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The Forsworn Retribution	By : Samson Category: +A through F > Elder Scrolls - Skyrim Views: 60892 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 3
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The Calm

The Forsworn Retribution
Part IX - "Crownless Kings"
By: Jesse Racine AKA Samson
Original Date Written: September 30, 2015

At first, the journey was atypically sombre. There wasn’t much chatting or merriment going on in those first couple days, particularly from Max, much to the growing concern of the others. They each dealt with the recent revelations in their own way, each coming to grips with Torygg’s murder, the possibility of an imminent war, the risk of the Thalmor hunting for them, the danger of their upcoming battle, and, perhaps most importantly, that Max had declared this his final mission. The rest, they each worried about to varying degrees, but they were each largely capable of preventing themselves from stressing out over things they could not directly control. That this might be their last job left them each with questions in regards to the future.

The biggest, and for some of them, sole reason that they had come together as a group was Max’s vision and leadership, his goal of vengeance. If he no longer wished to pursue that goal, or was otherwise unable to do so, where did that leave them? What would become of the group? Anya already had her future planned out to a tee - indeed, if it weren’t for her guilt and other conflicting feelings towards Maximus, she would’ve abandoned the lot of them a long time before. For her, the least attached and emotionally invested member, leaving the group and going her own way was a very simple decision to make. As it was, this journey, alone, had only included her by the grace of her desire to make amends to Max, and her somewhat nebulous goal of finding closure between him and herself. If not for that, she would’ve refused to come along, back in Sabrina’s den.

Bunny felt aimless, but not quite lost. This was a homecoming she never wanted, but she knew she’d very likely be better off if certain members of her clan were dealt with. Even if that weren’t the case, Max had directly asked her for her help, had asked all of them, and she knew she could never refuse him. Aimlessness suited her just fine, she could easily see herself spending her days in some sleepy vale, practicing alchemy, not really doing much with her days besides living off the land - she had started to loathe the people, but she had always enjoyed the lifestyle. She hated the idea of leaving Max’s side, hated it with a passion, but if it needed to be, then...Hopefully, they’d at least be able to keep in touch, somehow. Even if it were just letters on parchment, hearing him call her “Tiger” would make it all okay. Was she really alright with what was coming up, though? Even with all the abuse they had hurled at her, they were still family...Weren’t they?

If there was anyone in the group whose future felt lost, it was Gabriella. She had already resigned herself to death - if the Dark Brotherhood wanted her head, there was simply no stopping them. Everyone knew that the Dark Brotherhood was unstoppable, neither emperors nor archmages could survive them. There was nowhere she could hide where they could not find her. Fighting back? Hah! These were people whose whole livelihood was taking lives, what chance would she have? Even if she managed to kill the first one, others would come. No, the only hope she had was the possibility that they didn’t want her for a contract, and even that could just be a desperate mind clinging to fantasy.

If it weren’t for that, then...She wasn’t sure what she was going to do. Her old way of living seemed so far away, now. Could she really go back? Well, she supposed she could, she was willing to do whatever was necessary to survive, so perhaps a better question would be, would she want to go back? Being on her own again, fending for herself again, hurting for coin from day to day...Mercenary work had had about the same level of danger, considering the choices were death or life imprisonment, but an exponentially bigger reward. Plus, mercenary work had the added bonus of keeping her from having to use her body as a weapon. If she had to sleep with another grubby Nord merchant, just to pinch his coin purse...A week’s rations wasn’t worth the indignity. Where was Max going to go?...Would he have room for one more? Maybe, if she talked with him about it, then...

Sabrina’s future seemed bleak and, well, boring, unless Max would stay in her life. Her biggest subject of research, changing her body back to the way it used to be, no longer mattered to her. Even if she changed her outside back, she had accepted for a while, now, that she just wasn’t Severius on the inside, anymore. She was Sabrina, now...And, she was alright with that. Happy, even. Comfortable. She hadn’t wanted to admit it at first, but it had always felt right, being feminine. She didn’t think she’d ever be able to go back to the way she used to be...Sabrina inside, and Sabrina outside. Besides, even if she were interested in changing herself back, Max and the others had shown her that there was more to life than shutting herself away and keeping her nose in a book, all night long. There were meaningful causes she could apply herself to.

She had said it before, and had meant it every time - it was Max who made her realize just how dreadfully dull her life had been. She had all the time in the world, and yet, she had been wasting it, all the same. Being with friends, seeing new sights, she never wanted it to end. Everything that had happened ever since Sabrina had tried to feed on Gabriella, way back when, had been spices spread over a bland dish. Staying cloistered would keep her safe, but would she truly be living? Max had made her feel more alive than she had felt in decades, if not centuries. She never wanted to leave his side, she wanted to protect him, serve him, spend all her time with him...Whatever he wanted. If he had to leave her behind to hide from the Thalmor, she didn’t know what she’d do. Could she really go back, after this new chapter in her life?

Svetlana had kept the brightest outlook, which was clear to see. Even as Max’s sudden spat of introversion left everyone else feeling gloomy, she was the only one who kept talking, kept trying to lighten the mood. Her cheerfulness wasn’t for lack of aimlessness, however. Svetlana hadn’t come clean with anyone, but the truth was, her trip to Markarth hadn’t been free of heartache. On her visit to the temple, she had asked the head priestess if she had made up her mind as to whether or not she could return and properly fulfill her role as a Dibellan priestess. She even regaled the woman with a tale of her time with Maximus’ group, and the things she had done to help bring everyone together, using bodily closeness and intimacy, both sensual and raunchy, to better foster a sense of camaraderie among the teammates.

The head priestess had, rather dispassionately, told her that she had never intended to allow Svetlana to return to her service, and that she had been hoping all along that Svetlana would take the hint and stop pushing the issue. She reminded Svetlana that she had befouled the image of Dibella, tarnishing and desecrating her likeness by using one of her own idols as a sexual aid, something she claimed was lower than would be expected from a savage native. No reasoning was sound, no explanation was acceptable, no debate was founded - what Svetlana had committed was a mortal sin, a perversion of Dibella’s very sphere of influence, and it spoke volumes about Svetlana’s character that she hadn’t even realized or accepted her own transgression.

To say Svetlana was stunned would be an understatement. The head priestess’ words had cut deep, stinging so much that the priestess had teared up. Turned away by a second temple? It was unheard of. She had made mistakes, yes, but weren’t mistakes meant to be forgiven? Taking her gifts for Sabrina had been her last token from the temple, and the head priestess made it clear that she didn’t want to hear about Svetlana asking around for re-entry into the temple’s service. No doubt that added grief had compounded her alcohol binge, but Svetlana tried consoling herself, tried telling herself that she wasn’t as irredeemable as the head priestess had made her out to be, that it was not Dibella turning her away, but the individual woman posing as that temple’s leader. In those terms, the shame was more bearable. She still had a future as a priestess...Just, not at that particular temple. Another Divine, or another temple, would call to her, in time.

It was thanks to this maintained optimism that the gloom overcoming the group was particularly bothersome to her, and she, unlike the rest, could not only identify the root of the problem, but also had the drive to change it. Asking Max if she could speak with him, she took him aside and politely told him that, perhaps without realizing it, he had become rather quiet and withdrawn ever since the group had departed from Sabrina’s den. She then gently pointed out that seeing their leader become so uncharacteristically distant had begun to demoralize the others, leaving them feeling more and more dismayed. Maximus seemed surprised, by this. He readily admitted that he had been preoccupied with his thoughts for the last couple days, and said he had noticed the others becoming quiet, but said he hadn’t noticed anyone becoming depressed.

If anyone were feeling blue, he quickly decided, they had no reason to be. With a friendly smile, Svetlana confidently assured him that it would greatly help the group’s mood if he made an effort to show that, or if he at least started talking to everyone, again. Gently, she asserted that she knew he had initially intended for this attack to be a suicide mission, that he had wanted to spare the rest of them any danger and shoulder the entire burden, himself. She said she knew that they had all initially been pawns to him, tools for his vendetta, but that now, in spite of himself, they meant something more to him, and vice versa. It was nothing new, something she believed everyone had already picked up, along the way.

However, if they cared nothing for him or for seeing him get his retribution, they would’ve taken him up on his offer to leave. Some of them, such as Gabriella, he had even given more than one opportunity to leave. Everyone was still at his side. They were more than a team, and had been for quite some time. He needed to accept that they had helped shoulder the burden thus far, she said, and would keep going until the end. He needed to get his head away from thoughts about how this mission was to be his last, great blow against his enemies, and think more about how he was going to spend his time, once they had helped him wipe out the clan and prevent them from assaulting Markarth.

The girls needed their leader, she said, and their leader had shut himself away, as if he were marching to his death. It just wouldn’t do. Maximus listened to everything she had to say without interrupting her, already being in enough of an insightful mood to consider her words. When she was finished, he looked past her, noticing with curiosity the gloominess of his lady friends, as if for the first time. If he just went and started chatting with them, Svetlana assured him, then the mood would go back to the way it always was. They wanted, they needed, the old Maximus back. Even if he hadn’t been acting differently for long, this was a particularly important journey, and good morale was especially vital.

Looking back at her, he simply reasserted that he hadn’t intended to worry anyone, and said he was a little surprised that being a bit quiet had affected everyone, to such a degree. With a tender kiss, Svetlana followed him back to the bonfire, watching with a growing smile how everyone reacted to Maximus’ voice. Eyes lifted from the dirt, faces lit up, smiles grew, body language turned more open and receptive...All just by him asking how everyone was doing, and if there was any leftover dinner. He didn’t say to them the same things he had said to Svetlana, of course. He didn’t ask them if or why he had been worrying them, and they didn’t ask him what had been troubling him. None of that really mattered. All that mattered was that he had returned to normal, and so had they.

Once Max pulled out a razor he had found in the pack Gabby had “acquired” from that unfortunate merchant, and told them all that it was “grooming time,” things felt like the way they always used to be. Max didn’t force Anya to join in, but he did force her to stay and watch the others, refusing to let her act coy or immaculate. It was a group activity, after all, and distancing herself or acting aghast at such an ordinary fact of life would only serve to deepen the rift between herself and the others. On top of that, if she wanted to be another of his lady friends, which he knew she did, then she’d have to learn what would be expected of her. The girls all stripped, lined up, and with varying degrees of complaining, tidied themselves up down under, leaving themselves completely smooth once again. After some quick baths, it was time to rest, for the night.

Passing by Markarth was a tense affair. Moving at night, they kept their distance from the city gates, keeping eastward and off the established roads. Bunny, with her knowledge of the landscape, and Sabrina, with her enhanced eyesight, led the way, helping everyone to keep quiet as they snuck around a few small farms and across a couple steep cliffs. Once they were past the city, they took a sharp western turn, crossing the established byways and taking to the mountains lining the border. The going was rough, but much safer. A bit less likely to run into Forsworn, at least for now, and far less likely to see Thalmor agents, way up in the heights and slopes of the mountain range. Judging by the mark Bunny had put on his map, the group were just a few days of travel away from Bunny’s clan.

The group’s path was mostly clear of threats. They occasionally stumbled across a bear and had to keep their distance, but beyond that, they didn’t run afoul of hostile wildlife or bump into any bandits. One afternoon, however, as the group took a break to pick some Juniper berries, a figure walked over a crest and into the clearing, marching towards them without hesitation. At first, they all assumed it was a Forsworn scout who had stumbled across them, or a vanguard leading an attack. Once they had shielded their eyes from the sun and gotten the glare out of their vision, however, they each quickly realized that the figure not only wasn’t a threat, but wasn’t even a native Breton, either.

The woman, an Orc, didn’t even notch an arrow on her bow, despite not knowing who this group was and being moments away from striding through their resting spot. She was dressed in traditional Orcish armour, coloured deep green from the Orichalcum and roughly shaped into a beautiful, if coarse, shape by Orsimer hands. Her surprisingly sleek, slender Orcish bow was held at her side, while the matching Orichalcum-tipped arrows were visible over her shoulder, sticking out from the wide quiver strapped to her back. Like all Orcs, her skin was a deep green in colouration, while her hair was a mottled brown. Her entire head had been shaved clean, save for a stripe across the very top of her skull, which had been braided back into a shoulder-length ponytail at the back of her head.

Wild red tattoos adorned her face, surrounding her yellow eyes in sharp points and edges. Like other Orsimer, she had a very noticeable underbite, which allowed a small pair of tusk-like teeth to stick out of her mouth, pointing skyward against her upper lip. Her nose was a bit flat, her cheeks were a bit sunken, and all in all, she wasn’t exactly a beautiful woman, but that didn’t stop Max from pondering whether or not those tusks of her’s got in the way of giving head. That could’ve just been because he hadn’t bothered to bed any of his lady friends over the last couple days, but at the same time, he had never gotten an Orc to himself...That was the trouble, he supposed, with them shutting themselves away in their mountainside forts. The chances of him getting a piece of green ass in his lap weren’t as likely as some of the other flavours of fun.

Anya was the first to speak. Turning to face the newcomer, her hand resting on the Forsworn axe Svetlana had lent her, she called out “What’s an Orsimer doing, so far out here?” Some members of the group with more knowledge of the surrounding area could’ve saved Anya the trouble of asking, but the Orc answered before Maximus or Bunny could. The Orc barely curled her lip up, for a second. Still walking along, intent on passing through them, she gruffly said “I hunt, Altmer, for Mor Khazgur. The deer I seek have moved far from the fort, and so, I follow. I have no quarrel or business with you or your fellows.” The wheels in Maximus’ head were quick to spin. Walking towards the Orc, coming into her path, he asked “Hang on a minute. Would you say you know the territory, around here?”

The Orc huntress slowed to a stop, her brow barely furrowing. In her hoarse, admittedly unappealing voice, she curtly answered “Of course. Why?” Maximus reached into his scaled vest and pulled out his map of the Reach, unfolding it as he said “We’re heading somewhere, and I was wondering if you knew anything about it. It’s near the border between the Reach and Haafingar, and it’s in the direction you came.” “I see. Fine.” The Orc impatiently answered, her keen eyes dropping to the parchment in his hands. Maximus walked closer to her, holding open the map for her to look at as he stepped to her side. The others watched as the Orc’s eyes shifted around the map.

It didn’t take her longer than a couple seconds to say “Yes, I know the place. I don’t know what the Bretons have named it, but it’s one of their camps. If you’re headed there, outlander, I’d advise changing your mind. The Bretons aren’t fond of outsiders.” Maximus gave her a firm look and remarked “That’s exactly why we’re going there. I have business with them, and I’m not about to be turned away. Would you happen to know how many people there could be, in the camp?” The huntress gave him a quick look up and down, then glanced over at the others. Raising an eyebrow, she bluntly commented “More than the five of you could handle. It’s a fairly well-established camp, outlander.”

Maximus gave the Orc a disarming smile. “Six, actually. Our sorceress is off on business, today. Don’t let our looks fool you, we can handle our own in a fight.” The huntress raised an eyebrow at him. Matter-of-factly, she commented “There’s likely close to thirty or forty people inside that camp, at any given time. I see five of you, two of which aren’t wearing armour, another of which has a fatal break in her armour.” “I make up for my broken equipment with years of experience,” Anya immediately blurted out, her brow furrowing out of defensiveness. The huntress looked over at Anya, just as matter-of-factly adding “So do they, outlander.” Maximus, still looking intently at the huntress, gave a ruminating nod as he asked “What would you suggest, then? Think your people could...Help us out, maybe?”

The Orc briefly raised her eyebrows. “Not a chance, outlander. Well, not unless you could give our chief a damned good reason. The Bretons mostly leave us alone, and we do the same for them. Their grievance is with the Nords, not us. We deserve this land, just as much as they do. I think they’ve always realized that.” “This is something we have to do. Even if it’s just us, even if it’s just me, I’m going to that damn camp.” Maximus insisted, brow lightly furrowing with determination. The Orc stared back into his eyes, her nostrils barely flaring as she remarked “Then I hope your gods go with you.” She walked past him, striding into and through the group, her Orcish sabatons thumping into the grass with each heavy step. “I thought Orcs were brave?”

The huntress slowed to an immediate stop. Everyone looked over with varying expressions. Bunny’s brow was a bit sunken, emotions flashing across her eyes. She took several steps towards the huntress, confrontationally jabbing out a hand, a finger, as the woman turned back around. “It must feel good, marching through some strangers, telling them they’re as good as dead, not lifting a finger to help!” She snapped. “Bunny, what are you doing?” Gabriella slowly asked, raising her eyebrows. “You’re out of line, Bunny.” Anya muttered, earning a quick glare from the Breton. “No I’m not!” She snapped, looking back at the Orc as she added “If she’s so sure we’re going to die, why isn’t she helping us? I’m one of them, you know, if you couldn’t tell, and I’m asking you, isn’t there anything you could do?!”

The huntress spat back “Just because you’re one of the Bretons, doesn’t mean you have any right to tell me what I must or must not do. Malacath helps those who help themselves, he cares only for the strong, and if you’re begging me for help, then y-” Maximus quickly got a handle on the situation. Briefly raising his hands, he took a couple steps closer, lightly spreading his arms and giving a little shrug. “Now, wait, let’s calm down, a second. I don’t think that that’s what she was trying to say.” Bunny and the Orc both looked over at him, Bunny with confusion, the huntress with agitation.

“I think she was just trying to say that you could aid us in our little job. She wasn’t doubting you, she was hoping to make a mutually beneficial deal. After all, we know that this particular camp of Forsworn is planning an attack on Markarth, which, if they go through with it, will spell bad times, for the Reach.” The huntress raised an eyebrow, turning a little more towards him and a little less towards Bunny. Maximus continued, inwardly pleased to see he had her snared. “You can be sure that, if these people attack Markarth, trade across the region will suffer. That includes trade with the Orc strongholds. I know that a few merchants have made connections with the strongholds to the north and south, buying meat, ore, Orcish equipment, the works. If they succeed in their attack and completely slaughter everyone in the city, those strongholds aren’t going to see any further trade from a major city.”

“Now, I’m not saying that your stronghold is going to die out if Markarth dies out, but Malacath helps those who help themselves, right? I’m not asking you to fight a war you have no personal stake in, but...” Maximus glanced at Anya, sticking out an arm to gesture at the break going clean through the abdomen of her breastplate. Looking back at the huntress, he asked “Do you think you could repair my friend’s armour, here? And maybe get my other friend something to wear, other than robes? Bunny’s an archer and a small target, she needs to stay fast in a fight, so I think she feels fine wearing what she has on, now. I may not be Blood-Kin, but help us out with this, and I’ll consider your honour strong.”

The Orc slowly shifted her jaw around as she mulled over his words. After a couple seconds of staring into his eyes, she turned her head, giving Anya’s armour a glance. Maximus watched her contemplate until she was looking back into his eyes. Slowly, but not quite reluctantly, she said “...I know of a small mine, a few hours of travel from here. It’s abandoned, never did care enough to find out why. They kept a forge by the cave entrance, for smelting and working ore. I doubt that they dug Moonstone there, but I may still be able to find enough spare ore, left lying around, to make a patchwork repair. No promises, but if you’re lucky, there’ll be enough ore left over to make a full suit of armour, but you’d need to give me a day or two to make anything halfway decent. That’s all the help I can give you, outlander.”

Maximus gave a nod. Playing on the Orc’s honour had been a smart move. Bunny had had the right idea, but she wasn’t quite as blessed with the gift of gab as he was. If she had been the one to push the issue, a more hotheaded Orc could’ve come to blows, over it. The huntress, on the other hand, might’ve simply stormed away, but that really wouldn’t have suited his cause any better. “Sounds like a plan,” he said. “I look forward to seeing how an Orc works metal.” The huntress took in a sniff through her nose, quickly glancing around at the other’s faces before she walked off, eastward. “Let’s go, then. The deer I want will probably roam closer to home, in the meantime.”

Once the Orc had turned her back, Max was smiling. Taking Bunny by the side of her head, he pulled her closer, pressing a kiss to he temple. A shadow of surprise passed over her face, but then she was smiling shyly, her face going a bit red. Everyone followed after the Orc, keeping silent as they went. Trekking down the mountain range was slow going and fairly arduous, and Maximus couldn’t say he’d ordinarily be pleased with straying off-course, but this particular reason was acceptable. There was bravery, and then there was recklessness. If the group couldn’t have every possible advantage, they could at least eliminate every possible disadvantage.

By the time evening rolled around and the sun was beginning to set, the mining camp came into view. Nestled in a corner between two mountain walls, on a small plateau overlooking a steep descent to an established cobblestone road, was a simple log cabin, mere feet from a relatively small cave mouth, just big enough for a single individual to walk into. Across from the cabin, near a sheer stone wall, was a big, metal smelter and forge, both long burnt out. Between the smelter and cabin were the remains of an old bonfire, a lidded metal pot still suspended over the empty pit dug into the dirt. Three lonely chairs still remained, positioned in a triangle around the bonfire. Not a sound could be a heard, not a soul could be seen.

The huntress, who had told them during the trek that her name was Dulusha gra-Yarrol, didn’t seem at all fazed by the abandoned area. Bunny and Svetlana were openly uneasy, and it took a bit of exploring the grounds by the remaining three for the two of them to relax. Maximus, Gabriella, and Anya all checked around the small camp and inside the cabin, but found no signs of the miners, but thankfully, no signs of a struggle, either. There were no bones, no blood stains, no broken furniture from conflict...Even their pickaxes were left behind, neatly placed on a rack by the cabin. For all intents and purposes, it seemed as if the miners had simply up and left, abandoning everything. The most logical conclusion, in Max’s mind, was that the mine had dried up, and the miners hadn’t bothered to tear down the cabin or even disassemble their smelter.

Of course, once he found the intact strongbox and Gabriella had picked the lock, revealing the handful of coins and pair of rubies inside, a different conclusion became obvious: something had happened that had left the miners running scared. Nobody had died, at least not inside or near the cabin, and it didn’t look as if anything had been stolen, but something had spooked the miners into abandoning everything and taking to the hills. The three of them decided it was better to let the others know than keep them in the dark and, contrary to Gabriella’s expectations, knowing the truth rather than a comforting lie put Svetlana and Bunny more at ease. Bunny’s first thought was that the miners had broken into a Dwemer tunnel and fallen victim to Falmer, dragged off by the devolved elves, never to be seen again.

Considering that the ancient city of Bthardamz wasn’t far, it wasn’t implausible that, in the process of digging, the miners had uncovered more than they had anticipated, a notion that made Gabriella’s skin crawl. Svetlana was still tense, but appreciated knowing the truth and what issues she could expect to occur. As Dulusha walked over to the smelter, she remarked “Unless we can get a new fire going and reignite this thing, it looks like you’ll be fighting with broken gear. Still has plenty of coal for fuel, but it hasn’t been used in so long that the fire’s burned out, entirely. I don’t suppose any of you have a torch and a tinderbox, do you?” Maximus shook his head. With his lady friends watching from behind him, standing in a group closer to the old fire pit, he said “No torches, and we used the last of our flint a couple days ago. We don’t usually need much.”

“That complicates things, then.” Dulusha remarked, turning away from the old smelter, armour lightly clanking as she faced him. “Not as much as you might think,” he commented, raising an eyebrow. Dulusha turned her head a little, giving him a sidelong look. “It’s getting dark, so my sorceress should be here, soon. She’ll be able to get the smelter going, no problem. In the meantime, you and I should focus on tracking down some ore for Anya’s armour. Something tells me that the mine still has some good metal, waiting to be pulled out. Hey, maybe we’ll get lucky and find some chunks that the miners just left laying around.” “Doubtful, but if this place was abandoned in as much of a hurry as you think it was, then I suppose stranger things have happened. Your sorceress friend has a couple hours to get here, if we have to heft up pickaxes and pull the ore out, ourselves. If she isn’t here by dawn, we’re parting ways.” Dulusha said, in her raspy voice.

“I don’t think that’ll be a problem,” Maximus nonchalantly assured her. “Wait, you’re going in there? You sure that’s such a good idea?” Svetlana asked, eyes widening a little at the prospect. Maximus smiled, eyes falling half-closed as he turned to the side, looking back at her. “Relax, we’re just gonna poke around, a bit. Hopefully, we won’t have to pull the metal out, ourselves.” Bunny, gripping her Glass bow tight to her stomach with both hands, stepped closer to her lover, confidently declaring “I’m going with you.” Dulusha shot Bunny down. Shaking her head, she bluntly remarked “You’re a scrawny girl, you won’t be of any use, pulling out ore. A bow is useless in tight, narrow corridors, too. Either way, you won’t be any good, in a mine. Get some meat on your bones, then maybe you’ll have what it takes to dig up ore.”

Bunny went from surprise, to dejection, and finally to dismay. In a bit of a whine, she briefly held up her bow and tried to argue, mumbling back “W-Well, I know...I wasn’t saying I was going to mine, but...I want to help, somehow. I mean, if there’s something down there, like Falmer...” Maximus looked over to Dulusha, gave a nod, and said “She’s coming along. She can watch our backs.” Dulusha could barely frown before Svetlana was stepping forward as well, chiming in “I’m going, too. You’re gonna need me. None of us have torches, and I’m the only person here who can cast spells for light.” “Fine, but nobody else.” Maximus retorted, raising his eyebrow. Looking over at Gabriella and Anya, he raised a hand, swiftly pointing at them by wagging his finger to and fro. “You two,” he ordered, “stay here. Watch the camp. See if there’s any spare firewood lying around, maybe in the cabin, or something. We’ll probably camp here, for the night.”

Neither of them argued. Once Maximus and Dulusha had grabbed a couple pickaxes, the four of them headed into the cave, guided by Svetlana’s Candlelight. They immediately found themselves heading through a couple steep, narrow corridors, which quickly enough widened out as hollows appeared in either wall, nothing but the skeletal remains of depleted ore veins. Once they delved deep enough, they came upon what was probably the only clue they’d ever get about what happened to the miners: a cave-in blocking the corridor, with but a lone skeleton trapped underneath, pinned in place by one leg with a dusty pickaxe still clutched in his hand. It was a melancholy sight, but not all was gloomy - just next to the skeleton, a couple feet from the rockfall, was the telltale glint of ore, the metallic shimmer peeking through the dirt and rock of the wall.

Max and Dulusha got to work. Stripping out of their armour so they wouldn’t overwork themselves to death, they began digging, pulling out bits and pieces of iron ore. At first, it was easy, digging through relatively brittle stone and soft dirt. Within minutes, though, they struck more solid stone, and then the real work began. A couple hours passed before they had collected enough bits and pieces of ore that Dulusha was satisfied, confident that she’d have enough to do a patchwork seal on both breaks in Anya’s armour. Unfortunately, there wasn’t enough ore to make any kind of armour for Svetlana. There could’ve been more veins waiting to be pulled out on the other side of the cave-in, but neither Maximus nor Dulusha were in any particular rush to haul out the boulders blocking the path.

Max left the ore to Dulusha, and instead, he carried their armour back outside. On his second trip outside, he heard the crackling of a fire, which he quickly discovered Sabrina was the cause of. Stepping out into the cool, fresh air, he looked over at the invigorated camp as he set down the last of Dulusha’s armour, their equipment in a shared pile by the mine entrance. Sabrina had set alight some freshly collected kindling in the fire pit, but neither Gabriella nor Anya had taken the initiative of attempting to put together dinner. Sabrina, standing by the forge, had already swept life into the smelter, and was now bringing the forge back to life, casting narrow jets of flames from both hands into the open belly of the construct. As he walked deeper into the camp, stepping a little heavily thanks to the strain of swinging a pickaxe for two or three hours without rest, Sabrina looked over, noticing his hard footfalls.

The flames from her hands promptly ended, and her eyes widened, a little. She quickly turned around and faced him, stammering “Oh, Max, uh...Wow. Um...” Maximus raised an eyebrow, still breathing just a little heavily from all the work he had put in. He glanced to the side as Gabriella stood up in his peripheral vision, having been seated by the bonfire in one of the chairs left behind. Anya, too, sat by the bonfire to keep warm, already having removed her breastplate for Dulusha to work on. Both were looking over at him with interest, seemingly unable to take their eyes off of him, although Gabriella was a little more subtle about it and made eye contact whenever his eyes shifted to her. Max was pretty quick to pick up on what their major malfunction was.

He smiled about it. Sabrina thought that, with his eyes elsewhere, she could nudge her crotch and shift her growing length, hoping to flatten her rapidly rising tent. Max saw, and it only made his smile grow. What a bunch of horny little girls. It was undeniably entertaining, seeing them get flushed and short of breath. So, that was all it took to get them hot and bothered, huh? All he had to do was go shirtless and work up a sweat, and they’d be fighting to keep their hands off of him? Well, it was understandable, he supposed. He hadn’t been bedding any of them, the last few days. They’ve each probably started to get a bit antsy, the poor things. He wanted to keep his mind on the upcoming battle, but if he had gotten them so used to a healthy sex routine, well...

He could take one of them. One. He’d make a game out of it, a reward. They each sit in a circle together, jill themselves off to his instructions, and whoever lasts the longest gets to progress to the special bonus round. Plugging up somebody’s cunt with his batter sounded pretty good right then, now that he thought about it, but more important things needed to come first...Such as, somebody making dinner, and him taking a bath. As much as his lady friends were soaking their armour at the sight of his muscles glistening under the moonlight, he felt grimy as all Oblivion, and he wasn’t about to sacrifice his comfort to give them eye candy...Well, not unless they did the same and cooked his dinner nude.

Bunny and Dulusha emerged from the mine, a moment later. Dulusha was quick and informal with her greeting, as well as her thanks. Bits of ore piled in her arms, she briefly stopped walking when she noticed the enlivened forge, looking at Sabrina and giving her a nod of thanks. With her usual severe air, she started speaking as she resumed walking. “Ah. Good. You must be the sorceress I’ve heard about. Name’s Dulusha gra-Yarrol. Give me some space while I work.” Sabrina raised an eyebrow at the sight of the Orc, taking a step to the side and getting out of her path as she headed for the smelter. She didn’t need to voice her curiosity, that got across perfectly well just by her looking over at him.

Maximus waved dismissively at her. All he cared about was that Sabrina was fresh from a feeding, and Dulusha hadn’t been perceptive enough to clue in to the newcomer’s true nature. A shuffling sound behind Max had him turning around, remarking “Took you a while to come up, Lana. Nobody’s started with dinner, yet. Get started on that, would you?” When he saw her, he couldn’t help but feel surprised. She held an old curtain in her arms, a measly scrap she had collected from down in the mine, and was using it to hold a jangly mass, of some kind. At first, Max thought they sounded like rocks, but he quickly put two and two together. Still, he felt the need to ask, and gave the curtain an inquisitive nod.

Svetlana lightly pressed her lips together, her eyes drifting downwards before she could meet his eyes, again. Softly, she said “Didn’t feel right, leaving him down there. I’m gonna borrow a pickaxe, for a while. Maybe Gabby can cook dinner, tonight.” Maximus gave her a sober stare. After a couple seconds, his eyes fell half-closed, dropping to the curtain in her arms, once more. Svetlana dropped her head a little, turned, and walked off, moving behind the cabin as she went off in search of a secluded spot. Maximus took in a deep breath and raised a hand to his forehead, wiping off the mingled dirt and sweat from his brow. “Gabby, you’re on dinner duty.”

The Dunmer perked up at the unexpected order. He turned back around, making for the bonfire. Beginning to smile, he watched her reaction as he remarked “You can pick pockets, let’s see if you can pick ingredients. Surprise me. The supplies are right there.” Gabby didn’t say anything, but she scowled so hard that a blind man could’ve seen it. If she resented taking over Svetlana’s usual job, it didn’t stop her from trying her best. She couldn’t make a gourmet meal in a simple pot over a bonfire like Lana could, but there were plenty of ingredients in the dead merchant’s pack to explore. Slicing up potatoes and carrots for substance, pouring in some powder, mead, and water from sealed bottles for a sweet broth, and sprinkling in some of those exotic spices the merchant had been hoping to sell, she made an entirely serviceable and, Max had to admit, surprisingly flavourful meal.

Gabriella didn’t easily accept compliments on her cooking, and contentiously told Max to let everyone stick to her usual jobs, in the future. Max teased her, asking if that meant she should go back to being his throat-fuck slave, and she quickly went quiet without further protest. The rest of the night passed without much excitement. Once Svetlana returned from her self-appointed duty, she and Maximus took the opportunity the lull presented and left to bathe together. Of course, it was quite a hike to the nearest water source, and once they were alone, Svetlana just ended up cleaning him with her mouth as he fiddled with her love tunnel, but all the same, they ended up clean. Upon their return, they found Sabrina gone.

The others couldn’t give a guess as to where she had left for; according to Gabby, Sabrina had left without an explanation, heading back west the way they had all come. Max didn’t think too much of it, and let everyone know that they’d be sleeping in shifts during the night, with himself taking the first shift. In spite of Dulusha’s hammering and metalwork, the rest fell asleep fairly quickly, keeping around the lit bonfire for warmth. Finally alone with the huntress, Max had a chance to speak at length with the woman, and asked her to be honest and tell him what she thought their chances were. She answered him with another question: why was he so determined to fight the Forsworn? He told her the truth, admitting that he felt like they needed to answer for the deaths of his parents, and for robbing him of the potential life he could’ve had, had they not attacked Markarth. In some respects, he wanted them to regret sparing him. He wanted them to regret not killing him when they had had the chance.

Dulusha just nodded, at first. At first, she seemed to be in approval. She said that wanting to avenge his parents was a noble goal, an honourable one, something he should be proud of. But, then she asked him how many of them he had already killed. Had he lived on his own all this time, had he raised himself? Or, had another family taken him in, and raised him as their own? Maximus admitted, somewhat under his breath, that he didn’t know how many of them he had killed, anymore. He had already lost count. Still, it just didn’t feel like enough. Yes, another family had taken him in, yes, they had given him a proper upbringing, but he couldn’t let go of what could’ve been. He couldn’t let go of the idea that something had been taken from him, something irreplaceable.

Dulusha just nodded, again. Maximus told her that, whether or not he could let go of his pathological hatred of the Forsworn, this next attack on Bunny’s clan would be the last move he’d be able to make against the Forsworn for the foreseeable future. The Thalmor would be after him, he admitted, and with the murder of the High King and the escape of the culprit, there was a very good chance that one type of war or another would be coming to Skyrim. There would be too much of an Empire presence, and with the Empire, the Thalmor, for his kind of vigilantism to go unnoticed. If he were to survive, he’d need to go into hiding. Whether he liked it or not, he wouldn’t be able to pursue his vendetta any further, not for a good long while. Maybe the forced detachment would calm him, some.

Dulusha didn’t seem quite so sure. Finally, she answered his first question. She told him that, unless each person in his team were experts at killing and had either divine protection or some kind of master plan, they were just walking to their deaths. The numbers just weren’t in his favour. It would be him and his handful of soldiers, versus several dozen Forsworn, each having convinced themselves into thinking they had something righteous to be furious about, something all-important to their lives that they needed to take back...Quite a lot like he had. Maximus kept his silence, at that. She eventually presented him with her work, showing how she had used the iron to cover over the impalement breaks in Anya’s armour.

It was ugly, the gray iron fused to the golden Moonstone, but it’d do the job. Anya wouldn’t have a glaring weakness staring her opponents in the face, anymore. Dulusha, for her part, admitted that she had been considering whether or not she should go along with them and help them in their endeavour. Malacath, she said, taught his children to seize the destiny laid before them, and she had been wondering whether or not her fate had been to cross paths with him and aid him, all along. In the end, however, she had decided against it - her duty to the stronghold, which included those deer she had been supposed to hunt, was probably more important. She wished him a good hunt, however, and luck in seeing his journey to a close. Then, she departed, dressing back in her armour and taking to the northeast.

Maximus quietly thought on her words for the rest of his watch shift, reflecting inwards. She hadn’t come out and said it, but he knew her viewpoint on the issue. Truth be told, he had already started to wonder just how important it all really was. Dulusha had commended him on wanting to avenge his mother and father, but at the same time, had he truly lost anything, losing them at such a young age? He had gotten another family, another life - was he really convinced that the one he had lost would’ve been so much better? Could he take that for a certainty? Of course not. Maybe life with his mother and father would’ve been worse than life with Hanse and Gertrude. But, he told himself, all that wasn’t the crux of the matter. The heart of his anger wasn’t whether or not the life he could’ve had could’ve been better, more comfortable, or more pleasant. It was the principle that mattered.

They had assaulted an innocent city, killing innocents. Didn’t matter what reason they had convinced themselves justified the attack, or what history they had. The people in that city, just like no doubt many of the Forsworn he had killed, had had no direct part in causing the outrage. And, in their attack, they had murdered his father, a city guard doing his duty, which a cold cynic could’ve chalked up as the unfortunate realities of war, nothing to be upset about. However, his mother, an unarmed and fleeing civilian, had not deserved to be chased down and hacked to bits, nor did his infant self deserve to be left to the wolves. He was the child of their brutality. They had planted this seed, and he was the bloody fruit on the vine. He’d remind them of that, each and every time they tried to take the moral high ground and whine about how those poor, evil Nords had “stolen their land.”

Eventually, it came time to switch guards. Max woke Anya, giving her an opportunity to inspect Dulusha’s repairs, and Anya in turn woke Gabriella, after a couple hours. At first, Gabriella did a well enough job keeping herself alert, but she wasn’t used to the idea of keeping herself awake after such a short span of sleep, nor did she have anything to occupy her mind with and keep herself alert. Eventually, in spite of the potential danger it could’ve put the group in, her eyelids fell, and though she told herself that she could stay awake, blacking out was an inevitability. She woke back up with a start not long after, as if, even asleep, she had been able to sense that something was remiss. When she opened her eyes, the first thing she noticed was that the sky had shrunk to an intimidatingly small oval, far above her.

“W...What the f-?!” Gabriella exclaimed, eyes widening. She raised her arms, feeling them scrape across the soft walls at her sides. She grabbed at either side of herself, her fingers jabbing at the cold, firm material, her nails painfully pushing in. Dirt sprinkled onto her face as she pulled her head up. Her heart began to race, pounding in her head. She got up to her feet, already panting with panic as she patted at the walls, trying to look up. She could see so few stars...She never thought that it could be so terrifying. Even in near-absolute darkness, she understood her situation. She gave a call, hoping for help, hoping for anything. Hoping for Max.

“I wouldn’t do that, if I were you. Clawing at the walls, I mean. Not the shouting. You’ll just bury yourself alive, if you do that. Be my guest and shout all you want, though, your friends are well out of earshot.”

Gabriella went silent and still at the calm, collected voice. In that tiny oval of fresh air, two dozen or so feet above her, someone slowly eased their head over, looking down at her. The woman was wearing a hood as well as a mask, shielding every part of her face, aside from a slit for her eyes. The black material of her hood left her looking like a shadow, hardly moving as she spoke. “Oh? Already gotten it out of your system, so soon? You sure you don’t want to try and call, some more? Ah, well. I understand. You’re quick to adapt. I like that.” Gabriella’s brow began to furrow. She refused to take her eyes off of the figure, even as the dirt on her face threatened to get into her eyes. Swallowing some excess saliva, she tried her best to sound calm as she replied “...If you’re good enough to snatch me away from the others without waking them up, and haven’t killed me, then you want something. Right?”

The woman gave a nod. “Very good. Do you know who I am?” Gabriella, still breathing a little hard of the cold, earthy air in her grave, needed a moment to find her voice. “...You’re the woman that sent me the letter.” The figure above gave another nod. “That’s right. Gabriella, isn’t it? I’ve been watching you for a while, now. Let’s have a chat, just the two of us. Don’t worry. If I had wanted to kill you, well...Like you said, I wouldn’t have bothered with the trouble of putting you in this hole. We have business together and, one way or another, it needs to be worked out and settled...”

(Author's Note - Hey guys, didn’t take me two months to get this chapter out, crack the bottles open and blow the party horns:D. This is the final part of the story, Crownless Kings, and the next chapter should see the beginning of the final job with our favourite team of mercenaries and lovers.

So, at first, Max is a bit out of it over the idea of bringing the girls along on what he fully expected to be a suicide mission, but Svetlana talks him out of it. The group crosses paths with an Orc who, although unwilling to help in the attack, repairs Anya’s armour, and gives Maximus some food for thought on his goal. At the end, Sabrina disappears from the camp without a word, and a mysterious woman kidnaps Gabby for a chat...

Is anyone bothered that there hasn’t been a sex scene, in a while:o? Nobody’s been saying anything, so I assume that you guys are more into the plot and getting to the climax of the story without any fluff to pad things out. There are one or two scenes I was interested in doing, though, so I might do them in “bonus chapters” once the plot is over. Just, little self-contained sex scenes that don’t have anything to do with the plot, because I wanted to get the scenarios done:D. Anyway, hope you guys enjoy the next chapter!)
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The Forsworn Retribution