When Reman had been comfortable walking around Ponyville in only a pair of pants, nopony really thought anything about it. Seeing and feeling the weather of the Pale, however, proved to be an enlightening experience. Chilling ice and snow flew on freezing wind, this Hold was far from Whiterun, and too inhospitable for anypony to really live there, right?

“Why does 'e live all th' way out here?” Applejack was shivering, trying to fight against the unholy temperatures. Pinkie and the group's unicorns were suffering similar grievances, though the winged members were more suited for this environment.

“There must be something he likes about the storehouse.” Luna's horn sparked as she readied her spell, it was a simple bubble to keep the wind away from the mares.

“How much farther?” Glade was feeling antsy, just walking through the snow, so cold and exposed. Instinct commanded the lycan mare to find shelter, a warm hideout with plenty of food and water. Odd, because she only needed heat right now, there wasn't a need for an overabundance of supplies.

“We left Dawnstar before sunrise, and we've been going nonstop, so maybe another hour.” Dash was in charge of the map, though nopony knew why. Well, at least she had a sense of direction, and hadn't steered the group into trouble yet, so that counted for something. “Aren't there supposed to be cliffs near here?”

“Have you gotten us lost in this forsaken snowstorm?” That was one of Rarity's few moments of true anger at one of her friends. The fashionable unicorn did not want to be out in the weather, the snow made the ground slippery, and any puddles were completely frozen. “How do you even know where to go anymore?”

“We jus' needed t' follow th' beach.” Applejack had a point, in fact, they had been doing just that. The coastal winds had forced them inland, in search of some brace against them, but the attempt had only succeeded in getting the mares in deeper trouble. “We still can, if we find it again.”

“No, I totally know where we're going.” Dash closed her eyes and smirked in confidence, the cyan pony was certain that she could lead them to Reman's home. Taking another step forward, the pegasus' hoof broke though the ground, revealing her error in judgment. The Element of Loyalty had almost walked her friends off a cliff.

“Way to go, Dashie, you found it!” Pinkie jumped in the air, clearly overjoyed at her friend's success in the search. Upon noticing the polychromatic mare's confusion, the party pony bid another Element to use her talents. Pointing with a hoof, the pink bundle of sugar gave her order. “Twilight, can you throw a glowing ball down there?”

“Sure, just give me a second.” With a bright flash, the Element of Magic launched a flare into the chasm, illuminating the steep walls of the fjord. Indeed, this place seemed to match the map's illustration, right down to the water at the bottom. The was a small shack at the inlet's end, and a small boat launch at its mouth.

“That house might be it.” Fluttershy's naturally small voice was almost unheard over the wind, but she was nevertheless understood. The yellow pegasus looked over the cliff face in apprehension. “But, how do we get down?”

“Allow me, you girls have done enough for today.” Luna's horn sparked, enveloping the eight mares in a dark blue glow. In an instant, they found themselves floating to the chasm's bottom, simple levitation had been used to its best. The water, upon further inspection, had been frozen, allowing the ponies to stand on the thick ice. Without hesitation, Summer Glade launched herself at the shack, eager to escape the biting cold.

Her hopes were all for naught.

The other ponies arrived quickly, only to find the lycan pegasus standing just inside the old shack. The mares gasped at what they saw within, Fluttershy and Pinkie had to avert their eyes from the grisly scene. A corpse was slumped over the table, a knife lodged firmly in the cadaver’s back. The icicles growing on the body suggested that he had been dead for quite some time. If the large smears over the table, and the liberal coat of blood over the corpse's arms were any indicator, he hadn't died quickly, either.

“Why would Reman send us here?” Rarity was doing her best to avoid touching anything in the rundown building, but her desire for the miniscule shelter it provided outweighed her revulsion. “You don't think he killed this man, do you?”

“No, Reman wouldn't attack someone that wasn't armed, and definitely not from behind.” Glade had recovered from the sight rather quickly, nothing could be done for the dead man, so why grieve over someone she never knew? “Maybe there's a clue here, something Reman planted so we would know where to find him.”

“Check the room for anything out of the ordinary, anything that looks new or interesting.” Luna didn't want to be inside that shack any more than anypony else, but sacrifices had to be made. The alicorn understood the Imperial's need for secrecy, a man like him must have enemies, after all. But sending them on this roundabout route seemed a bit... excessive, especially when it sent them into the same area with a corpse that may have been there for months. “Wait, what if Reman wanted us here so we could find his home the same way he did?”

“What do you mean?” Twilight was looking at the sparse bookshelf, just something to keep her eyes away from the table, and maybe a book that had been left as a clue. “Aren't ruins sort of secret?”

“I dunno, Twi, half of Daring Doo's adventures start when she hears a rumor about an artifact, maybe that how Reman found wherever he lives.” Dash had somehow managed to make sense, and simultaneously fail to provide logical reasons for her train of thought. “Maybe this guy knew something, and somepony came after him for it.”

“While both of you raise excellent points, I think I found what we needed to look for.” Glade was reading something on the table, hoofwritten by somepony, it might have been the dead man's journal. Twilight and Luna read over the final entries, peaking over the lycan's shoulders.

Twenty-fourth of Last Seed, 4E 199

Finally built this dump, never cared much for carpentry, but it came in handy for once. I'll never get why the Sinod didn't just come out here themselves, but they're paying me to find what they want. Why would an Elder Scroll be all the way out here, in this frozen hellhole? Damn Scrolls never made sense, but everything we need to know is written on them, so I guess things just have a way of getting complicated.

First of New Life, 4E 200

Happy New Life Day to me. Only found one lead, from some crazy old man in an ice cave, Septimus or something. Kept speaking in riddles and mentioning Tower Mzark, or things on that line, and that there was an Elder Scroll inside, even a way to read the thing without going blind. Bunch of crazy bullshit if you ask me, but it's all I've gotten so far.

Tenth of Mid-Year, 4E 200

Damn skeevers have ransacked my food supply, again, maybe I should get a dog. Or a bear. But never mind that, I have wonderful news: Blackreach and Tower Mzark exist! I regret not getting those items from Septimus when I had the chance, the fool I was! Luckily, I've managed to find a couple of gentlemen that have a key to the ancient lifts into the city: a Breton mage and an Imperial spellsword.

We're bedding down in this dump for the night, then we'll head out to their excavation site. It's on a small island, on a frozen-over lake that hasn't melted in centuries, at the very least. Both of them are fairly knowledgeable about the long-dead elves, and there lies my current problem. Either one could replace me in the Sinod, take away my life's work, my future riches and fame. There's no way that I'll let either of them live, the glory and gold are mine, dammit!

They won't know wha

“Serves him right for trying to stab Reman in the back.” That was Glade's honest opinion on the matter, whichever one of the two knifed the man, he deserved a award.

“Now Ah wouldn't go that far.” Applejack valued the sanctity of life, even the life of someone who would kill for money. No one deserved to die alone, stabbed to a table in their own home.

“Well, girls, I think we have an island to find.”

@#@#@#@#@#@#

Drip... drip... drip... drip...

Reman had been arrested a number of times, but this was his first stay at Castle Dour's illustrious and infamous dungeon. Given the rather excessive measure's used to contain him, the lycan was certain that escape was impossible. His wrists were bound behind his back, then chain to the shackles on his ankles. Even more chains were wrapped around his torso, those were bolted into the walls. If, somehow, the Imperial managed to free himself from those bindings, there was a silver collar fastened snugly around his neck, preventing any possible transformation, but silver was easily broken and warped, so there was one more line of defense.

Should Reman remove everything, there was still the guard posted to watch him at all times. Shifts changed every three hours, so he couldn't wait for the person to fall asleep on the job. The lycan couldn't even begin to move without the Solitude guardsman reaching for his sword, so trying to escape his bindings was pointless. But, the Imperial supposed that being held in a special area that was reserved for exceptionally dangerous criminals warranted the gross overuse of chain.

Drip... drip... drip... drip...

There wouldn't be a trial of any sort, Reman had been misinformed about what awaited him. General Tullius personally looked at every inmate before deciding what became of them, and with his workload lightening because of Ulfric's withdraw from Whiterun, the aged soldier finally had the time to perform his rounds. The old Imperial had free reign to do so, Jarl Elisif had given him executive authority over anyone arrested in Haafingar, Tullius was made judge and jury for every criminal in the Hold.

Drip... drip... drip... drip...

The steel door at the end of the hall opened. The general in charge of suppressing the Stormcloak rebellion must have arrived. Of course, he was accompanied by a legate, someone to remember which prisoners received which punishment, that sort of thing. The man would be fair in his judgment, the Legion demanded that someone with that much authority have compassion and mercy, but it was still nerve wracking to wait on him.

“Wulfgar Fog-eye, vampire accused of thirteen murders and the infection of three villagers in the Pale.” The older Imperial's voice rang though the still air of the dungeon, splitting the silence like a razor. “What to you have to say for yourself?”

There wasn't a verbal response, only the sound of someone spitting. Had the Nord vampire dared to spit in the face of General Marcus Tullius? It seemed so, given the man's reply.

“Death by decapitation, tomorrow at dawn.” More footsteps, and the sound of a quill scratching paper. The general was moving closer, onto the next cell.

Drip... drip... drip... drip...

“Olaf Gauld, suspected Stormcloak spy.” The general clucked his tongue, mulling over his options. “You don't look like a spy, so why are you here?”

“I was wrongly accused!” The Nord was young, perhaps he hadn't even reached his twentieth year, and he was worried beyond belief at the possibility of execution. “You have to believe me, you said it yourself, I don't look like a spy!”

“And in my experience, the ones you least expect are the ones you need to watch out for.” There was a pause, Tullius was making his choice of punishment, oh joy. “Send this one to Markarth, let him mine silver for a few years.”

Drip... drip... drip... drip...

“You sick, vindictive Imperial dog, I'll see your home burned for this!” At last, the aged man began his way to the end of the hall, where the lycan was chained. Wouldn't be long before the moment of judgment.

“Who's next? Oh, this should be good: Reman, no last name, Imperial werewolf that surrendered while transformed and hasn't resisted at all.”

“I wonder why he just gave up.” That must have been the legate, some Nord by the sound of his voice. “If he's been so compliant, why does he have a guard posted around the clock to watch him?”

Drip... drip... drip... drip...

“I suppose we'll find out.” There was a tone in the old man's voice, something... odd, too difficult for Reman to place. The cells were close together, so it didn't take long at all to reach the lycan's. The young Imperial kept his head bowed, obscuring his face under his hair, but he could see enough to know that the general and legate were in front of his cell. “I must say, you're rather impressive, I've never heard of a werewolf with self control before.”

“They tell me that you scared off the carriage that you were in, care to tell me why?” Imperial's were the most sociable of the human races, even in a situation like this, one couldn't keep himself from probing for information.

“My lover was hiding inside, I did it to protect her.” Tullius chuckled in response, he definitely understood the sentiment. The old general paced back and forth, possibly thinking about the younger man than knelt before him, weighing the options he had been presented. “I can't say that I wouldn't have done the same, were I in your shoes. Was she worth all this trouble, even your possible death?”

“All that and more, sir, I only regret that I can't do it twice.” The two Imperials were at an understanding, though neither could see his kinsman's face, they bridged a certain gap between worlds. Perhaps it was slightly racist, but the old man had a good feeling about the lycan, and with the wave of a hand, he decided. There was the sound of scratching, the legate had written the punishment, if there was one, and the general merely had to inform the recipient. “I'll only fine you the standard five thousand septims, but I must see the face of the boy who reminds me so much of myself, first.”

“Thank you, General Tullius.” Reman looked the older man in the eyes, and watched as recognition dawn on his aged features. The Legionnaire turned white as snow, like he'd seen a ghost or some foul demon from the depths of Oblivion. Marcus recovered quickly, and tapped his colleague on his shoulder to gain his attention.

“Take a break, I can finish my rounds alone, today.” Hesitantly, the Nord nodded his head, leaving the two Imperials relatively alone in the dank dungeon. The wailing of the Stormcloak spy, and the curses of the vampire faded into the background as the two men looked at one another.
Reman was the first to speak, putting on his trademark smirk and bravado.

“This reunion has been a long time coming, hasn't it?”