The Foolish to Confound the Wise

My Dearest Kousei,

It's a shame you had to leave before dawn. It would have been wonderful to spend more than the night with you, but I agree that some obligations cannot be ignored. Thank you for giving back the Silver Mold, for one. I'll see that it gets back to Markarth where it belongs. And even more, thank you for being very solicitous of me regarding the condition I suffered. Karliah was an able healer in her own right, but nothing could match your tenderness. I promise that one day, I'll explain to you in its entirety how I managed to obtain the weaponry and the journal you found in Breezehome. The circumstances of their acquisition were quite complicated, but I meant it when I said they were given to me.

Anyhow, you still remember what I told you about my recent encounter with another Daedric Prince, yes? I had only managed to set the illuminations to paper until now, and so I am sending them to you with this letter. Part of the recent scuffle and bustle I went through brought me to Solitude, but meeting Sheogorath was not planned. A beggar I met on the streets was mumbling about his master not emerging from the Blue Palace's Pelagius Wing for years now. It sounded like nonsense, but there was no harm in exploring a bit. Because I was in good terms with the Jarl of Solitude and her steward, I was able to obtain access to the wing without much trouble.

Not a lockpickable lock, no.

I should have known there was a catch. After spending a few moments surrounded by cobwebs and darkness, everything morphed to a mist-shrouded... place. I don't know exactly how to describe it, and imagine my brief sense of panic when I realized that I had nothing on me except some ridiculous clothes and the illumination machine. But then, I saw this little banquet scene.

This party scene looks too familiar to be true.

Who should I encounter but the Daedric Prince of Madness, Sheogorath? And then there was the silent and disturbed-looking man sitting right across him. I had no choice but to speak to Sheogorath lest I be stuck in that place for the rest of my life. Turns out the place we were in was not what it seems.

Who knew my history lessons would come to haunt me?

I have been told stories of the Septim bloodline when I was little, and so I was familiar with Pelagius III's reputation. Sheogorath agreed to return from his "vacation" if I managed to get Pelagius' mind in order. I had no choice, but how was I to set a madman's mind back to normal with nothing but an illumination machine and my fists? Thankfully, Sheogorath was in the mood to be helpful, because he gave me a curious staff to wield, plus some notes of advice on the way. What followed was perhaps one of the most amusing "battles" I ever fought, even if I didn't think it was amusing at the time.

Bottom line: love yourself, loathe others.

Extracting night terrors and turning them into something else.

Enlarging tiny men and turning a madman's night terrors into sultry maidens who speak like men took a bit of getting used to, but I was beginning to like the staff -- Wabbajack, as Sheogorath called it. I wondered if the Daedric Prince will let me keep it after Pelagius' mind has been cleared. I did have a bit of trouble in the last stretch of the mad monarch's thoughts, though. I spent a few futile moments trying to get one of the Atronachs in the arena to defeat the other before I finally realized I ought to be hitting a different target.

But it keeps changing to match my elemental type!

What are the other stuff I can shoot at around here?

Now that Pelagius Septim III's paranoia, night terrors, and anger issues have been taken care of, it was time to go home. I was worried it wouldn't be enough for Sheogorath, knowing how unpredictable he could get. Thankfully, he sent both of us back to Tamriel, and even let me keep the Wabbajack. In a way, I'm more frightened of him than Sanguine or Azura. At least those two have moods that are far more stable than Sheogorath's.

There is sanity in every insane person.

Oh, and I made sure I got back into my usual armor before anyone from the Jarl's court could see me.

Why that ridiculous hat, Sheogorath? Why??

I've tested the Wabbajack's effects on several enemies by now, and true to the nature of the Daedric Prince who gave it, the staff has some unpredictable effects. I've seen bandits turn into crabs, chickens, or goats. Draugr Deathlords adorn my plate as sweet rolls. Once, I got showered with septims when I charged at a Frost Troll. Sometimes, I end up fighting a Dremora in place of a wolf, or I heal the enemy instead of dealing damage. But it's a powerful artifact in its own right, and I like to keep it with me.

Jabba-whacked by the Wabbajack.

On a more serious note, though, there's one thing that's been on my mind since last night. We decided to have dinner in the Sleeping Giant Inn as a tribute to our first meeting, and everything was going wonderfully until some Alik'r warriors entered. They weren't hostile -- in fact, they politely greeted us a good evening and even seemed pleasantly surprised to see a fellow Redguard in Skyrim. However, you gave them only a curt nod, hastily whispering to me that we ought to return home as soon as possible. I was surprised by your sudden change of mood, but I decided against asking what was in your mind. And so we finished our meal quickly and silently, before we went back to Whiterun where we spent the night.

Desert folk in a land of snow and ice.

Will you tell me what was bothering you, beloved? I know that you were orphaned as a child, but you have yet to tell me how it came about. Did something happen back in Hammerfell for you to treat your fellow Redguard warriors as such? It pains me to see you so disturbed, and I hope you will allow me to help you just as you're so eager to help me.

Lots of love,

Kiya