Your Truth Cannot Stand
A Skyrim Fanfiction
Chapter 9: It’s the End of the World as We Know it
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
Chapter 7: All I Should Have Been
Chapter 8: Paralysis Analysis
Chapter 9: It’s the End of the World as We Know it (you are here)
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
Chapter 7: All I Should Have Been
Chapter 8: Paralysis Analysis
Chapter 9: It’s the End of the World as We Know it (you are here)
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
The moment he saw Kierska in Understone Keep, he motioned for his bodyguards to stay behind.
The startled “Sir?!” was unexpected, but understandable; they’d no doubt heard about Rulindil’s bloody fate, and were stunned that he would risk having the same befall him by confronting the murderer alone.
But this was Kierska. He knew her, he insisted to himself. And while her invasion of the Embassy had left him feeling betrayed, he couldn’t bring himself to believe that she’d deliberately harm him, as long as he refrained from attacking her.
Besides, as he told his guards, there was a chance that her sticky fingers had acquired privileged information, which he would not be at liberty to pry from her in front of them.
They knew better than to ask what kind of information. He was certainly not about to volunteer the details himself.
“Kierska.” His stern voice rang through the cold stone hall as he strode toward her, and the sound jolted her quick, light footsteps to a halt. As her head snapped around to face him, he wasn’t sure how to feel about the look in her eyes.
Worry. Remorse. And the muted resignation of a person who regretted the effects of her actions, but would nonetheless do the same thing again if given the chance to start over.
At least she didn’t look hostile. No spells or weapons appeared in her hands, and if the hint of sadness was any indication, she felt as bad about the idea of them hurting each other as he did.
It gave him the confidence to come within whispering distance of her, his own hands similarly empty.
“You’d better have a good explanation for your actions in the Embassy,” he informed her coldly, his voice low enough that neither his guards nor the Jarl’s could hear him, and her gaze was sad but steady as it stared into his.
“I do,” she said quietly. “I needed to know if the Thalmor were behind the dragon attacks, and if Ancano’s attack on Winterhold was officially condoned. I know you and Elenwen both said no, but Elenwen strikes me as being more diplomatic than honest, and for all I knew, they just hadn’t told you.”
So she trusted him to tell the truth, but not to know the truth. “You assumed they were withholding information from the leader of the Justiciars?”
“I didn’t have enough solid information to assume anything. Which is why I decided to see if I could find documentation that would prove the Thalmor’s involvement or lack thereof, one way or the other.”
“And you also decided to kill four Thalmor officers.”
“Do you want to know why?” she returned, learning forward slightly, and the sudden, burning edge in her voice almost made Ondolemar take a step back.
“Why?” he asked slowly, and her eyes narrowed.
“Because, in keeping with the pattern of illegal violence I’ve already observed on the parts of Ancano and the Justiciars on the road, two of them were torturing a kidnapped man for reasons that had nothing to do with breaking the Concordat.
“He’d already given them the information they needed – I managed to find the person they were looking for, with no more information than he’d given them. And yet, they kept on beating him, asking the same questions he’d already answered over and over, like a fly that keeps banging against the same window all day.
“Since they were illegally attacking someone, I did what I do when criminals commit violent crimes. And then, when two other guards found me, I defended myself and my accomplice.”
Her tail lashed from side to side, and Ondolemar noticed with alarm that her fur was starting to rise, even as her voice remained a low growl.
“I know they’re your colleagues, Ondolemar, but no matter how superior they think they are, they can’t just go around committing violent crimes and expect that no one will investigate or protect their victims. They started this, they keep starting this, and they have no right to complain when their would-be victims fight back.”
“I see,” he said slowly, trying to process the torrent of words and disturbing new information. “I was… not informed that they had a prisoner in custody.” I should be rebuking her. I should be defending the Thalmor.
Why do they have to keep making themselves so damn difficult to defend?
To his relief, her expression began to soften, and her tail’s movements slowed. “I’m sorry if this has to come between us,” she said quietly. “I like you, probably more so than is safe for a person who’s on the Thalmor’s bad side and doesn’t want to be on Skyrim’s.
“But just because you’re better than your colleagues, that doesn’t mean I can give them a free pass on violent crimes. If they don’t want their crimes to be investigated, prevented or punished, they need to stop committing them. Until then, their victims have a right to defend themselves.”
His sense of justice and morality said she was right.
His training said any action against the Thalmor had to be punished.
And he didn’t know which he should listen to. Didn’t know which he wanted to… no… that wasn’t true.
He didn’t want to fight Kierska. And not just because her track record with Thalmor told him not to throw himself into a furry meat grinder who ate dragon souls for breakfast.
“I… see,” he repeated, trying to choose his words carefully, but not knowing for sure what he even wanted to say. “This puts me in a rather difficult position.”
“I know.” Her tail lowered, and its lashing faded to a slow, muted sway. “Friendships between people with different loyalties aren’t easy. I honestly wish you weren’t Thalmor, so I wouldn’t have to worry about them giving you an order that would force us to fight each other.”
“That would indeed be most unpleasant. I would miss your company – and, quite possibly, my corporeal form.”
The grim joke drew a small, pained grin across her face, and he caught himself returning it with his own, only to feel his smile falter in a sudden rush of regrets.
I wish I hadn’t failed to purge that house of Molag Bal. That might have been my only opportunity to get her on our side.
But then, if my colleagues continued to antagonize her, I doubt she would have stayed on our side very long.
While part of his mind stewed in ‘what if?’s, the rest watched Kierska’s eyes stray to the floor. “Yeah,” she said. “Speaking of which, I have to go. The situation with the dragons is worse than I thought, and if I don’t find a way to deal with it soon, you won’t be the only one who ends up missing their body.”
“Oh?” Tension ran through his shoulder blades, and he had to stop himself from reaching out and grabbing her. “Surely you aren’t going to run off without explaining that.”
She glanced toward the Jarl’s throne, as if measuring the brief amount of time she’d allotted for whatever business she had with him, then returned her eyes to Ondolemar. “All right. But I’ll have to be quick, and there are some details I can’t include for safety reasons.”
“The safety of the person Rulindil was asking about, I assume. I expected as much. Very well; I know better than to try to force you to do something I know you’ll refuse to do, and if you can provide the same information we wanted from him, I doubt we’ll have need of him anyway.”
His quick acquiescence seemed to put her slightly more at ease. “Thanks. As always, I’m glad that you’re willing to be sensible. And I also need you to promise not to tell the general public – I don’t want to cause a panic.”
The tightness in his stomach and back intensified. “The news is that bad, is it? All right. But I will have to pass the information along to my superiors.”
“Of course. Not that there’s anything they can do about it, as far as I know.”
“Which is probably why you’re telling me.”
“Heh.” She gave him a small grin. “You’re getting to know me too well. Anyway, the guy they were hunting is an expert on dragon lore, and he explained that the dragon that destroyed Helgen is Alduin, the World-Eater.
“I’m not sure how, but on top of being the one who’s resurrecting other dragons, apparently he’s a threat to all of Nirn and can even eat the spirits of the dead, and only a Dragonborn can stop him.”
One of Ondolemar’s eyebrows rose. “A single dragon could threaten Nirn? That sounds most implausible.”
She shrugged. “I didn’t write the prophecy. I just found out about it a few days ago.”
Her face and voice flattened. “So yeah, on top of being one of the handful of independent warriors who’s bothering to run myself ragged trying to deal with all the bandits and stuff in Skyrim, now I’m apparently the only one who can stop a dragon from eating everyone, up to and including the people in the afterlife.
“No pressure,” she concluded, and the sudden lightness in her voice was tinged with bitter sarcasm.
Damn it, he wasn’t supposed to feel sorry for her. And he certainly wasn’t supposed to feel reassured that, if such a task truly existed, she was the one the gods had chosen for it.
But he did feel that, and he saw no need to keep the opinion to himself. “I see. An unenviable position, but given your formidable track record, I have little doubt that you’ll succeed.”
There it was again: that look of happy, grateful surprise, the face of one who’d just had the honor of receiving a compliment from a member of the Thalmor.
No… she didn’t like the Thalmor. She probably wouldn’t care for a compliment from most of them.
She was smiling because she’d received a compliment from him, and the warmth that flooded his chest at the thought was something he knew he would never dare reveal to his superiors.
“Assuming the Thalmor don’t assassinate me first,” Kierska said wryly, a smile that matched her tone tugging at the corner of her mouth as she interrupted his thoughts, “but I appreciate the vote of confidence. Speaking of which, aren’t you going to get in trouble for talking to me like this? I’m not exactly on your bosses’ good side right now.”
“Hmph.” The closed-mouthed half-chuckle seemed to ease her worry slightly. “If they choose to complain, which they most likely will, I’ll remind them that I’ve gotten more information from you in this short conversation than any of my less congenial colleagues could have beaten out of you or your elusive dragon expert in a week.”
“Assuming they could catch either of us.”
“Indeed. You’ve saved the Thalmor a great deal of trouble by acquiring this information. I doubt Elenwen will believe that it makes up for the trouble you’ve caused, but perhaps they will see the wisdom in allowing us to continue our… exchanges of information.”
A smile bloomed across her face, like the first gleam of the sun rising above the horizon. “Let’s hope they’re as smart and reasonable as you. In the meantime, I’d better go. I have a quick report to give the Jarl about a Forsworn camp, and then… the World Eater awaits.”
~*~
Carnaril rolled his eyes. “Does your susceptibility to her flattery know no bounds?”
“Not as long as it’s based on reality, no.”
The interrogator pinched the bridge of his nose. “And did it never occur to you that she might be exaggerating her own importance to the cause of stopping the dragons in order to prevent you from taking action against her?”
“Her story sounded far-fetched, but a few years ago, so would the concept of the dragons returning. As for taking action against her, I did not have the necessary military force, and the attempt would most likely have ended in my death. Fortunately, unlike the dragons, she only attacks when threatened or provoked, or when defending a third party – to the best of my knowledge, at least.”
“Sometimes those third parties are our enemies, or necessary sources of information.”
“That is true. But the approach our colleagues have been taking has only resulted in a trail of dead Thalmor. My approach resulted in gaining as much information as we probably would have obtained from the Blades loremaster, had we captured and interrogated him.”
“That may be true,” Carnaril conceded, audibly hating every syllable of his own words. “But unless her wild claims are true, and Auri-El chose a Khajiit sellsword to prevent the end of the world, I doubt she or her information will provide value to our cause that is equivalent to the harm she’s already done and will most likely do in the future.
“That being the case, you should have tried to obtain her intended itinerary and relay it to us, so we could send a more appropriately-sized assassination team.”
Assassination team. The words rang like a death knell in Ondolemar’s mind, along with the horrifying image of Kierska surrounded by an army too great for even the Dragonborn to survive.
He tried to convince himself that his fear was for the sake of the Thalmor agents who would surely die in the attempt.
And Carnaril saw through it. “You seem troubled by this plan.”
“It would no doubt involve massive casualties on the part of the Thal-”
Pain exploded through his cheek, resounding like a shockwave through his head, and the ringing in his skull almost drowned out the roar of Carnaril’s voice. “DON’T insult my intelligence! You’ve made your attachment to our enemy clear – far more so than your attachment to the Thalmor.
“This whole mess should have ended shortly after your first meeting with her. And yet, even after you learned that she wore an amulet of Talos and was threatening to expose evidence that might convince people that Talos is a god, you made no attempt to do your duty and stop her.”
“Stop her…” Back when she was just doing research? The words cast a shadow on Ondolemar’s mind, cutting through the haze of pain, and a slow, wary frown crept onto his aching, swollen face. “Are the Thalmor not the epitome of Elven rationality and intellect?”
“Of course we are.” Another threatening twirl of the mace, which somehow felt less ominous than the implications of Carnaril’s accusations. “Not that anyone could tell from interacting with you.”
The captive Justiciar ignored the insult. He had far worse things to worry about. “Then if our conclusions are based on logic and truth, research performed by an intelligent and well-informed person should only reinforce our ideology.”
Surely you must agree with that. Kierska was right – if a way of thinking can be dismantled by finding the truth, it does not deserve to endure. By outlawing research-
“And did you never consider that the information she brings to light could harm our cause? The cause to which you swore loyalty?”
Ondolemar’s world fell out from under him.
One moment, his mind was braced on solid ground, secure in his rationale, and convinced that he could make his torturer see the same truth he had seen: that if their view of history, politics, and the nature of divinity was right, it would only be reinforced by scrutiny.
The next, the world was reeling around him in a warped, shattered blur of everything he’d thought he knew.
“Are you saying… that if she… if we… keep digging toward the truth… the truth… will hurt our cause?”
The other Altmer’s eyes snapped narrow, and his mouth clenched into a thin, hard line. “Elven supremacy is the only truth.”
That… It was something he’d been told as long as he could remember, and he’d never thought to question it. But now that he’d been taught to question… That can’t be the ONLY truth. There are many truths about many subjects, and if they don’t support our claims…
“Then,” he argued, hearing desperation in his voice and no longer able to care, “shouldn’t we demonstrate that superiority and prove those who question us wrong, instead of proving them right by killing anyone we can’t out-argue like a pack of simple barbarians?”
The words had barely left his mouth when the mace shattered his jaw.
His vision swam, and his mind threatened to drown along with it. A tortured scream filled his mind, and it escaped from his exhausted body in a weak, struggling moan.
“No.” A distant voice trickled across his ears like poisoned water. “If our cause is to succeed, we cannot indulge those who question or oppose us, or leave them free to do us further harm. They must be crushed.”
They must be crushed. No matter what they said, even if they were right, even if they were telling the truth…
“I’m not lying!” A desperate, terrified voice echoed in his mind, torn by the same unbearable pain that was threatening to drag him into oblivion. “I don’t know any other Talos worshipers. I swear, I’m not holding back – I don’t have anything else to give you!”
“If that is the case,” Ondolemar had asked, triumph ringing in his voice, “why was a woman with an amulet of Talos caught trying to break you out?”
The Nord’s eyes had widened in pitiful fear. “I don’t know,” he’d insisted. “Maybe she’s a Stormcloak. Maybe she’s a friend I didn’t know still worshiped Talos. I DON’T KNOW!”
I didn’t believe him.
Ondolemar’s mind was sinking, falling into the roaring darkness that filled his pounding skull. Voices filtered distantly through the haze that enveloped his senses, saying something about another cell, and somewhere in the firelight, a shadow moved toward him.
I was so sure he was lying that nothing he could say could save him. I’d decided what I thought was true, and I was sure that if I beat him enough, he would prove me right. I thought it was worth it, to destroy the Talos heresy… to further our cause…
I hurt him so much. I almost killed him. He was so helpless, so afraid… I kept asking the same questions, just like I was trained to… I kept beating him… his whining, gibbering and lying made me want to hurt him more… and Mara forgive me, I did…
A deep, shuddering breath wrenched its way through his broken chest. Was he telling the truth? Did I break him because I was more obsessed with my cause than I was with truth?
And the cause for which I broke his will…
A rough hand clenched around his arm, shifting the broken bone and drawing another groaning wail. A key clicked in a lock, the grip on his wrist disappeared, and he slumped toward the floor, dangling from his ruined right hand.
A second lock clicked free, and he fell onto his side on the cold wooden floor, fighting for consciousness while longing to drift into the painless embrace of sleep.
Information could harm our cause. He didn’t want to believe it. Couldn’t accept it. It was anathema to everything he’d ever believed in. We were going to show the Nords the truth. To prove our superiority, one century at a time.
But if proof undermines us instead of validating our claims… and if our crimes justify our enemies’ decision to oppose us, then… what was I fighting for, all this time?
Cruel hands dug into his upper arms, hauling him off the floor. His legs were dragging behind him again, cracked bones jostling with every movement, but by now, each new jolt of pain was just a drop in an ocean in which he was already drowning.
Everything I worked for. Everything I fought for. Everything I’ve killed and risked death for.
Everything I believed. Everything I’ve tried to convince other people to believe. Everything that makes me ME.
If the truth was brought to light, would all that be destroyed? If that is true, then…
The shackles clicked into place, and once again, he was dangling from his arms. Arms that might never work again once all of this was over, but if the fears that were crashing through his mind were true… the destruction of his limbs would be insignificant compared to what he had just lost.
The startled “Sir?!” was unexpected, but understandable; they’d no doubt heard about Rulindil’s bloody fate, and were stunned that he would risk having the same befall him by confronting the murderer alone.
But this was Kierska. He knew her, he insisted to himself. And while her invasion of the Embassy had left him feeling betrayed, he couldn’t bring himself to believe that she’d deliberately harm him, as long as he refrained from attacking her.
Besides, as he told his guards, there was a chance that her sticky fingers had acquired privileged information, which he would not be at liberty to pry from her in front of them.
They knew better than to ask what kind of information. He was certainly not about to volunteer the details himself.
“Kierska.” His stern voice rang through the cold stone hall as he strode toward her, and the sound jolted her quick, light footsteps to a halt. As her head snapped around to face him, he wasn’t sure how to feel about the look in her eyes.
Worry. Remorse. And the muted resignation of a person who regretted the effects of her actions, but would nonetheless do the same thing again if given the chance to start over.
At least she didn’t look hostile. No spells or weapons appeared in her hands, and if the hint of sadness was any indication, she felt as bad about the idea of them hurting each other as he did.
It gave him the confidence to come within whispering distance of her, his own hands similarly empty.
“You’d better have a good explanation for your actions in the Embassy,” he informed her coldly, his voice low enough that neither his guards nor the Jarl’s could hear him, and her gaze was sad but steady as it stared into his.
“I do,” she said quietly. “I needed to know if the Thalmor were behind the dragon attacks, and if Ancano’s attack on Winterhold was officially condoned. I know you and Elenwen both said no, but Elenwen strikes me as being more diplomatic than honest, and for all I knew, they just hadn’t told you.”
So she trusted him to tell the truth, but not to know the truth. “You assumed they were withholding information from the leader of the Justiciars?”
“I didn’t have enough solid information to assume anything. Which is why I decided to see if I could find documentation that would prove the Thalmor’s involvement or lack thereof, one way or the other.”
“And you also decided to kill four Thalmor officers.”
“Do you want to know why?” she returned, learning forward slightly, and the sudden, burning edge in her voice almost made Ondolemar take a step back.
“Why?” he asked slowly, and her eyes narrowed.
“Because, in keeping with the pattern of illegal violence I’ve already observed on the parts of Ancano and the Justiciars on the road, two of them were torturing a kidnapped man for reasons that had nothing to do with breaking the Concordat.
“He’d already given them the information they needed – I managed to find the person they were looking for, with no more information than he’d given them. And yet, they kept on beating him, asking the same questions he’d already answered over and over, like a fly that keeps banging against the same window all day.
“Since they were illegally attacking someone, I did what I do when criminals commit violent crimes. And then, when two other guards found me, I defended myself and my accomplice.”
Her tail lashed from side to side, and Ondolemar noticed with alarm that her fur was starting to rise, even as her voice remained a low growl.
“I know they’re your colleagues, Ondolemar, but no matter how superior they think they are, they can’t just go around committing violent crimes and expect that no one will investigate or protect their victims. They started this, they keep starting this, and they have no right to complain when their would-be victims fight back.”
“I see,” he said slowly, trying to process the torrent of words and disturbing new information. “I was… not informed that they had a prisoner in custody.” I should be rebuking her. I should be defending the Thalmor.
Why do they have to keep making themselves so damn difficult to defend?
To his relief, her expression began to soften, and her tail’s movements slowed. “I’m sorry if this has to come between us,” she said quietly. “I like you, probably more so than is safe for a person who’s on the Thalmor’s bad side and doesn’t want to be on Skyrim’s.
“But just because you’re better than your colleagues, that doesn’t mean I can give them a free pass on violent crimes. If they don’t want their crimes to be investigated, prevented or punished, they need to stop committing them. Until then, their victims have a right to defend themselves.”
His sense of justice and morality said she was right.
His training said any action against the Thalmor had to be punished.
And he didn’t know which he should listen to. Didn’t know which he wanted to… no… that wasn’t true.
He didn’t want to fight Kierska. And not just because her track record with Thalmor told him not to throw himself into a furry meat grinder who ate dragon souls for breakfast.
“I… see,” he repeated, trying to choose his words carefully, but not knowing for sure what he even wanted to say. “This puts me in a rather difficult position.”
“I know.” Her tail lowered, and its lashing faded to a slow, muted sway. “Friendships between people with different loyalties aren’t easy. I honestly wish you weren’t Thalmor, so I wouldn’t have to worry about them giving you an order that would force us to fight each other.”
“That would indeed be most unpleasant. I would miss your company – and, quite possibly, my corporeal form.”
The grim joke drew a small, pained grin across her face, and he caught himself returning it with his own, only to feel his smile falter in a sudden rush of regrets.
I wish I hadn’t failed to purge that house of Molag Bal. That might have been my only opportunity to get her on our side.
But then, if my colleagues continued to antagonize her, I doubt she would have stayed on our side very long.
While part of his mind stewed in ‘what if?’s, the rest watched Kierska’s eyes stray to the floor. “Yeah,” she said. “Speaking of which, I have to go. The situation with the dragons is worse than I thought, and if I don’t find a way to deal with it soon, you won’t be the only one who ends up missing their body.”
“Oh?” Tension ran through his shoulder blades, and he had to stop himself from reaching out and grabbing her. “Surely you aren’t going to run off without explaining that.”
She glanced toward the Jarl’s throne, as if measuring the brief amount of time she’d allotted for whatever business she had with him, then returned her eyes to Ondolemar. “All right. But I’ll have to be quick, and there are some details I can’t include for safety reasons.”
“The safety of the person Rulindil was asking about, I assume. I expected as much. Very well; I know better than to try to force you to do something I know you’ll refuse to do, and if you can provide the same information we wanted from him, I doubt we’ll have need of him anyway.”
His quick acquiescence seemed to put her slightly more at ease. “Thanks. As always, I’m glad that you’re willing to be sensible. And I also need you to promise not to tell the general public – I don’t want to cause a panic.”
The tightness in his stomach and back intensified. “The news is that bad, is it? All right. But I will have to pass the information along to my superiors.”
“Of course. Not that there’s anything they can do about it, as far as I know.”
“Which is probably why you’re telling me.”
“Heh.” She gave him a small grin. “You’re getting to know me too well. Anyway, the guy they were hunting is an expert on dragon lore, and he explained that the dragon that destroyed Helgen is Alduin, the World-Eater.
“I’m not sure how, but on top of being the one who’s resurrecting other dragons, apparently he’s a threat to all of Nirn and can even eat the spirits of the dead, and only a Dragonborn can stop him.”
One of Ondolemar’s eyebrows rose. “A single dragon could threaten Nirn? That sounds most implausible.”
She shrugged. “I didn’t write the prophecy. I just found out about it a few days ago.”
Her face and voice flattened. “So yeah, on top of being one of the handful of independent warriors who’s bothering to run myself ragged trying to deal with all the bandits and stuff in Skyrim, now I’m apparently the only one who can stop a dragon from eating everyone, up to and including the people in the afterlife.
“No pressure,” she concluded, and the sudden lightness in her voice was tinged with bitter sarcasm.
Damn it, he wasn’t supposed to feel sorry for her. And he certainly wasn’t supposed to feel reassured that, if such a task truly existed, she was the one the gods had chosen for it.
But he did feel that, and he saw no need to keep the opinion to himself. “I see. An unenviable position, but given your formidable track record, I have little doubt that you’ll succeed.”
There it was again: that look of happy, grateful surprise, the face of one who’d just had the honor of receiving a compliment from a member of the Thalmor.
No… she didn’t like the Thalmor. She probably wouldn’t care for a compliment from most of them.
She was smiling because she’d received a compliment from him, and the warmth that flooded his chest at the thought was something he knew he would never dare reveal to his superiors.
“Assuming the Thalmor don’t assassinate me first,” Kierska said wryly, a smile that matched her tone tugging at the corner of her mouth as she interrupted his thoughts, “but I appreciate the vote of confidence. Speaking of which, aren’t you going to get in trouble for talking to me like this? I’m not exactly on your bosses’ good side right now.”
“Hmph.” The closed-mouthed half-chuckle seemed to ease her worry slightly. “If they choose to complain, which they most likely will, I’ll remind them that I’ve gotten more information from you in this short conversation than any of my less congenial colleagues could have beaten out of you or your elusive dragon expert in a week.”
“Assuming they could catch either of us.”
“Indeed. You’ve saved the Thalmor a great deal of trouble by acquiring this information. I doubt Elenwen will believe that it makes up for the trouble you’ve caused, but perhaps they will see the wisdom in allowing us to continue our… exchanges of information.”
A smile bloomed across her face, like the first gleam of the sun rising above the horizon. “Let’s hope they’re as smart and reasonable as you. In the meantime, I’d better go. I have a quick report to give the Jarl about a Forsworn camp, and then… the World Eater awaits.”
~*~
Carnaril rolled his eyes. “Does your susceptibility to her flattery know no bounds?”
“Not as long as it’s based on reality, no.”
The interrogator pinched the bridge of his nose. “And did it never occur to you that she might be exaggerating her own importance to the cause of stopping the dragons in order to prevent you from taking action against her?”
“Her story sounded far-fetched, but a few years ago, so would the concept of the dragons returning. As for taking action against her, I did not have the necessary military force, and the attempt would most likely have ended in my death. Fortunately, unlike the dragons, she only attacks when threatened or provoked, or when defending a third party – to the best of my knowledge, at least.”
“Sometimes those third parties are our enemies, or necessary sources of information.”
“That is true. But the approach our colleagues have been taking has only resulted in a trail of dead Thalmor. My approach resulted in gaining as much information as we probably would have obtained from the Blades loremaster, had we captured and interrogated him.”
“That may be true,” Carnaril conceded, audibly hating every syllable of his own words. “But unless her wild claims are true, and Auri-El chose a Khajiit sellsword to prevent the end of the world, I doubt she or her information will provide value to our cause that is equivalent to the harm she’s already done and will most likely do in the future.
“That being the case, you should have tried to obtain her intended itinerary and relay it to us, so we could send a more appropriately-sized assassination team.”
Assassination team. The words rang like a death knell in Ondolemar’s mind, along with the horrifying image of Kierska surrounded by an army too great for even the Dragonborn to survive.
He tried to convince himself that his fear was for the sake of the Thalmor agents who would surely die in the attempt.
And Carnaril saw through it. “You seem troubled by this plan.”
“It would no doubt involve massive casualties on the part of the Thal-”
Pain exploded through his cheek, resounding like a shockwave through his head, and the ringing in his skull almost drowned out the roar of Carnaril’s voice. “DON’T insult my intelligence! You’ve made your attachment to our enemy clear – far more so than your attachment to the Thalmor.
“This whole mess should have ended shortly after your first meeting with her. And yet, even after you learned that she wore an amulet of Talos and was threatening to expose evidence that might convince people that Talos is a god, you made no attempt to do your duty and stop her.”
“Stop her…” Back when she was just doing research? The words cast a shadow on Ondolemar’s mind, cutting through the haze of pain, and a slow, wary frown crept onto his aching, swollen face. “Are the Thalmor not the epitome of Elven rationality and intellect?”
“Of course we are.” Another threatening twirl of the mace, which somehow felt less ominous than the implications of Carnaril’s accusations. “Not that anyone could tell from interacting with you.”
The captive Justiciar ignored the insult. He had far worse things to worry about. “Then if our conclusions are based on logic and truth, research performed by an intelligent and well-informed person should only reinforce our ideology.”
Surely you must agree with that. Kierska was right – if a way of thinking can be dismantled by finding the truth, it does not deserve to endure. By outlawing research-
“And did you never consider that the information she brings to light could harm our cause? The cause to which you swore loyalty?”
Ondolemar’s world fell out from under him.
One moment, his mind was braced on solid ground, secure in his rationale, and convinced that he could make his torturer see the same truth he had seen: that if their view of history, politics, and the nature of divinity was right, it would only be reinforced by scrutiny.
The next, the world was reeling around him in a warped, shattered blur of everything he’d thought he knew.
“Are you saying… that if she… if we… keep digging toward the truth… the truth… will hurt our cause?”
The other Altmer’s eyes snapped narrow, and his mouth clenched into a thin, hard line. “Elven supremacy is the only truth.”
That… It was something he’d been told as long as he could remember, and he’d never thought to question it. But now that he’d been taught to question… That can’t be the ONLY truth. There are many truths about many subjects, and if they don’t support our claims…
“Then,” he argued, hearing desperation in his voice and no longer able to care, “shouldn’t we demonstrate that superiority and prove those who question us wrong, instead of proving them right by killing anyone we can’t out-argue like a pack of simple barbarians?”
The words had barely left his mouth when the mace shattered his jaw.
His vision swam, and his mind threatened to drown along with it. A tortured scream filled his mind, and it escaped from his exhausted body in a weak, struggling moan.
“No.” A distant voice trickled across his ears like poisoned water. “If our cause is to succeed, we cannot indulge those who question or oppose us, or leave them free to do us further harm. They must be crushed.”
They must be crushed. No matter what they said, even if they were right, even if they were telling the truth…
“I’m not lying!” A desperate, terrified voice echoed in his mind, torn by the same unbearable pain that was threatening to drag him into oblivion. “I don’t know any other Talos worshipers. I swear, I’m not holding back – I don’t have anything else to give you!”
“If that is the case,” Ondolemar had asked, triumph ringing in his voice, “why was a woman with an amulet of Talos caught trying to break you out?”
The Nord’s eyes had widened in pitiful fear. “I don’t know,” he’d insisted. “Maybe she’s a Stormcloak. Maybe she’s a friend I didn’t know still worshiped Talos. I DON’T KNOW!”
I didn’t believe him.
Ondolemar’s mind was sinking, falling into the roaring darkness that filled his pounding skull. Voices filtered distantly through the haze that enveloped his senses, saying something about another cell, and somewhere in the firelight, a shadow moved toward him.
I was so sure he was lying that nothing he could say could save him. I’d decided what I thought was true, and I was sure that if I beat him enough, he would prove me right. I thought it was worth it, to destroy the Talos heresy… to further our cause…
I hurt him so much. I almost killed him. He was so helpless, so afraid… I kept asking the same questions, just like I was trained to… I kept beating him… his whining, gibbering and lying made me want to hurt him more… and Mara forgive me, I did…
A deep, shuddering breath wrenched its way through his broken chest. Was he telling the truth? Did I break him because I was more obsessed with my cause than I was with truth?
And the cause for which I broke his will…
A rough hand clenched around his arm, shifting the broken bone and drawing another groaning wail. A key clicked in a lock, the grip on his wrist disappeared, and he slumped toward the floor, dangling from his ruined right hand.
A second lock clicked free, and he fell onto his side on the cold wooden floor, fighting for consciousness while longing to drift into the painless embrace of sleep.
Information could harm our cause. He didn’t want to believe it. Couldn’t accept it. It was anathema to everything he’d ever believed in. We were going to show the Nords the truth. To prove our superiority, one century at a time.
But if proof undermines us instead of validating our claims… and if our crimes justify our enemies’ decision to oppose us, then… what was I fighting for, all this time?
Cruel hands dug into his upper arms, hauling him off the floor. His legs were dragging behind him again, cracked bones jostling with every movement, but by now, each new jolt of pain was just a drop in an ocean in which he was already drowning.
Everything I worked for. Everything I fought for. Everything I’ve killed and risked death for.
Everything I believed. Everything I’ve tried to convince other people to believe. Everything that makes me ME.
If the truth was brought to light, would all that be destroyed? If that is true, then…
The shackles clicked into place, and once again, he was dangling from his arms. Arms that might never work again once all of this was over, but if the fears that were crashing through his mind were true… the destruction of his limbs would be insignificant compared to what he had just lost.
Author's note:
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