Chapter 14
---
Author's Note:
{I've started writing chapters too quickly. I should sit down and think about the plot. Chapters will be released less frequently now.}
---
Markarth. Temple of Dibella
The stone floor was littered with bottles. Some were broken, and wine spilled across the floor. Women in yellow robes were cleaning up the mess. Offerings meant for the goddess were also scattered.
In the center of this chaos lay a young man. Dark hair covered part of his face. He wore a white shirt, stained in places with dark spots, likely remnants of wine.
John furrowed his brow.
"Ughm," he mumbled, barely prying open his eyes.
A priestess of Dibella stood before him, extremely angry at John.
"Awake, drunkard?" the woman said loudly.
"For the Nine's sake, please don't yell. My head's pounding," John whispered in reply.
Barely getting up, John fully woke up. The events of the previous night flashed through his mind. He painstakingly sifted through his memories.
"Damn. I drank with that Sam. Or was it Sanguine, Daedric Prince? The Lord of Debauchery."
Thinking that drinking with a Daedra was a bad idea, John looked around. Nothing but a mess.
"Alright, young man. You're going to clean up all this chaos right now."
"Okay, okay." John set about cleaning.
Numerous empty alcohol bottles lay on the floor. A giant's thumb was in the far part of the room.
Whoosh whoosh
Grabbing a broom, John methodically wielded the tool. All the bottles were gathered into one pile. He tossed all the bottles and trash into a bag.
Clap clap
John clapped his hands to remove all the dust. The entire cleanup took less than 10 minutes. Senna's (the priestess of Dibella) frown disappeared. She looked at the Dragonborn more kindly. Moving closer, John began:
"I apologize for this mess. I got very drunk last night."
"That's clear. Yesterday, you and your friend stumbled into this temple and defiled it with your presence. Then your friend left, leaving a note behind." Senna pulled a note from her pocket, extending her hand towards the Dovahkiin.
"Understood." John easily took the note and looked at its contents. "Clear. Thank you for giving me the note. Next time, I'll come with gifts."
"I hope next time you'll be sober," Senna said with a smile.
"Of course." John also showed a smile with sparkling white teeth.
Leaving the Temple of Dibella, John descended the steps. He turned his head. His gaze fell upon the stone buildings with bronze roofs. The morning fog obscured the city's full beauty.
Reaching the bottom of the stairs, John walked towards the nearest plaza. Fortunately, he saw that in the distance, jewelry, meat, trinkets, armor, and other goods were being sold.
Sound of a babbling brook
A small river flowed downwards. Something sparkled in the current, like tiny silver granules. The sound of the rushing river calmed John's mind. His once throbbing head returned to its original state.
He barely had time to enjoy these sounds before the noise of the crowd replaced them. The throng of people seemed endless. Some vendors had already prepared their goods.
John walked past a woman dressed in a cheap blue dress. She was looking at the jewelry for sale with interest. The Dovahkiin was just about to leave the city when suddenly...
"For the Forsworn!!!" a man shouted.
John spun around in half a second and saw a Breton man. He raised an axe at the woman.
"Damn. Gotta be quicker."
The Dovahkiin lunged. He grabbed the Breton's arm. Tightening his grip, John broke the scoundrel's wrist.
"Aaaaaaaah! (x2)." Both the Nord woman in the blue dress and the Breton in white clothing screamed simultaneously. The first screamed in fear, the second in pain.
The Markarth guards immediately rushed to the epicenter of the conflict. They easily subdued the Breton and led him to their station.
"Hey, you!" one of the guards addressed John.
"What is it, comrade guard?"
"I advise you not to spread word about this incident," the guard whispered as he approached John.
"Alright," John replied with a hint of nonchalance.
The guard in his armor strode towards the gates. He was guarding the city entrance. John looked at the Nord woman. She was extremely frightened by what had happened. Tears welled in the corners of her eyes.
"Are you alright?" John asked, his voice filled with genuine concern.
"I'm shaken by this. I didn't think a Forsworn would attack me in broad daylight."
"Indeed. You're lucky I was here."
"Thank you so much. I'd like to reward you, but..."
"No, there's no need."
"But please! I'll give you this necklace. It was for my sister, but for you, anything."
"Mmmph." John looked at the necklace. It was silver, with a sapphire in the center. "Alright."
John took the piece of jewelry from the woman's hands. The woman herself seemed unremarkable. The Dovahkiin recalled that she was an agent. She had been sent by General Tullius to gather information in Markarth.
"Excuse me. But could you tell me your name?"
"Just John."
"Thank you for saving me," the woman thanked him again.
"Uh-huh. I'm busy right now. We'll meet next time, madam...?"
"Margret."
"Mhm. Goodbye."
With a quick stride, John headed towards the city exit. He tried to leave the city as fast as possible and hire a carriage. This whole quest involving Sanguine... he regretted agreeing to drink.
To John's surprise, Eltrys didn't approach him. He was supposed to give the Dovahkiin a note, thereby starting the "Forsworn Conspiracy" quest. Very strange. Oh well, it doesn't matter.
Exiting through the gates, John headed for the nearest stable. He saw a man on a carriage. Approaching the man, he arranged a ride to Whiterun.
"Oh, Whiterun. That's about 2 weeks' travel."
"Understood."
"Hop in the carriage and we'll set off."
John was disappointed by such slow travel. If only he had fast travel... Too bad that wouldn't happen. Jumping into the back of the carriage, John looked at the sky. White clouds slowly drifted across the heavens. The faint scent of wood entered John's nose.
Clatter of wheels
The coachman whipped the reins at the horses. They immediately woke up and galloped along the road. John already thought this journey would be extremely long. He should find another mode of transport. It would be ideal to invent fast travel, but with what? Hmm.
Shaking his head, John pulled a scroll from his boot. He had bought this scroll from a Khajiit. He hadn't really devoted any time to studying it. Now was the perfect time. Unrolling the scroll, John began to study the martial art of a certain beast race.
---
### In one of the Planes of Oblivion
The dark sky was enveloped in unknown green energy. Green streams of magic slowly swirled above countless towers. The towers were made of an unknown dark metal. Books could be seen imprinted on the surfaces of the towers' walls.
These buildings stood in dark water. An entire ocean of ink writhed sickeningly, looking unnatural. It seemed as if every molecule of ink had its own mind and could move on its own. Several large ships were immortalized in these dark waters. They had crashed, and time seemed to have stopped for these aquatic transports. There was not a single person on the broken decks. The ships, like monuments, served as a reminder. Everyone who was shipwrecked at sea was sent here. To this strange, dreadful dimension filled with strange towers, books, ink, permeated by an aura of mystery and danger.
In one of the tower corridors stood an unknown man. Dressed in a dark robe, his boots were already dark brown. Gloves made of yellow metal were visible on his hands. Dark stains appeared on the gloves. A special mask covered the man's head, completely concealing the stranger's face.
Currently, this man was trying to subjugate a creature. With magic, he attempted to bend the creature's mind and will. Despite everything, the strange creature remained unbroken.
"Daedra take you. Another failure."
The man's voice was low. There was a certain degree of disappointment in his tone. After this phrase, the strange creature, resembling an octopus but humanoid (not sure how to describe it), turned to stone.
"These constant failures. I need to change my approach somehow. I should use a different spell, or find a book. Now I need to finish this quickly. To get out of this damn dimension will require servants and immense power. I'm tired of sitting in this dreadful place and serving a Daedric Prince. Soon. Soon everything will change."
Throwing the statue into the sea of ink with telekinesis, the man in the strange attire headed towards the library.
"Alright, it's around here somewhere." He searched for the right book on magic.
Taking a suitable book from the shelf, he opened it and began to read. Suddenly, a strange creature with tentacles and numerous eyes appeared out of nowhere.
"Miraak," a majestic, lordly voice emanated from the creature.
"Oh. What do you need, my lord?" Miraak was slightly startled by his boss's appearance.
"I have some important information for you."
"And what is it, my lord?"
"In Tamriel..."