"You were supposed to go out scouting, Vivec."

"I did! I scouted up to the north."

"The north? Nerevar's contacts specifically said there were Nordic forces coming from the west. You know, where the Nords live. "

"... ah. Well, to be fair, I do retain things better when they're written down."

"Vivec, you backwater s'w –"

"Hey, hey! Watch your mouth, Voryn, there's a child present."

Dagoth Voryn promptly shut his mouth, dark eyes wide as he looked down at Vivec. He leaned slightly to his left, looking down at the boy standing quietly behind the other mer. It took him a moment, but he was able to summon back his typical coolness–only abandoned when his temper got the best of him, like a few moments ago–and looked over young Sil appraisingly. He looked back to Vivec, an already angled eyebrow raised even more.

"Congratulations. I suppose all that bawdy poetry you write paid off...well, twelve years ago, from the look of it."

There were several quips that came to mind–very good ones, actually–but there were much more important things at hand than starting to trade barbs with Voryn. "He's not mine," Vivec said plainly. "His..." He paused just before recounting the destruction he'd come across; poetic as it was, this wasn't the audience for it. "He's on his own. I thought..." He shrugged. "I thought he could stay with us. Figure it can't get much safer than..."

"Than a group of would-be rebels trying to capitalize on a civil war?" Voryn finished dryly.

"Than with Nerevar," Vivec corrected.

That gave Voryn pause, and he clasped his hands behind his back for a moment as he considered. Vivec watched him closely; Voryn could never keep his emotions off his face. He saw the ghost of a "no," the head tilt of a "Well, perhaps...", the twisted lip of a "Oblivion take you , Vivec." Finally, resignation crossed his face, and he gave a sigh. "He did keep you alive, didn't he?"

"Much to your chagrin, he did ." Vivec gives a wide smile to the older mer. "So I was thinking we..."

"We? We are doing nothing until Nerevar comes back," Voryn interjected sharply. He flicked a long strand of dark hair–unusual, for Chimer, but somehow terribly fitting for him–over his shoulder as he let out a breath. He leaned to the side again, looking down. "Have you a name, hla'kilam?"

"His na–"

"I didn't ask you, Vivec, I asked him ." Voryn's dark gaze met Sil's pale eyes.

Vivec stood tensely, ready to jump in if the boy started to turn in on himself from the pressure. He'd certainly give Voryn a talking to for undoing all his hard work thus far; bedside manner was just as important as...

"Sil, muthsera."

Oh. Well, nevermind, then.

Voryn nodded, casting an appraising eye over Sil. "You're a House mer, aren't you, Sil?"

This time, Sil didn't answer. Vivec gave a sharp huff.

"Voryn, this isn't the time to..."

"If you won't tell me what house, Sil, at least tell me where you lived."

Vivec blanched. "Voryn, that is exactly..."

"Ald Sotha." The words were barely a whisper, and Sil's hands had balled into fists. Without thinking, Vivec's arm was over his thin shoulders, even as it did little to loosen his stiff stance.

"Ald Sotha?" Voryn thought the answer over for a moment. "Then my apologies for my informality, serjo–you must be House Sotha, then. Quite a small house, as I recall. There's only..."

"Me." A hollowness had found its way into Sil's voice. "I'm the only one left."

For the first time, Vivec caught Voryn's gold face go pale. He mouthed only one? to himself, then looked up to Vivec for confirmation. He received a grim-faced nod in response. An uneasy silence followed; Voryn clearly wanted to ask for details, but even as cold as he was, it's not the sort of thing you ask in front of a traumatized child.

"I'll...see what I can do for now. We'll discuss this further when Nerevar and Alandro return," Voryn said stiffly, glancing up at Vivec with a silent but clear addition of, Take care of this.

Arm still around Sil's shoulders, Vivec put on a smile. "You know, a place to rest your head is one of life's foremost treasures, and I'm always very fond of sharing the wealth."

"Is that what you're calling it?" he heard Voryn mutter under his breath. He looked over, shooting a glare his way, then looked back to Sil.

"Anyway, why don't we get you set up in my tent for now, Seht?" He sent a final glance over his shoulder to Voryn as he guided Sil out of the canopied "war room"--as of right now, they were still...very much a merchant caravan, but hopefully that'd be changing soon–and out toward the small tent just outside of it.

As they walked, Sil's shoulders started to relax, and just as Vivec's arm dropped, he murmured, "Fourteen."

"What was that, Sil?"

"He...Voryn, said I was twelve. I'm fourteen."

Vivec blinked, and a disbelieving half-smile crossed his face. "I'll be sure to tell him so."

Sil gave a stiff little nod, brow furrowing. "You're rebels?" he asked quietly, looking up at him. Vivec tilted his head back and forth.

" Rebels is...such a bland way of putting it. We're restoring the order of things, operating as the true heirs of St. Veloth, as it were," he said. "Nerevar thinks if we get enough Chimer together–and the Dwemer, which even I think is a long shot–we'll be able to force out the Nords and claim Resdayn for ourselves again." He gave another smile. "I'm recording it all. By the time we're finished, I'll be Resdayn's very first Warrior-Poet."

Sil's nose wrinkled. "That's a contradiction."

"So's most of life. A lot of people ignore that; I embrace it."

Vivec pulled back the curtain to the small tent, gesturing inside. "And here we are. Set your bedroll wherever you'd like; I change where I sleep every few nights or so, so don't worry about that." He started to step back out to head back to the war room; Voryn probably ought to know all the details, and Nerevar definitely should once he was back. But he paused as he noted Sil standing very still, bedroll still on his back. He was about to mention that it was not as grand as a House mer's home, but comfortable–but...that wasn't what Sil needed. So instead, he dropped into a chair.
"Since I have you as my captive audience, I'm going to tell you a story, Sil."

Sil looked over at him, pulled out of his reverie. "About what?"

"I don't know yet. But I will once the story's done."

It was very dark once Nerevar and Alandro made their way back to the camp. They'd made headway with the Dwemer, from the sound of it; Nerevar was starting to talk about their king, Dumac, like he was an old friend. The good news, at least, was able to temper the shock once Vivec gave the whole story behind how Sil wound up with them.

"An entire house, gone," Voryn murmured, shock from earlier now plain on his face. Vivec looked over at him.

"I thought you'd like that," he said. "Seems like you're always complaining about this house and that. Just a few days ago, you were railing off about House Redoran."

"If House Redoran were to meet their end by their own foolishness, I wouldn't mourn. But for an entire House to be decimated in a single day–by a daedric prince, no less..." Voryn let out a breath. "It's sobering. It would be if it was Redoran, but it's even moreso with an inoffensive house like Sotha." He looked over at Nerevar. "Perhaps we ought to be cautious. I wouldn't be surprised if the strife in Resdayn's what attracted Dagon here."

Nerevar had stayed remarkably silent so far, arms crossed and fair brows drawn together in thought. At Voryn's mention of caution, though, he looked up.

"Our efforts are blessed by Azura," he said firmly. "Our trust in the Good Daedra have gotten us this far, and they'll see us through to the end." He sucked in his bottom lip, sitting back with a little less certainty in his expression. "But word ought to get out to the other Clans. As a warning, if nothing else." He looked up at Vivec. "How is he doing? The boy?"

Vivec shrugged. "As well as he can be, I'd say. Even a battle-hardened warrior would be crippled living through what he did; the fact that he hasn't given in to Sheogorath yet is remarkable." He shifted slightly from where he sat on the floor, uncrossing and recrossing his legs. "He healed me, you know. The ruinach managed a blow that could have been lethal, but..." He gestured to the smooth skin on his side. "Not even a scar, and he was still very deeply in shock." He glanced about the room. "I think he could be useful."

"A healing prodigy?" Alandro's eyes, bright as starlight, settled on Vivec. "Useful, sure. But a liability." He looked up at Nerevar. "This is no place for a child."

"He's fourteen," Vivec piped up. "He wanted me to mention it, since Voryn got his age wrong." He looked back to Nerevar. "Not much younger than I was when you picked me up for the cause."

"And look at what we have to deal with from that decision," Voryn muttered.

" Voryn . Vehk, sit down," Nerevar said, chiding the both of them. Vivec, half-risen and hand going for his sword, dropped back down to the ground with a huff as Nerevar continued, "Look, regardless of what we ultimately decide, we're not turning him out into the wilderness. He's at least staying with us until we can find somewhere safe."

" Nowhere is safe, not right now," Vivec said before anyone else can chime in. "At best, he ends up in a stranger's family. At worst, he's on the streets, and you all know as well as I that an untethered Chimer–even a boy–is fair target practice for any Nords." He looked up at Nerevar pleadingly. "I'll...I'll raise him. Or I'll at least look out for him until he's grown."

Both Alandro and Voryn scoffed at that. Nerevar, however, looked over him for a moment. There was a look that seemed dangerously close to pride in his face, but even the ghost of it was enough to give Vivec hope.

"Well, we'll ask him what he wants when we get to the next city," he said, neither confirming nor denying–a diplomat, even among friends. "In the meantime, Vivec, I'll hold you to that."

A wave of relief hit Vivec, enough to make him sag right there on the floor. " Thank you , Nerevar."

Voryn's dark eyes slid over to look at Vivec, then back to Nerevar. There was an argument on his lips, but clearly it wasn't strong enough to make its way out. Instead, his expression shifted to the smile he always wore when agreeing with Nerevar's ideas, and he said, "If he's a prodigy–and a House mer besides–then he can't be wholly left in the hands of a netchiman thug ." Despite the look Nerevar sent him at that, he continued, "I'll offer what I can to young Sil while he's with us, however long that may be."

Vivec bristled, but Nerevar's broad hand falling onto his shoulder kept him from speaking. "I'm certain the more of us that can help him, the easier he'll be able to make his way out of his grief." He gave a warm, curious smile. "Clearly the Three were looking after him that day. He must have quite the future ahead of him."

Vivec looked up at him, then let out a softer, but still relieved breath. Well, it wasn't terribly much to offer, but he could rest easy enough, at least for now.

They'd just moved shortly before Vivec had gone out on his scouting trip, so it would likely be a few weeks before they saw a city again–well, one above ground, at any rate; one of the many entrances to the Dwemer's domain, via unnatural mechanics, were nearby. Given how glad Nerevar was returning from his talks with them, perhaps an alliance wasn't quite as far-fetched as they'd thought.

There was still much to do above ground, at any rate. Despite the friction between them, Voryn and Vivec co-authored as many correspondences as they could–Vivec offering the words to stir others to action, Voryn giving the veracity via House Dagoth. There were also strategies to devise–Alandro was much better at it, admittedly, but they could hold their own as well–and information to gather from the surrounding area. And, of course, a young boy to mentor.

At the very least, Voryn's offer to aid with Sil wasn't a hollow promise to placate Nerevar–something he'd been guilty of much more than once. He was the more adept mage of the two of them, and even from different houses, it was clear the both of them were from a world that Vivec couldn't quite reach. It was probably a comfort, in a way, even if he couldn't see it.

But, for once in his life, Vivec really did focus on practicality. There was always a bed ready for Sil to rest his head, food enough to help him grow, and, most importantly, a friendly face always nearby. The boy was still serious and very quiet, but he never seemed to dislike Vivec, even when he was verbally musing over the turns of phrase he should use.

So it was quite a shock when Sil burst into the tent, with a quiet but fierce, "You're a liar ."

"I'm what?" Vivec, recovering after a more successful scouting expedition, looked up from his bedroll in drowsy surprise.

"You weren't born from an egg. Voryn says you're the son of a netchiman from the Bitter Coast." There was fire in Sil's face, as if he were confronting a grand injustice.

"Well, he wasn't there, was he?" Vivec started to lay down again, but sharp footsteps came over to him, and there was an indignant huff as Sil sat on the bedroll beside his.

"Tell me the truth ."

Vivec sighed, head falling back. Was he like this as a teenager? Certainly not. All the same, he pushed himself up to sit, crossing his legs and resting his arms against his knees. "You want the true story about me then?" He looked up as Sil gave a firm nod. "Very well. I was born to a netchiman and spent my youth growing up to the laughter and songs of the people in my village. As I grew, I became very good at sailing through the silt, but then I got very sick."

Sil had relaxed as Vivec spoke, fiery expression softening into relief.

"I was sick for a hundred years, and then I died ."

"Vivec! " His name came out of Sil in a burst of childish fury, voice breaking on the second syllable. How nice it was, seeing him act his age, even if it was only for a moment.

Vivec laughed, dropping back onto the bedroll. He folded his arms behind his head as he grinned up at Sil. "I've a lesson for you, Seht, so listen very closely: everything you hear, from every person, is a story, crafted by them. It's up to you to decide which ones you believe and which ones you don't." He shrugs. "Whether I came from a dreugh egg or a netchiman doesn't matter. Either way, I'm here now, speaking with you."

Sil made an irritated noise. "But then how do you know the truth? About anything?"

"You don't. That's what makes life interesting." Vivec rolled onto his side, cheek planted against his palm. "Here, I've a story for you, and you can decide if it's true or not."

Sil eyed him suspiciously, but didn't get up or protest.

"I was taught how to use a sword by a demiprince –the son of Boethiah, Fa-Nuit-Hen." As Sil opened his mouth to argue, he quickly continued, "And you need to listen to the whole story before you decide. Fair enough?"

Sil crossed his arms, a frown still firmly in place, but he nodded.

"So, as I was in my egg..."

"Stop! " 

----

Language notes:

hla'kilam - young man; hla + ekilam, lit. "little man"