Work Text:
“C’mon, Renault, look, I’m only asking for a month. I mean, I know, I can understand you’re worried, the Imperial City might fall into chaos if you don’t have my sweet moves here to back you up, that’s fine, I get that, but the Blades are just going to have to wean themselves away from the teat of my sheer awesomeness, like a baby bird first learning its wings, shit’s gotta-“
“Do you even listen to yourself sometimes, Traveler Strider?” Captain Renault snaps, interrupting Dave’s extensive ramble before the metaphors could get too bizarre. The two were meeting in one of the numerous basements the Blades kept around the city, although “meeting” wasn’t exactly the right word: Dave had caught her while she was reviewing reports from around the other provinces and was hounding her (again) about taking a trip to Morrowind.
Dave leaned back, slouching into the rickety wooden chair as if it were the most comfortable seat in the world. “Nah, man, I don’t need to, I know everything coming out is gonna be pure poetry, it’s a gift. In fact, it’s my gift to the world.” He smirked. It would be the patented Dave Strider smirk, if the Empire had a proper patent system, but it’s probably best that it didn’t, because then he’d have to fill out all the paperwork and get it registered and approved and really, what’s the point? His smirk may be envied by the masses, but no matter how they tried to imitate it, only he could smirk the Dave Strider smirk.
Renault sighed heavily and ran her hand through her hair. “Dave, we’ve already gone over this. You’ve got duties here, and I don’t need you rushing off to the edges of civilization over a hunch. Maybe your friend just… decided to visit some relatives or see his homeland or something.”
“Karkat doesn’t got relatives, and this is his ‘homeland’,” Dave answered, the frustration slipping through his usual laid-back demeanor. “He’s been a fucking Waterfront-rat his whole life. Besides, he wouldn’t just up and leave and not tell anyone, and I’ve been hearing he was arrested right before he vanished. I’m telling you, Renault, something strange is going on here, something we need to be looking into.”
“It’s already being looked into,” came a voice from behind Dave, a familiar one, though one he hadn’t heard for a while, “but the last thing Operative Vantas needs is anyone else getting in his way.”
Dave rolled his head back along the back of the chair to glance up at the newcomer over the tops of his darkened glasses. The smirk returns. “Heeey, Cosades, I thought I smelled something sw-“ and then his ears caught up with his mouth. “Wait. Operative Vantas?”
“Operative Vantas,” the man repeated, throwing himself down onto a crate in the corner.
“Caius,” began Renault warningly. The older man gives her an ebony-hard look.
“Problem, Captain?”
Renault, though shaken, charged on, “Should we be discussing this?”
“Better that than letting this knucklehead,” he gestured towards Strider, “take off on his own to investigate. The situation over there is… delicate.”
“And you’re leaving it to Karkat?” Dave exclaimed. “Because look, Cosades, I don’t know how well you got to know him back in elf-land, but ‘delicate’ and ‘Karkat’ aren’t two words that get along very well. In fact, I’m pretty sure the city guard’s had to put Delicate under protective custody, just to keep it safe from Karkat. Been there so long, Karkat wouldn’t know Delicate if he saw it anymore, and anyway, since when was he a fucking Blade?”
Cosades seemed to think for a moment. “What day is it?”
Dave rolled his eyes at what looked to be the set-up for a poor joke, but Renault answered, “Seventeen Hearthfire.”
Caius grinned. “One month and one day, then!”
Dave choked. “And he’s an Operative?”
“Strange times, my boy,” the old man answered in amusement.
“Strange times, my ass! You can’t tell me Vantas is anything other than shit as a spy!”
Cosades shrugged. “Well, the little asshole certainly didn’t spend near as much time as I’d have liked him to on his cover identity, but he’s got some pretty sharp instincts. He picked up on the trouble they have brewing between the Fighters and Thieves Guilds pretty quick.”
Dave snorted. “That’s not spy instincts, that’s Waterfront ‘stay out of trouble’ instincts.”
Caius grinned, an unpleasant smile. “Sometimes, those are the same instincts, my boy, although he’s obviously running on something else now.” He shook his head and removed a printed piece of parchment from his inventory. “Besides, it looks like he’ll probably get transferred to the public lists soon, anyway,” he added as he handed the sheet to Dave.
The page, obviously a public notice, read, “WELL-BELOVED PEOPLE OF MORROWIND! TAKE HEED! TAKE WARNING! The outlaw named Karkat Vantas, stated trade of freelance adventurer, lately called ‘Incarnate’ and ‘Nerevarine,’ now is shown to the investigating Ordinators and Magistrates in this district to be an agent in the pay of the Imperial Intelligence Service. This outlaw’s claims are false. The prophecies this outlaw cites are discredited. The dishonest character and base purposes of the outlaw in perpetrating this hoax are now made clear to all observers. Karkat Vantas is sought for various crimes by Ordinators and town guards. Report all encounters with this outlaw to the proper authorities. If you see this outlaw in public, give the alarm. Published by the authority of the Temple, the Order of the Watch, Magistrates of Vvardenfel District, under signature and authority of Grandmaster Berel Sala, Captain of the Watch. Hear and Heed!””
Dave stared at it, open-mouthed, for a moment. “What.”
“Going to see him now would not only fuel their accusations but blow your own cover as well, and we still need you, boy,” Caius explained as Renault took the page from Dave’s grasp to examine it herself.
“So he’s been there for a month and he’s fucking being hunted as some sort of religious heretic by their theocracy?” Dave asked, still staring at the spot where the paper had been. Then he grinned. “Damn! Gotta say, that’s pretty impressive even for him. I mean, guy’s got a talent for pissing people off, but he’s never managed it on a scale like this before.” Dave jerks his thumb towards the sheet. “So this is what we call ‘under control’, now?”
“This is what we’re currently calling ‘being dealt with,’” Cosades answered firmly. “That’s not always the same as ‘under control.’”
Dave shook his head as he stood up, unconsciously beginning to pace. “What the fuck does ‘Nerevarine’ supposed to mean, anyway?”
Caius shrugged. “The reincarnation of a particular Dunmer saint. Indoril Nerevar.”
“What.” With that word, Dave let out a quick, involuntary laugh at the absurdity of the concept. “Old man, did the sugar finally rot you?”
“None of this was my idea, boy. This came from well over my head,” Cosades answered, leaning forward to rest his forearms on his knees and clasp his hands together.
Dave frowned and looked at the older man over the top of his glasses. The older spymaster was one of the highest ranking Blades in the Empire. There wasn’t a whole lot that could be described as over his head, never mind “well over”. The younger man asked, voice much softer than usual, “How high over your head, old man?”
“All the way up, Strider,” the older man answered.
Dave’s brown skin took on a grayish undertone as the blood rushed from his face, and he shook his head faintly, the fear rising. “No… not again… Leki curse it, Caius, tell me this wasn’t another one of the Emperor’s ‘special missions’!”
Renault looked up with concern, but it was Caius who stood up, hands slightly raised in an attempt to calm the Redguard down. “Dave, this… was, but we’ve got to trust him. It’s our duty to trust him. I mean, for all the damage done, the Warp left the Illiac Bay more stable than it’s been in a century! It tied that whole area of the Empire back together!”
“But Bro never came back!” Dave shouted furiously.
“Dave, Dirk was a Blade,” Renault interrupted as Caius put his hands on the younger man’s shoulders in an attempt to calm him down. “He knew the risks. We all do.”
“Yeah, and Karkat?” Dave demanded. “Did he know the risks before he got arrested and sent over there?” Though technically, he was responding to the Captain, his glare was leveled directly at Caius.
Caius looked away, and that was all the answer that Dave needed.
“Gods damn it!” Strider spat out, wrenching himself out of the older man’s grasp.
Cosades grabbed after him, managing to snag his arm. “Dave, we can’t lose you on your current investigation! Morrowind may be a mess, but you know we’re just a hair away from riots in the street here, and we need to figure out who’s been stirring things up, and that means figuring out who’s been spreading those rumors that the Emperor’s sons are imposters! We’re at a critical point here, and we’ll lose time if you have to turn the investigation over to someone else. Isn’t Ebel a friend of yours?”
Dave pulled away, but hesitated. “He was Bro’s friend,” he admitted. It was a strange friendship, the son of an Emperor and a Hammerfall street urchin, but Dirk had saved the youngest Prince’s life when he was being hunted during Tharn’s rule without realizing who it was. Years later, when Dirk had been caught in a scam, the Prince himself had shown up to free him and had suggested he move to the Imperial City, hinting that the Empire could use someone like him. Ebel no doubt thought he was being clever in his choice of a more personal gift to Dave’s Bro, an ebony dagger given to a Redguard named Dirk, but Dirk found the gift ironic and kept the dagger with him constantly, even if he preferred to use the Blades’ more traditional weapon.
“Look, you finish your investigation, and I’ll see what I can do.” Caius glanced back at Renault. “The Emperor’s supposed to be visiting Morrowind early next year, I believe?” The Captain nodded in confirmation, and Caius continued, “We’re going to need someone to go there ahead of time and make sure it’s safe.”
Renault sat back in her chair and allowed herself a brief smile. “We are.” She looked up at Dave. “And I imagine it’ll be a good idea to send someone who’s already familiar with one of the local contacts.”
Dave snorted. Karkat the Blade. The very idea was a little bewildering. And what was this about a Dunmer Saint? Saint Karkat, patron of assholes, maybe? Dave didn’t like the delay, but he had to admit that the old man was right about Dave’s current mission.
He turned back to Cosades and pointed. “This had better not go like last time before I get there,” he declares.
Cosades rubs his forehead tiredly. “I hope to Talos not. I’d rather not deal with the Dragon’s response if we manage to break him again so soon.”
Dave nodded and started to leave. “All right, then. And this time, you’d better fucking keep me updates about me what’s going on over there!” And with that, he was out the door.
Karkat, reincarnated Dunmer saint. Seriously. What the fuck?
