We found ourselves receiving the hospitality of the Cheydinhal chapter of the Fighters Guild, being carried in through the gates of the city and hustled into the guild house without ceremony. I slipped in and out of unconsciousness for the entire journey back; the jostling, swaying motion of the stretchers both calming and painful in equal measures. By the time the sun set across the city the two of us were placed in separate rooms while the guild members sent for healers from the local Mages Guild and temples. We had been lucky in how I had staggered across the party of fighters on a goblin patrol, as that region of Cheydinhal county was apparently rarely travelled and home to all sorts of unpleasant inhabitants. The greatest threat was the greenskins flooding up from the southern marshlands which had provided ample sport and contracts for the local guild who routinely received contracts to exterminate or den or another of the creatures. Burz gro-Khash was the leader of the Cheydinhal Chapter and had led the latest hunt personally which had put them in the perfect place to render Viconia and I assistance on their way back to the city.

  After he and the others left us in the capable hands of the temple priests they went about collecting their pay for the several dozen severed goblin heads they carried. Count Indarys had personally put bounties on the creatures who had been responsible for dozens of raids against farms and homesteads. This was a situation that presented the Fighters Guild excellent opportunities for coin.

  I spent the first evening blearily being assisted in undressing and removing my armour for a pair of temple acolytes to carefully wash the copious amounts of blood from my flesh. What was mine and what was from the dozens I had killed was impossible to discern but I had gained a significant amount of fresh injuries, and a new array of scars to add to the collection I seemed intent on expanding. Between the bruising, the cracked bones, broken ribs, bolt wound in my shoulder, busted eye socket and sprained wrist I was a complete mess and I felt every inch of my battered body as I was finally allowed to lay down and rest while they did they best to repair the damage.

  When morning finally broke and I was forced back into awareness I felt strong enough to stand and eat unassisted despite the best attempts from the temple healers to keep me in bed. Between the bursts of restoration magicka from the aged Altmer healer and the various salves and poultices applied liberally and almost at random across my body I was beginning to feel my usual strength and vitality again. I knew however, in the back of my mind at least that I had less to thank from the careful ministrations of healers and more from my darker nature for my faster-than-normal recovery. Even as I spooned down hot mouthfuls of porridge I could feel my bloated stomach filled with the enormous amount of blood and flesh I had consumed from the cultists in the shrine.

  Ohtesse; the healer who had been assigned to me tutted and muttered seemingly to herself as she applied a fresh layer of stinking salves to my back. Soon the vivid red-black bruising would slow begin to dull and turn yellow but for the coming days at least it would be hidden beneath a mass of bandages and poultices. Ohtesse herself was closer to her sixtieth year than her fiftieth and had spent nearly her entire life as a healer in the Cheydinhal Cathederal of Arkay. Judging by her reactions and conversations with Burz Gro-Khash she was extremely well known around the guild.

  “Mara wept!” she spluttered as she smeared another layer over my shoulder where the bolt had punched through to the other side. “Did you really think it was a good idea to rip the arrow back through with the head intact?”

  “It was a crossbow bolt, and I wasn’t in the position to be delicate.”

  “You’re lucky not to have severed any of the major nerves,” She replied, gently probing the raised scar tissues with her fingers. “or at the very least not tearing the main artery and bleeding to death.”

  “Guess I was born under the sign of the Thief.” I replied, wincing as she applied another warm bolt of restoration magicka deep into the wound.

  “I doubt it. Otherwise you wouldn’t have found yourself in this situation in the first place.”

  Heavy footfalls announced the plate armoured bulk of Burz in his orcish armour that he never seemed to take off. He walked in stuffing his face with some hunk of roasted meat and despite my lack of appetite for flesh it still smelt tantalising.

  “So doc, is he going to live?”

  “I wish you wouldn’t call me that. I’m a healer, not a surgeon.” She sighed at the obviously well-used joke. “They will both be fine but will need days of healing. Kaius here might have a few twinges and a bit of muscular atrophy but otherwise will be fine.”

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  “And Viconia?” I asked, peering over my shoulder at her. The surge of unease was heavy and made itself felt in my guts.

  “She’ll sleep for the better part of today and tomorrow but once the toxins are flushed from her body and her humours are rebalanced she’ll be in better condition than what you’ll be.”

  “That’s comforting.”

  She quickly wrapped another layer of moistened bandages around my torso to ensure the salve remained damp enough to infuse with my skin and ease the bruising. “You really need to take better care of your fighters Burz. One day you aren’t going to have any left.”

  “You’d like that.” The towering orc chuckled and forced his words around a hunk of meat he had been gnawing on. “It’d make your life a lot quieter.”

  She sighed and smiled slightly. “Unfortunately too quiet. I’d be left treating sprains and the sore legs of pilgrims.” Sparing me a glance she rose to her feet and walked from the room. “Keep those bandages on for the duration of the day but once they have fully dried you can take them off and bathe. Otherwise there is little more that I can do.”

  Shifting my muscles slightly to feel the way the bandages clung to me I wrinkled my nose at the smell. “Thanks Ohtesse.”

  “Maybe you should think about a career change,” she motioned to the brute form of Burz darkening the doorway and smiled with humour. “Before this one leaves you little more than a rolled up ball of scars.”

  “Your care for your patients is commendable.” Burz was filled with humour as the two of them verbally sparred in what was obviously a long standing tradition. “Thanks for your help again.”

  “A pleasure as always.”

  As she disappeared out the door Burz closed it behind her before sitting down in the chair opposite. Grunting, he leaned back, pulling a scrap of parchment out from where he had stuffed it into his belt and handed it to me.

  “I think I’d like an explanation on why I have suddenly found myself host to the heroes of Kvatch.” He said, all traces of his humorous demeanour vanishing like a sunny sky before a storm. “Especially how they both look like they got drunk and thought it would be fun to punch Malacath in the balls.”

  The sheet of parchment was an issue of the Black Horse Courier, and the single page contained not only our names and the events at Kvatch and our closure of the Oblivion gate but also an inked image of both of our appearances. Taken by the mage I had glimpsed outside the main gate the mass-produced images had portrayed our likenesses quite accurately and providing my name to Burz when they had found us had merely confirmed our identities.

  He watched me intently as I scanned over the page, quickly reading its contents while he finished off the last of his meal. “Well?”

  I breathed heavily, looking over to him as he wiped grease off his hands onto the front of his orichalcum breastplate. “We’re both members of the Blades.”

  “Pull the other one.” He response was more humorous than disbelieving.

  “We were sent here to hunt down the group responsible for the assassination of the Emperor. Things didn’t go according to plan and we’re the only two that managed to survive.”

  “Judging by your appearances I’d use the term survive lightly.” He wiped his mouth on the back of an enormous paw of a hand. “You especially should be dead I reckon. Even I wouldn’t have been able to be up and about the day after getting the shit beaten out of me like what you have. You sure you don’t have orc blood in you somewhere?”

  For a moment I involuntarily thought back to the carnage in the shrine and one of the orc cultists I had bitten the throat out of. “Not that I’m aware of.” I chuckled in an attempt of humour I didn’t feel.

  “Well I don’t see the harm in both of you staying here for the next few days at least. When word gets out that the Fighter’s Guild rescued the heroes of Kvatch we’re bound to get more contracts.” He smacked me on the shoulder with a friendly tap that with his strength rattled the teeth in my head. “You can consider your debts with us for rescuing you and paying for healing covered at least.”

  “Spoken like a true mercenary.” I joked back, and I saw in his grin that he had decided that he liked me.

  “An orc’s gotta eat.” His grin was massive around the broken tusks and flattened nose from being broken far too many times. “Feel free to wander around and make yourself at home. Both of your armours are downstairs with the smiths, at least what bits were worth repairing and we’ve got the tailors fixing up your clothes. Should be a day or two before it’s all ready but otherwise I reckon it’ll be a week before you’re going to be able to travel further than to take a piss.”

  “We’ll try not to intrude too much. I appreciate the help, and Viconia might once she wakes up.”

  “You’re both a lot tougher than you look. Ohtesse pulled three bolts out of your friend’s chest with enough poison in her to knock me on my arse and you look like you got into a wrestling match with an ogre clan. You’ll have to explain just what you were doing around here to result in such a state.”

  I rubbed at the stubble on my jaw absently, thinking hard for a moment. “I’ll have to send a message back to the boss first and find out what to do from here. What I can tell you will be up to him.”

  “Fair enough I suppose. If I find him first, I’ll send our porter up to you. He might be a tad ugly with the whole missing-a-nose thing but he’ll get you sorted. Just track me down if you need anything but otherwise your friend is in the next room down the hall.”