Conrad woke up.

This time, he felt a numbing sensation all over his whole body, and and he was feeling cold too.

Even under the thick layer of furs.

Wait. Furs?

He moved groggily his head, disturbed by the loud, constant noise of something moving. The ground itself felt like it was bouncing and rolling, sending flashes of pain all over his back.

He opened his eyes and saw the sky moving in front of him. The sudden light and the ache of whatever Minato had done were doing a mess of his head—

Wait! Minato!

Was that just a dream? Could it have been true?

…maybe he could summon Durnehviir again and ask him, just to be sure.

“He’s awake!” someone shouted. He didn’t recognize the voice, but from the tone he could tell that they were actually happy he wasn’t dead.

“What? Now?” another voice said. This one was familiar, but he couldn’t put a face to it.

“There’s a patrol coming from behind the hill. Cover him!”

He felt something heavy being pulled over his body and his head. Darkness.

“Wait, why are we hiding him? I thought that he is a Thane of their hold. He should be getting some kingly welcome also as a dragonborn right?”

“No one should know that he is back here on Skyrim yet. And after what he had did on those Dominion Army, the entire province is on high alert and on search for him. I don’t know if it’s good or bad for him, but I am confident that it will bring trouble all the same. Now be quiet,” the familiar voice hissed.

Conrad had no idea what was going on, but he realized something when he heard the sound of the horses being forced to slow down.

He was on a wagon. Someone had found him and took care of his body while he was unconcious.

Then he wondered, the first thought that entered on his mind when he woke up in Soul Cairn.

Was that just a dream?

Or hallucinations or... was it real?

If it’s just a dream then, there's no possible danger from waking from it. And it seems that there's no Daedric entity whispering on his mind. No traces of possession or corruption on his body and thoughts.

But if it really happened, many questions immediately flooded into his brain. Something or someone pulled him into Soul Cairn. Durnehviir even said that he didn't know the reason of such event and this man, who claimed himself as his long lost brother, Minato didn't even expect him to be on Soul Cairn also.

So who was it?

How?

And why?

Then he remembered those who rules Soul Cairn... the Ideal Masters. Wait… this was too far-fetched.

Suddenly, he heard someone ordering to the wagon to halt, and once they stopped, someone started to ask questions.

“Who are you? What business to you have on the roads of the Whiterun hold?” a gruff voice said.

Whiterun hold? But he had lost consciousness in the Hjalmarch. How much time had he been unconscious?

“Me and my wife are peddlers, my good sir. Travelling through the provinces as we sell what we could,” the familiar voice said, changing his voice to sound the most uneducated as possible. “We’re going to sell our pelts to Whiterun. See? They’re good pelts. I can’t make a lot for them in Rorickstead.”

“And why are you escorted by four armed mercenaries?” the gruff voice asked, suspiciously. While looking also at the four men who wore full battle armor with different weapons, that was walking beside the carriage.

“Well sir, we don’t just sell pelts. We also have barrels of Fire Flower Mead, crates of mammoth’s wool, tusks and few more luxury items to trade. Bandits would try to steal them, yessir. And kill us, too.”

“Hmm, do you have any identificati-”

Other questions followed, but Conrad could feel his mind getting foggy again.

He tried to focus, but his body was somehow really tired, he had no external deep wounds but the feeling of exhaustion was slowly taking over. It must be the consequence of separating his soul from his body and most of all, he was hungry.

The Dragonborn slowly but surely swept back to into the blissful unconsciousness.

:x:x:x:x:x:x:x:x:x:

He woke up to the smell of stew and sweetrolls. Then a splitting headache came in and forced him to hold his head in pain. It continued and slowly minimized, but never disappeared. It just kept throbbing. He tried using his most powerful restoration spell, Close Wounds, but to no avail. It does not feel to be a head injury.

“Hey! Give that back!” someone shouted.

Conrad endured the pain and opened slowly his eyes. Then he noticed that it was night, the stars were greeting him. He felt the heat of a campfire in his proximity.

Somewhere, someone snorted.

“What? Are you really going to say that to someone who stole your sweetroll?”

There was a collective laugh at that. Not too loud, but it was clear that the joke had eased the tension of the people in the camp.

Now, where in Oblivion was he? And who took him?

He rolled onto his side.

“Oh, welcome back, boss,” the familiar voice said. “How good of you to join us.”

Conrad’s head turned in the direction of the speaker. He immediately recognized him.

“Haming. I’m not your boss,” he said, nodding towards the young hunter.

The young man shrugged, and Conrad knew that he would just ignore his protest. Again. Haming was one of the few survivors of Alduin’s attack at Helgen, along with Conrad and other two people that they knew off. Maybe that, and the idea that the Dragonborn was from his own, now destroyed and almost forgotten village, had sealed the archer’s loyalty towards the older Nord.

After all, people tended to be loyal towards those that killed the dragon that took the lives of their family.

“Where are we?”

“An old bandit lair, near Whiterun,” Haming replied, filling a plate with steaming stew. “Not exactly one of our most fancy hideouts, boss. But it’s safe.”

Cornad grunted, and looked around.

They were in a cavern, one wide enough to have a nice living space for a hundred of them, and filled with wooden furnitures and torches to the help light the whole room. Must be one of those caves he had cleared in the past and took over.

The air was cool, and even the faintest sounds echoed through the place’s walls.

Conrad hoped that they had chosen a good point to hide the wagon and the beasts they were using to drag it, otherwise their presence would have been much less discrete. Thalmor would always try to send agents to track them down.

Besides him and Haming, there were other five people.

One of them, to his surprise, was the innkeeper that had tried to poison him. The woman was sitting in an angle of the cave, eating alone. He had no problems with that.

The other four, though…

They were wearing armors that were handed out by the Blades as disguises as bandits or mercenaries. He don’t know these four, probably new members attached under Haming.

“Oh of course,” Haming somewhat understood what he will be trying to ask and immediately introduced his men. “These are my men, boss.”

“That’s Bjen, whos a better archer than me.” Haming pointed at a man in twenties that’s sitting on a stool and eating a sweet roll. He had light leather armor with a long bow beside him. This man was probably a fellow ranger enthusiast as Haming, after seeing several quivers near him with variety of arrows.

“Then those twins are Sinmir and Yrsarald,” two women also in their twenties, with same faces but different hairstyles raised their hand in greeting. They were sitting on a long table with their weapons displayed. Sinmir had a direwolf pelt on her shoulders with two one-handed axes on her hips. Yrsarald on the other hand, had a halberd held between her legs as she munched on a wheel of cheese. He also noticed several daggers on her belt.

“And that’s Thrynn Titanborn, the oldest of us.” Haming nodded towards a towering man that has a bottle of mead on his hand. He was even taller than Conrad and seemed to have the heaviest set armor of Haming’s men. But what caught Conrad’s attention was the peculiar large weapon he had on his side. A very large crossbow… and his last name. “Despite having a giant ancestry, he preferred to pick off his enemies with large bolts instead.”

That caused snicker among the previous three and Thrynn just rolled his eyes. Then the giant walked towards Conrad and handed his spare hand.

“It’s an honor to fight alongside the legendary Dragonborn. My ancestor, Lyris would be rolling on her grave in envy for missing out this opportunity.” He grinned.

“You’re her direct decendant?” Conrad raised his brow in interest. Lyris Titanborn was one of the famous Five Companions that searched the Amulet of Kings. And briefly helped in rebuilding the Blades in the past.

“She’s my great grandmother.” Then Thrynn pointed at the other three of Hamings crew. “And they may not show it but they are elated on being on the same room as you. Just seeing you for the first time when we found you made them panickingly happy. I had to stop them every time, before they do something embarrassing like licking your armor.”

This caused him to be a target of thrown cheese, plate and mug that all hit his head.

“Hahaha! You can’t blame them for admiring you boss. You saved them in the past, even if you don’t remember or never knew what happened.” Haming joined the talk.

“Bjen was still a child when you saved his family’s caravan from dragon attack in the past.” Haming continued. “And do you remember those two young girls that we found on the eastern coasts of Dawnstar and left them on the orphanage at Riften? Those were Sinmir and Yrsarald.”

“Really?” he searched his memory and he did remember saving two girls at Dawnstar. Their house was attacked by a dragon and it led Conrad and Haming to them who were tracking the creature. Their parents died on the attack while the two hid under the bed, freezing and hungry as the winter set in. He doesn’t remember Bjen though as he had saved many caravans in the past.

The throbbing pain was now increasing that he had to close his eyes and hold his head.

Others immediately noticed that there’s something wrong.

“Are you alright boss?” Haming tapped his shoulder with worry.

“Just a headache, probably from oversleeping. You sure have an interesting roster as a group.”

“Here, drink this,” Haming gave him a small bottle of blue liquid. “It’s a potion made by our alchemist. It’s usually for hangovers but it will probably do the same to headaches.”

He took the bottle and drank. It had a sour taste. It reminded him of something that he wished it was not part of the ingredients. And it probably have a delayed effect as he felt no changes to the throbbing pain.

“And what of your story?” he asked Thrynn. Trying to take his mind off from the pain.

“I wa-”

“Thrynn was a former mercenary that I met and hired in delving the dungeon near Markath.” Haming interrupted and joyfully spoke. “Back then, he still don’t know that I was part of the Blades, searching every ruins for any clues about the dragons. Then we met again after the Siege of Whiterun.”

“I was captured and taken as a prisoner.” Thrynn continued for him. “I sided with the Stormcloaks in the war.”

That earned him a frown from Conrad as the Blades took the side of the Imperial army.

“You shall not worry Dragonborn, my allegiance back then was for my family who sided with Ulfric. After the war, they were pardoned and only had to cede few acres of land to the Empire.” Thrynn clarified while shaking his hand to ward off confusion and possible misunderstanding. Then laughed heartily. “Now they were growing fat in trading with the East Empire Company. As a proud descendant of a hero, I took it upon myself to join the Blades.”

Like Delphine, he would always nitpick on the allegiance of new members. But this time, he don’t need to. The answer he needed was already displayed on the way they looked at him.

Those same admiring and worshipping eyes, which were bulging out, that were looking at him like he was some kind of fucking god descended on the Mundus to save them all. Well, he probably did saved them all. The problem was that now is their total admiration for him and had chosen to fight at his side. Unlike most of the continent, actually. Poor bastards, they’re just going to get themselves in more trouble than they could chew.

That didn’t ease the Dragonborn’s worries. The resistance against the Thalmor didn’t need more fanatics ready to rally behind his shadow.

No matter what Delphine and Esbern had said. This continent needed some true rest. But if Thalmor keeps antagonizing them, there would probably have no peace.

Haming took a clean bowl from the wooden rack and went to the fireplace where the pot of stew was being cooked. Then he passed it to Conrad who accepted it with a nod, before starting to practically devour the dish.

“By the way boss… our… ‘partners’ had discovered the informant.” Haming took a serious tone. “He was not a Blade but a member of the Thieves guild.”

Hearing that, stopped Conrad from eating.

The Thieves Guild was practically one of his arms now after being its main investor and backer behind the scenes with the Blackbriars. He made it a very big point on the guild to never betray him and the Lady of Blackbriars. Something must have happened if this had become possible.

“They failed to capture him as he died fighting, but the evidence that they found told them more information about the connection of the Thalmor and the guild.” the archer stated. “Delphine was practically on the verge mobilizing the entire Blade after hearing of such news but thankfully, Esbern and others were able to calm her down.”

“So, we were sent to fetch you before the Thalmor got you, but they had days of advantage,” the hunter kept explaining. “They must have been planning this way before you started your journey back.”

“By the way, boss. Nice work with that,” the young man smirked “News about how an entire division of Thalmor Elite disappeared had spread fast. How they crossed the Imperial border undetected and had a massive battle against the Dragonborn on Skyrim itself. There are patrols everywhere, scaring the jarls shitless. On the sides of our Imperial overlords however, Emperor Marxim himself was beyond furious,"

Of course, it's a natural response.

The Thalmor had just wreck havoc on one of the empire’s province. This would question the sovereignty of the Empire on their holdings and provinces. This would also cast doubt on the vassal kings and queens if their territories were even safe under the empire.

"He sent a delegation threatening war if the Thalmor had no legitimate excuse to give.” the hunter continued. "Of course, as always, the elves denied any involvement even if the armors and weapons found on the battlefield says otherwise. They sent a reply saying that it was a rogue division who chased after the dragonborn."

Great. Just great.

He had given the Dominion and Empire to be at each other's throat once again.

The archer kept talking, pointing towards the woman sitting alone at a brief distance away...

“It was her, Feida, that saved you, you know.”

Conrad turned towards the woman, arching an eyebrow curiously.

“I waited and waited…” she started. “…until the battle outside was over. And after that...I waited more. Once I was sure that nothing was moving out there...I peeked through the door. There were so many bodies…and demons.”

For a few minutes the only sound in the cave was the cracking of the flames. It was clear that the woman was not used to violence.

Thrynn placed a several wood into the fire.

“I waited till all the walking dead and those fire demons disappeared. Then as I strolled through the battlefield, I found you, unconcious,” the woman continued.

“You were laying in a pool of your… victims' frozen blood… covered in blood… smelled in blood. You were a mess. I had to force you to drink one of your potions just in case you were wounded, and dragged you inside the inn. It wasn’t easy. You’re quite heavy especially with all that armor.”

“We arrived a few hours later,” Haming started again. “We loaded you on the carriage that we took from the Dominion’s ruined camp. And took you away from there, as fast as we could.”

Conrad massaged his temples, having finished his stew.

“What about her?” he asked, motioning towards the woman. "What was her name? Oh yeah, Feida."

“She met us, hiding you at first inside the inn. Refusing and well… failing to cover for you. We told her of our identities and confirmed it with my emblem… then we gave her the ‘join or die’ option,” the archer said sheepishly.

“We don’t have a ‘join or die’ option, kid.” he said flatly.

“She didn’t know that,” Haming replied, smirking.

“It’s fine,” Feida interrupted. “After that fiasco, the Thalmor would have hunted me down anyway. Either I stay with you guys, or I’m dead. I have no living relatives left and I didn't own that inn.”

"What? Then whose inn was that?" Haming asked.

"I don't know. The Thalmor agent who hired me, took me from my village that they had passed and plundered. I was the only Nord at that village so everyone except me was put to sword.” When Haming was about to comfort her, she raised her hand to stop him. “Don't be sorry, I don't have any family left anyways. I was just alone, selling herbs and whatnot."

"Then after arriving at the inn, they told me that I would act as its owner for several weeks and gave me the poison that I gave to you. They will give a signal a night before you arrive at the inn so that they can give me the time to prepare," she looked him in the eye and said. "I will not ask for forgiveness. Because frankly, deep inside, I may had wanted to kill you. If you had never antagonized those Dominion, they would have never tried to set foot on our land. But... blaming you over this… is stupid and useless. This is just how the world works I think." She took the mead beside her and drank till it's empty.

“Whatever,” Conrad snorted. Only to add something quickly when he saw the annoyed look Haming gave him. “We’ll find a use for you, I suppose.”

“I’m a good cook, and—”

“Stop it. It’s not my job to find what you can do,” he interrupted, ignoring the woman’s offended expression and turning towards the young archer. “Where is my stuff?”

“We hid your bags and your metallic junk under the pelts and—”

“Junk?!” Conrad exclaimed, indignant. “My nordic carved armour is not junk!”

“With all those scratches and dents, it looks like a piece of junk, boss. Don't worry, we will find someone that's best enough to fix it,” the archer smirked. “Oh, and I’ve managed to save your axe, too. And your walking stick.”

“It’s not a walking stick, it’s a mage’s staff. A mage staff carved to look like a walking stick, so that it will not be easily recognized for what it is,” Conrad seethed, tired of having to correct his self-proclaimed minion about the nature of the totem pole. Again.

He winced, his head was throbbing now. At first, when he had woken up, he had thought it was because of the exhaustion or the separation of soul and body... or both.

But when he closed his eyes, he could vividly see… something.

Four symbols, exotic-looking and with an unknown meaning, gleaming in the dark of his closed eyelids.

The encounter in the Soul Cairn had really happened. And Minato had done, or gave something to him.

“Just admit it, boss. Sooner or later, you’ll have to—”

“Paper,” he interrupted harshly. “And ink. Now.”

Haming looked at him for a few seconds, confused from this unusual reaction during their traditional banter, but gestured towards his subordinates nevertheless.

He heard someone rummage somewhere as he kept massaging his temples.

“Here it is, boss. Do you have to write a message or—”

“Later,” Conrad hissed, snatching the pen and paper sheet. He started scribbling furiously, slightly put off by the unfamiliar symbols.

“Whatever you say, boss,” Haming sighed, before getting closer to him and starting to whisper. “Look, I’ve received orders from Delphine. I’m to take you to the ruins of the Cloud Ruler Temple, in Cyrodiil, before the borders will become impassable because of the checkpoints—”

“Shush, Haming. You’re distracting me,” Conrad said, discarding the paper sheet, unsatisfied with the result.

“But—”

“I said, shut up, Haming!”

Haming fell silent, knowing that whatever he was doing, was somehow important.

Once Conrad was finished, he examined his handiwork. Scribbled on the parchment, the four symbols were almost gleaming, the light of the fire reflected off the fresh ink.

He had no idea what he was supposed to do with this. But he would find out, with time.

“Haming, send Delphine a message to gather all agents at the Sky Haven Temple. All of them.”

“But… How about the Thalmor? And you’re gravely exhausted, you have to hide—”

“I will hide, but I have stuff to do, and I know where I have to go to do the necessary research. And you and your party will take me there. I will give Delphine the work that she wanted which would take her on somewhere I needed.”

“Delphine and Esbern won’t be happy about this, boss. They were worried about you.”

“Like I care about what the old hag and old man thinks—” he said, only to drift when he saw Haming’s worried face.

“Alright, alright! I’ll write a letter to her and tell her that it’s not your fault, boy. Happy now? Now gather your things and give the orders to your men, and whatever her name is. We’re moving.”

“Moving? To where?”

“To Winterhold.”