachs didn’t appreciate the unprovoked murder attempt any more than I did.
“To make matters worse, the whole time they were trying to kill us, the Justiciars kept on saying things like, ‘On your knees, worm,’ ‘You are but a dog, and I am your master,’ and ‘Elven supremacy is the only truth!’
“Like I said when we first met, when you expected me to bask in the honor of addressing you, my other experiences with Justiciars were… not the kind of thing one can ‘bask’ in.”
“I see,” Ondolemar muttered around his palm, while his thumb and forefinger dug into the bridge of his nose. No wonder the locals are so hostile.
“Thank you for bringing this to my attention,” he continued. “I will endeavor to ensure that in the future, my subordinates conduct themselves in a manner that is more appropriate, and less embarrassing to the Aldmeri Dominion.”
“Thank you. I hope you’ll also tell them to follow your example of making sure a person is actually guilty before attacking or kidnapping them. The incident I just told you about isn’t the only one I experienced – I wanted to know if all of them were that bad, so I approached a few more patrols – and needless to say, it cast serious doubt on the validity of pretty much every arrest they’ve made.”
His fingers strayed from the bridge of his nose to rub circles on his forehead. “I can see why you say that. No wonder the Jarl was so uncooperative with me, if such precedents have been reported to him.”
“Yeah. Stuff like that is why I’m uncomfortable with the claims some of the Justiciars made about being the rightful rulers of Tamriel, and with justifying the war by claiming it would be better if the Thalmor were in charge.
“If that’s how they rule, and if that’s how much regard they have for the lives of the people they’d be ruling, they might be even worse than Tiber Septim.”
As much as he hated to admit it, he could see why she felt that way. That isn’t who we are. A version of the Thalmor that makes our detractors right about us cannot be who we are.
“I see,” he repeated slowly. “While I maintain the belief that Thalmor rule would be better than the human alternative, it seems we have some work to do when it comes to teaching our field agents how to represent the Dominion. I will see to it. Assuming, of course, that we ever get out of this building. For now, I will have to ask you to avoid said field agents, for your mutual safety.”
“You make sure they don’t attack or imprison innocent people, and I won’t have to stop them from doing so.”
~*~
“And you let a Khajiit tell you how to instruct your own Justiciars?”
Of all the things to fixate on… Ondolemar glared at Carnaril. “Their duty is to deal with Talos worshipers, not to kill random travelers without proof,” he pointed out.
His voice and stare were steady with certainty, but his mind churned beneath the cool facade. Why do I feel like he knows something I don’t? “I received information from a knowledgeable informant, and I acted on it,” he continued. “That is all.”
Carnaril sighed, and the injured Mer wondered if it was a deliberate attempt to convey that his prisoner was dooming himself with every word.
What am I missing? Kierska’s arguments were logical, and so are mine. Surely our leaders aren’t going to make the same mistakes my subordinates did. We’re the Thalmor, rational and superior – we’re better than that.
“And what,” Carnaril asked wearily, “did you say in response to her clear indication that she might continue killing Justiciars?”
Now that was a dangerous question. Lady Mara, please, give me wisdom and fill him with your compassion. Let me get through the rest of this interrogation without him breaking any more bones.
“I assured her that there would be no more erroneous arrests or executions for her to prevent. Hence the messages I sent to our field teams by courier, in case you were planning to ask about them.”
“Bowing to the demands of a member of a lesser race-”
“Instructing my subordinates to do their duties correct-GHAAAH!”
“Do not interrupt me,” Carnaril warned him sternly, watching a fresh trickle of blood make its way down Ondolemar’s abdomen while the injured Justiciar gasped and coughed. “Now, after you agreed to send these new instructions to your subordinates, what happened next?”
“She said-” his voice dissolved into a cough, then he managed, “she still doesn’t agree with- kff!- harming people just for praying, but at least I seemed more reasonable and self-controlled about it than any of the others she’d met.”
It wasn’t often that a Thalmor officer rolled his eyes. The fact that Carnaril was doing so now made it clear what he thought of Kierska’s compliments and the Mer who wished to live up to them.
Ondolemar’s jaw and fingers tightened, but he forced himself to keep talking before Carnaril could use his silence as an excuse for another blow. “After that, the conversation shifted to other sources of unprovoked attacks – Forsworn, dragons, bandits and the like.
“I learned what I could about her activities in Skyrim, her habits, and her methods – all of which, I should note, I included in my scheduled reports. I suspect she held a great deal back, but that is to be expected, if some of our more reckless members have been poisoning our reputation as she claims.
“I also learned that she’d discussed her feelings regarding Talos with Lydia, and they’d agreed to accept the fact that different provinces had experienced different treatment at his hands. To the best of her knowledge, her housecarl does not worship Talos, and merely defends her Thane when threatened.
“After that, our discussion shifted to theoretical conjuration spells, until we were interrupted by the return of Lydia and the Maran priest.”
“Yes, I read the reports. They seemed to have been thorough, though your recent hints of disloyalty have cast doubt on that. For now, tell me about your encounter with the priest.”
Then the grinding, mechanical growl of a conjuration spell clawed through the darkness. It was distant, but unmistakable: the sound of a creature being summoned from Oblivion.
He’s sending Daedra! The thought exploded through his mind, blasting his drowsiness away in a pulse-pounding flood of adrenaline, and he flung the bearskin across the room in his haste to free his limbs.
Magicka gathered in his left hand, even as the right one launched him off the bed. By the time his feet hit the floor, his skin was shimmering with Alteration magic, hard as iron. Hopefully hard enough.
He dropped into a crouch, slipping toward the source of the sound as quietly as he could. There was no sign of Kierska – was she already fighting whatever monsters Molag Bal had sent to punish them?
If she had been, the fight was already over. There was no ring of clashing metal, no sound of elemental magic striking flesh, no Words of Power resounding through the building’s cramped confines.
Is she dead? Should I call for her? I don’t know where she was sleeping – maybe the Daedra is still searching for both of us. I might be able to catch it by surprise.
A second arcane snarl sent an icy jolt through his chest and back, and frost magic flickered nervously in his hands. How many is he going to send?
He was getting closer now – the sound seemed to be coming from the tunnel leading to the altar. Not encouraging.
A third summoning noise reached him, and this time, it was followed by a quiet, frustrated mutter of “Dammit!”
“Kierska?” he called quietly, hoping he’d accurately recognized the voice.
“Ondolemar? Oh, shoot. Did I wake you? I’m sorry – I thought the tunnel would muffle the sound.”
The Justiciar straightened up, trading his stealthy crouch for a quick, irritable stride. “What are you doing?”
“I’m trying to summon food. I can summon creatures and weapons, so since we’ve got nothing to do but wait for rescue, now seemed like as good a time as any to see if I could invent a new spell.”
She finally came into view, her hands curled around orbs of magic, and Ondolemar raised his eyebrows at the sight of the burnt, gnarled sticks that littered the floor around her. “The fruits of your efforts, I take it?” he asked, pointing to the wood, and she nodded.
“Ironic choice of words,” she replied with a rueful smile, letting the magic fade from her hands as she lowered them. “I was going for an apple or something, but I’m starting to think this is the closest thing to a fruit tree’s extremities I’m going to get from… wherever in Oblivion bound things come from.”
She frowned. “Where DO bound weapons come from, anyway? Is there an armory in Oblivion just for that, or does some Dremora suddenly lose his sword, only for it to come back a minute later, covered in blood?”
Her quick, wandering mind really did have a way of latching onto questions Ondolemar had never thought of. “Hopefully while he’s in the middle of battle,” he supplied with a small, vindictive smile, “with the outcome being one less Dremora to worry about.”
Her head cocked. “So you’re saying, during the Oblivion Crisis, everyone should’ve started summoning bound weapons?”
“It may be a theory worth testing, if the occasion ever arises. Of course, it does present a flaw in your current plan.”
“What do you – oh.” Her voice dropped in mid-sentence. “Right – even if I did summon food, it would just disappear after one minute. Possibly after it was already eaten. I wonder what that would feel like. Damn.”
She shook her head. “This is why I read a lot of books, and make myself do a lot of research before making big decisions. Once I decide to do something, I tend to just careen ahead, details be damned. And given that I’m a Dragonborn, that can be dangerous for everyone involved.”
“Well, I suppose I can hardly speak ill of you for that, given our current situation. Speaking of food, though, I believe you said you had rations for several days?”
“Yeah. Think you can refrain from smashing it this time?”
“Ah… yes.” That was an embarrassing reminder he didn’t need. As if it wasn’t bad enough that I was eating with my hands instead of proper silverware, I crushed and dropped part of it like a careless savage. “Certainly. Let’s continue this discussion at the table.”
As they made their way toward the kitchen, Ondolemar glanced at his companion’s now-empty hands. “Do you often attempt to invent new spells?”
“Occasionally. To be honest, I generally don’t know where to start, and I usually just don’t take the time. Bandits, vampires, necromancers and dragons pop up faster than I can put them down, and as soon as we get out of here, I’ll be off to deal with the next batch.”
“A pity. As a mage, you seem to have considerable potential.”
Surprise bloomed across her face, as bright as the sunlight the stone walls denied them, and warm as the summer in longed-for Alinor. “Thanks,” she said with a small grin, and the sight brought a smile to his own face.
“See? You’re basking after all.”
“Huh?” Her stare went blank for a moment, then the memory pulled her mouth into a smirk of wry amusement. “…Oh, right, you did recommend that I do that. To be fair, it is much easier to bask in a compliment than in insults and bolts of destruction magic.”
“Hmh. I suppose that’s true.” And I suppose I should get a better idea of what kind of magic she knows. “On the subject of magic, you have gotten me curious: how many spells do you know?”
Her brain and body stalled halfway through the process of crouching on her chair. “I don’t know. Most of them? I mean, the last few times I visited Calcelmo, he didn’t have books for any spells I hadn’t already learned.”
She plopped onto her seat with a small, irritated huff. “Actually, it’s been a while since I’ve seen anyone selling a spell I don’t already know. Which is annoying, because I’ve seen scrolls for stuff like Mass Paralysis and Firestorm, so I know they’re out there, but I even the Mages’ College couldn’t teach them to me.”
“I can see why that would be frustrating,” he replied smoothly as he sat, concealing his consternation at the realization that she knew more spells than he did. It seemed nothing was safe from her ravenous curiosity. “If I find an appropriately advanced tome, I’ll be sure to pick it up for you.”
An instant after he made the promise, its implications jolted through his mind. Why did I just say that? She isn’t on the Thalmor’s side!
But her eyes were glowing like sunlight on the ocean, her tail bounced in a delighted arc, and she looked so happy, in a way people seldom did when they were reacting to him. “Really?” she chirped excitedly. “Thanks!”
“Of course.” He quickly stilled his racing thoughts, then turned them to a more strategic path, and schooled his voice into a tone of calm firmness. “On one condition, though.”
“Oh?” Her head cocked, her eyes wide and questioning, and he pinned her with an intense, commanding gaze.
“You will not use those spells against the Thalmor, or our allies.”
Her helmet concealed her expressive ears, but he had an unpleasant suspicion that they’d just tilted back.
“All right,” she replied, more slowly and reluctantly than he liked, “I’ll avoid using spells you bring me against your allies, but if they try to kill me unprovoked again, I’ll still use other spells to defend myself.”
Well, that was a bucket of cold water on an otherwise pleasant conversation. Ondolemar steepled his hands in front of him, trying to pierce her with his eyes and being thwarted by the fact that she was staring at the pouch she was fishing through.
She pulled out some apples, nuts and dried meat – mediocre fare, he observed, but well-suited for long journeys and waits – and handed his portion to him.
He thanked her, then resumed eye contact as she took a bite of dehydrated beef. “I would like to know more about your encounters with the Justiciars under my command. Tell me how the conflict came to take place.”
“All right. The first time it happened, I saw them escorting a prisoner, and I wanted to know what they were doing and what they were going to do to him. So I asked politely who they were, and they responded…”
Her voice shifted into a surprisingly close semblance of an Alinor accent, oozing with condescending scorn. “‘I am a Thalmor Justiciar on important business that you are interfering with.’
“Then I asked what they were doing in Skyrim, and they said, ‘We’re making sure your Emperor wasn't lying to his Elven masters when he agreed the Empire would give up false gods and foolish beliefs. Now go away.’
“So I asked them the same thing I asked you: what is so wrong about worshiping Talos that it warrants dragging people away, torturing them, and killing them?
“And instead of doing what you did, and explaining why they thought Talos worship might have worse consequences than what they were doing to stop it, they just said, ‘It’s immoral to worship a man. And it’s illegal. A faithful Imperial citizen would know that. Perhaps there’s something you wish to confess?’
“I tried to decide if I should tell them about my research or not, and I guess I took too long to speak, because they said, ‘I don’t like you. I think you’re a heretic. And so, you will die a heretic’s death.’”
Her jaw tightened, and her hand clenched on her dried meat. “They didn’t KNOW I was a heretic. They didn’t get PROOF I was a heretic – certainly not enough proof to kill a person over. They just THOUGHT I was a heretic, and that was good enough for them.
“And if they’d listened or asked questions for even just a couple minutes, like you did, they’d have known I don’t even LIKE Talos, let alone worship him. I just want to know the truth about him, because the decisions people make about him are a matter of life and death.
“But before I could say anything to clear up the misunderstanding, the two soldiers drew their weapons, and the wizard starting shooting lightning at me. Needless to say, my housecarl and my two atronachs didn’t appreciate the unprovoked murder attempt any more than I did.
“To make matters worse, the whole time they were trying to kill us, the Justiciars kept on saying things like, ‘On your knees, worm,’ ‘You are but a dog, and I am your master,’ and ‘Elven supremacy is the only truth!’
“Like I said when we first met, when you expected me to bask in the honor of addressing you, my other experiences with Justiciars were… not the kind of thing one can ‘bask’ in.”
“I see,” Ondolemar muttered around his palm, while his thumb and forefinger dug into the bridge of his nose. No wonder the locals are so hostile.
“Thank you for bringing this to my attention,” he continued. “I will endeavor to ensure that in the future, my subordinates conduct themselves in a manner that is more appropriate, and less embarrassing to the Aldmeri Dominion.”
“Thank you. I hope you’ll also tell them to follow your example of making sure a person is actually guilty before attacking or kidnapping them. The incident I just told you about isn’t the only one I experienced – I wanted to know if all of them were that bad, so I approached a few more patrols – and needless to say, it cast serious doubt on the validity of pretty much every arrest they’ve made.”
His fingers strayed from the bridge of his nose to rub circles on his forehead. “I can see why you say that. No wonder the Jarl was so uncooperative with me, if such precedents have been reported to him.”
“Yeah. Stuff like that is why I’m uncomfortable with the claims some of the Justiciars made about being the rightful rulers of Tamriel, and with justifying the war by claiming it would be better if the Thalmor were in charge.
“If that’s how they rule, and if that’s how much regard they have for the lives of the people they’d be ruling, they might be even worse than Tiber Septim.”
As much as he hated to admit it, he could see why she felt that way. That isn’t who we are. A version of the Thalmor that makes our detractors right about us cannot be who we are.
“I see,” he repeated slowly. “While I maintain the belief that Thalmor rule would be better than the human alternative, it seems we have some work to do when it comes to teaching our field agents how to represent the Dominion. I will see to it. Assuming, of course, that we ever get out of this building. For now, I will have to ask you to avoid said field agents, for your mutual safety.”
“You make sure they don’t attack or imprison innocent people, and I won’t have to stop them from doing so.”
~*~
“And you let a Khajiit tell you how to instruct your own Justiciars?”
Of all the things to fixate on… Ondolemar glared at Carnaril. “Their duty is to deal with Talos worshipers, not to kill random travelers without proof,” he pointed out.
His voice and stare were steady with certainty, but his mind churned beneath the cool facade. Why do I feel like he knows something I don’t? “I received information from a knowledgeable informant, and I acted on it,” he continued. “That is all.”
Carnaril sighed, and the injured Mer wondered if it was a deliberate attempt to convey that his prisoner was dooming himself with every word.
What am I missing? Kierska’s arguments were logical, and so are mine. Surely our leaders aren’t going to make the same mistakes my subordinates did. We’re the Thalmor, rational and superior – we’re better than that.
“And what,” Carnaril asked wearily, “did you say in response to her clear indication that she might continue killing Justiciars?”
Now that was a dangerous question. Lady Mara, please, give me wisdom and fill him with your compassion. Let me get through the rest of this interrogation without him breaking any more bones.
“I assured her that there would be no more erroneous arrests or executions for her to prevent. Hence the messages I sent to our field teams by courier, in case you were planning to ask about them.”
“Bowing to the demands of a member of a lesser race-”
“Instructing my subordinates to do their duties correct-GHAAAH!”
“Do not interrupt me,” Carnaril warned him sternly, watching a fresh trickle of blood make its way down Ondolemar’s abdomen while the injured Justiciar gasped and coughed. “Now, after you agreed to send these new instructions to your subordinates, what happened next?”
“She said-” his voice dissolved into a cough, then he managed, “she still doesn’t agree with- kff!- harming people just for praying, but at least I seemed more reasonable and self-controlled about it than any of the others she’d met.”
It wasn’t often that a Thalmor officer rolled his eyes. The fact that Carnaril was doing so now made it clear what he thought of Kierska’s compliments and the Mer who wished to live up to them.
Ondolemar’s jaw and fingers tightened, but he forced himself to keep talking before Carnaril could use his silence as an excuse for another blow. “After that, the conversation shifted to other sources of unprovoked attacks – Forsworn, dragons, bandits and the like.
“I learned what I could about her activities in Skyrim, her habits, and her methods – all of which, I should note, I included in my scheduled reports. I suspect she held a great deal back, but that is to be expected, if some of our more reckless members have been poisoning our reputation as she claims.
“I also learned that she’d discussed her feelings regarding Talos with Lydia, and they’d agreed to accept the fact that different provinces had experienced different treatment at his hands. To the best of her knowledge, her housecarl does not worship Talos, and merely defends her Thane when threatened.
“After that, our discussion shifted to theoretical conjuration spells, until we were interrupted by the return of Lydia and the Maran priest.”
“Yes, I read the reports. They seemed to have been thorough, though your recent hints of disloyalty have cast doubt on that. For now, tell me about your encounter with the priest.”
Author's note:
I can't take credit for the idea of accidentally stealing a Dremora's sword; it's been a while since I read it, but I think I found it in a Reddit thread.
And then, while trying to find where I first read it, I saw people saying that bound weapons are actually minor Daedra, bound in weapon form. Ack.
I don't wanna go back and rewrite it. So I'm not going to. I think my version is funnier anyway.
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