Power Corrupts: Unexpected Turns (ch. 46) (Patreon)

I done goofed. I was man enough to admit it. I made a mistake. I had thoroughly underestimated just how much trouble dealing with the Dark Brotherhood would cause me. I had also underestimated the number of people that wanted to kill me after meeting me. That was a real eye-opener. Going to the Dark Brotherhood was meant to solve problems. It was meant to protect my familia -- Hestia, Lili, Lydia, and everyone else. 

Instead… I sorta got the ruling class assassinated and caused a succession crisis. The line of succession had the tip three links removed. If Jarl Snidgarr had any children that were of age, it would go to them, but he didn't. So his heir was Brindgirr. Who he had murdered. The Steward, Nenya, would have stepped in to manage the Hold until a Jarl could be chosen. Except this entire mess was caused by that bitch for trying to kill me. 

The line of succession was broken and there was no clear replacement. There were other nobles, but with the Orcs raiding the Hold, all of them were weakened if not outright impoverished. So they were bickering. 

Which was really bad because there was a food shortage happening at the moment. The feast, giving so much food to the Orcs, then another feast… food prices were already high because of winter… people were going to starve unless something was done…

But, in my defense, I didn't do it on purpose. If was a total accident. 

"What a mess," I muttered, looking down at the nobles that were arguing. Over a dozen of them, each screaming and shouting until they were red in the face. 

"Was that not your intention?" A smooth woman's voice questioned as she moved next to me. I didn't flinch or jump. I knew she was there. Nothing quite sharpened your senses like knowing you were in the same room as an assassin. I looked over to see it was the servant that had poisoned the wine. I was surprised to see that she was out and about already, but I heard that she claimed Jarl Siddgeir ordered her to poison the wine… and he had been drunk enough to drink the poisoned cup. 

Given everything that went down, it wasn't a surprise that everyone believed that story. 

"You enter the Hold and accept every problem and fix them within days while sowing chaos with the upper-class… you proved them incompetent. And with all of them dead, the path to becoming the Jarl of Falkreath is open to you. If you walk down those steps and claim it, none of those stuffed pigs would dare to argue." Astrid said a cruel smile in her voice. I met her gaze flatly for a moment, a suspicion working in the back of my mind. 

"Did Siddgeir really try to poison me?" I asked, making Astrid pause. And that was a great big fucking red flag.

"He would have," Astrid deflected. "His position as Jarl was not as secure as he would like others to believe. It was only with efforts on behalf of the Brotherhood that he managed to attain and keep his Jarldom. He lacked both the reputation and the experience -- something that he was keenly aware of. As a Thane of Falkreath, you are now a candidate for Jarl. Siddgeir would have ordered your assassination when you proved yourself worthy." 

"So… no, he didn't," I summarized, leaning against the railing. He was innocent. Sort of. Because given the way that he looked at me, I had no trouble believing that he was waiting for a chance to stab me in the back. He has also murdered his uncle. And it also meant that this clusterfuck wasn't completely my fault. That was oddly reassuring. 

Astrid was silent for a brief moment, judging my tone cautiously. "No, he did not. We acted in your best interest." 

"I came here to kiss Sidngger's ass so he would support me becoming the Tenth Jarl of Skyrim," I refuted, making her lips thin. The Dark Brotherhood thought they were helping. They were trying to earn that paycheck. Only they were halping instead. 

But maybe they had a point. Would Siddgeir have supported me in becoming his neighbor? It was better than me replacing him but not by much. Not when I would be taking a bite out of his Hold to create mine. 

"I see," Astrid said in the tone of a person that realized they had done goofed. At least there were two of us now. Misery and company and all of that jazz. 

"I appreciate the effort, but next time, ask me before you kill someone for my benefit," I said, pushing myself off the railing. The time for thinking was over. It was time for action. "The money will be in the cave that the bear had killed those two 'Stormcloaks' in." 

Astrid looked at me for a moment, her expression so guarded that I couldn't even begin to guess what was going through her head. Then, slowly, she nodded, "The Dark Brotherhood thanks you for your patience and understanding." She offered a small bow of her head, "We would like to make up for our blunder. Babette is yours to do as you command so long as you remain our patron." Meaning there would be a convenient assassin nearby to take me out if I decided to stop holding up my end of the bargain. 

Or the offer was genuine. I was able to throw kings’ ransoms amounts of money like it was nothing. Without the Night Mother there or a Listener, the Dark Brotherhood followed their wallets. 

I should probably cut the Dark Brotherhood loose at this point. If this whole situation was anything to go by, they were more trouble than they were worth. Except that I was in too deep with them at this point. They had dirt on me and I was on their radar. The only way to separate myself from them now would be to kill them all. 

“Alright. She can meet me at the gates to the city,” I agreed. Astrid offered a small bow before she walked away, vanishing down the hallway. Better the assassin that I could see than the one that I couldn’t. Not only that, but Babette was also a master alchemy teacher in the game. Given that you could apparently drink a potion to become a better swordsman or bowman, then it seemed like a skill worth investigating. 

Not to mention, I would need it if I was going to attempt the stacking effect to achieve ridiculous enchantments eventually. 

I lingered for a moment, looking over the nobles who continued to fight and argue before I shook my head. This turned into an absolute mess, didn’t it? Another mess to clean up. 

Leaving the building while avoiding the bickering nobles, I walked outside to see Aela and Farkas looking at me. Both of the faces wore dier expressions, telling me that they heard and understood the implications of what happened. I sighed as I greeted them with a wave as I walked down the steps. 

“So, there’s been a bit of a development,” I started, earning an amused snort from Farkas at the understatement. At least someone found me funny. "And we have a choice. Alduin is the goal. So, we either continue on our way to Riften and wash our hands of this mess. I'm the Thane of Falkreath, and the next Jarl of Falkreath is going to want to kiss my ass when he takes the seat. Our goal here is accomplished." 

And it was. The only point of contention was that I could end up becoming the Jarl of Falkreath if I played my cards right. The Dark Brotherhood was right about that. But that didn't change that I needed to go to Riften. 

In the end, it wasn't good for me to become the Jarl of Falkreath. It was a bad look when people started dying as soon as I arrived. Me walking away was a much better look. It was me refusing the crown and whoever the next Jarl was would owe me one. And I wanted my neighbors to owe me. 

"Or, we make a detour. I've thought about it a bit -- but if the two of you head to Helgen now and arrange for food to make it to Falkreath. While I go to Markarth to arrange the same thing. Between Markarth and Helgen, the food situation should take care of itself. Money isn’t an issue.” And it never got old saying that. 

A pensive look passed over Aela’s face. “Alduin is the priority,” Aela repeated me with a frown. And he was. 

“Can you really make it to Markarth and back by the time we reach Helgen?” Farkas asked, and I nodded. If I couldn’t, then I would meet them on the road to Riften. He nodded back at me. “Alright. There’s no point in saving the world if you have to burn it down to save it.”

Aela let out a small sigh. “We seem to be doing a lot of splitting up,” Aela remarked. Rightly so. First with Lili and Vilkas and now us. 

“Skyrim is a big place and there’s a lot of ground to cover,” I said. There weren’t enough of us, I reflected. Doing this on my own would probably be impossible. There was just so much that needed to be done and so little time to do it. I really needed to sit down and think about who I would want to join the familia. Or, rather, who I wanted to feel out about joining. Or even just helping save the world. 

Aela nodded with a slight smirk on her face. “True. Be careful on your own. And try not to get distracted.”

… 

I got distracted.

In my defense, this was Skyrim and I was technically a Skyrim protagonist. Meaning, it’s perfectly acceptable for me to get curious and start wandering down random tunnels or caves. Or spotting some Dwemer ruins and wondering what secrets they might contain. The answer? Some pretty nifty shit. 

“Oh, shiny,” I noted, eyeing the Aetherium Shard that rested on a stand. It was a light blue with a hint of white that seemed to shift inside the half-circle. It was roughly about the size of my hand, making it fairly big, but it was clear that it was broken into pieces. Four pieces. 

“What would that be?” Babette questioned from behind me. She accompanied me through this trip. The Dewmer ruins were fine. I’m sure if I had come here earlier, back with my old weapon and armor, I would be struggling a lot more. The Dwemer automatons, in the end, wasn’t much of a challenge for a level 2 in Ebony Mail. 

“It is an Aetherium Shard,” A third voice answered. Looking over my shoulder, I saw a ghost. A woman named Katria that died in an earthquake some time ago. She was almost a solid white with a faint blue hue, making it impossible to tell what she looked like beyond a general shape of her height and the armor that she wore. She also carried a bow on her back, a ghostly rendition of the bow that was stuffed in my inventory. “It’s proof that the Aetherium Forge does exist.”

Babette turned to the ghostly apparition, her black and red Dark Brotherhood leathers making her stand out that much more given her size. “I see. And what would it do? I can’t say that I’ve ever heard of it, but experience tells me that it’s worth something if we had to go through so much trouble.”

“It’s something that managed to plunge the Dwemer into civil war. In truth, I don’t think even they knew what it could do. What I do know is that the greatest minds worked together to smelt this material and it took them years to manage it,” Katria explained, a hint of reverence in her tone. She reached out to the shard, only for her fingers to slip through it. 

Ghosts, I was coming to learn, were pretty weird and finicky. Apparently she could shoot things that that ghost bow with her ghost arrows, but actually touching something was a no go. Not sure how that worked, but the workings of the afterlife were above my paygrade. I would leave that to Hestia. 

Instead, I turned my gaze to the shard. One of four. In the game, you had the choice between three effects, and only one of them was any good. But, the kinds of enchantments it could make were unique. There was something else to consider as well -- the quality of an item determined the quality of an enchantment it could receive. There was nothing quite like Aetherium. The only thing that I could think of that would be more precious and rare would be Daedric. 

"We must find the other pieces. My journal has the leads, the last known locations for clues that I found spending weeks digging through old books. With it, we can find the forge!" Katria exclaimed, and I wondered how much of that crazed tone of hers was because she was a ghost and that was her unfinished business, or because she had died searching for the forge. 

I reached out and grabbed the shard off the pedestal it rested on. It was shockingly heavy. Like, extremely heavy. The small amount of Aetherium felt like it weighed about as much as a chest full of gold. Then I turned to Katria. "Alright. I'll help you find the forge," I told her and it was difficult to tell, but I thought she was smiling at me. 

"Thank you. I will go to the other locations," she informed before she just winked out of existence. I looked around for a moment at the Dwemer ruin we were in. But calling it a ruin felt undeserved. The place looked immaculately cleaned -- the Dwemer metal gates and piping was so clean it had a shine to it while the cold gray stone was spotless. There wasn't so much as a cobweb. 

That would change considering that I had just stomped on every mechanical spider between point A to point B. Which was kinda a shame, honestly.

"Is this what you do all day?" Babette questioned, her tone awfully judging for someone who had followed me into a Dwemer ruin. "Do you just wander into caves and ruins to see what they contain?" 

"No. The rest is running between the next ruin or cave," I explained. Babette had to crane her head all the way back to look up at me. There was a hint of amusement in her flat gaze -- the kind that belonged on an old woman looking down at a kid that just proved how young he was. It creeped me the hell out. 

"I would say that doing such a thing would be inadvisable, but I suppose you have proven yourself. But can you truly afford such distractions?" Babette questioned as I shoved the Shard into my Inventory. It was a calculated risk showing her, thus the Dark Brotherhood that I had a pocket dimension, but it was unavoidable. They had already seen the contents of my wagon, and there was no easy explanation to where I got another heavy chest of gold. 

"I can," I confirmed with a nod. "Don't need to eat or sleep, I can run through the night. I run through Markarth and set up some food shipments," and maybe looked into becoming Thane while I was there, "so I'll just sprint to Riften." 

"Sprint to Riften, you say. My geography might be spotty, but I do believe that Riften is on the other side of Skyrim, is it not?" Babette remarked. 

"So?" I questioned, giving her a pointed look. A hint of unease entered her posture. She was used to being underestimated because she looked like a ten year old girl, regardless of the fact that she could bend a grown man in half. I think it was starting to sink in that she didn't have a physical advantage over me. 

"Point taken," Babette conceded as we walked through the timeless ruins. Honestly? I wished I had the time to thoroughly explore the place. The Dwemer were such a mystery and who knew what I could learn if I spent a week in here just exploring the place? It was a research facility after all. 

It didn't take long for us to reach the outside. It was clear what had been taken by the Falmer and what remained untouched by them. The entrance was absolutely filthy. The Falmer fought like wild animals and they lived like them too. Which was pretty damn sad considering what the Dwemer had done to them. But it wasn't like I could undo thousands of years of devolution and savagery with happy thoughts and hugs. 

I didn't hunt them down if they fled, but I killed the ones that attacked me. And I would kill the ones that attacked as I left. 

I was already saving the world. I had enough on my plate. 

Minutes later, we were greeted by the sun and nature. It was a nice little scenic view that was tucked out of the way in the growing mountainous region. The exterior of the ruin was covered in vines and grass to the point that it was practically invisible at a passing glance. Several thousand years would do that. I wouldn't have noticed it if I hadn't been looking for it. 

"Skyrim really is a dangerous place," I remarked more to myself than to Babette. There was always something. I had stumbled across another tomb, this one which contained another Dragon Priest in the game, so I avoided it for now. Now the Dwemer ruins. There were fortresses filled with Forsworn…

"Which is why it's inadvisable to go wandering into random caves looking for treasure. For most people," Babette corrected after a brief moment. "You've clearly found more success than others. In part to your abilities and your choice of… companions." I sent her a look at that to find that she was giving me a teasing smirk that was a little too sharp. "I'm afraid after several centuries, some secrets don't stay secret." 

Meaning that she knew that Aela and Farkas were werewolves. 

"It's quite discomforting to learn that someone knows far more than they should, is it not?" Babette questioned. She had a point there. Not that I would admit it. "Silence, hm? Though I suppose you do have a number of worries on your mind. Farkas and Aela seem quite close." 

I stopped walking to the wagon and just sent Babette an odd look. Alright. It was pretty clear she was trying to provoke me. "Where are you going with this?" I asked, wanting to cut to the chase."

"Nowhere. Merely an observation that Aela and Farkas have known each other for many years, and there is a great deal of trust between them," Babette tried to look innocent, but it failed once you got your head around the fact that no matter how old she looked, she was three hundred years old and all three hundred of them were spent committing murder for money. 

"No, where are you going with provoking me?" I clarified, "Are you pissed that Astrid sent you with me?" 

"Astrid sent me with you because my identity has been compromised with you. Who knows who else's is," Babette corrected. "And how would I learn what I wish to learn if I tell you why I'm insinuating that Farkas is likely fucking Aela right now? You did leave her wanting. Though, it was quite a sight -- I suppose you should be commended on your self-restraint. And admonished for your foolishness." 

So, Babette had seen that, huh? Meaning she had made the choice to 'stumble' into the camp with Farkas. 

"Thanks for the compliment, I guess. Now get in the wagon," I said, taking hold of the bar. Getting this wagon was one of the best decisions I had made. The roads were steep and busted, and without this wagon then I would be stuck carrying Babette the entire way. 

Babette made a humming noise as she pointedly did not get in the wagon. I looked at her to see she was giving me a coy smile that did not belong on the face of a child. 

"I suppose you should be rewarded for your restraint? I suppose you could use me to relieve your pent up stress-" 

"I'm good." This entire conversation was really weirding me out. I regret asking. And I don't even want to know what was going through her head. If I had to guess, she was feeling me out. And… I guess I did thoroughly prove that I was both faster and stronger than her. 

"Are you certain?" Babette questioned as she sent me a smile that I didn’t care for. “We’re in the middle of nowhere. No one would know or to think to judge you for it.”

“Just get in the wagon and stop talking,” I sighed, sending her a pointed look. “Or I’m going to leave you behind.” However, Babette didn’t budge. Yeah, she was tempting me in a couple of ways, but she wouldn’t get any bites. Wasn’t going to smack the shit out of her, and I wasn’t going to have sex with her either. I couldn’t introduce her to Hestia with pride, so I wouldn’t lay a finger on her. 

“Are you certain?” Babette pressed in a coy tone. “Because of my true nature, you need not worry about getting too rough. Most men, I’ve found, desire it. Tarnishing something innocent-”

“I’m serious about leaving you behind.” This entire conversation seemed skeevy and I didn’t like it. In response to the promise in my tone, Babette let out a heaving sigh. She dropped the coy act and climbed into the wagon without complaint. I didn’t like having her behind me, but I didn’t have much of a choice in the matter. 

“For the First Child of a Divine that revolves around home and family, you certainly don’t care for children, do you?” Babette questioned after a lengthy silence. The roads were poor, and they wrapped around mountains and cliffs. I could cross miles of distance in no time at all, but in Markarth, there wasn’t a flat line for miles around. 

“Can’t stand them,” I agreed. And apparently that applied to century-old vampire lolis. Or, rather, it was how she was trying to sexualize her appearance. Like, with Lili, it was just because she was a pallum. With Babette, it was like she was trying to make a child’s appearance sexy. Especially with that last bit she said. “And I don’t suppose you’ve gotten a call from the god of Rape and Subjugation yet, have you?”

Because I wanted Molag Bal gone. The rules between the Divines and Daedric Princes weren’t set in stone yet. So far, they were walking the planet at the cost of not using their powers, but consequences and rules were established. Back in Danmachi, if a god died or broke a rule, they got bounced back to heaven and were placed at the back of the waiting list. Meaning that another god got to come down. 

Unless they decided that a god could come right back, there had to be a consequence for death since there weren’t as many gods as there were in Danmachi. 

Hopefully? I could kill Molag Bal as soon as he popped up. 

“No. In truth, I was uncertain if the Aedra and Daedra truly had descended. It makes me nervous. The last time the gods tried to walk Nirn, it went poorly.” She answered, any trace of her sultry tone gone. So, either Molag Bal either hadn’t descended yet, or he hadn’t bothered to inform the vampires. Or, he hadn’t bothered with anything less than a vampire lord. 

One problem at a time. 

“So, Sithis hasn’t connected you either?” I asked, wondering if I had a familia of assassins on my payroll. To that, Babette let out a small huff. 

“You betray how little you know of the Dread Father. The day that Sithis walks Nirn is the day that Nirn returns to the void. But, I suppose that if he had descended, then he would not speak to us. As you know, our Dark Brotherhood sect is unlike others, does not have a… close relationship with the Dread Father. Not in some time.” Babette explained. And that was good news, I decided. The fewer gods that wanted the destruction of Nirn on Nirn, the better. “Astrid is our Matron now. And it is her orders that we obey, not the Night Mothers." 

Until Cicero came along. I would need to deal with him. And the Night Mother in a way that doesn't piss off a god. 

With that, we traveled in silence as we made our way to Markarth. There were stops along the way. Some were more avoidable than others. Others were because I wanted to search for artifacts. And Babette progressively got more and more annoyed with me when I kept finding treasure or ore veins or whatever. 

Regardless, for all of my detours, we still made it to Markarth in record time. Because of the roads and the mountainous terrain, people were forced to go slow. Meaning that it typically took about a week or two to get to Markarth from Falkreath. I managed it in about a day when I wasn't trying to weigh myself down with a heavy load. 

Markarth was a city and a half. It appeared to be built into the mountain it leaned up against -- the mountain walls were so steep and daunting that they served as the side and back walls. The front one that was marked with a massive bronze gate. They were no less daunting than the mountain walls. They were about ten of me tall, at least, and they looked like they were ten feet thick of solid unyielding stone. 

I could see similar stone buildings inside the place. It looked like a Dwemer city, but other races were squatting in it. But, more noticeably was the fact that the massive doors that marked the entrance to the city were the only traces of the bronze metal. 

“Something’s wrong,” I said, looking at the city. The city gate was left open, but I didn’t see any guards. That was the only hint that something was wrong, but as I looked at the city, the more I felt that something just wasn’t right. A tug in my gut that I called instinct. I slowed my wagon and came to a stop. Babette got out and I inventoried it. 

My gaze darted around, looking for an obvious source for my uneasy feeling. But I found nothing. Even still, I trusted my gut and the black mist of the Ebony Mail flooded over my form, covering me with ebony. Babette made a startled noise, but said nothing about it. She wore her red dress to blend in but I saw her fingering a blade in her sleeve. 

With my weapon drawn, I approached the city and saw not a single guard on the walls or defending the gate. My instincts jumped to Forsworn, but I kept myself in check when a sound reached my ears. Not the sound of people screaming as they died or in fear or rage. The exact opposite, really. 

It was the sound of laughter. Of cheering.

I looked down at Babette to make sure that I wasn’t hearing things. She offered a small shrug and a nod, confirming that she heard it to. It was confusing, but I guess it was better than everyone dying. Cautiously, I walked forward, the sound of cheering and laughing growing louder with every step. Then I stepped through the massive Dwemer metal doors, and saw the source of the cheering. 

The plaza that was placed in front of the doors was utterly packed with people. Men, women, and children all -- young and old -- all stood so closely together it was like they were trying to pack every single person in the city into the plaza. But they couldn’t. On the stone pathways that bridged buildings together, on bridges that stood over water, hanging out of windows and alleys were people that spilled out from the plaza. 

It was only because I had a good foot and a half on pretty much everyone that I saw that the wall of people had a gap. A circle around two dancing people. 

Because despite the music and atmosphere, I felt a familiar sensation wash over me. The sensation of standing in the presence of a god. 

Slowly, I moved forward through the wall of people, walking towards the god that stood at the center. With each step, my view became clearer. And once I was at the edge, having shoved my way there with ease, I had an unblocked view of those that danced. 

A man and a woman. 

The woman was breathtakingly beautiful. Silver hair that was almost white flowed over her shoulders and back in a thick mane with a hint of curls. She wore a loose fitting golden dress made of silk and with each movement, I expected it to pool around her feet. Her lips were made for smiling, and her face looked almost too perfect to be real. For a moment, I could only stare stupefied, realizing that she was probably the most beautiful woman I had ever seen. It wasn’t even a matter of attraction. It was an observable fact. 

She danced with a man who smiled broadly that revealed dimpled cheeks. Short brown hair smoothed back, his jawline so squared that it could be used to measure perfect angles with bright blue eyes that seemed to twinkle with mirth. He was taller than most, broad shoulders and a narrow waist while he was dressed in fine clothing. 

They danced to the music, swaying and twirling as they both seemed to bask in the attention. 

Dibella, the God of Beauty and Love. 

Sanguine, the God of Revelry and Debauchery.

This got a whole lot more interesting.