Count Only The Happy Hours

Part 1: VI

Nerevar let out a long breath, an undeniably grateful look sent Vehk's way, and he gave a short nod as he got up to his feet. Vivec and Sil stayed silent as he faded into the darkness of their surroundings, no doubt to wrestle with his guilt.

Once he was gone, Sil jerked his shoulder out of Vivec's hold. "We have to do something," he said, fire still in his voice. "We have to talk to someone. Voryn o-or Alandro..."

"If Neht's gotten to this point, then Voryn and Sul agree with him. And they'll be unshakeable ," Vivec said, running his hand through his hair. "Look, we've said time and time again: Azura has blessed our mission. She'll protect the mer in Hofstaag."

"Like she protected Ald Sotha?"

Oh.

Vivec looked up at Sil; rage seemed to fill every bit of the boy as he stared at Vivec, making him tremble hard enough to rattle the metal parts in his lap. There was no sign he would lash out, but, if he were just a few years older, he could tell that there would be something very, very dangerous in this silent fury.

"The daedra do nothing , Vivec," Sil spat out. "They don't care. If...if none of the others will do anything, then we must."

"We? You and I?" Sil nodded, and Vivec let out a disbelieving little scoff. "Because going off on our own worked so well before?"

"We can plan. Come up with...with something. But we must do it quickly." Sil pulled the chassis from his lap, eyes darting about as he thought. "I...my spiders aren't ready, but, but I know there's a way to make them combust. If we can start on the far side of the slums..."

"We'd have to go through the whole city for that," Vivec said, shaking his head. "I've been around the whole perimeter of it." He set aside his parchment and quill and grabbed the long stick used for tending the fire. In the dirt, he drew a crude imitation of Hofstaag's walls, with Xs serving as the entrances and exits and a wavy line serving as the slums. "You see? The governor's mansion is up here, and any way to enter there–especially the hidden ones–are going to be far too secure. We have to go through these areas, and that would be dangerous." He rubbed his face–a habit picked up from Nerevar, no doubt–then kept his mouth covered as he looked over the map. "If there was a way to get word out...a whisper or a rumor or..."

"Or a notice." Sil's eyes had traveled from the map to the parchment, and he looked back to Vivec. " You can write something. In Chimeris, maybe, warning about what's going to happen."

"And when someone snitches?" Vivec asked dryly. "Or when the odd Nord who's picked up enough Chimeris can get an idea of what we're saying? No, that's as good as a bounty." He rolled the stick in his hand; despite his dismissal, words and ideas were already starting to dance in his head. "But...perhaps it's a notice from the Nords."

Sil frowned. "There aren't any Nords on our side."

"No, but we have someone who can write like one." Vehk gave Sil a smile as he picked up his parchment and pen again. "Skalds are Nordic poets, and as much as I can't stand the people, I admire the way their poems are ingrained in their society, and I've read quite a bit. Know your enemy and all. So even their official notices have a particular cadence to them."

"It can't be a poem , Vehk."

"Not a poem. An...homage, let's say, to the stark lyricism of Nordic government issues." Vivec chewed his lip as he looked over the blank page. " Notice, effective immediately: anyone not descended from the noble sons of Ysgramor ..."

"No . "

"You're right, too much. Notice, from the office of the governor, effective immediately: all knife-ears and animals... Ah, they'd say that, but even Nords show a bit of nuance in paperwork. All mer and beast-folk are required to vacate the city of Hofstaag. Any who don't comply will be... persecuted? That doesn't sound right. Penalized , no, severely penalized, there we go." He looked up to Sil. "Threatening enough without overdoing it, yes?"