Okay, so –

First of all, even the bigger of these two gold piles is like two and a half feet deep at most. That might be pretty deep as far as mountains of gold go, but it’s shallow enough that any swan dive would be a faceplant.

Second, piles of tightly-packed metal pieces don’t exactly move around like water. This means it would still be a faceplant, except a faceplant onto metal, two and a half feet earlier than expected.

And third, growing up in the desert never taught you how to swim. So even if the pile were deeper, and sheer force of will could cause the coins to flow around you, you’d just drown in a giant pool of money. Really, every part of this plan is bad and it bothers you that swimming in the gold is the most prominent thought on your mind.

You’ve got to approach this strategically. Grabbing an appropriately grocery-sized bag from the storage room, you position yourself low to the ground, placing the bag adjacent to the huge stack of gold coins. With this optimal and carefully-planned setup, filling the bag should be a piece of cake. You’ve just got to scrape at a few of the coins on the surface and let them tumble in, where they will legally become part of your giant bag of money.

You really shouldn’t be having so much trouble with this, especially as a Khajiit.

You, ah… guess that does make it a little better. Sigrid took 22 septims from you, and you want to bring Quill-Weave back 30 septims to replace the money she gave you on your first failed trip to Kvatch, plus maybe 200 to replace that invisibility potion you lost, and… 50, to fix her windows and walls? You’ve never paid for windows before, but there’s like, the two glass parts, and probably some complicated thing they have to do to get them into the holes. Usually your area of expertise, but not with fragile glass panes.

Anyway, that’s 302. The Mages Guild will cover your basic living expenses, but you want to give yourself some reward for breaching the barrier between realities and defeating an evil sorceress, so you add an extra thirty. Making off with a sack full of money didn’t sit right with you, but the notion of taking 332 septims as payment is much more comfortable. That’s probably not even a full bag, so you’re not really abusing the contract, just taking what you need, and maybe deserve.

Additional resource credits:
Connor D – programming
Caliber – programming after the discovery
that HTML5 is way different from Flash
AMKitsune – web integration
Makkon – a background
Xiode – a song

No.

Anyway-

You doubt the local guards would be willing – or allowed – to abandon their post and escort you all the way back to Quill-Weave’s. However, Asotil did say they’d have a copy of his patrol schedule. If you understand right, he travels back and forth between the two towns every day, so it will be easy to join him on the trip as long as you know when he’ll be arriving at Kvatch.

Of course, before you leave you still need to buy Quill-Weave a new copy of this grammar book you defaced, and you still probably have at least an hour before the bookstore opens. If nothing else, though, a solid plan begins to form in your head: visit the bookstore, get the patrol schedule from the town guard, and head back to Quill-Weave’s. It feels good to have everything back on track.

I mean, you’re honestly pretty proud of how well you managed to re-wrap Quill-Weave’s package, and don’t want to do your usual thing where you mess stuff up once it’s good. Plus, Quill-Weave is an author, so she probably likes to get her books super new and unopened so she can do the thing with them. You know, the bendy thing. Book people do it.

If you want to read the book, though, there’s literally another copy of it right here on the shelf. You take Principles of Restoration and add it to your inventory, since you’re a Mages Guild member and can do that.

You’re starting to get what Sigrid was saying earlier. If you were a violent and evil wizard, you kinda feel like the sheer convenience of the Mages Guild would deter you from working against the Empire.

… huh, yes it is.

In the spirit of evil wizards, you go ahead and take the book on how to do zappy lightning fingers.

You, ah… guess you do have to take a bunch of gold before you leave. Like, that’s totally a thing that has to happen.

It just feels weird. Like, you’ve definitely got your insatiable Khajiiti instincts telling you to grab as many of the shinies as you can carry, but they’re buried beneath layers and layers of social training telling you that you should feel guilty about that and you will go to jail if you touch it. But, you also have a signed contract telling you this is 100% okay and to just… have at it. It is perfectly fine for you to follow the instincts. This is a thing you can do.

You confirm that, yes, you do have a signed contract telling you this is okay.

You’re gonna do it. You’re gonna touch the money.

You just… have to find the right angle.

Additional resource credits:
Squiggles – clutter
Makkon – uncomfortable/sidebar katias

Ordinarily you’d be all over the idea of getting a fresh-cooked meal from complete strangers, but you literally just ate a slab of raw venison about thirty seconds ago. And that’s after eating a gallon of mashed imp organs, an unusually large potato, another slab of venison on your way down into the ritual chamber, maybe a few spiderwebs, half a sweetroll, and an entire fish. Honestly, you’ve gotten so fluent at wordlessly eating everything you walk past that it actually might be time to reel this once-useful survival instinct back a little.

Anyway, you are on a mission. You came in here to get Quill-Weave’s package back, not be distracted by every trivial thing that pops into your mind.

Ah, although, there is maybe one itsy-bitsy sidequest you can justify.

Your purple thief duds are still tucked away in a barrel outside, so you’ll pick them up on your way out. But if all the things Sigrid took from you the other day are still here, that means somewhere on this floor is-

Aha!

Okay, wow, this is actually way too much clothing for once. You stow the invisibility cloak in your inventory for the time being; you’ll figure out some tasteful way to combine your outfits later. For now, you are on a quest to get Quill-Weave’s package back, and nothing will stop you.

Huh, nothing stopped you.

I mean, you didn’t want something to stop you, but at this point you were kind of expecting it. You guess everything is just back on track now.

You’re somewhat conflicted over it. On one hand, things are going eerily well and you don’t trust it. In your experience, moments like this only exist to raise your hopes up long enough to dash them, or cause you to fall into super-obvious traps due to overconfidence. Narratively speaking, you’re basically fucked.

But, on the other hand, all the things happening to you right now are actually pretty… normal. Someone who learns magic would usually end up in the Mages Guild and be given free room and board. Someone who helps a wealthy sorceress out of a mind-control spell would usually be given a big reward. Someone looking for a package while knowing the exact room it was stored in would usually find it. None of these “strokes of luck” are actually that lucky; they’re just kind of what would happen to a normal person in your position. Assuming that the universe is actively out to fuck you over might be overestimating how much the universe actually cares about you.

Or worse: worrying that this is some ominous sign of impending doom might be sapping all the joy from what is essentially you achieving all your dreams.

You explain your feelings to the daedra and ask what she thinks. She says this topic is a little heavy for her, and she was actually hoping to head down to that barbecue. She saw some corn cobs out there, so she was gonna go demonstrate an X-rated method of making popcorn then disappear back to Infernace before the Nirn Police can get her for public indecency. You thank the daedra for her brutal honesty and tell her this conversation has provided a new and uncomfortable perspective on how you probably come across to others.

You’re hardly an expert on conjuration, but you don’t think you’d get much from just blindly exploring the skies with your magic-vision. The only reason you were able to reach the Soul Cairn was because you knew the exact six stars to look at and how far to follow each of them along their… length? And even then, it wasn’t as though you were just flipping through a four-dimensional stack of planes connected by star-tubes: each star was like its own coordinate, and you were perfectly able to find planes that were at the same position along five of the stars and a different position along the sixth. You can barely wrap your giant cat head around the sheer scale of it, but one thing is for certain: probability of finding anything out there by chance is extremely low.

But… you probably should study conjuration a bit more now that you’ve learned the basics. On the off chance things do suddenly go horribly wrong and your entire world comes predictably crashing down around you, it would be pretty handy to have on-call protectors you can just pull to Nirn whenever you want. Plus, you’re in the Mages Guild now. After you pick up a new copy of that grammar book and take it to Quill-Weave, you guess reading books and learning to cast spells all day is… basically your job?

There is also a lot of non-conjuration magic you could study.

Additional resource credits:
Squiggles – clutter
AMKitsune – stars

It’s a beautiful sunrise!

Also, someone across the street is cooking breakfast on a smoky outdoor grill. You have a good feeling about today.

Oh, before I go, could I get you to sign this form saying that actually I am in the Mages Guild, the bag of gold I’m about to get was voluntarily given to me, and this isn’t some elaborate scheme to betray me and crush my tiny Khajiiti heart?

Sigrid finds the precaution somewhat tedious, but concedes that it’s probably justified given she’s betrayed you in an elaborate scheme every day since you met. Why’s the contract written in imp gall on a page of nightwriting?

You tell her it’s because she took your only pencil and paper. You hadn’t really thought about it until now, but makeshift papers and writing utensils are pretty much the main thing your inventory items get used for. It’s actually kind of amazing how much simpler your life will become once you own a notebook and pencil.

Merry Saturalia, then: you can keep this pen. Anyway, since I’m the ranking member at this Guildhall, my signature on this should be sufficient proof of your Guild membership. It won’t be one-hundred-percent official until I get the papers to the Imperial City, but I’ll send them with the next patrolling guard. Unless you’re headed that way?

Nah, I’ve got a courier job taking me the opposite way, back to the coast. A friend’s waiting for me, so I kinda want to get that finished rather than taking up a zillion more quests. You know, one thing at a time.

And speaking of quests…

You rip your quest log in half to create a fancy new Completed Quests section. The whole Sigrid thing is clear, and joining the Mages Guild is clear. Just to fill the list a little more, you mark the dance competition as clear too, since it requires an arena raiment; yours was shot with ice bolts, set on fire, soaked in blood, pierced full of holes, and torn apart to make a plate for a dog. Rest in peace, Kvatch arena raiment.

Other than some miscellaneous stuff like punching Rajirra for being a dick and apologizing to Captain Atrum for being a dick, it looks like your top priority is buying the replacement book, meeting up with Asotil, and heading back to Quill-Weave’s. You’ve been dealing with this Kvatch stuff for so long that it feels almost surreal to have everything… just moving forward.

Sigrid, by the way, is there like a loan program or something for the magic books upstairs? Can I take some with me, learn all the spells, and become the best wizard ever?

Probably no to most of that, Sigrid says, but the books are public Guild property so you’re free to take what you need.

And alchemy equipment, am I allowed to take a full set of it? Like, with the burny thing, the grindy thing, the tubey one, and the other?

If you take the Guild rules completely literally, you can take as many sets as you want. The government doesn’t care. You know, this would be a lot easier if you’d just act like a Khajiit.

I know, I know, I’m sorry. Anyway, you said I could take “silver daggers”. Was that a hyperbole, or are they like the alchemy equipment where I can just kind of take as many as I want?

Really, Sigrid says, just take whatever. You’re starting to make it very embarrassing to have lost a magic duel to you.

Sorry, I’m just excited that all this hassle finally has a silver lining.

She got it! Did you get it?

You know, Sigrid, without all the weird megalomania-inducing mind control stuff, you’re really not that bad. Sigrid points out that she’s done nothing but encourage you to steal things and abuse public services. Okay, you say, so you’re objectively bad, but I still feel like you’re the kind of person I could conceivably be friends with. Like, someday. It’s been like thirty minutes since we were enemies, so my emotions are complicated. And possibly influenced by a charm-magic hangover, but I think I hope not?

Iiiiii’m just gonna leave before I make this weirder by continuing to talk. Sorry. Bye.

You’re not “likely to get robbed”. People travel between adjacent towns all the time without getting robbed, and just in case you’re somehow the exception, you already set up a plan to go with Asotil or another patrolling soldier traveling the same road. Random highwaymen aren’t going to pose any threat when you have an Imperial Legionnaire watching your back.

Tonight should be all the proof you need that the universe isn’t completely out to get you, and that sometimes, things turn out alright. While you’ve certainly learned an important lesson about caution, that doesn’t mean you have to expect everything in your life to backfire disastrously.

Huh, what’s that orange glow coming from outside?

So, ah… are we cool now? Are you, like, not evil anymore?

I think it would be a misnomer to call me evil, Sigrid says. But, with hindsight, and lacking several thousand septims worth of charms, I’ll concede my actions do seem a lot less tasteful. Would you believe this expensive falling cage trap once felt like a brilliant idea? Now the whole thing just seems chintzy and cliché.

This is actually my first falling-cage-trap experience, so I’m not a good judge. Can I leave?

Hm? Oh, yes, I figure we’re pretty much done here. While it’s certainly interesting how easily you overcome charms, I think we can all agree it’s not “interrogate you in a cage” levels of interesting. I am going to reactivate some basic wards, however, in case you jump out and punch me.

There are a lot of little voices in the back of my head kinda screaming for it. I mean, that’s it? You were being affected by your own charm spells, perfume, and magic clothing, and now that they’re all gone you’re just… letting me walk?

Is it that surprising? As I said, you’re one of the rare few to have broken through these sorts of charms, so you should know what it’s like to realize everything you’ve been doing is inane and stupid. Not only that, but you used charm magic not even twenty minutes ago. Did you not see what it can do to one’s self-perceptions?

I… yeah, but I was shoveling raw imp gall into my face, basically doing the alchemy equivalent of mixing a drink in my mouth. You were using some professional charm perfume made by bigshot Telvanni wizards. Turning the user into an egotistical megalomaniac seems like a pretty big design flaw for them to…

Okay, no, this… this explains everything I’ve ever heard about the Telvanni.

You never once found it strange how many of them are married to clones of themselves, Sigrid asks?

I’m sorry, I’m realizing a lot of obvious things about dark elves tonight.

So like, what’s the plan for the rest of the Telvanni Bug Musk? Or all the crazy charm-enchanted gear?

Well, the leylines on the dress and undergarments were no doubt shattered when I literally ripped them off my body. Nords may have no concept of shame, but that doesn’t mean we can just blink clothes off the way you do. Those rings and bracelets simply have wards and absorption spells, so I’d like to hang onto them. As for the charm boots, and the rest of the Bug Musk… given what they turned me into, I’ll probably just sell them.

That, ah, seems like a really irresponsible way to dispose of super-powerful magic items?

Charm magic is common practice, Katia, and the entire spell school isn’t going to miraculously vanish off the face of Nirn if I burn some shoes. Any trained illusionist with a free weekend could learn the incantations, and any enchanter with a soul gem and some magetallow candles could imbue it into clothing. Charm magic isn’t exactly rare or difficult, and if it were, mages would simply resort to different, more destructive methods of bending others to their wills.

Welcome to wizardry, where people with awful ideas and no social skills invoke supernatural forces to gain power and respect. Almost makes you want to tap out and start a little shop selling healing potions.

Wow, that’s… pessimistic. I mean, it’s not like every wizard is an evil jerk like you who wants to control everyone. Even the ones who learn mind control stuff, there’s probably a lot who use it responsibly, to like, stop bad people and make the world a better place.

You mean exactly how I was attempting to use it? You’re new to the practice of magic, Katia, so let me give you a lesson I apparently forgot: there’s no such thing as “good” or “evil”, just “powerful” and “powerless”. For their own safety, powerless people will work together in something we mistake as “good”, whereas those with access to power will stomp on whoever they can in the pursuit of some perceived greater good.

So how about this: if you want to use powerful magic to make the world a better place, I’ll allow you to put my expensive magical equipment in the deepest part of a cave and then fill the cave with deadly traps. That way, the traps can take care of all the other mages who want to “make the world a better place”, and we’ll actually get something good from it.

I mean, I’m just saying, I totally used your own mind control stuff against you to stop your evil reign and save Kvatch, so… fuck you, I’m right, magic is awesome.

Oh, right! In the commotion, you hadn’t even considered what happened to the skeleton. Feeling a little guilty about that, you quickly reach out with your magic to check in.

Just like the first time you contacted the skeleton, you are hit with an immediate wave of happiness. You can feel the skeleton’s thankfulness that you would contact CairnCorp^®, and curiosity at how your will can best be served today.

You concentrate on the fact that you’re fine, and that you don’t need anything. You just wanted to thank it for its help and make sure it was okay after that big magical explosion. Both it and Sigrid’s daedra kind of disintegrated, so you’re not sure what happened to them.

The skeleton warmly reassures you that there is nothing^† to worry about. It is currently in the Chapel of Health receiving newly-molded replacement parts so that it – like all^‡ CairnCorp’s^® convenient models – can be in optimal condition for the next time you are in need of The Maker’s^® holy aid^‡†.

So like, this is an ongoing thing? Any time I need a second skeleton, I just follow the stars to this plane and dial you?

A star tesseract is a perfectly suitable conduit used by many conjurers, but CairnCorp^® is also glad to offer compatibility with binding circles and other liminal bridging techniques, as per your needs and tastes. Since this was your first summon with a new account, you should find an informational packet from CairnCorp^® nearby, explaining the exciting perks of your free CairnCorp^® Conjurer Account. In this packet you’ll find your basic account information, safe^‡‡ summoning tips, and an Ideal Mastercard^® used to access your complementary savings account. Your account has a current withdraw limit of 5000 septims (75300 Akaviri roundmarks) a day, although this will increase by 1000 (15060) for every CairnCorp^®-brand soul gem you use for enchanting.

You ask what the black, squid-looking thing is. The skeleton tells you that new applicants also receive a free plush Wraithhorse. Since CairnCorp seems amenable to feedback, you note that a skeleton made out of plush fabric doesn’t really work all that well. So on the conjuring, I can seriously just call on you no matter where I am, any time of day?

In any plane of existence as well, the skeleton notes – although using star tesseracts, you’d have to know the plane’s skies. Your free CairnCorp^® Conjurer Account entitles you to check out one Soul Cairn^® denizen at a time, at your own mana expense. If you are a career conjurer, however, you may consider filling out form A-26 and upgrading to a Platinum Account, which allows the simultaneous summoning of up to six Soul Cairn^® denizens and is available for the low price of your soul.

Thanks, you think to the skeleton, but you’re good for now. You’ll keep the offer in mind.

By the way, do you have a name?

The skeleton uneasily tells you that individuality like that doesn’t have a place in the Holy Ways of the Makers^®. It is simply a skeleton.

Okay, it’s just, calling you “the skeleton” or “it” feels really impersonal. You kinda saved my life back there, and all of Kvatch. Can I give you a name?

The skeleton isn’t comfortable with how this relationship is progressing. It’s going to file a request with the Keeper to have a different skeleton take over your account from here on out.

Did I, ah, mess this up?

Hey, Sigrid, I don’t usually win things and I’m not sure how to handle this. The other day you took a robe, a package, and a purse of gold and stuff from me. Since I beat you in a magic duel am I, like, allowed to go get that now?

Sigrid says that you’re technically burgling her home, so “allowing” wouldn’t be the appropriate word for it. This place is covered by Guild insurance, though, and your entire goal is apparently to take roughly thirty septims’ worth of goods, so she won’t oppose you if you finish what you came here to accomplish.

Okay, but like, can you tell me where the things are? Or give me a key? I always expect this post-battle victory stuff to be easy and intuitive, but instead it’s just really awkward and everyone is naked. You know there’s a bunch of robes in that crate right next to us, right?

Don’t be gross, Katia, those are necromancer robes. Anyway, I’m still the ranking member of this Guildhall and I don’t want to deal with the aftermath of aiding in its burglary. But, I also don’t really want to take any accountability for robbing you earlier, so if you’re good with calling this square as-is, I’m just going to fill out a New Applicant form and say you joined the Mages Guild last night. Welcome to the wonderful world of professional wizardry. Here’s your key, and help yourself to any silver daggers, calcinators, and various items that may or may not have been “left” upstairs. The gold would be in the pile with the rest, so just take a sack of it to cover losses.

I, ah, I’m still processing the “joined the Mages Guild” part, but when you say “sack”, are you talking like “coin purse” or “laundry bag”?

You know, a money sack. The type people offer you huge amounts of money in when they perceive you as an apex of compassion and amenability within the local community.

So like, a grocery bag? I don’t have a frame of reference for this and I’m scared.

Sure, yes, that’s fine. Just don’t take everything; if this ordeal is any indication, I’ll probably have to give a good amount of it back as reparations, apologies, and other unfortunate yet inevitable consequences of magical competence. Let’s not leave me with any additional problems beyond what I already have.

And just to check: this isn’t some horrifying, hope-crushing trap? Like, you’re saying I can go upstairs, get my stuff back, and literally take a grocery bag full of gold?

Sigrid admits that she thought about signing you up for the Mages Guild and running away while you weren’t looking so you’d have to handle all the fallout of what she’s done, but she should probably just stop being a horrible person while she’s ahead. Perhaps it’s residual charm effects, or perhaps it’s simply the terrifying fact that you’re not grabbing the boots and Bug Musk to make her give you everything, but a grocery bag full of gold feels fair.

And you’re not mad at me for ending your evil reign?

She says that it was probably inevitable anyway, and at least this way she avoided a dramatic “what have I become” moment and was instead defeated in a nude mime fight over thirty gold. She’d say this was a victory for everyone involved.

And… I’m actually in the Mages Guild now? I can, like… go here or any Mages Guild in the world, read the books, eat the food, and sleep in the beds?

If it sounds too good to be true, Sigrid says, remember that the government basically funds this to keep mages from going on angst-fueled killing sprees against the people who shunned them, and is only giving them food and education in the hopes they’ll direct their sociopathy away from the Empire.

I like the official tagline more: “the collection, preservation, and distribution of magical knowledge with an emphasis on ensuring that all citizens of Tamriel benefit from this knowledge”. I totally had a page from the charter hung on my wall when I was little.

But, ah, on that note, is the skeleton thing I did back there gonna cause problems? I heard about the guild recently banning necromancy, and I’m not sure if, like, I’m a necromancer now.

Sigrid explains that the official rules say that the Soul Cairn falls on the “okay” side of the line, since the Ideal Masters reanimated those creatures and you’re simply summoning them. For the most part, people will just be astounded you were willing to tolerate the paperwork and bureaucracy. Most conjurers prefer to pull from the Deadlands, which is like a house with no locks and an owner who’s constantly angry that people are constantly stealing his pets and silverware. Or Infernace, which is more of a… laid back Soul Cairn.

A “laid back Soul Cairn”?

You are pretty sure there was some really good reason you weren’t supposed to talk right now, but at the same time you know Sigrid is using mind-altering alchemy bullshit and it’s probably filling in some of the blanks like it did last time. You kind of feel like you should be standing up to her as an independent person who doesn’t deserve to be ordered around like a slave, but you’re also pretty sure you only feel that way about yourself because you just ate half a barrel of magical charisma-slime and it’s screwing with your head. Everything Sigrid wants makes sense, but it also doesn’t feel right that she can bark commands at someone as smart, as pretty, as… infallible as you are. Even the imp gall running down your chin is coming across as badass and rugged-looking rather than disgusting, but since it was just a raw ingredient, you probably only have like twelve seconds before this effect wears off and

You know, Katia, without all the charm magic… I come across as somewhat douchey, don’t I?

Yeah, you’re kind of an asshole.

Additional resource credits:
Akunim
Zokva
Cider
Rawrunes
Guoh
Squiggles
AMKitsune

Additional resource credits:
Cider – some of the art
Rawrunes – also some of it

You experience the unnerving sensation of feeling happy to see yourself, slowly parsing that a new mind has entered your telepathic connection. The skeleton greets the Keeper. The skeleton considers your situation: you need additional time to fill out the registration paperwork, but are in immediate danger of being mind controlled. Yes, they are already equipped for magic resistance, the skeleton thinks. The aggressor is exercising mind control through a pheromone called “Telvanni Bug Musk”. The skeleton waits as the Keeper ponders your predicament. Just like the skeleton, the Keeper has never encountered such a situation. It’s moving this down to Corporate.

The Keeper feels a wave of happiness, like an old friend just walked through the door. It thanks the skeleton for contacting Regional, and wonders how it can best serve it today. The skeleton explains the situation. Listening carefully, the Keeper suggests utilizing a magic resistance potion or spell to buy additional time for the paperwork. The skeleton notes that this was tried, but the aggressor is using atypical mind control methods – a pheromone they called “Telvanni Bug Musk”. The Keeper ponders your predicament. It has never encountered such a situation before, and isn’t sure the best way to proceed. Hold on, I’m going to push this down to Corporate.

W-wait! Maybe you should, like, do the thing you were saying before, about being nice? Like, let me go for now, and later I can tell you all the secret details about how I realized I was being mind controlled? Sigrid replies with something about how she’s already been very nice and you’re the one who keeps shooting it down. You have three sets of senses right now and it’s getting kind of super hard to keep track of, but you’re pretty sure she’s saying “no”. With the meager remainder of your attention you try to call her out as hypocritical, but she confidently replies with something or other about how you’re wrong and she’s right. Despite not hearing the details, you try to explain-

The blessed Maker® of the Soul Cairn® feels only removed dispassion as the skeleton and Keeper greet it with reverence. It wonders why its Holy Name was invoked, its slumber disturbed. The Keeper explains the situation: the skeleton is in contact with a conjurer who needs to fill out the registration paperwork, but is in immediate danger of being mind controlled. The Maker® considers that a magic resistance spell or potion may delay the aggressor and provide time to fill out the paperwork, but the Keeper passes along that you’ve already tried. The mind control is being exercised through a pheromone called Telvanni Bug Musk. Woah, hold the bone-phone. Did you say Telvanni Bug Musk? The Keeper confirms that the skeleton said you called it Telvanni Bug Musk. The skeleton corroborates. You note that, yes, that is what you remember it being called. Flippin’ fibulas, is this conjurer dealing with the damned Telvanni? Which Telvanni is it? If it’s Mistress Dratha, that witch owes me her soul, twice! Unless she’s somehow grown a second soul in the last 2500 years, I’m pretty sure that overglorified skeleton cozy is making a chump of us. Everybony chill a sec, the Maker® thinks, I’m maximizing the conjurer’s window.

Sigrid interrupts you to whisper that the soul fissures in glebe C have gone back up to full production. Wait, no, that’s not Sigrid, that’s someone else. You give a quick nod in response. Or wait, you don’t nod, it’s the- What was that, Sigrid asks? Ah, nothing, you struggle to say. I was just talking about how I think you might be looking at the situation wrong. No, I mean the nod. You were wasting more of my time with circular nonsense when you stopped and nodded. It’s, ah… force of habit, trying to flick hair out of my eyes? Anyway what I mean is that the thing you were saying before is right, but I think I’m… righter. Maybe you could talk about that for a little bit? This stalling is tiresome, Katia. It’s not as though I’m going to kill you; I just want us to speak as equals – even if I have to achieve it through alchemical means. Wait wait wait! If you do the mind control perfume thing to make me like you, I might… not be able to tell you why I disliked you. R… right? Sigrid says nothing. You realize you might have found an angle to delay her, and push it. Like, right now, I can talk at length about why I don’t like you and would try to resist your-

Through the conjurer’s sightless eyes, you gaze upon the magic-user before you. Even without her damnable Telvanni alchemy, she is quite clearly equipped for control. You count no less than three charm enchantments on her attire, most of them with physical activation switches for mana conservation – typical dark elf make. It’s not enough to conclude this is the sorceress who wronged you, but it’s close enough to be suspicious.

The conjurer protests slightly at your prominence in their thoughts, but you dismiss it for the time being.

Beyond the bound enchantments, there is one charm spell, definitely scroll-cast, and a few rudimentary wards. Running the sheer numbers, it’s impressive the conjurer is willfully standing against this witch as-is.

Reaching your magic through the sky until you see skeletons should probably make you uneasy, but for some reason, it just… doesn’t. In fact, you feel almost happy, like an old friend just came through the door and you want to give them a hug. You feel blessed that this friend chose to summon with CairnCorp^®, and are wondering how you can best serve them today.

You quietly ask the skeleton if it can hear you.

What was that, Sigrid asks?

While she speaks, you take note that you can hear yourself loud and clear, even in the noisy Chapel of the Arts auditorium. Which is weird, because you were never wondering if you could hear yourself, nor are you in an auditorium. If there’s interference with the connection, you realize, you could always nullify the tesseract and reestablish the leyline through a static magetallow array. You don’t know what any of these things mean or why you are thinking them. These… aren’t your thoughts.

Can you repeat that, Sigrid asks again, with the slightest note of frustration.

I was, ah, just wondering if you could hear me, you say, pushing the intrusive thoughts to the back of your mind. You lie and tell Sigrid that you’ve been very quietly responding to all the stuff she’s been saying for the last ten minutes, but it might have been too quiet for her to hear.

You can feel the foreign thoughts wondering if you’re still there, or if the liminal connection has degraded. Hold on, you think to yourself, struggling to untangle your own thoughts and senses from these new ones.