Dragonborn Saga

A day has passed since the first meeting event, Jon has arrived at Mournhold, settled in a room behind the casino and slept in his [Cube], of course, for luxury’s sake.

"You look like a guy who had a good night sleeping?" Isha said once she saw him at the courtyard behind the casino.

"I did. Why wouldn’t I?"

"Are you seriously telling me you didn’t hear the fuss of last night?"

"Nah."

"God’s! I hope I could sleep like you." She said, "That Altmer you cracked his nuts regained consciousness last night and came to find you. Seriously, man. His nuts?"

"Never mind. What happened after that?"

"He kept shouting and wanted to break in but that Ebony clad Dark Elf came and shouted at him."

"I don’t care anyway. He really is so looking forward to getting his nuts cracked once again."

The casino was empty in the morning and wouldn’t start operating any time soon. The two walked in from the backdoor and the servants led them up where the old woman, Lanmas, the ebony clad Dunmer and the Altmer twins were waiting for them around a dining table.

"It’s him!" Mirren shot up from his seat once he saw Jon.

"No need to stand on ceremony." Jon acted faltered.

"You and me, outside, now!" Mirren asked for a fight.

"Later." Jon dismissed as he sat on the other side of the dining table.

"Coward!"

Mirren didn’t take the rejection and was about to throw a tantrum but he felt a glare piercing through him. The old woman seemed unpleased about noise in the morning and her two attendants were also glaring.

"So... what’s for breakfast?" She asked.

"Kwama Egg Quiche." Lanmas replied.

"Good, pair that with wine, I trust your choice." She said elegantly.

"Wow. This lady is so refined." Isha whispered to Jon.

"How?" Jon asked.

"She drinks wine in the morning."

"Child, I drink wine all day long hoping I get drunk at the end of the day... Which never happens ever since this damn fourth era kicked off." The old woman said.

"Good tolerance, I see." Jon smiled.

"I just tasted my fair share of poisons in this lifetime. These old bones of mine never get drunk no matter what now." She said proud of her experience.

"Is that like the old masters of the Crowns of Hammerfell?" Isha gasped.

"I picked the trick from them."

"Sounds amazing." Jon said.

"If you can endure an unstable stomach for a year and never get drunk for a lifetime."

"I can live with that." Jon shook his shoulder.

"Mr. Krilon, will you go with the Kwama dish or do you want something different?" Lanmas butted in.

"I wanted some meatballs." Jon said while looking at Mirren.

"You!" Mirren flenched in anger.

"But I am a fan of things I never ate before so let’s try the Kwama. And I’ll go with juice... do you have any recommendations?"

"Grape?"

"Nice."

"The rest?" Lanmas asked.

Somehow, it felt weird for Lanmas to ask the old woman then Jon and took their orders with care while lumping the rest in one go. Even the ebony clad Dunmer frowned. As the manager of the place, Lanmas was quite the prestigious figure but he was doing such a thing as taking orders from those two. It left a strange impression for some.

As he went away, the old woman spoke.

"I took the liberty to question Lanmas about you. I assure you that I was quite as shocked as him when I heard your name."

"Oh! Truly? Then I hope you forgive my insolence for not introducing myself openly. I am having my own predicament as you may have heard."

"Indeed, news reached us, my child. But know your secret is safe with us, your people and my people are having a very profitable relationship after all." She said referring to the Gwent tables.

"I have noticed. So as you know who I am, can I know who you are... or at least what can I call you with, my lady?" Jon in a refined manner.

"Hmm... You can call me White Cat. And please do not cringe, we Dunmer has our way of picking nicknames."

"Not at all. It is a wonderful name." Jon said.

"You like it?"

"Of course, anything cat related is Krilon related."

"Haha! That’s the spirit. Oh look, here comes our breakfast. Thank you, Lanmas."

"My lady."

The food was presented and Jon lived up to the standards of a noble. The Old Woman of Mournhold, who likes to go by Lady White Cat, was an important partner in Morrowind. She may not be a big partner but according to the deep channels of the Tongs (Guilds or Gangs) of Morrowind, her word was heard across many Tongs and she would oversee any smuggling operation through the southern parts of Morrowind.

To make it clearer, she is a Mafia Boss, the Dunmer Mafia.

Despite being in such a position, the lady was mostly not involved in politics and distanced herself from the Temple and the Great Houses. She is a patriot who cares for Mournhold and its people as far as she claims.

The rumors about her confirm that she is always looking out for people and contributes to rebuilding Mournhold.

"So, as we ate and chatted, let’s talk about what matters." She said.

The four Labourers looked at her closely.

"The upper parts of Morrowind are blessed with the Great Houses’ protection until Mournhold. From this point southward, no Gods nor Masters watch over the South. The land is No Man’s Land. He who wants to survive must seek his own protectors and that’s why I sought you out." She said.

"So, the war has destroyed all the places to the south?" Isha asked.

"No, there are people, villages and Narsis city itself but their situation is dire. If you see it from the southern battlements, you’ll see a war-torn swampland and dark forests shadowed by death and plague."

"And our mission is to fix that?" Miranda asked.

"Not fix, just do what you can to help." White Cat said.

"What is the political situation for the forces in the south." Jon asked.

"You’ll only find House Hlaalu gathered up in Narsis, its stronghold. People don’t like them anymore and they were cast south to die off. House Indoril is stationed in Mournhold to make sure that House Hlaalu is kept in the south and suffer all the raids of the Argonians alone."

"That’s cruel."

"The loser can’t complain. Other than House Hlaalu, you’ll find bandit kings and all sorts of nasty people of all stripes. Mercenaries, escapees from the Dunmer army, Argonian marauders, and common bandits."

"That’s one busy party."

"Indeed, they are trapped between Black March, Cyrodiil and Morrowind. Where do you think they’d go!"

"And our current job is?" Mirren asked.

"You will work under Sir Galam Balu right here." White Cat pointed to the ebony clad Dunmer.

Jon and the rest looked at the man, somehow, none of them liked his eyes.

"Sir Galam is..." Jon inquired.

"He is from the cult of Boethiah and serves as the current Champion of the Prince." She said.

"Wow!"

"A champion?"

While the other three gasped, Jon frowned.

"I assume that this Ebony Armor is the famed [Ebony Mail]." He said.

"Indeed." Sir Galam replied with haughtiness.

’The Champion of Boethiah! What’s he doing here?’ Jon thought.

He knew the character from the game but didn’t think he would meet a game character this early outside Skyrim but one thing is for sure, he needs to tread carefully around that guy.

"So, where will we start?" Isha asked Galam.

"Lady White Cat has given me a job to track down some of the Indoril secret movements but it was as tricky to do the work on my own lately. I’ll need to test your mettle first." He said.

None of the four commented. First off, they were not Labourers for show. Every one of them is a capable fighter that went through thick and thin to get here. That’s why they didn’t complain about Galan’s attitude. Complaining is for the weak.

"One problem though." Galan said and looked at Jon. "The keeper of the [Ebony Blade] stays, we don’t need him."

Everyone looked at him and frowned. Just by looking at Jon, anyone could realize how an amazing fighter he is with his height and power.

"It is not an offense or anything. We all know how the [Ebony Blade] gets its power so we are not comfortable with working with you. Legends say the those who wield the blade are ruthless killers who may turn on their comrades. I guess you should understand."

"It is fine. I am not planning on using the Blade anyway, I have better weapons." Jon dismissed it.

"Huh? Perhaps you don’t know?" Mirren looked at Jon with a funny face.

"Don’t know what?" Jon asked.

"Krilon, what Labour is this for you?" White Cat asked.

"The sixth."

"Then which Labour did you get the blade on?"

"The fifth."

"Seriously?" Isha frowned, "Normally, you get the weapon on the first or the secret is Labour."

"Nah. My first Labour was to assist you with the Shivering Isles, my second was to save my Brother, my third was to escape Coldharbour, my fourth was to save my home and the fifth was to collect the blade. Now, I’m at the sixth." Jon said.

"Hey? What sort of bullshit is that?" Mirren asked.

"Get to the point." Jon said.

"He means that the word ’Save’ in a Labour is not something usual. It is either a punishment labour or a high purpose labour." Isha explained.

"Hmmm... Now that I think of it, the second and the third were punishments while the fourth was a high purpose."

"Then you got your weapon Labour and how you are in a service labour? But that’s too much punishment. How did you offend the Daedra?"

"I’d really rather too keep that to myself."

It seemed that the Labours had their own types as well, Jon didn’t hear about any of that from that bitch priestess Aranea.

"Anyway, you were saying something I don’t know." Jon continued.

"Right... To finish your Labour, your Weapon is the answer. Not using the weapon is a straight forward failing the Labour. You can be our guest if you don’t mind." Mirren said.

"But Krilon is very strong even without the blade, you can’t even see through his full power if he goes all out." Isha said siding with Jon.

That time, it was the silent Miranda who replied.

"The Labours are the games of the Daedric Princes and they sat its rules. Not playing by the rules means you are angering the Daedra, human. Think about that before you do something we all regret since this Labour binds us all."

Her words were sharp but true.

Jon may have planned to ignore the blade for the sake of not alarming others but it seems his choices were limited from the start.

"I see. Thanks." Jon nodded.

"I still have a say." White Cat spoke. "I disapprove of you not acting as a full unit. I don’t care how you operate but I want you to move together. The keeper of each Daedric Artifact must know its powers and curses and should adapt to it. Galam, you are not leaving him behind."

The old woman’s tone was strict and dominating. Galam, who is a strong man, couldn’t even voice any complaint towards her.

"Yes, my Lady."

"The job I am giving you first is to know why in Oblivion is House Indoril moving in the South. I want to know everything without alerting them and if you kill someone then make sure it looks like an accident."

"""""Yes."""""

"Now let’s... oh my!" As the old woman was giving the last set of instruction, someone jumped in the meeting.

"Oh! Here you are. Look, I saved you some food." Jon said.

Nefertiti somehow magically appeared on the other side of the table. She ran towards Jon and rubbed his hand on the table with her side and tail as a sort of appreciation before checking what’s on his plate.

"Is she yours?" The old woman asked.

"Not mine. Mostly I am hers but she is my trusted partner." Jon replied.

"Get that thing out of here." Galam Balu said.

Two pairs of eyes landed on Galam with cold murderous glares. The first was naturally Jon while the second was the old woman.

Somehow, the killing intent caused Galam to feel as if a mountain is falling on his head.

""You... Are you a puppies loving heathens?"" Jon and the old woman’s voices overlapped.

Not sure how, the two looked at each other with eyes wide open.

"Lady White Cat? You are a cat cultist too?"

"Krilon? You are the same?"

The two couldn’t believe it and checked if the fabric of reality is not knitted or entangled by the mighty holy cat.

After 43 years for Jon (past life included) and a few hundred years for White Cat, the two found another follower of the same faith.

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