Skyrim: A Sorcerer's Tale

Chapter 227: Chapter XXXI: Boethiah

Chapter 227: Chapter XXXI: Boethiah



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(General POV)

The ensuing staredown between god and mortal lasted for but a short moment but in truth felt far longer, as each weighed the other in their own ways. The bored amusement of a near eternal Daedra facing the short lived but immense irritation with the divine that the mortal was saddled with ever since he stepped foot into Skyrim.

She-Who-Erases was the first to speak, for allowing the wily defier standing before her to tempt her into giving him something for nothing, much like he did to her... colleagues and repeatedly at that, would have been most unwise.

The fact that she had already praised him internally without any prodding from him did not go over her head.

"You have drawn my attention, mortal." Boethiah leaned forward, her hands resting atop the hilt of her blade "Most unwise."

The young and infamous Archmage failed at being intimidated by the familiar situation, he had faced many similar projections at this point, and pushing the Daedra to the limits of their patience had become something of a game for him by now.

Instead, his mouth twisted into his usual cocky, and slightly mocking, smirk as he made an exaggerated bow before the Daedra "Whatever could have poor little old me done to attract such prestigious misfortune?"

If not for his obvious defiant attitude his words would have made Boethiah decide to have him struck down then and there, rules be damned, she had no time for cowards and the inept after all. 'Very promising.' The Deceiver of Nations thought 'A shame he allows himself to be shackled by those below him.'

"It should be obvious, no?" Boethiah didn't so much as twitch as they exchanged words "You have assailed my priest, and I have come to hold you to account."

"Pffft!" The mortal actually dared to laugh at her words, momentarily looking at the time- frozen priest and then back at the Daedra with a raised eyebrow that said more than any of his words ever could.

They both knew Boethiah cared not about her priest, not in the slightest.

Still not visibly reacting, Boethiah spoke once more "As audacious as they said you were, are you that certain of your survival before my blade?"

Noting the first thing she said, Reyvin completely stilled for a moment before muttering "Are even the Daedra fucking gossips?" Before Boethiah could speak again the insolent little mage raised his finger as if to silence her.

There was a certain limit to which she was willing to tolerate the audacity of those who interested her and the mortal before her was swiftly approaching it. Luckily for him, his following words managed to dim the simmering rage of the Daedric Prince.

"Wait, don't answer that. Mephala." The mortal slowly palmed his face and shook his head.

The Webweaver's gaze, which had been focused on them since the start of the vision, emitted a feeling of such gratification and amusement at the mortal's words it almost baffled

Boethiah before she simply filed it into Mephala's usual perversions.

"And just as insolent." Boethiah noted dully, forcing the conversation back on its tracks "Now, I will ask again mortal, and there shall not be a third time. What are you doing with my priest?"

Still completely unfazed by the Daedra's stern gaze the mortal deadpanned "Throwing his scrawny ass at ole' Molly's shrine and using him to batter the rapist fuck before proceeding to offer up his rusted sex toy as a gift to someone who will no doubt do unspeakable things to

it."

Forcing down a bark of laughter, her face still not even so much as twitching, Boethiah allowed herself to raise an eyebrow "And you think I will allow you to do as you will?"

"Allow me?" Something suddenly shifted within the young Dunmer "I will do as I always have and that is exactly as I will." The sheer determination in those words almost made Boethiah smile, which would have been terrifying in its own right.

"And do you?" He retorts heatedly.

Completely ignoring his well made point I give him a visibly disappointed look "What use is your pride when together we can show our strength against a Daedric Prince? Why force yourself to remain weak if your defeat of Molag would no doubt impress even your Lord?"

Even with my patronizing tone the utter disdain in the old man's eyes is slowly replaced by

greed.

Yes, he was in fact that easy.

Seeing that I add the final nail to the coffin "Would Lord Boethiah not reward his valued priest if he performed such a deed? Imagine the power! You could be a champion unmatched in his eyes, maybe even the Ebony Mail would fall into your hands if you struck a blow big enough!"

And just like that, I had him. The poor fool.

"Fine, elf." The old man barks imperiously "I will help you since you are too weak to fight on your own, now get me out of this cage."

Mentally noting down his request for future punishment I give him a sunny smile and a bow

"But of course."

Logrolf wasted no time in gathering his things that the Forsworn had left in the adjourning room, a witch's residence I realized, and after he finished putting it all on I could quite easily see how the man was associated with Boethiah.

Thick black robes, steel chainmail, breastplate, gauntlets and boots, and ironically enough a cruel mace that looked to be more fit for breaking stone than it did for breaking people.

As I waved for the old man to follow me I could practically taste his desire to kill me for his wounded pride, but he had enough sense not to commit suicide by yours truly.

For now.

And just as well, seeing as Scorch was staring down at him from the ceiling, a bolt of golden fire flying around the bird in lazy circles but ready to blast his ass at a moment's notice. Soon enough we stepped out onto the large keep roofs, just in time to see the knights holding some kind of incredibly one sided trial against a duo of bound Forsworn witches, rather young ones as well, all the while some of the men at arms gathered wood and piled it onto a pyre.

I approached the gathering of Bretons, and my discomfort grew by the moment as I realized that those 'witches' weren't merely young, they were straight up kids even by Skyrim's

standards.

And Serana was staring daggers into the back of Reynauld's head.

Damn, I could already tell this was not going to end well...

Reyvin really do be throwing a lot of stones in that glass house of his

you better follow his example.

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