Alliances, Old and New

They say the past has its way of haunting you when you least expect it. If the events that transpired the last few days were any example, I guess there's a grain of truth in that. (That is, if my occasional reminiscences of him don't count.) I was secretly quite elated when General Tullius ordered me to report to Legate Rikke in the Rift Imperial Camp. I may not be fond of Riften's hypocritical outside (as I have told him before), but I am already the queen where its ugly underbelly is concerned. Thanks to Brynjolf, Vex, and Delvin, I know enough to bring the Jarl and her steward to their knees. I guess I am already sounding like Maven Black-Briar here, but ever since Kousei conveniently dispatched of the Dark Brotherhood, she couldn't exactly summon them to pay me a visit if I ended up getting on her nerves. Nonetheless, we've been pretty civil to each other ever since my inauguration as Mercer Frey's successor, and I intend to keep it that way.

Oh, the Imperial Legion also has "arrangements" with the Guild. In ways you don't expect.

I'm pretty sure Legate Rikke would not be too happy if she found out the reason why I found it so easy to blackmail Anuriel in Riften. But she gives orders, and she never questioned how I delivered the expected results. Perhaps it's an added value that I could do the job in the shadows. Whatever the reason, she gave me free rein on the matter -- freedom which I utilized to the fullest. I entered Riften at night and got into the Ragged Flagon using the entrance exclusive to members of my Guild. My brothers and sisters in crime were quite happy to accommodate my arrival. I ended up staying longer than I intended as I inquired of the state of things in the Guild, but it was the best time I've had in a long while.

Wartime or peacetime, coin doesn't care.

No one, not even my second-in-command Brynjolf, found it queer that I opened the ledger containing our "transactions." Memories flooded inside me as I viewed the adornments on and about my desk. The bust of the Gray Fox that I stole from Mercer Frey, one of the Eyes of the Falmer... no matter what that holier-than-thou Redguard says, I will never regret having joined the Thieves Guild. But I did not go to the Cistern to reminisce. There was enough material for blackmail to send Anuriel running back to Valenwood, if I dared it to happen. I closed the ledger, but brought with me one of the letters written in her own hand as proof.

Yo there, Gray Fox. How are things going?

Anuriel wasn't too happy to have the letter go back to haunt her, of course. She was quick to talk, at least (and quite easy to get a pretty large sum of gold from, if I may add). The information she gave set off a series of events that involved a cache of Stormcloak weapons not getting to their intended destination.

I had that sentiment too, trust me.

I did not encounter him during the ambush, which was a bit of a disappointment. But I should have known that he had already gained enough favor with Ulfric Stormcloak to be promoted beyond mere caravan escort duty. Legate Rikke gave me a nod of approval when I delivered my report, but there was a look of anxiety in her eyes that I did not miss. Now, I have achieved enough rank to be able to inquire about such observations, and so I did. It was only then that she told me we were supposed to return to Solitude at once, by the General's orders. We may have taken the Pale and the Rift, but the Reach and Falkreath have likewise fallen into Stormcloak hands. She showed me some illuminations that were taken in battle, and most of them were too graphic to be even described. Inside me, my blood boiled. Only he could have done it. Unlike him, I am content to send my targets to the grave in one piece.

After a few moments of silence, I told Legate Rikke to go ahead to Solitude, and I will be at their heels shortly. She gave me permission, and so I set off to a place I have not been in for a long time now -- Fort Dawnguard.

"Friend, all that blood is making me hungry."

I do not know what made me want to see my old vampire-slayer colleagues so suddenly (especially considering all those quests we did together). But with the Fort at a relatively close vicinity to Riften, it wasn't so out of the way. Who should I encounter upon entering, but Serana? I spoke a greeting to her, and she blinked a few times before my identity registered in her mind. She hardly recognized me, she said. But it has got little to do with the Nightingale Armor or the Stormcloak blood staining it -- it was the lack of Kousei in the picture. I had to stifle an irritated snort. I should have known that the people of the Dawnguard viewed him and me as part of a whole.

"I am sustainable on my own, thank you," I replied coldly.

Serana, ever perceptive, implied what was amiss. In the end, I ranted about Kousei, the Battle of Whiterun, Kousei, the Stormcloaks, Ulfric Stormlcoak, Kousei, and... heaven knows, Kousei. Poor Serana, to be the receiving end of my tirade. But it certainly was a relief to have those pent-up frustrations out of my chest. I looked at Serana's unreadable face and apologized for the outburst, as I ought to be on my way by now. To my surprise, Serana packed her things and declared that she was going with me. None of my words could dissuade her, not even if I wore the Amulet of Articulation given by Brynjolf. Seriously, how can she consider fighting for the Empire, when the world she's familiar with is now history?

"I don't really care much about who ends up on the throne of Skyrim," she replied. "But as a friend, I am concerned for your well-being, and so let me join you again."

General Tullius, Rikke, and now, Serana. They all seem to think I'm going mad. But it's nice to have a friend with me again, even if she indirectly reminds me about him -- the man I loved, the man I lost.

- Kiya