Northbound Pilgrimage

Chapter LXV - The Life of the Party

"Stop looking at me like that."

Bishop growled at the wolf by his feet, eliciting a questioning whine from him.

"It's a necessary evil, alright?" he gestured defensively while he walked back towards the Blue Palace.

Karnwyr sniffed curiously at the top of the black boot where the irritatingly soft trousers met the leather.

"Yeah, I get it, it's weird. Now scram, you'll blow my cover," he scratched the wolf behind his ear briefly and waited until Karnwyr left him alone in front of the viaduct leading to the Palace gardens.

The crowd has diminished there considerably, but there was still that woman with her guard by the door.

He needed to get past them.

Fuck, the clothes were weirdly itchy... and too tight. Although, it was pretty funny that the pompous fops had to wear this shit all the time. He was sure that the tailors made it uncomfortable on purpose, just to spite the nobles.

He set out, sneaking along the dark stone wall towards the Palace's main entrance. It was time for action. Luckily, he came prepared. Gulum-Ei's stuff was expensive, but always reliable.

He crept right by the entrance to the Palace – a safe distance from the small crowd by the side doors. He pulled out the contraption from the pocket of his new long black doublet and looked it over once again. Who even thought to invent stuff like this? But somehow, it was perfect for what he needed to do.

He looked around until he spotted a large ceramic vase with some flowers by the wall. He threw the plants away and placed the oil lamp inside the vase, careful not to make a noise. The string attached to the contraption dangled from over the edge of the pot and he traced it along the wall, making sure that any view of it was obstructed by the surrounding viaducts. After all that was done, he crouched down and took out the flint from his pocket.

This was gonna be kinda fun.

As soon as he saw the first spark ignite the oil-soaked string, he quietly crept back towards the side entrance to the ballroom, waiting for his moment to come.

It didn't even take a minute.

A loud noise of shattering pottery and the sound of an oil explosion echoed through the gardens as everyone turned their heads towards the Palace entrance in shock. The guard, predictably, rushed towards the scene of the commotion.

Everyone clamored closer to see what happened.

This was his chance.

He ran towards the ballroom doors and slipped in as silently as possible.

"Sir... !" a man by the door started announcing him before he stopped abruptly. He looked Bishop over with an uncertain expression. "Who are you?" he asked after a while of hesitating.

"The fuck do you care?" Bishop scoffed at him. He walked away from the man immediately, scanning the ballroom for any signs of her.

He scoured the top floor, searching through the nobles there. He did hear them whisper something about her occasionally, but he was moving fast and he never really caught what they were saying – only the mention of 'the Dragonborn'.

She wasn't there.

He headed down the stairs until he finally spotted the pink dress through the crowd.

She was standing by the wall with Casavir. It looked like... he was comforting her.

Fuck. What did that mean? Did he tell her?