Swordsinger supposed the number of strange looks they got as they walked through the camp were to be expected. Her own mind was reeling, so she could only imagine what her Companies might have felt upon seeing her with two doppelgangers. It was beyond bizarre, and she could not begin to fathom how to find the pieces to this puzzle, let alone put them together.

 

They reached the command tent just as Hammerleaf stepped out and the entire thing became worth the confusion just to see the expression on his face. Swordsinger managed to keep her expression neutral, if only just. A normal post-battle day here with my identical twins! Nothing unusual about that!

 

“Ladies, this is my second in command, Hammerleaf.”

 

Hammerleaf’s eyes roamed from one of them to the next, clearly trying to get his eyes to believe what they were seeing. “There are three of you now? I do not think the world can handle that!”

 

“There are not three of me.”

 

“Then what…”

 

“There are actually four. That we know about.”

 

Hammerleaf froze with his mouth open and this time Swordsinger could not hold back a laugh. “A banner day! I do not think I have ever seen you at loss for words!”

 

“Words fail me in the face of such beauty, it is true.” He bowed as Swordsinger rolled her eyes.

 

“Been saving that one up for the next trip to town?”

 

“Aye, but since we haven’t seen a proper town in years, I figured I might as well not let it go to waste.”

 

“Ah, but you did – we’re all immune to your charms. Have we the tallies?”

 

“I was just going to get the squad leaders’ reports.”

 

“Okay. Go ahead and do the officer debriefing without me. My…” she glanced back then shook her head “…duplicates and I have things to discuss.”

 

“As you command, oh fearless leader.”

 

As he began to walk away, Sloan injected, “Hammerleaf is an…unusual name. Where did it come from?”

 

Hammerleaf laughed and jabbed a finger at Swordsinger as he continued to stride away. “Ask her! She's the one who gave it to me.”

 

“The Stormcloaks don't have ranks like The Imperials or other armies,” Swordsinger explained as she led the way to the map table in the tent. “Each time you gain a rank, you get a new, more battle-sounding name. Since I was his commanding officer, I got to give him his new name at his last promotion. I called him Hammerleaf because he swings that giant hammer he carries around as easily as if it was a leaf.” At their quizzical expressions, she added, “Don't judge. These stupid names are harder to come up with than you think.”

 

Sloan laughed. “Oh yes? What is your battle-sounding name?”

 

“Swordsinger.”

 

“Considering the way you were wielding those things, that seems fitting.”

 

“Thank you. So I think that's enough idle chatter. Who are you two and what are you doing here?”

 

The other two looked at each other and then Sloan shrugged.

 

“I’m Sloan, as I said before. I was just passing through on my way south.”

 

“You were passing through Labyrinthian?”

 

“Yes. It is much faster than going all the way around.”

 

“So you've taken this path before?”

 

“Several times. And, to anticipate your next question, yes, I've seen trolls here before. Not that many of them, though. Two or three at a time.”

 

“And you made it through alive?”

 

“Well, it's easy to stay hidden when there's just one person instead of the hundred-thirty-nine you have.”

 

Swordsinger raised her eyebrows as her estimation of Sloan rose. “One hundred forty-two. The three cooks were in the mess tent.”

 

“I stand corrected.”

 

Swordsinger snort-laughed and turned to the mage, trying not to get distracted by the dark well that had once been an eye. “And what brings a college mage to a place like this?”

 

“I came to study Labyrinthian. I believe it is connected to a magical artefact we recently found.”

 

“You're planning on going in there alone?”

 

“Yes. It's just a hunch and I don't want other people to get hurt.”

 

“Commendable but these ancient ruins are rife with traps and surprises.”

 

“I…am aware.”

 

“Well. You helped me, so I will help you. I’ll go with you.”

 

The mage was silent for a long moment, although it was hard to tell what she might be thinking.

 

“A week ago I would have said that is not necessary but…I have learned. Things. Since then.” A pause, then a pile of words that seemed to try to stumble from her mouth at once. “I almost died and…um…almost got someone else killed in the last ruin I was in because I thought I could…” The words stopped as she took a breath; suddenly she seemed very vulnerable. “It would be good to have someone else along. I try not to make the same mistakes twice.”

 

“Pithy words.” An enigma, was the mage. One moment she seemed cold and aloof, the next she leached vulnerability to a degree that felt like innocence. Yet the haunted look around her eyes…well, eye…hinted at a facet that precluded the idea of innocence, just as a matter of form.

 

Sloan waved a hand, gathering their attention. “I've recently become unemployed so I don't have much else to do. There might be treasure in there that could help cover my expenses.”

 

“Aye? And what was it you did?”

 

“I was in public relations. But the company and I had some disagreements and they tried to terminate my employment.”

 

Unlike Aithne, Sloan was unreadable. She showed emotions and to someone who had not spent as much time being forced to study other people as Swordsinger (once again her mother was proved right), Sloan probably came across as forthcoming. But in truth, she was a blank wall. She was someone to keep an eye on.

 

Aithne cleared her throat. “I…um…thank you both. I will admit I was not entirely hopeful about my prospects of coming back out.”

 

Sloan raised an eyebrow. “Are these old ruins that bad?”

 

Aithne shrugged. “Parts of them. The regular draugr - I assume you have heard of them? If you wondered whether they were real, they are. The regular ones are easy to kill but there was one that was…much harder.”

 

Swordsinger nodded. “Aye. And the traps in those places are well hidden, especially after millennia of dirt. Do you need to go there today?”

 

Aithne shrugged. “I honestly just expected to come here and go in and leave again, but that fight was pretty taxing. I would not mind a rest – I would prefer to enter the place at full strength.” There was an obvious rumble and Aithne laughed as she put a hand on her stomach. “Also, I'm afraid I did not come as prepared as I should have.”

 

“Aye, if you don't travel much, it's hard to know all the things you will need.”

 

“Speaking of travel,” Sloan interjected. “You don't have to tell me, of course, but last I heard, there were no Stormcloaks within two-hundred miles of this place.”

 

Swordsinger laughed. “Well, I suppose it is fair to ask the same question I asked you. We got new orders a couple weeks ago to end this war once and for all, so we’re heading north to do just that.”

 

“That’s good to hear. I lived in Riften for a time and knew a lot of Stormcloaks, so I am predisposed toward your cause but, frankly, at this point I don’t care who wins. There is a much bigger common foe both sides should be fighting.”

 

“You mean the dragons.”

 

“I mean the dragons. The war really should have been suspended once they started to appear in numbers.”

 

Aithne raised her eyebrows, itself a weird thing to see with only the one eye. “Dragons? I had heard they had reappeared and I did get a close up view of one at one time but I didn't know they were that numerous.”

 

Swordsinger nodded. “Oh, yes. There's been a steady increase in their numbers.”

 

Sloan repeated the nod. “There is an entire colony of them north of here right by the old Thalmor embassy. Dozens, maybe hundreds. I have no idea where they're coming from. Maybe this is some sort of hybrid dragon that has been mixed with rabbit?”

 

Swordsinger laughed but shook her head. “I don't know how it started but there are more because they're coming back to life.”

 

Aithne blinked, yet another disturbing thing to see. “What?”

 

“You heard correctly. Every time one is killed, it comes back to life in about a week.”

 

Sloan nodded. “Delphine said the same.”

 

Aithne looked poleaxed. “That is...incredible.”

 

“Incredibly bad.” Swordsinger laughed again . “Well, for some people. I met a khajiit who had captured one. Every time it came back to life, he and his people slaughtered it. A never-ending supply of dragon hide, bones, and…whatever else you can get from them that is worth coin!”

 

“That's an idea.” Sloan tapped a finger against her lips. “Maybe I'll do that for my next business venture.”

 

“Good luck if you try it. It takes a lot of effort to capture one and you’d need some pretty stout chains to hold it down.” Swordsinger noted a slight wince in the mage’s expression at the word "chains,” giving her a slight inkling as to what may have happened to the eye. “Well. Dinner should be ready. I hope you all are ready for camp stew.”

 

Aithne nodded, then shook her head. “What is it?”

 

“Basically it's the same stew every day. We just add whatever fresh meat and edible plants we find as we march or can hunt when we camp, mix it together with the leftovers from the day before and add a lot of water, then cook it until everything is mushy and tasteless. What it lacks in flavor it more than makes up for in awful texture. There’s a good chance this will be a far sterner test for your bowels than anything we might face tomorrow.”

 

Her duplicates exchanged a glance, then Sloan smiled. “Can't wait to try it.”

 

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