I waited until the last rays of sunlight slipped below the city walls before returning to the guild leader's study. The corridors felt eerily empty at this hour, just the soft glow of mage lights bobbing overhead. Every footstep echoed on the stone floor. I had gotten a letter asking me to return to the guild master room for a quest.
When I reached the heavy wooden door, I rapped my knuckles quietly against it. Almost at once, his calm voice called from inside, "Enter." I slipped in and gently shut the door behind me.
The guild leader stood next to his desk, sorting through a few pieces of armor and cloth that lay there. He nodded in acknowledgment. "You came at the right time," he said in that measured tone of his. "Nightfall will conceal your departure. I can't risk letting this matter draw attention."
I stepped closer. On the desk, I saw a small assortment of Altmer-style gear: a slight grey cloak with a high collar, a thin leather chest piece reinforced by faintly glowing runes, and a hood with a delicate veil that could be pulled down to obscure the face. It was quite refined and obviously made by skilled hands.
"You won't need illusions once you're wearing this," he explained, glancing at me. "The runic embroidery will mask specific details of your features, like your skin tone, the shape of your ears, if someone looks too carefully. More importantly, it suits the style used by some in the Aldmeri Dominion. That might help if questions arise about who you are working for."
I ran my fingers over the fabric, noticing how smooth and soft it felt. Tiny sigils were etched into the cloth, their glow so faint you could only notice if you looked for it. "You're providing me an official Dominion disguise?" I asked. It was less a question and more a realization.
He offered a small smile. "It's not exactly 'official,' but it's enough to pass. You need to leave tonight and travel discreetly. An Altmer agent is waiting for you outside the city. You'll find him at a small clearing near the stables on the south side, after midnight. He can fill you in on the finer details of your target."
I picked up the chest piece, noting the etched swirling lines. "And the target is where…? they are definitely in Cyrodiil?"
The guild leader's lips pressed into a thin line. "He was last sighted near Skingrad, but my sources indicate he's no longer there. He moves quickly. You'll get a more exact location from the agent. Your orders are simple: find the scholar and retrieve his research, by any means necessary."
I nodded, my mind racing with questions. "Will I be going alone, aside from the agent?"
"For now. I can't spare additional guild members, and I don't want them involved in this. If you run into trouble, I trust your wits. If you need more help, the agent may have resources. But secrecy is priority. I cannot have rumors of this scholar's betrayal or research spreading around. It would be… unfortunate."
A tense silence followed. Finally, he gestured to the gear. "Put it on here, if you like. I'll keep an eye on the hallway."
"Thank you," I said, pulling off my own cloak and setting it aside, And began to change in front of him, funny enough he did turn around. After a few moments, I tugged on the snug leather chest piece first. It was flexible yet firm, designed to handle at least some magical blow. Over that went the grey cloak, which fastened at the shoulders with small straps. Lastly, I pulled the hood over my head and lowered the veil across my face. My peripheral vision didn't dim.
With everything in place, I glanced toward a polished silver tray on his desk, an improvised mirror. Through the veil, my features seemed blurred, almost hazy. I could still see my eyes, but the rest was masked by shadow and the faint magic swirling through the cloth. A stranger might note I was an elf, but that's about it.
"Good," the guild leader said, giving me a satisfied once-over. "You should be hard to recognize, especially at night. Now, leave quietly through the side gate. Avoid the main roads if you can. The agent's name is Arindor. He'll be wearing a similar cloak, but he'll have a silver crest on one shoulder. Show him this."
He reached into a drawer and retrieved a small token, an oval piece of metal etched with Owl. I slid it into my belt pouch, or that's what it looked like but I relly put it in my storage.
"Understood," I said.
He dipped his head. "Be careful out there, I search the archives for a way to help you with your own problem."
With that, I slipped out into the corridor, the door closing softly behind me. The meager light from the magelights caught on the runes on my cloak, giving them a faint shimmer. A back stairwell led me down, through a narrow side passage that exited onto a rarely used courtyard behind the University.
It was quiet there, moonlight shining on old stone. The city's skyline stood silhouetted against the stars, but no one else seemed around. Carefully, I pushed open a creaky iron gate and found myself on a deserted lane. Only a single torch sconce flickered near a weathered statue, revealing lumps of stacked crates. I set out for the south side of the city, sticking to alleyways when possible.
Soon, I reached one of the smaller gates, the type used by supply wagons and less-traveled staff. Only a pair of bored guards lingered at their post. it was the same one I had used to come into the city.
I slipped through the smaller gate, The guards at the post seemed far too bored to question a lone figure on their way out, so I just kept moving.
I'd left my horse in a little side stable earlier. Now, as I made my way there, I felt strangely calm. The stable hand was snoring lightly in a corner, so I slipped my horse's bridle on and led her away without much fuss. She recognized me and gave a low, soft nicker, but otherwise stayed quiet.
The guild leader had said I'd find the Altmer agent in a small clearing near the southern side. I inhaled the scents of night-blooming flowers and damp grass, letting the calmness of the late hour settle in my mind.
Eventually, a faint glow appeared between the trunks, a lantern, maybe. It flickered like a single star bobbing at ground level. As I drew closer, I spotted a lone figure standing with arms folded. He wore a cloak similar to mine, though a little darker. The silver crest on his shoulder was a hawk shape crest.
I halted my horse a short distance away. The figure glanced my way, tilting his head as if trying to see through my veil. I couldn't make out much of his face either, but I could tell by his height and posture he was Altmer. A low murmur of night insects and the gentle stirring of leaves almost masked his voice when he finally spoke.
"Are you the one I'm waiting for?" he asked, his tone neutral.
I dismounted, careful to keep my hands visible. "Yes," I replied, my voice steady. Then I dug into my pouch, well, the one I wanted him to think was my pouch and drew out the small oval token etched with an owl. Holding it up so he could see it in the lantern light, I watched his posture relax a bit.
"Good," he said, lowering his arms. "We have much to discuss and little time to waste. Come."
I nodded, taking my horse's reins in one hand and following him deeper into the clearing. I wondered what exactly he knew about the mission, more than I did, probably. He stopped by a cluster of short trees, where a second horse waited with saddlebags strapped on.
The Altmer agent, Arindor if I recalled correctly, turned halfway toward me. "We'll talk on the road," he said quietly. "Best not to linger. The target keeps moving."
I slipped my foot into the stirrup and swung myself onto the saddle. The veil fluttered in the breeze.
As we nudged our horses forward, I took one last look over my shoulder. The Imperial City's walls rose like a dark outline against the night sky, its towers barely visible in the gloom. I let out a silent exhale, hoping the guild leader would hold up his end of the bargain and figure out how to help me in return. For now, all I could do was focus on the task at hand: track down the rogue scholar, secure his research, and keep it all under wraps.
With that final thought, I turned my gaze forward. Our horses picked up speed, hooves thudding softly against the grassy earth. The lantern flickered in Arindor's grasp. A slight wind ruffled the hood around my face, the veil shifting in and out of my vision. It was quiet, except for the steady clop of hooves and the distant hum of insects. Arindor carried a small lantern, swaying with each step his horse took, but the night itself was clear enough that I could make out the rolling hills ahead. He kept his gaze forward, rarely sparing me more than a sideways glance.
Eventually, Arindor slowed his horse, letting me catch up to ride neck-and-neck. Without turning his head fully, he spoke low enough to blend with the rustle of grass. "We'll head toward a small settlement near Skingrad. The scholar was last reported there less than a day ago, though we don't know for sure if he's still in the area."
I adjusted my reins. "You have a name or a description?"
He paused as if weighing how much to share. Then: "He goes by Athinar these days, but he changes his name often. He's Altmer, tall, with pale hair and a faint scar across his left cheek. Usually wears a long, dark coat and a traveling pack stuffed with books."
He didn't offer anything more, like what the research was about or who else might be after him. I got the impression he was deliberately holding back. I decided to let it go. I needed him cooperative enough to get us to the right place. We fell into silence again, riding through a patch of rough ground where large stones jutted up.
We crested a small hill, a broad landscape ahead, rolling fields, clusters of trees, and in the distance, a thin road that wound its way west. Arindor slowed the pace once more, scanning the horizon. "It's another hour, maybe, to the settlement. If we push on, we can reach it before dawn. Might be a decent place to start asking questions."
My horse snorted, and I leaned forward to pat her neck, feeling the soft coat. "And if he's already moved on?" I asked.
"Then we gather fresh rumors, see who's seen him. He's not exactly a stealthy traveler. He can hide his name, but not his face." Arindor glanced my way, then added brusquely, "Just watch yourself. People are on edge. They might not be friendly to outsiders asking too many questions."
His tone left no doubt that he included me among those "outsiders" as much as himself. I kept my thoughts to myself. The game was to stay polite, and get the job done.
We rode on, letting the hours pass in a steady rhythm of hoofbeats. Now and then, the road widened, and we saw worn wagon tracks cut deep into the dirt. A breeze carried the scent of pine, and the moonlight played on distant farmland where rows of crops had been harvested recently.
At last, the dark outlines of small buildings began to take shape against the slowly graying sky. It wasn't much of a town, more of a tiny community clustered around a single, rutted street. Smoke curled from a few chimneys, though it was still too early for much activity. Arindor raised a hand, slowing us to a cautious walk.
"We'll stable the horses in the back," he said, pointing to a low barn on the far side of the settlement. "There shouldn't be any worry about a horse thief."
I followed him, guiding my horse around the back. The barn looked a bit rundown, missing planks in the walls, but the roof seemed intact. Once we'd dismounted, he rummaged in a saddlebag and pulled out two small coin pouches. With a quick nod, he handed me one.
"For paying off the stable owner," he explained curtly. "Get him to keep quiet about who stabled the horses if you can."
"Understood," I said dryly, leading my horse inside, like people wouldn't be able to put two and two together. The smell of hay and old leather filled my nose. A couple of goats bleated from the far corner, but otherwise, it was deserted. I found a stall out of sight, then waited as Arindor secured his own mount. Sure enough, the stable owner, a bleary-eyed older man, shuffled in moments later, yawning.
Arindor let me do most of the talking. The man wasn't exactly awake enough to ask many questions, so it didn't take much persuasion. A couple of coins and a quiet request to "keep our presence to himself" seemed enough for him. He muttered about travelers passing at odd hours, but the gold silenced further complaints.
We stepped back out into the settlement's single dirt lane. The sky had gone from black to a pale, bluish hue at the horizon. Chickens clucked somewhere behind a fence, and a stray dog wandered across the street. It looked at us with mild curiosity, then trotted off in search of scraps. A few windows lit up as people started their day.
Arindor pulled his hood lower, half-obscuring his face. "We split up," he said. "You check the inn—ask if anyone's seen a tall elf with a scar on his cheek. I'll go see if the local merchants noticed a stranger buying supplies. Meet back here in an hour."
"And if we turn up nothing?"
"Then we try the next village, or the next. He's out there somewhere. This is the closest lead we've got." His voice hardened slightly like he was irritated with me asking questions.
I gave a small nod. "Got it."
Without another word, he angled toward the western side of the settlement, steps briskly. Spotting a sign that creaked in the early breeze. Sure enough, it bore a crude mug carved into the wood, marking it as the local inn. A soft glow in the windows told me it was open.
As I walked, I noticed a couple of villagers stepping outside their homes, blinking at the light. One or two glanced at me but seemed more curious than suspicious like they were used to odd travelers coming through. Still, I tugged the veil just enough to keep my features in shadow.
Reaching the inn's door, I paused. I could sense the warmth of a hearth inside, and smell fresh bread and maybe some stew. My stomach let out a little growl. But first, I had a job to do, figure out if our target had passed through.