“What do you think Lillandril told him?” Muraz asked Amara as they observed Saufinril cleaning the main floor of the den with a brush, mainly the area that still held stains of blood and rotmeth from last night.
“Obviously told him what he did was not fine. Obviously upset about the fight.” Amara replied, her hair up in a silk headwrap and wearing her red silk robe.
“Yes but what else?” Muraz asked, “When he stepped out, he looked like he’d just seen a ghost. Do you think he’s getting sent back to the Isles?”
“What is it with your obsession of Saufinril returning to the Isles? He went and came back, didn’t he?”
“Getting sent to a far away place, to learn etiquette. Wherever Altmer go to learn that. And he returns and he’s got no heart so he doesn’t love anymore. Because it was fed to a daedra in exchange for power.”
“If you just spoiled Farida’s second part to me just now, I’m throwing you down the stairs. Also, you damn well know he’s not like that.”
“Fine, but what happened. What did he say. This is the second time this year that these guys are killing me with their suspense!”
“Learn. Altmeris.”
“Yeah, yeah. Amara, what if the guy he beat up was an important customer and he sues the bosses, and we have to close the Den? My great-grandmother’s ghost will haunt me for the rest of my life! And what if Saufinril gets thrown in jail?”
“Well, he has been to jail before, hasn’t it? I…don’t think we’re getting sued nor that that guy was anyone important.” Amara had sounded uneasy at the possibility of the Den closing, however, “In any case, he’s survived jail. It’ll suck, but he’s survived it.”
“But he’d ran into Thalmor, Amara.” Muraz whispered, “And Thalmor jail is worse than jail jail. You go in, you don’t go out. Everyone knows that. I’ve heard they send their prisoners out when they’re going to be executed because here you have to eat people when they die and they don’t want that, they toss them in mass graves!”
“Muraz, that is disgusting.”
“I’m not the one tossing people in mass graves! In any case, what if Lillandril told him to run away to avoid the Thalmor from seeing him when they bust in but he’s compulsively cleaning out of guilt?”
“He doesn’t- well he did wash every single plate, pot, utensil and glass in the Den that one time.”
“What if it was actually-what if they’re members of a cult or secret organization and this was all according to the plan, to some plan, and Saufinril has to pretend it was bad but he actually got initiated and is actually really proud? Look at him! Two days ago he had this…this vague air of a living dead and now he’s scrubbing like his life depended on it. It’s because he became a member!”
Amara slowly turned to look at Muraz, “….by beating someone up in an establishment, Muraz? Also rotmeth stains are damn hard to remove.”
“What if ‘ran into’ the Thalmor is more like, code for joining? Like he tried to tell us but couldn’t tell us? What if someone in the Isles recruited him and he’s doing a mission and Lillandril was talking him out of it and-Oh Amara, oh, Yffre. Amara, remember when we found his room empty? What if that ginger guy was the guy he was seeing Kartan behind his back with, remember? The guy he wanted to marry instead of Kartan? What if the wedding never happened. What if the ginger guy left him at the altar and that is why he returned, and he ran into him twice yesterday and the memory of being humiliated and dishonored and having lost Kartan was what drove him to beat him up, because the guy was also being a jerk-Amara don’t give me that face, he came to the Den and asked for Samin, ok? Right in front of the mer that was willing to ditch everything for love, for himand-”
“First of all,” Saufinril’s voice made them both turn and see that the Altmer had stopped washing and had been listening for a while, “one would never in one’s life join the Thalmor. That’s preposterous. Second, one can hear you two from here. And third, one never cheated on Kartan,Muraz.” that last sentence came out as a particularly nasty snap towards the orsimer.
“You touched a sore spot with K-a-r-t-a-n.” Amara whispered, going to the stairs and followed by Muraz.
“How was I supposed to know he could listen? Also didn’t they break up like, 3 months ago?” Muraz replied quietly. They both got to the main floor, where Saufinril continued cleaning. His tone of voice and expression were back to normal when he looked at them and said,
“You have the nerve to wake up this late.”
“Look who’s speaking about nerve! The brawler. In the middle of shift, of the Den, no less! And to a customer!” Muraz pulled out a seat nearby and sat down, “What was that about, anyways?”
“Rich of you to talk about our waking up hours when two nights ago you’d still be sleeping at this time.” Amara added.
“The man.” Saufinril replied, pointing to the back of his neck and ignoring Amara’s observation, “He came back, pissed one off and…well the rest is history.”
Muraz’s eyes widened. “He came here just to pick a fight with you?”
“No, maybe he didn’t know one was here. But in any chance, one handled it poorly.” Saufinril went back to washing. Muraz observed him and asked, “So…about Lillandril…”
“About him?”
“He took you away so fast, and with how you looked, one thought you were going to pick a fight with him too-”
“No! Muraz, never. With him? Never.”
“I know, I know. I’m just saying, I feared you were going to keep letting your fists fly.”
“What Muraz is trying to say,” Amara interjected, “is that we’d like to know what Lillandril told you last night.”
“Yeah. Well, one wouldn’t ever fight him. If anything,” Saufinril dipped the brush on the soapy water and continued, “one almost wet oneself when one saw him. He just wanted to talk.”
“Yes, but about what?” Muraz urged.
“It’s private.” Saufinril replied vaguely, “And if one sits and tells you all about it, one won’t have time to beat the bedroom rugs, which are a lot and some are nasty as Oblivion. Like yours, Muraz. Probably yours.”
“You’re no fun, you don’t tell me things anymore.” Muraz protested, crossing his arms and leaning back, “I want a divorce. Come on, he literally yanked you away and then you stepped out looking like you came out from a funeral. I need to know. Also, what were you thinking, getting in a fight with someone in the Den?”
“Don’t go there, come on.” Saufinril protested, stopping for a second, “One already got sermons from Amara here and your mother right after Lillandril’s talk. One doesn’t need another one.” Amara just gave him a sweet smile.
“Ok but what did Lillandril say!” Muraz insisted, then stopped, eyes wide, “He didn’t kick you out, did he?”
“Muraz, would he be cleaning the Den if he’d gotten kicked out?”
“You got put in servitude?” Saufinril turned to glare at Muraz, “Ok, ok. Sorry. Don’t beat me up. He said something to get you out of that studio looking like that. Was it bad news?”
“Umm…sort of.” Saufinril moved the container with soap and water to another section that had the liquor and blood. Amara and Muraz both approached.
“I’m guessing it obviously had to do with the fight. The one in the Den. Did you tell him about the market one?” Amara asked
“One had to, yes.” A dip and the brush was back scrubbing the floor.
“Did you tell him of the you-know-who?” Muraz asked, “The guys…them….those?”
“Thalmor, Muraz. Yes, one told him. One had to.”
“And?” Amara asked gently. Saufinril sighed and scrubbed harder, “And one caught their attention and then had a bar fight, do you know what would’vehappened if they’d been patrolling nearby, heard a commotion, gotten in and seen one? And started digging their noses where nobody asked them to? We’d all be screwed because of one. Particularly,” he lowered his voice, “particularly Lillandril and Rialas. And one.” His tone of voice went back up, “So that’s what we talked.”
There was a silence until Muraz broke it with a, “So…you’re grounded.”
“One is 228, one is not grounded.”
“Why are you cleaning the floors?” Amara asked
“Because, Amara, this mess,” he pointed the area around, “was what one made and one has to fix it.”
“Ok, then why are you cleaning the carpets after this?”
“Because tasks like these are not just to fill some ‘oh one is grounded and one will finish this stupid punishment so one can go back to bullshitting again like usual once one’s guardians aren’t mad anymore’ quota. When someone does something wrong, it’s correct to apologize and fix the mistake. One apologized and one has to make things right; not just with cleaning away the shame that one’s actions brought to Lillandril, Rialas and the Den, but also to regain their trust. Everyone’s trust. One handled both situations poorly and that put Lillandril, one and everyone here at risk, and one has to take responsibility for it and reform. One’s slip could’ve caused real damage to people one cares about, and we’re lucky that so far, the Thalmor haven’t rained down on us because of one’s carelessness.”
Amara nodded solemnly. Muraz gave a “huh” and then asked, “Then why did you refuse to let me go with you when you went to see Hekla and Armi at the tavern after the rouge incident and instead sent me to clean all the dishes?”
“Well, because you were grounded.” There was a minute of silence and then Saufinril dumped the brush at the water and continued washing, “Alright fine, one is grounded. But it doesn’t erase all that one just said. One really has to reform from this. That was a shitty way to handle things. One could’ve just had any other bartender take his order and gone clean tables or something. One could’ve just tried to keep the peace and left when that pig’s bodyguard stopped the fight.”
“In any case, you both discussed catching the Thalmor’s eye.” Amara summarized, “Don’t be too hard on yourself. I don’t think they’d be interested in raiding some bar when they have other matters at hand.”
“Yeah, so. In other news, last night before the incident, mother told me there’s a new girl here.” Muraz said
“Really? Name?”
“I don’t remember, I didn’t care. She starts today in the evening, she’s probably sleeping.”
“Do you think she saw the fight and was like ‘oh good riddance, I’m out of here. I’m not working in the bar with the Oblivion Crisis in it’ and legged it?” Amara joked
“’Oh thank you so much for this job opportunity-oh nope. Nope. Bye.’” Saufinril joined in
“How long do you think it’ll take her to realize Rialas is the owner of the Den and not some high-end courtesan only for important customers?” Muraz wondered.
“Is this a bet?” Amara asked, turning to him, “because we need to settle the one about Saufinril. In any case, I say two weeks. Give or take.”
“One week.” Saufinril chimed in, “She can’t be that stupid. Also what is this about a bet with one?”
“No, but Ria could interfere. So I say a month.” Muraz said, passing a hand through his hair, then he stopped when he saw Saufinril’s bruises in his arms and the busted knuckles and chuckled. Saufinril turned to look at him and asked, “What?”
“The bruises and your arm,” he pointed at Saufinril’s arms, “it’s all blue and yellow. Like, just blue and yellow. It’s how you see. We’re seeing how you see.” Amara looked at the Altmer’s arms and immediately started to laugh along with Muraz while Saufinril watched.
“You both are so funny.” He said sarcastically, as they laughed, “A comedy duo.”
“Saufinril, what color is this?” she pointed to her robe, and laughed as Muraz did too. Saufinril gave them the middle finger, unable to hold back the grin anymore, and went back to scrubbing.
There was no time for him to say anything at all. Immediately after the fight happened, Lillandril dragged Saufinril up the stairs to the private apartment, dumped him in the chair and sat opposite the younger Altmer, one leg folded over the other and staring at Saufinril. Saufinril stared back. The sound of merriment from below was heard; apparently, the Den went back to its usual shows as if nothing had happened. All Lillandril said, with his air of cold anger that his face didn’t portray, was, “Explain.”
Saufinril pressed his lips for a couple seconds, having his own exploding, hot lashing out died drastically from the moment his arm had been grabbed to the moment he sat down here. He made a clicking sound on his mouth and asked, “…from the beginning?” Stupid question.
Lill narrowed his eyes slightly. When he spoke, his lips barely seemed to move. “From. The. Beginning.” Fine, he wanted to know all about the fight. Naturally. It was his bar, he’d scared clients away and others had gotten in the fight, not to mention how Samin and the other two girls could’ve gotten hurt, and it just, overall, was a fight in his Den. Of course he’d be mad.
“He started it.” Saufinril blurted, only surprised in the back of his mind to feel the irritation was rising again, “One was doing one’s job here and he couldn’t shut his gob up towards one, was one supposed to let him badmouth one in front of everyone, as if one were some-some-some goblin servant or a dog? He’d been pushing it enough! One couldn’t stand to hear him say how one is useless when all one was doing was one’s job!”
Lillandril suppressed a frown at the word “gob”, but otherwise didn’t react. He paused a moment after Saufinril finished. “And?”
“And?” Saufinril leaned forward, then leaned back. Did he hear right, ‘and?’, as if it were some trivial matter being called knife-ears or insulted in front of people? Was Lillandril serious? “No. No! One doesn’t-he’d been at it since bef-alright, before tonight one ran into him, accidentally on the way to the market and there he started to throw slurs back at one, but nothing happened. S-why does he get a pass at being an asshole and one has to bite one’s tongue? If he’s going to be throwing threats, at least he has to be able to back them up!” ‘And?’. Really?? The old mer was going to come with that? Yes, it was his damn bar but ‘and?’??
Lillandril allowed another long moment to pass without moving. A peal of laughter was distantly heard from below. “At least. Quite. And?”
There it was again. By the Divines, he knew he was furious about this but to go this route? That was low. That was low and-was he even listening? He was right! As far as he knew, he was right. He was right to have beaten this guy and despite the bruises and busted knuckles, he would do it all again. What ‘and?’ was he even asking about, ‘and?’ as in what? As in ‘and? I don’t care, you’re ruining my business’ or in-
Wait, was it an ‘and?’ as in ‘is there anything else to say?’? All the rising anger in Saufinril died at once. He knows. Of course he knows, why wouldn’t he? It always seemed to him that both he and Rialas had eyes and ears everywherewhere their own didn’t reach, otherwise it was impossible that they knew so much. The events of the morning came to him; the tall Thalmor, the hand with magic-anulling spell on his own, the cold frown on both of their faces and how he narrowly left…he had to spare him this. It’s not like he’d been taken anyways. He cleared his throat and said, “And…that’s it.” he licked his lips and looked at his right hand briefly. Knowing Lillandril, there was a reason behind these questions, as mad about the fight and the Den as he was. His leg bobbed up and down for a couple of times before he stopped it. Wellp, time to do damage control. “One…fine, one didn’t want to absolutely fight everyone or make a mess. One just-had to make him stop. One is-one was done.”
Lillandril made a small noise in the back of his throat, an uncommitted grunt. He continued staring at Saufinril in the same position, held still. “And there is nothing else you can think of that you should be telling from? From earlier in the evening, perhaps?”
Saufinril held his gaze steadily, until he lowered his eyes. Change of plan, lying to Lillandril would only make this worse, “At the market one was going to fight him because he threw a rock at one but he had two bodyguards, which is no problem usually but it…the fight got stopped by two Thalmor. One was given a warning, and that’s it. Nothing else happened.” he clentched his jaw. Fuck. Fuck. Today was not his day, that’s all. At least he hoped that the last part would ease the tension in the room.
It didn’t. Lillandril’s face shifted ever so slightly as he grit his teeth. “That’s. It?” He narrowed his eyes slightly, his voice becoming more clipped. “You drew the attention of the Thalmor, and then caused a ruckus in one’s establishment, and that. Is. It?”
“Oh wow. I’m fucked. I’m really fucked.” Saufinril’s leg bobbed again, though the rest of his face’s demeanor stayed the same as he looked at Lillandril. “It was…” He was about to say “It was all that guy’s fault!” but blaming someone else right now was not just a bad strategy, it was plain immature, especially when he was the one that smashed his face on a glass. Truly, the guy had instigated it and he fell for it. He fell for it completely. He reconsidered what he was going to say, “Forgive one, serah. One didn’t control oneself in either scenario.”
“No.” For one second Saufinril thought his face had gone cold, assuming that Lillandril hadn’t accepted the apology. Lillandril leans forward ever so slightly. “You did not. Not even remotely. You acted like a fool, like a rash and irresponsible, immature, child. You acted no differently to that boy who broke into one’s shop years ago. You brought shame and dishonour into this place. Onto one. You …” Lillandril stopped and paused, visibly collecting his thoughts. He shifted slightly, swapping his legs over. “Do you know what the Thalmor are capable of? Do you have even the basest, most minute inclination?”
Saufinril was half expecting more to come out of his mouth, but instead lowered his gaze, sitting perfectly still through Lillandril’s words. A wave of heat was raised to his face as he said in a low volume, “One…one does, yes.” He raised his hand to rub the back of his neck. He’d just come back from the Isles, of course he knew. He had to share a house with one after all. Even if you never saw them do anything concrete, their air of military stoicism and their coldness seeped outwards, almost announcing their cruelty that they were so proud of.
Lillandril narrowed his eyes again. “Do you? Truly? It seems to one you do not, or you would have conducted yourself in a manner other than as a common thug.” He shifted again to lean in closer, unfolding his legs. “But maybe one is wrong. Perhaps you know all about the inquisitions. About the demands of purity. About the seizures. The disappearances. The purges.”
Saufinril felt a knot on his stomach.
“Perhaps” Lillandril continued, “you know all about how they harnessed national pride into a weapon. About how even the slightest reason can be taken as reason for suspicion. About how none but the most stringent loyalists may now leave the Isles. You know, surely, that the Artists are now controlled, what they can make dictated to them. You know, of course, that Merchants who have ever even put into a foreign port have had their ships seized. You know, naturally, that mainlander Mer have to prove unbreakable blood ties to a Thalmor family, or be unable to return at all.”
All true, of course. His papers were the reason why he was even allowed to set foot on port a month ago, as much as he hated to admit it. Life in the Isles was insanelydifferent from when he grew up. And insanely scarier.
“You know, of course, that they have seized control of our most ancient institutions. That the military is now entirely theirs. The College, the Labyrinth, the gryphon riders, all now are barred to all but the Thalmor themselves.”
“One does. Well, not-not…” Saufinril exhaled, unconsciously rubbing his hands. What does any of this have to do with his fight? Why couldn’t Lillandril just say ‘don’t be an idiot’ and that’s it? Why was he even thinking about them? The big issue here was the fight in the Den, wasn’t it? Still, being reminded of what the Thalmor were was enough reason to settle unease in Saufinril. He hadn’t considered that the fight in the market could’ve gotten their attention in anything more than two morons arguing in public, “One didn’t mean to get their attention, one didn’t mean to let them see one’s face or-or get on their wrong side. It was just a stupid fight, one just-…” he cleared his throat again and closed his eyes for a second, “One wasn’t thinking of any of that. One didn’t think at all, one’s sorry.”
“You didn’t think.” Lillandril paused again, unblinking. “How shocking. You didn’t think. Not about what they could do to you. About what it means to get their attention. About what you did by attracting their attention, and then causing commotion here, under one’s roof. About drawing their attention here. Do you care to think now, perhaps, what that means? About what you have done to one? To one’s family?”
Saufinril clentched his jaw, looking away. No, he hadn’t. And now it made sense. Great, Saufinril. He felt the anger rise back, but this time directed at himself, how could he have not seen this? How did he not consider what it meant to catch the Thalmor’s eye? He was so much more focused on smashing that freckled face…the tone came out more snappy than intended when he said, “It’s not like they’ll listen to-” he bit the inside of his cheek and took a deep breath (because, again, saying “it’s not like they’ll listen to an Imperial” seemed like waving away the seriousness of the situation. A situation HE created), “One-” he let out a huff, as if frustrated by the lack of what to say, “One did not mean to disrespect you, serah. You or Rialas or the Den or to bring shame to it, but when he started to sound like-” he cleared his throat. Nope, no reason why he was worth being mentioned, “It’s-” another huff. And Graywatch suddenly appeared in his mind, complete with his cruel gold eyes and the smile. The smile was the worst part.
“I travel a lot more now, Finn. There’s no reason why I can’t go thank whoever looked after you personally, preferrably honor this…mysterious mer in the Embassy, officially, with the other Thalmor. And if you were going to ‘end locked’ anywhere, it would be somewhere else. Somewhere pretty. Smaller, even , so it’s cozy. You’d be in a much better place.” He said those three last words as he gently stroke the urn with one finger.
He wouldn’t stop there. Not with his gaze back in the dinner.“…is there a chance they’d arrest us all because of one?” he asked, much more softly, the warmth that had covered his face red now leaving and being replaced with coldness that lightened his skin tone.
Lillandril waited a moment, and in the quiet, another peal of laughter was heard from downstairs. Eventually, the older Altmer let out a sigh and leaned back in his seat, raising a hand to his brow. “No. It is unlikely. Compared to their aims, a bar brawl is beneath their interest. It is more …” He sighed again before resuming, “Consider what you know about one, Saufinril. Consider what that makes one to the Thalmor. The last thing one needs is another reason for them to look at one. One is already a blood traitor, an aberration who has married a lesser species, who has called Men - of all things! - family. If one could not trace an unbroken line back through the ages, one rather suspects …” He trailed off, shifting his gaze to a point in the distance, “One’s family lacks the influence they once had, perhaps. After Kalaron, and Grandmother’s withdrawing … Calina salvaged it, of course. But now …. with the Thalmor in power? Our blood may be old, true, and we were far from the only family to embrace Imperial rule and the wealth it brought, but even so ….”
Lillandril took a breath before looking back at Saufinril. “The Thalmor are dangerous, Saufinril. You do not want their attention. And one cannot allow their attention to linger on one, not for oneself, not for this place and the people within, and not for one’s family.”
Saufinril could only stay in silence, listening to Lillandril’s words. He swallowed hard and nodded. He’d rested his forearms on his legs as he listened, leaning forward. His brow was furrowed in worry and the leg had finally stopped its bobbing rhythm. This was bad. This was so bad. And this was all his fault. He should’ve dropped his stupid ego and just continued his way to meet Amara. At least then the Imperial pig would’ve made a fool of himself and he would’ve attracted the Thalmor’s attention. He could’ve redirected the order to Lienil, who could’ve easily kicked the man out if he got too rowdy. But NO. He had to insert his face on glass. And now for his imprudence, he’d just plastered a huge target on the Den and everyone in it. Right for the Thalmor to see.
Lillandril watched Saufinril for a moment. A smile played on his lips. “You do realize that one includes you in that category, yes? As much as one may seem … harsh, and yes, one is less than best pleased at present, one has enough faith that you can understand the reasons why. You have your own reasons to avoid drawing the Thalmor’s attention, after all.”
That was more than unexpected, and Saufinril blinked quickly and nodded again.“One-one understands.” he says hoarsely, in a low volume, “And one does. Serah…one is so sorry. One is so sorry, this was not what one wanted. One just jumped into a fight and one didn’t-one doesn’t know what else to say. This is all one’s mess, one didn’t want to drag you or anyone else into it.”
Lillandril tilted his head to one side. “You are young. You don’t think things through. And sometimes, events happen. It is up to us to consider how best to respond to those events, and how to best protect those we care for.” He stood up, walking towards Sau a few steps and opening his arms in invitation. “Your apology is accepted. Your mess is, after all, one’s mess. And curse the Divine who made it so.”
His mess? Since when? As far as Saufinril knew, Lillandril had never been part of the mess. He was part of the solution. Saufinril was the problem. Saufinril stood up and shook his head, “It’s not your mess.” he whispered, because he didn’t know how to say everything, then sheepishly walked to Lillandril, hoping the bobbing of his Adam’s apple went unnoticed. He put his arms around Lillandril, resting his chin on Lillandril’s shoulder and hugged tight. Lillandril put his arms around Saufinril and gave him a gentle squeeze.
“It is all of our mess, boy. The Thalmor hold our people hostage. It is up to those of us who can see it to respond as best we can. Now.” Lillandril paused a moment, running fingers gently over the back of Sau’s head before placing his hands on the younger Altmer’s shoulders to break the hug. “One said your apology was accepted, not that the foolishness was forgotten. One rather thinks some unpleasantly menial or otherwise undesirable tasks may help teach you a cooler head. We need another pot washer, if memory serves - one’s flame retardant stick insect frightened the last one off with some of his knife tricks. One thinks you can start there, hm, while one considers where else your youthful energies might be better applied.”
This was a very tender moment. But the second Lillandril spoke the words ‘pot washer’, Saufinril sighed, closed his eyes and tilted his head back, a face that indicated that this task wasn’t one he was looking forward but he wasn’t going to complain or not do it (this was his divine punishment, if it even existed, not just for the fight and this Thalmor business but also for laughing along when the trick happened). He instead nodded and reopened his eyes, accepting his fate. “Yep. Yes serah. One can start tonight.”
