Northbound Pilgrimage II

Chapter CXXXIV - Destiny

Aeyrin kept taking off her glove, staring at that beautiful ring glittering in the magical lights.

Their stay at the platforms remained surprisingly undisturbed, but once they got their rest in shifts, it was time to keep on marching again.

Getting out of the Silent City was no easy task. Once again, they found themselves with a few more wounds on them. After this adventure, they were in sore need of an experienced healer. But neither of them seemed to be particularly bothered by it. It was all worth it. Even though they still had no Elder Scroll, this excursion was so worth it.

Their next target was clear – they had already agreed.

Mzark.

It was the only place left on the road signs that they didn't know from the surface maps. Another place that was likely incased down here with no access to the world above. They had no idea if it was going to be another city or what it was going to be, but they wanted to check. And besides, the road to Mzark also pointed towards Raldbthar. If they needed, they could use it as their exit point, rather than marching all the way back to Alftand.

Bishop never ended up making his map. He wasn't even willing to part from Aeyrin's embrace for longer than necessary on those platforms. But it was likely useless anyway. They still had their directions.

It was a little concerning how woefully unprepared they were for a lot of opposition now.

Aeyrin had no armor. She only had her bracers and one thigh guard left. That and her underchain, broken in several places. She had to use the leather boots from her regular outfit, and as silly as it was, she kept adamantly avoiding any nasty puddles along the way. The good news was that the black water seemed drinkable – they had no other choice but to try since their supplies were dwindling steadily and water was first to go. But she wasn't so confident that it wouldn't forever stain her boots. She liked her outfit – it was very silly to be concerned about it in the midst of this dangerous dungeon, but there was no harm in being a little careful when she could.

Besides, the whole getup went well with her new beautiful ring. She couldn't stop looking at it every chance she got.

And at least they still had their weapons. Bishop's armor wasn't in a great state. It was holding up, but there were too many cuts in the leather for the plates to remain hidden. And there were too many cuts and tears all over the other parts, leaving him less protected than usual.

And that was all atop all the wounds, bruises, magical burns and muscle strain.

But it still all felt worth it.

Bishop couldn't help but smile every time she removed that glove and admired the ring. He had so many disastrous scenarios running in his head ever since he bought it – how she would reject him, how she freaked out she would get about the notion alone. But none of that happened. He could barely believe that she was really as excited as he was about this.

Despite their current state, they felt ready for anything.

They continued on their path, towards Raldbthar, towards Mzark. It was a familiar routine by now – a stray Falmer here, a chaurus there. There were even some of those large automatons along the way, but they seemed inactive. And Bishop didn't forget to quip about how their 'arms' looked so much different than those they saw on the presumably dirty Dwemer book from Alftand. He even pointed out that he could translate it now, with their riddle solved. Though it would all just be in Dwemeris anyway and they wouldn't understand a thing.

It took several hours, but finally, the road signs pointed towards an actual structure, identifying it as 'Mzark'. Much to their relief, it was not another large complex, not another city beneath the earth. It was a tower. It was much larger than the first one – it was more on par with the one going all the way up to the ceiling in Silent City. But this one was only a lone structure. There must have been something important about it to warrant the road sign.