In his career as a shinobi, both on the field and in the dungeons of the T&I department, Inoichi had explored a myriad of minds.

Each time, it had been a different experience. There were of course patterns, minds that "felt" similar because their owners reasoned similarly or were trained in the same way.

There were, of course, dangerous minds. Dark, twisted places that tried to suck every mind-walker that probed them into their spires. Lunatics, psychopaths, deranged individuals, fanatics and worse. As a mind-walker explored their memories, he would feel the world as they saw it and it wasn’t a pleasant or safe task. Not all of the ones whom Inoichi had to delve into had been shinobi, either.

He had never seen anything like the beast that was looking at him, its eyes like cold, blue flame. Inoichi found himself unconsciously pressing even more against the stony column. If he had to hazard a guess, he would’ve said that the creature was a manifestation of the mind’s subconscious, but he had no idea why it would look like a golden dragon. It made him wonder what this said about the prisoner’s nature, though.

Slowly, the dragon started to move, its great form scattering the treasures it passed on. It was circling around the column and Inoichi found himself doing the same to keep something between him and the beast, all the while starting to feel like a small bird being stalked by a large and hungry cat.

“Fos los dreh het, Zu'u tovok?” the dragon asked calmly without stopping. While the word’s meaning was obviously lost to the shinobi, he didn’t need to be an expert in linguistics to understand that it wasn’t the same language the prisoner spoke. It was just too different. If this was the prisoner’s subconscious though, it should’ve spoken in his first language since the majority of minds reasoned in the language they were most accustomed to.

Unless this was the prisoner’s first language, but there was something behind those words that seemed to emanate power, far beyond the reach of normal men. Inoichi knew that it didn’t make any sense. Words were words, but he couldn’t shake the feeling from his own mind.

His thoughts ground to a halt though, as he slammed against a golden scaled wall blocking his path. A quick glance behind him revealed that, much to his horror, the dragon had blocked his path around the column using one of its wings. Turning back, he saw the large monstrous head emerging from behind a pillar, along with most of the neck, nearly upon him.

“Oo, wo ulaak naanven,” the dragon said in what resembled a bored tone, just before opening its jaws and taking a deep breath. Inoichi’s instincts kicked in and before he knew it, he was sprinting vertically on the column as an inferno of condensed flames exploded at its base.

Inoichi didn't want to know if those flames would burned like real ones. He kept jumping from one column to another, not all that different from how he would’ve moved in the forests surrounding the village, knowing that he had to get out of there, out of the man's mind.

The sound of big, leathery wings closing on him made him realize that the dragon had other plans, and was chasing him. Inoichi dove to the ground just in time to avoid the beast’s maw closing on him with a snap.

The mind-walker didn’t waste time and immediately sprinted towards the passage he had come through, his only way to escape. A crashing sound accompanied by a blastwave of treasures flying around told him that the dragon had landed where he had been a moment before.

The Yamanaka heard the dragon take a deep breath again, and he not-so-elegantly scrambled behind the closest pillar, just in time to find cover. The column divided the spraying fire evenly, like water flowing around a rock. The small place not engulfed by the flames was enough for Inoichi’s needs. The raging heat didn’t matter, only not being physically touched by its source. The lack of oxygen left by the fire didn’t matter either, as he kept reminding himself that he was not really breathing air.

As soon as it had started, it suddenly ended, leaving only smoke and heated stone. Inoichi didn’t hesitate to dash towards the exit as fast as he could—only for the dragon's tail to collide with him, throwing him back. He rolled on the ground, grunting in pain as he hit the coin-shaped memories.

“Pah vodahmaan do slov,” the dragon chuckled. Inoichi staggered, trying to get back on his feet but failing to do so due to the blow received. No matter how much he tried to fight it, his own mental projection was acting like a real body would because of the pain he was feeling. The winged reptilian just walked around him, deliberately slow as if to to mock him, to finally stop between the mind-walker and the passage that would’ve led him to the exit.

Instead of attacking him, though, the dragon just cocked its head, as if wondering what the man would try now.

"Cocky lizard," he muttered, trying to support himself with a hand against the gold-covered ground. His fingers brushed cold metal and he grimaced at the sudden influx of emotion from them. He didn't have time to get distracted—

Widening his eyes, Inoichi grabbed the closest coin he could reach and forcibly pushed his chakra through it. Scenes he had never lived flashed in front of his eyes—fire, laugher, sweet drinks. The dragon recoiled its head back as though it had been struck, confusion clear in its eyes.

Seeing it was working, Inoichi slammed his palm on the surface of memories flooding the gold around him. Instantly, he and the dragon were assaulted by a multitude of emotions and images from the prisoner’s past, to which the beast reacted as though he were having a mild seizure, thrashing around and breathing fire.

Inoichi ignored the sensory onslaught and managed to scramble to his feet and to find cover behind a pile of treasures before being stomped or burned to a crisp.

As the dragon’s blind assault stopped, it roared something, but he didn’t bother to listen to those incomprehensible words. Instead he found himself unable to hold back a grin. The mind-walker had not been sure if the trick would’ve worked, but apparently his first impression was right: the dragon was the prisoner’s subconscious, otherwise it wouldn’t have reacted that way at the stimulation of the memories.

If that was the reaction to the use of surface memories, how strong would it have been if he had used one of those hidden in the deepest parts of this mind? He had seen all those half-forgotten memories that had appeared to him as traps, but the human mind is unable to fully suppress most experiences... he just had to dig deep enough to find one with strong enough emotions.

There was the matter of finding a suitable memory without being burned or eaten, of course.

Which made Inoichi wonder why the dragon was not chasing after him. When he had tried his impromptu plan he had kinda expected to have to outrun it while looking for what he needed. The lack of said chase was worrying, to say the least.

He moved low between the piles of riches, being careful to not make any sound. Being a Shinobi, it was not a difficult task even if the surface he was walking on was formed by literally thousands of metallic disks that were extremely annoying to work with. Finally, he peeked from behind them to take a look at the dragon.

It was looking right at him from where it was, sitting close to the exit like a very large and scaly watchdog. Inoichi felt a cold shiver down his spine as he realized that his carefully stealthy approach had been for nothing. The dragon didn’t seem keen to attack though, but considering that he was blocking the mind-walker’s only way out it wasn’t surprising. The dragon had time. The man was instead limited by his chakra reserves, which were being slowly but steadily drained by his mental projection technique.

The last thing the Yamanaka wanted was to remain blocked inside another man’s mind in company of a dragon, so time was essential.

He hid again behind the pile—it may not have been necessary, but it was a well-ingrained habit he couldn't ignore. The Yamanaka took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and hovered a hand above the coins, pushing his perceptions deep down the mind's bowels, hoping that the dragon didn't change its mind and decide it wanted a snack.

He felt his senses expanding, moving under the surface, searching for something that he hoped was there. Sensations and moments of a life that wasn’t his flashed in front of him, chilling cold and blood in the snow and honour and battle cries, but it wasn’t what he needed.

Still, he could feel something in the distance, strong and powerful memories, the kind someone wouldn’t want to share with other people. Whatever resistance the mind could’ve offered, Inoichi just passed through it, aiming for the strongest one he could sense before pulling, not unlike a fisherman would do when it was time to see the catch of the day. There was a clink, and Inoichi felt something touch his open hand. He opened his eyes and stared at it.

It was a pendant, a circular golden trinket with a series of intricate loops, four of which formed a cross-like shape centered around a small sapphire, the chain still peeking from the coins it had emerged from. It looked a bit dented, though, and the gem itself was cracked in the middle. What could it mean, Inoichi wasn’t entirely sure, but he felt… an assorted variety of emotions emanating from it, both joyful and dark. He found himself almost overwhelmed by it.

It was exactly what he needed to either distract or incapacitate the overgrown lizard. It was a simple plan, as shinobi plans went. Use the memory, see the dragon’s reaction, continue exploring the memory if it somehow managed to subdue the beast or escape as it was affected by the backlash if it wasn’t.

Inoichi didn’t try to sneak this time, he just walked straight on the top of the pile. Not because he wanted to seem smug or taunt his enemy, but he just didn’t see the point—although the dragon seemed to be confused by his move, judging by the way it had cocked its head. Also, the position was good to dash towards the exit if something went wrong. Or went right.

Locking eyes with the dragon once again, he concentrated his chakra on the pendant’s surface, and let its contents flood his and the beast’s minds.

A shady town with a rotten heart. Squalor, fear and corruption. Dark deals, made out of a common interest. A woman in a blue dress, looking at him with curious eyes. Stolen money, brawls in an alley. An association grows into a friendship. Stolen kisses on a rooftop. Passion, desire. Her body pressed against his. Love. A trap is sprung. Vindication is claimed. Betrayal, regret. The mission comes first. A fortuitous meeting, years later. Heated words, rage, steel meets steel. There is no point. One last kiss. A passion relighted, before her dagger stabs his left lung. Falling, falling, falling—

Inoichi found himself splayed across the bed of coins, the pain in his side quickly fading since it had never been his. He had expected a vivid experience, but nothing like that. He shuddered, thinking how much worse it could’ve been had he not braced for the experience and looked to see how badly the dragon may have reacted to it.

The dragon was not in front of the entrance anymore. Instead, it was towering over him, fangs bared in a silent snarl and emanating the most malicious aura ever felt since Orochimaru decided to cut things for shit and giggles. Somewhere inside his own mind, Inoichi had realized that his plan had not worked, but was too occupied crawling on his back, away from the pissed off dragon, and trying to get up and make a run for it at the same time.

“Vir krilon hi?” the massive creature asked as it kept following him. Even if the words didn’t make sense, the message was clear: it had not appreciated what the Yamanaka had done. “Vir krilon hi, hah-lir?”

Somehow, Inoichi managed to roll back on his feet. He didn’t waste time before sprinting towards the exit, ducking under the dragon’s wings. He had barely started to get some distance between himself and the creature when he heard three words that resounded like thunder.

A whirlwind howled around Inoichi, and the dragon appeared right in front of him, jaws open like if to swallow him whole. The mind-walker ducked, and changed direction as the beast’s mouth snapped shut far too close to comfort.

A quick shunshin and he was at a safe distance again in the blink of an eye—even if it was a very bad idea spending chakra so freely during a mind-probing session. It didn't seem to deter his pursuer though since three loud words echoed in the chamber again, and the dragon reappeared once again in front of Inoichi with a gust of wind.

“FUS—” the dragon said, inhaling deeply after the single word.

Inoichi found himself slowly losing the battle against his urge to panic as he stifled a yelp and threw himself into a dodge. He didn’t know exactly what attack to expect next, but he certainly didn’t want to get caught in it.

“—RO!”

The words reverberated around the room before the mind-walker felt the wall of sheer force slam into him from behind, throwing him across the chamber until he impacted on the actual wall and crumbling on the ground. Inochi immediately tried to get up, even if he knew that he was at the end of his rope, but found himself pinned to the ground by one of the dragon’s claws, unable to move.

“Ganog kred,” the beast said with a low growl and the Yamanaka knew that it was over. Frying him with flames, eating him alive, just pushing a bit more with the claw until he was skewered or who knows what else the dragon could do, the result was the same. His mind would be irreparably damaged as a result, probably enough to send him in a coma.

Still, he stubbornly refused to close his eyes in defeat, and didn’t waver under the dragon’s hateful gaze.

It was only because of this that he saw the hail of shuriken impacting against the dragon's head with a metallic screech, sparks sent flying. The big reptile roared, more in surprise than in pain, as it looked around for the origin of the attack. If possible, Inoichi was even more surprised. Had the Hokage sent someone from his clan to help him? How did they understand that he was in danger?

Whoever the newcomer was, the dragon had apparently pinpointed his location judging by the stream of flames that were thrown around. The next hail of weapons arrived from the opposite direction though, much to the dragon's confusion and anger. It turned around, lightning coming out of its mouth this time, lighting up the cavernous room.

Inoichi was almost blinded by the display, but before he could shield his eyes, two strong hands grabbed his shoulders and then he felt a pull. For a brief, almost unnoticeable moment all his body felt like it was being yanked away with such a force that it could tear him up to shreds, but a heartbeat later it was over. His body was still whole, and he was not in the memory’s main room anymore.

There were no gold piles or pillars in sight. The cavernous place had been replaced by a noticeably smaller room. Stone floor, wooden ceiling and walls, a few doors and a ramp of stairs going upwards. In the end it wasn’t unlike houses you could find in rural villages.

Some sort of fire pit was in the middle of it, and its walls were decorated by a disparate assortment of strange items.

What was this place?

“So they did send you, just as planned. You really made him mad, you know,” a voice behind him said. A voice he had not heard in twelve years. Slowly, the Yamanaka turned around—

“Hello, Inoichi,” Namikaze Minato said with a smile, looking not even a day older than the day he’d died. “You’ve aged well.”

The mind-walker spun around, getting in a defensive position and looking at his saviour warily.

"Who are you? Why do you look like—"

"Oh, right. I suppose it would be too crazy to believe me outright,” the fake Yondaime interrupted him, turning pensive for a moment “Mmh... during the earlier stages of the war, you, Nara Shikaku and Akimichi Chouza were stationed on the western border, and your reputation as the new Ino-Shika-Cho trio started spreading after the battle of Higashino—"

"Anyone could know that by reading the battle reports,” Inoichi said, cutting him off. “I'm grateful for the rescue, but showing up like this is—"

"And immediately after the war, Shikaku married Yoshino. At his bachelor party you got so drunk that you spent two hours whining to me about how you would never find the 'right woman to marry'. Your actual words, if I recall correctly."

Inoichi’s eye slowly widened, and he found himself unable to reply.

"Then you got very emotional and started to cry a little. You almost spoiled the mood but then Chouza convinced you to dance with one of the girls in the, uh, establishment and then you—"

"You swore you would never—” he blurted out, only to shut his mouth when he realized what he was saying. “Minato…?”

"Yes and no. Technically speaking, I'm just a representation of the memories that Minato put inside his brother's brain.”

"Wait, your brother?!” he asked. Inoichi had noticed some resemblance in the prisoner, but he had never thought about this possibility. “Minato, just what—where—why—and how did you put those in his head? You're dead!"

"It's a long story, and we don't have much time. Let's start with this place, though,” Minato said, waving his arms to indicate the room. “I don't have memories of it, but I'm pretty sure that it's the house where I was born, a long way from Konoha..."

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

As Inoichi woke up inside of the interrogation room, Sarutobi breathed in relief from the other side of the one-way mirror.

“Thirty-five minutes. An unusually long time,” he mused to Danzo, who was standing right beside him, while the Yamanaka left the room in a hurry, ignoring the unconscious prisoner. From what he had been told, time was perceived differently during a mind-probe and he couldn’t help but wonder how much had passed for the mind-walker.

His old friend barely managed to nod before the door opened and Inoichi all but barged inside the observation room.

“Hokage-sama, I have some interesting things to tell you,” he said, glancing briefly at Danzo.

“Well then, Yamanaka-san. Do your report,” the crippled retired shinobi demanded.

“What I have to say is for Hokage-sama alone,” Inoichi added, in a stony voice.

Hiruzen looked back and forth between the two men who were now engaged in a silent staring contest and inwardly sighed. He knew that Danzo had his own means to gather whatever information Inoichi had extracted from the stranger’s mind, and so did Inoichi. It would only require more time. If the Yamanaka was showing such stubbornness, it could only mean two things: either he had found something important, dangerous, or both.

“Very well, let’s go to my office then,” he finally said, bidding farewell to Danzo. “We’ll have all the privacy we need.”

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

“If I understood you correctly, you just told me that the Kyuubi’s attack was not an accident,” Sarutobi said slowly, breaking the silence. “Instead, it was a deliberate act by a mysterious shinobi with the Sharingan and a one-eyed mask.”

“Exactly, Hokage-sama. That’s what the Yondaime told me,” Inoichi replied.

“Do you realize that this doesn’t leave this room? I firmly believe that such information goes beyond S-rank secret.”

“I agree. Although, sir… there’s the matter of this enemy’s identity.”

“True, but I’m afraid we may never find out. Best case scenario, Itachi killed the one responsible that tragic night five years ago, maybe catching him by surprise. Worst case scenario...” Hiruzen sighed deeply in frustration. He was getting too old for this. Scratch that, he was too old for this. “Worst case scenario, there’s a third Uchiha out there, who is able to control a Bijuu. Something that’s been unheard of since Madara’s time.”

“It could be someone with an implanted eye, like Hatake-san,” Inoichi suggested. “Besides, there was no one in the Uchiha clan that could pose a threat against Minato in a one-on-one combat.”

“One of the shinobi’s greatest skills is to not reveal all his abilities, or have you forgotten that?” Sarutobi asked rhetorically, taking a long puff from his pipe. “I doubt that someone with an implanted doujutsu could master it to such levels, but anyway, there’s no elements to proceed in any direction for now. We should consider ourselves lucky to have gotten this information.”

That quite frustrated the Sandaime. There weren’t a lot of things that could make a Kage feel powerless, but learning that the countless deaths of that night, including those of Biwako, Minato, and Kushina had been caused by a single man and not being able to find out more or if the village was still in danger was surely enough. He hated it.

“Moving on,” he said, deciding to not dwell on it. For now. “The prisoner, this Harissen-san… he is Minato's twin brother."

"Yes, Hokage-sama," Inoichi confirmed with a nod.

"And he is from a completely different continent that lies on the other side of an ocean, with different languages, traditions, and people."

"Yes," the younger shinobi confirmed, nodding again.

"And where he is from, there's a way to enter inside the Shinigami's belly. That's how he met Minato,” Hiruzen kept summing up, not mentioning that this meant that said twin was crazy enough to enter the Shinigami’s belly, and somehow able to leave it unscathed.

"So I was told."

"And Minato put some of his memories into him."

"Again, that’s correct."

"How is it that he cannot understand our language, then?"

"Minato suggested that the cause may be the nature of his brother's soul, even if I'm not sure what he meant by that. It could also be because of the small time window he had to operate. In the end, the implant didn’t work properly, but if I can give my professional opinion, so to speak, there could still be some side-effects of it."

“Side-effects?” Hiruzen asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Nothing dangerous, from what I could see in Harissen-san’s mind and what Minato told me,” the mind-walker quickly reassured. “Mostly it would be like… dreams, made from fragments of Minato’s life. At the most, he could develop some of the same tics and gestures that Minato was prone to using.”

"Can it be fixed? There's a lot of things that I would like to ask him, and our people in the laboratories as well," Hiruzen asked, glancing at a report about the chemical mixtures the stranger had been carrying. To say the least, his scientific division was puzzled.

"Tampering with an already tampered mind could be... tricky. Potentially dangerous, even fatal."

"What do you suggest we do, then?"

"All the knowledge about our language is already in there," Inoichi said, tapping his head. "Instead of risking an invasive procedure, I think it would be for the best to try to wake it up by more mundane means."

“Do you mean… teaching?” Hiruzen asked, thinking how ironic it was since that had been his original plan before events had forced his hand.

“Teaching,” the blond repeated with a nod.

"Let's hope it will not take too much time, then. One more thing." Hiruzen took a long pause and another whiff of tobacco before speaking again. "Does he know about Naruto?"

“So... it’s true,” the Yamanaka leader whispered, grief and regret clearly visible on his face. “And I suppose that ‘Uzumaki’ is not a surname that was given to him by the orphanage…”

“Inoichi,” Hiruzen said in a warning tone.

“No, he doesn’t know,” the blond said, his voice regaining its usual strength. "And I didn’t tell Minato’s apparition about his son’s life, so that it wouldn’t be archived among his memories.”

“Naruto’s parentage is obviously another S-rank secret,” Sarutobi informed regretfully. “You’re forbidden to discuss it with anyone.”

“With all respect, sir… why keep it a secret? Any of us would’ve taken him. Hell, I’m sure that Shikaku would’ve gladly adopted him!”

“Would he? Would you? Even knowing about his burden?” the Hokage asked without mercy.

“I—”

“Had I allowed for such a thing, for one of Minato’s close acquaintances to adopt his son, it would’ve been just a matter of time before someone among Minato and Kushina’s numerous enemies would’ve noticed something,” Hiruzen explained, interrupting the other man. “Even hiding his true identity wouldn’t have helped if he was seen close to someone that knew his parents.”

“We could’ve said that he was mine,” Inoichi said, clearly not convinced of his own words.

“I thought about it,” Sarutobi said, surprising the Yamanaka. “But anyone who tried would clearly see that he isn’t yours, even if you have similar traits.”

“What about you then? Or Jiraiya-sama? Surely he could’ve—”

“As you know, Konoha was terribly weakened that night, and in the following months the other villages were watching us like vultures. Looking for a weakness. I was reinstated in my position, and for this, right in the spotlight, so to speak. As for Jiraiya… Jiraiya has his reasons,” Hiruzen simply said, refusing to elaborate more as he put down his pipe. “In the end, keeping Naruto in the dark as an orphan was the only thing I could do to protect him.”

“And you gave him his mother’s surname, since it’s not unusual giving to orphans those of extinct families.”

“Indeed. Now, if you don’t mind—”

“I would have one last question, if I can ask of course. Hokage-sama,” Inoichi quickly said, adding the title as an afterthought.

“I answered a lot of questions today anyway, one more will not hurt. Even if I can imagine what it is,” the Sandaime said with a sad smile.

“Why did you reveal that the Kyuubi was sealed inside Naruto?”

“Because I was—and am—an old fool. The people needed something to help them go on with their lives after the tragedy. They needed hope. I had thought that by telling them the truth, revealing that the Yondaime had sealed the fox in a container, paying such a sacrifice…” he said, his voice fading as he kept speaking. He forcibly composed himself, and continued his explanation, even if it sounded more like a confession in his ears. “Instead, they saw Naruto as a scapegoat for all their suffering, their losses, for the lives destroyed by the beast. You know how that went in the end.”

“Your law,” Inoichi simply stated.

Sarutobi nodded. He had probably broken that law just now, along with various village secrets as he clarified those events to Inoichi—whose attitude has been borderline insubordinate, but after all the years under the hat, it felt good being able to finally vent a little. It eased his conscience, just a little bit.

“You’re wondering if I’m planning to have them meet, aren’t you?” he asked after another pause.

“Minato would’ve wanted them to meet,” the other man said, with a barely suppressed frown.

“For now, I can’t allow that,” the Hokage said with a regretful voice.

“I’m aware that it’s your decision to make, Hokage-sama, but don’t you think that Naruto has the right to know his living family?”

“Of course he does, but this man, he is a stranger. I’m not talking about the fact that he is from another place, I mean that we don’t know what kind of person he is, or about his goals or if he could even be a threat to the village. We can’t even understand him. We only know that he is Minato’s brother, and that his arrival and his stroll through Earth Country was enough to stir up Iwa’s attention. I suppose you know that they sent a team at the last minute…”

“I’m aware of that. They’re already under surveillance, of course.”

“Of course. So you can see why I can’t allow Naruto to meet his uncle, yet.”

“So… what happens now?”

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

As he kept listening to the head proctor, Naruto got more and more confused. Why were they being randomly assigned seats to take an exam? Weren’t they supposed to fight or something?

It was only when he saw one of the other chunin starting to hand out sheets of paper that the reality of the situation started to sink to him.

“A WRITTEN TEST?!” he shouted in horror.

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

The kiss was warm and passionate. He had not planned on spending the afternoon like this, but he surely would not complain.

The kiss deepened, and he could feel her body pressed against his own, and the mutual desire growing. Without warning, the embrace was interrupted and he was pushed against the bed, stumbling like a fool as he fell on it.

He tried to get up, but something soft hit him on the face. It was her blouse.

As she stood half-undressed in front of him, her red long hair falling like a crimson cascade, he realized that he was a lucky son of a—

Conrad jerked awake with a terrible headache, eyes wide in shock. Or, how he would rationalize a few minutes later, forced himself awake. There were things that a man should never know about his sibling’s private life.

Seriously, what had Minato thought in giving him that?! It had to be an accident, right? Didn’t matter, it was going on his list. He mentally filed it away as something worthy of two punches.

Even if the woman had an amazing—

“Dammit!” he growled, punching the ground he was sitting on for a good measure, only to hit something soft. He looked down, and found out that he had been sitting on a bed.

He was not in his cell anymore. It was still a cell, judging by the metal door without a handle, but it looked almost like a normal room, if a little bare. There was a real bed, for starters, a white weird-looking throne-like chair was resting against one of the walls beside a weird-looking… sink? The room was also brighter, thanks to an apparently more powerful version of the light orb he had seen in his older cell.

Also, he was not chained to the wall anymore. It seemed that for some reason his captors had decided to treat him better. The bracelets with glowings runes were still in their place, though, still sucking his magicka. Even if they had decided to treat him better, these guys were not stupid.

Why would they suddenly decide to give him slightly better lodgings, though? The last thing he remembered clearly was being tied to a chair in one of those rooms with a big mirror and—

The Nord! Well, not Nord-Nord but—whatever. The blond bastard! He had entered inside his mind, and not like with telepathy or one of those fancy specialized disciplines. That man had projected his soul inside his mind and taken a stroll inside it. He knew of wizards that would’ve gladly given their fancy hats, robes, and maybe their not-favoured hand to be able to do such a thing.

He didn’t know what the man had been looking for, but he was sure that something had happened. Something—

“Oh, great,” he mumbled in realization, facepalming as he let himself fall on the mattress. The mind-worm had prodded in his mind and of course, this had awakened his soul’s instincts. “Just fucking great.”

Then, the fool had done… something. He wasn’t sure what had exactly happened since Conrad’s memory of the events was a bit blurry and second-handed, thanks to the awakening of his inner dragon, but he was sure of one thing.

The blond bastard had made him remember her.

Conrad's hand unconsciously moved to the scar he had gotten as a reminder of that night.

The thoughts ran, igniting a burning fury through his veins. He wanted to break and tear the damn place down. But he didn't. Of course, he knew better. It would’ve been very dumb setting the room on fire while the door was locked. He couldn’t tell if his barely-kept in check fury was his own, or his soul’s.

In hindsight, he should’ve expected for his soul to wake up sooner or later since the drastic reduction in alcoholic intake he had been forced into recently. Or the lack of killing. Seriously, couldn’t some pathetic local monster have crossed his path while he was walking through that forest? Where were all the spriggans?!

Even now he could feel his draconic nature stirring, wanting to unleash all the pent-up urges—his own and the ones of all the others that Conrad had devoured during the years—against the first unlucky beings that even dared to look at him the wrong way. Since it had just awakened, though, its grip on his actions was still loose, so getting it back to sleep could be simple enough.

A good drink, a good fight—heck even a good romp would do. It would either mildly satisfy his instincts or suppress them, and there was the extra gain of making him forget how shitty his life was. And once the soul was back to sleep, there’d be no urges to dominate others and show his “lessers” who had the real power on this side of Nirn, which was good in his personal opinion.

Sadly for him, there wasn’t any booze inside the cell or stuff to fight. Much less to roll on the bed with. In the face of such a dire situation, he knew that he didn’t have much choice.

He had to meditate.

Conrad didn’t like the idea in the least. Meditating was for spiritual people like priests, monks, and Greybeards, and it required too much patience for his liking.

Grumbling, he got up from the bed, sat on the floor in the right position, which he had always found more uncomfortable than relaxing. Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath and—

The sound of the door being unlocked broke whatever concentration he’d managed to gather. He should’ve expected it, though. When was the last time that he had been left undisturbed while busy with something important?

Four of those masked bastards were waiting outside of the cell, along with one man that sported the snail-marked metal plaque on his forehead, although it wasn’t like the one Ibiki and Anko had. It extended down the sides down on the man's face, and to Conrad it looked like someone had tried to turn the plaque into a helm and gave up because of the lack of metal to work with, leaving a thing that looked like a half-completed mask instead. The not-masked man barked some order, to which Conrad replied by raising an eyebrow. Had no one told this guy that he wasn't able to understand them?

The Nord still recognized a cue when he saw one though, so he slowly got up. He wasn't surprised when two of the masked freaks immediately grabbed him and dragged him out of the cell, it wasn't anything new for him. Conrad could feel his soul twist and spasm, desperately wanting to obliterate these fools for the humiliation of being treated like this but he was able to remind himself that he had to behave, for his students’ safety. He wasn’t sure for how long that would work, though.

As the guards started to drag him through a series of tunnels, Conrad noticed that it wasn’t the same route they had used the previous times. He didn’t mind the change in the routine, but couldn’t help but wonder what was in store for him. Were they to try more extreme methods of interrogation—even if it sounded like a very bad idea that wouldn’t accomplish anything, thanks to the language barrier—he would sic a pack of atronach against them, and to Oblivion the consequences.

While he was escorted through a seemingly infinite number of twists and turns, Conrad couldn’t figure out what was responsible for that thought between what little self-control he had left or the nature of his soul.

There was a metallic clank as the guards opened a door completely identical to the scores they had passed through, and Conrad swore as he was blinded by the sudden light. Thankfully for him, his guardians were kind enough to show him where to walk even as he wasn't even able to see his nose.

His eyes adjusted quickly to the light of the day, and for the first time in days Conrad saw the sky again. Apparently, he had been taken on the top of a tall, rocky hill. Or a short mountain, but calling it a mountain could be considered an insult for the mountains back at home. And considering the mostly flat top, the closest thing that came to his mind were the mesas in some regions of Hammerfell.

They passed some distance from a pair of dome-shaped buildings, but he didn’t care for those. He was more interested in the rest of the scenery. At the bottom of the rocky formation was a city, not the biggest he had ever seen—that honor went to the Imperial City—but big enough to have at least a dozen-thousands of people between its walls, maybe even twenty-thousands or more. It was difficult to judge when a group of armed people were basically dragging him to the forest that covered the rest of the mesa, away from the edge.

Although, if he threw himself down the cliff, and used what little magicka he had left to slow down his fall with a properly modified version of that old levitation spell, so as not to use too much energies…

Conrad decided to ignore the idea. There were probably other masked guys around the city anyway, if they were the guards or the soldiers of this place, and throwing himself down a cliff without knowing if such a spell modified on the field would work would be incredibly dumb. And of course, the magelings were still missing.

The group walked through the forest for a few minutes, the trees starting to get thicker as they kept going only to abruptly stop as they reached a small clearing, barely wide enough to let the light from the sky through the foliage. At the center of it stood a small, unremarkable shack made of wood.

A silent signal was probably given, because as the group stepped into the clearing the masked guys leaped away at that inhuman speed of theirs, disappearing through the thick woods or bushes. The snail-plaque man remained for a bit more, looking from the Nord to the shack, before glancing again at Conrad with a smirk.

Then he disappeared in a swirl of leaves—not like the others who had moved some leaves as they jumped or ran away, he literally turned into a bunch of leaves that were dispersed by the wind and Conrad was left alone like a clueless fool.

Was leaving a prisoner alone normal around this place?

He felt like he was the victim in some sort of joke, but if that was the case, he wasn’t laughing. Maybe it was a test instead, to see if he would’ve tried to flee if left without supervision. The mere concept of that made him feel like someone had just insulted his intelligence, especially since he could actually see one of the masked freaks. Sure, he had to squint his eyes and at first glance he wouldn’t have noticed it, but he could see one of them perched among the branches of a tree. Admittedly, having seen them disappearing in the forest had helped a bit, but it still counted in his opinion. And the others were obviously around, too.

Grumbling some curses in all the languages he could think of, which were many, he strode towards the shack’s door. At a closer inspection, the shack was a bit weird, it looked like someone had taken a giant block of wood and cut out everything that didn’t look like a shack, but he ignored it. He was pondering if he could get away with punching whoever was inside. Someone had to pay for the way he had been treated.

The Nord didn’t bother to knock or to see if the door was locked. He kicked it, and it opened with little resistance much to his satisfaction. Conrad stepped in, growling and ready to vent some pent up righteous rage—only to find himself staring at a startled, wide-eyed Beta.

For a brief, incredibly brief moment, Conrad had no idea what was going on. Then he was tackled and hugged by a crying and almost hysterical teen.

"Master! You're alive!"

Conrad found himself unable to reply between the surprise and the embarrassment he was feeling. He nervously placed a hand on Beta’s shoulder, while checking the unfamiliar place he had entered. A small room, almost bare besides a window and two doors that led who knew where. Satisfied, he tried to calm the girl with some reassuring words but it just had the result of having her tighten the hug even more. Thankfully, nobody was around to watch—

"What is going on—Master!” Ta’Sava emerged from one of the doors, before jumping at the Nord and joining the hug-fest. “You're alive!"

"Stop hugging me. Stop at once!" he ordered, but much to his dismay the young wizards would have none of it.

"Wait, so he is alive?" Sven asked as he walked from the same room. "Damn, I owe Ta'Sava a septim."

"You bet against me?!" Conrad asked, although he was more outraged by how small the bet’s pot had been.

"No offense Master, but I thought that you would've done something incredibly stupid and got either you or all of us killed," the young mage-in-training deadpanned.

"Oh trust me, I was so tempted,” he grumbled, before switching to more important matters. “What did they do to you? I swear, if they hurt you—"

"No, they didn't do anything,” Beta replied while drying her tears. “They kept us in some cells for a while and I was so scared but—"

"We were chained,” Sven flared while showing a manacle similar to the ones Conrad was wearing. “Chained! Like we were criminals—"

"The strange men in white kept touching Ta'Sava, and measuring Ta'Sava's tail and fangs and claws and ears while taking notes,” the young Khajiit shrugged, freeing his teacher from his grip. “It was weird."

"How long have you been here?"

"I think... less than thirty minutes?" Beta said uncertainly, finally letting go as well.

"Aye, we're still unpacking,” Sven nodded.

"Unpacking?” Conrad asked in confusion. “Unpacking what?"

"Our belongings, of course," the young Imperial deadpanned, gesturing to the room he had come from. The Nord walked to take a peek, and truth be told, the only things inside the room were a pile of sacks, their backpacks, and a few weird-looking boxes.

"They gave us our stuff back?" he questioned in bewilderment.

"Well... not everything. The money, the potions, and of course your armour and weapons are missing."

"What about the—"

"They took away your last bottle of mead as well, Master,” was the quick answer. “We checked."

Conrad forced himself to take a deep breath to calm himself. It was fine, it was just mead after all. Plenty of mead around, it shouldn’t have been a problem. If he figured out how to get some, of course.

Before he could start to plan how to get some booze under the guards’ noses—or directly from the guards—without getting caught and then find a way to escape with his students, a group of masked guards entered the shack almost not making a sound. Conrad immediately stepped between them and the kids, ready to protect them… and was be promptly ignored as the masked individuals calmly kept bringing in various items.

Chairs, a table, a small drawer, a counter, a closet—

“Master?” Beta’s voice meekly asked. “Why are the creepily silent people moving furniture in here?”

In all honestly, Conrad had no idea how to reply to that. He was pretty sure that even Sheogorath wouldn’t have been able to explain this madness. Although, he would’ve surely enjoyed it.

In a matter of minutes, the rooms were fully furnished. Shelves and cupboards had been mounted on the walls, an empty bookcase had been placed beside the window, and the table, along with six chairs, was occupying most of the space at the center of the room. It wasn’t anything fancy, but it was surely better than an empty room.

The guards entered one more time, leaving some boxes on the table before disappearing in a puff of smoke that Conrad had started to find rather irritating.

“That… was weird,” Sven broke the silence. “But at least this is way better than a cell.”

Conrad groaned his frustration. “Just… check what’s in those boxes. And put our things in order, I think that’s what they’re expecting from us.”

The magelings scattered to do as told. Apparently, Conrad giving orders to them was enough to make the situation they were in resemble a normal routine. The Nord instead sat on a chair to clear his thoughts. Why the sudden change in behaviour? One moment he was treated like a dangerous prisoner and the kids used as hostages, and then they were basically given a house. Isolated, under surveillance, but still a house. All seemed to point to the defilement of his mind that he had been forced to endure in the morning, but why—

Minato.

They had found out about Minato, and whatever he did to his mind. It was the only explanation he could think of. So they were interested in him, but why? Who was Minato, in his lifetime?

Maybe this city was not hostile, after—No. They were clearly hostile, they had threatened to torture kids, by the Nine. What kind of sick bastards would do that just to find out why they were travelling on their lands?!

Conrad had to leave, and take the magelings with him. But how—

“Hey, there’s food in here,” the younger wizard’s voice shook him out of his musings. On the other side of the table, Sven was rummaging through the stuff that had been left on its surface and seemed to wonder how he could use them. “Or at least it looks like food…”

This sprang an idea in the Nord’s mind. “Sven, do you still have the cooking gear?”

“I do—well, besides the cutlery. There’s nothing that resembles a decent knife.”

“I’m sure you’ll manage,” Conrad smirked. “Why don’t you prepare us a meal?”

“And how am I supposed to cook this stuff?” the Imperial asked with a raised eyebrow.

“I’ll take care of it,” he said, leaving the shack without hesitating. After all, if the guards had left the door open, he could exit from it, right?

The forest around the shack was silent, but Conrad knew better. He started gathering wood, but as he did so he started to purposely get more and more far from the shack, making a good show of choosing only the best pieces of wood he found. As he felt a presence behind him, he stopped and turned around. One of the masked guards was standing behind him, and while the woman—had to be a woman, with those hips—was not in a threatening posture, the silent message was clear. A second later, two other guards appeared, standing on the side—was it even standing if you were sideways?—of the trees.

Twenty meters. The guards had not bothered him until he had walked twenty meters away from the shack. With a grumping sound, Conrad straightened the pile of wood in his hands and walked back towards the cabin. He had enough, now it was time to wait for the night.

He had find a way out of the city.

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

The giant snake was slithering lazily through the forest, perfectly at ease among the huge trees. Around the whole forest, battles for survival were being fought but the reptile couldn't care a bit. It had just swallowed a nice prey, as the bulge in its belly clearly showed, and now it was looking for a nice sheltered spot where it could digest in peace. Which was not easy, given its size.

So, when the squirming meal suddenly multiplied in mass and volume, bloating its body in a grotesque way, the snake's shock and confusion could be understandable. Before the snake could do anything, like puke the now not very welcome meal, its body exploded, severed in half in a spectacular show of blood, gory bits, dozens of orange-clad blond kids and scaly pieces.

Thankfully, the death had been almost instantaneous.

As for the blondes, most dissolved in a puff of smoke, some were sprawled on the ground in various states of shock, and others were just grateful of being out of the beast's stomach.

"I'm going to be the Hokage," one of them, roughly in the middle of the group proclaimed pridefully. "I can't be turned into shit in a place like this!"

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

It was time.

Conrad slowly got up from the bedroll he had “slept” for the last hour or so and crept towards the door to one of the side rooms. Opening it enough to take a peek, he was satisfied to see that the kids were all asleep. It surely had taken longer than he had expected.

Having assured that they were safe and sound, he went to retrieve the plate of "leftovers" he had saved after dinner. Opening the pot, he dipped his fingers into the slippery, oily gravy and started to spread it all over his wrists. So greased, he started to pull the manacles, one at a time. Slipping them off was a long and painful task, but once the thumb was free it was basically done.

The Nord massaged his sore hands, enjoying the sensation of his free skin and feeling his arcane power being restored to its peak. He also helped himself with a quick snack from the pot, since it was bad wasting food.

Still munching the nightly meal, he lazily flickered his fingers and let the spell show him how many living beings were in the surrounding area. Ignoring the three snoring teens in the next room and the small nocturne fauna, he saw the souls of four masked guards shining like beacons in the night. In any other circumstances he would’ve felt insulted by being given only four guards to check on him, but these people were all but normal. He walked to the wall that seemed less exposed to the guard’s attentions, started to shape his magical power with both of his hands and concentrated for a minute. No turning back once he started this.

“Feim,” Conrad said at the lowest volume he could muster for the shout. He could feel his body turning incorporeal, eerily similar to a ghost. Mentally counting to five, he took a step through the wall without encountering any resistance from the solid object.

Just as he got out in the chilly night air, his body turned back to normal and he released the spell he had been holding. There was a weakly green aura that quickly faded as he felt it taking its effect and a look to his raised hands confirmed that he was invisible.

The whole thing may have lasted for a second, but Conrad crouched in waiting, wanting to be sure that the guards would not swarm the place to check for something unusual. He flickered his hand to detect their life forces once again, and noted to his satisfaction that they were still in their original places.

Still crouched, the invisible Nord started to advance into the night, being careful to not step on anything that could make a revealing sound. Conrad knew that he was completely out of his element here. He was not used to moving this way, having chosen to follow the way of the battlemage years ago. Thankfully, he had learned enough to support his deficiencies through the use of the Illusion school, but being used to clunking around in a set of heavy armour didn’t really help. He didn’t know how to step correctly or any other tricks of the trade, like Haming used to tease him about.

Shaking the thoughts from his head, he kept moving, using his sweaty palms to press his clothes against his body, so that they would not rustle in a betraying manner. Now it was not the time to think about his fellow former Helgen inhabitant. Conrad squinted in the pale moonlight and made sure to watch his step, as a broken branch would be as good as crying out. He carefully made his way back through the trees he had been dragged through earlier. At least, he hoped they were the same ones, it wasn’t easy finding the right way in a forest during the nighttime. He was almost out of the tree range and he could see the edge of the mesa now. There was a strange glowing coming from the city under it, which caused him to hesitate.

Ironically, this was revealed to be for the best, since as he stopped to examine the mysterious light one of the masked guards landed almost in front of him, facing away and crouching on the ground.

Conrad slowly pressed one of his hands against his mouth and nose, to hide the sound of his breathing, hoping that the bastard would just leave and go back to his patrol. Of course, there was no way he would have such luck. The guard started moving his head around, in a way that reminded the Nord of an animal, taking a few… sniffs of the air?! Was this guy tracking him down using his scent?!?

Was he a werewolf?

If that was so, then he was in deep, deep trouble. If he had not been found out yet it was probably mere luck. Maybe he was down wind, and the werewolf-guard had lost his scent? He didn’t want to know how long it would’ve taken for him to find it again, though.

As the guard started to sniff the ground a short distance from him, Conrad slowly, very slowly turned away from the man, staring back into the trees, and cupped his hands around his mouth, and decided to risk it.

“Zul,” he whispered, so quietly that he almost didn't hear it. He could only pray that it was the same for the werewolf. Less than a second later, Conrad could hear his own voice curse something from the deep of the forest.

The guard’s head snapped in that direction, and if the Nord was able to read his body language he was genuinely surprised. The man unsheathed a rather large dagger from his back and leaped away in the night. Conrad would’ve liked to sigh in relief but didnt dare. Instead he immediately moved, taking advantage of the distraction he had conjured.

He finally got closer to the edge, and saw where the glowing was coming from. It was the city. The whole city seemed to be covered by those light orbs, so many that they were brightening the night. This, was something he had never seen, not even in Imperial City.

Snapping out of it, he looked around, spotting a ramp of stairs that would’ve taken him down to the city. As he started to descend on the steps, he couldn’t help but wonder what kind of people could be able to build such a place, and then wonder what kind of people inhabited it. This thought made him realize something.

These people used werewolves as guards. Or at least, one werewolf. But if the time spent drinking, joking and fighting along the Companions had taught him something, it was that where there was one werewolf, there was a pack of them. There could be more, even in the city below him.

If that was the case, there was no way he would be able to pull off this escape plan. Not with the magelings at least, and even without them he would’ve probably been found sooner or later and he would have to fight his way out of the city.

He had to remind himself that abandoning his students was not an option. Even if Sven could be irritating sometimes.

Conrad groaned, leaning against the metal railing. Maybe, if he tried to pass from the rest of the mesa, instead of sneaking out through the city...

He looked up at the edge, and noticed for the first time the mesa’s rocky surface. On its side, four giant faces had been carved out of the stone, like the ones he had dreamt of months ago. The glowing light from the city below was reflecting on them, giving them a solemn air. And the one most distant from him, the fourth, was—

Conrad didn’t speak for a long time. He didn’t even notice when his spell faded and he became visible again. The world had just proved that it was incredibly unfair.

“I save creation two, maybe three times, I get nothing besides a lot of enemies,” he slowly said, watching his twin’s face sculpted in the stone. “You save a city… and they turn your face into a monument. Even if you have a sissy chin.”

Which he had too, of course. Indeed, very unfair. At least he had the decency of hiding it behind his beard.

The Nord thought about everything that had happened since he had started the crazy journey and couldn’t help it. He started laughing.

He had found Cornoah.

Still laughing, he walked up the ramp of stairs, intending to go back to the shack and get some sleep.