Dressed in finery and exuding elegance, Simon and Serana entered the Blue Palace together.
This ancient castle gave off the grand impression of a Gothic cathedral. Contrary to its appearance and name, its interior decor was actually black and white. Under the erosion of time, the white limestone had turned slightly yellow, its surface filled with wrinkles and fine cracks, while the dark green diabase porphyry remained as striking as ever, only polished smoother and more oily.
The side wing they were heading to was on the right. Passing through the corridor, they reached the central hall. Looking up, there was a beautiful translucent vaulted ceiling. The Jarl's throne was on the second floor, accessible via a staircase. A guard asked for his business, and Simon said he was going to the side wing. Hearing this, the soldier grew angry. "Sir, Madam, please do not entertain those pointless rumors. The Blue Palace is very safe, with nothing unusual. Under the glory of the High King, no ghostly business will occur!"
"Heh, you don't even believe that yourself as you say it, do you?"
The guard was at a loss for words.
"Do you have the key? I want to investigate," Simon said in a deep voice.
"I don't, but I know who does. Please wait a moment, friend." The guard winced slightly and went to find a maid, returning with a key.
"Thanks."
Simon gave him a slight nod, and the guard felt rather flattered.
Serana let out a "Wow," saying, "You really are quite charming."
"You flatter me."
Simon nodded. Of course, if every word you spoke carried the effect of Master-level Illusion, you could be a heartthrob for everyone too.
The Pelagius Wing's entrance was a narrow mahogany door. Opening it and stepping inside, there was surprisingly light; the candelabras were still lit. However, the place was a mess, with cobwebs covering the walls, tables and chairs overturned, and potted plants withered, their branches stretching toward the newcomers like the arms of a Draugr.
Serana covered her nose. "What a heavy smell of dust. I bet this place hasn't been cleaned for three years."
"Perhaps even longer."
Simon wandered around with her, heading toward the second floor. Passing through web after web and going deeper, Simon was suddenly burned by the hip bone held in his palm.
Serana shouted, "Hey..."
Simon could no longer hear clearly. The next moment, he vanished from the spot. A sharp pain in his eyes forced him to close them. The pain came quickly and left just as fast. When he opened his eyes again, he found himself in a misty, withered pine forest. It was a barren plain, the temperature not too cold, with several megalithic archways scattered through the woods, looking like a site for some ritual.
In a clearing in the woods was a long table piled high with food and drink, the aroma mouth-watering. A flamboyant, eccentric old man sat on a throne, chattering away to a blonde Nord man opposite him. Simon looked down at himself; he was wearing rustic cotton clothes, buckled sheepskin boots, and a walrus-skin hat. Although this outfit seemed very country to him, in Tamriel, it was considered noble fashion.
However, the things he carried, including the copper umbrella, were gone. The Pure Land did not respond either. He understood that he had left reality and entered a dream.
The eccentric old man stood up and warmly greeted the Nord guest. "More tea? Pelagius, my dear?" He was thin, looking like an old fellow hollowed out by time. His eyes were a cloudy grayish-white, appearing blind yet shining brightly. His shoulder-length hair and beard were grizzled and neatly groomed. His clothes were strange—red on the left half and purple on the right, covered in spindle-shaped patterns like eyes, resembling the costume of a court jester.
The Nord guest sighed. He had dashing blonde hair, but it was a mess. His skin was tanned dark and shiny, yet his complexion was pale, with heavy bags under his eyes and obvious dark circles. He spoke listlessly, "Forget it, I don't feel right drinking it. Besides, I have things to do. Those contrarians, pranksters, and slanderers—I have to deal with them. My executioner hasn't slept for three days."
Simon walked over to the table. The old man's throne occupied one side alone, while three chairs were on the other side, with three sets of tableware on the table, as if it wasn't meant for just one guest.
Seeing the newcomer, the old man shouted, "Hahaha, hum-hum-hehe, welcome, welcome!" He beamed at Simon, then turned and yelled at the Nord man, "Hey, you can go take a rest first!" The man was whisked away by a purple vortex and disappeared.
Simon asked, "You seem to know me?"
That eccentric old man was none other than the Mad God, Sheogorath. He tended to get excited when speaking, and when he did, his voice became raspy and piercing, though it was actually mellow and rich when he spoke calmly.
"Do I know you? Why don't you guess who I am first? Ha, I bet you definitely won't guess—"
Simon: "Sheogorath."
"Gah?!" The Mad God's smug words were cut short. He got angry. "Oh! Fine, fine, fine! A tough character has arrived, a hard case. Heh, do you think I'll be afraid? I never will! You want to challenge me? Then I accept!"
Simon: "I never said that."
"What!!!" He opened his mouth wide—his grayish lips expanded abruptly, looking like they could swallow a cow without effort—like a megaphone. "Say it again! Say you want to challenge me!"
Simon: "To challenge me."
"Scary! Fine, I challenge you, fine, fine!" The Mad God laughed strangely. "In that case, we don't need to worry about poor Emperor Pelagius III. Let's change locations. Right now, as soon as I pack my essentials."
Simon: "Don't tell me you want to go into my head."
"Ooh! As expected of you! Oh, wait for me, hmm, let's see. Clothes, got 'em. Beard, got it. Luggage... wait, where's my luggage? It was right there, such a big one!" As he spoke, he waved a hand, and an Oblivion Gate opened in the clearing. The old elf, Dervenin, stepped out.
"Master, it's you. Are you finally willing to go back?"
Sheogorath was furious. "Who said that! I'm not going back. I don't want to deal with Jyggalag's pile of crap. I'm just going to the next scenic spot in life, that's all!" With a point of his finger, he turned Dervenin into a small brown leather suitcase, walked over, and picked it up, looking full of ambition, like a miserable worker finally on vacation, ready to see the sights in a new environment.
Simon sighed. "You haven't asked if I agree."
"Hmm? Are you talking to me? Are you serious? I don't need anyone's consent! But, hey," Sheogorath suddenly acted like a refined gentleman. "I am very polite. May I invite myself for a trip into thy brain?"
"I want to know the whereabouts of numidium."
"Deal! Splendid, I accept! Ha, I'll tell you where He is, but let me think first..." Sheogorath made a figure-eight gesture with one hand, his slender fingers pressing against his lips, pulling at the corners of his mouth. His eyes bulged, and his expression was very unnatural, as if he were laughing wildly, yet also like the struggle of someone dying of a sudden illness.
Simon frowned. Looking at this face, various hallucinations appeared in his mind—a familiar experience. The information impact from a higher being on a lower being's mind caused an information overflow.
Sheogorath's music was death metal, frantic rock, yet at a certain moment, a rest note would suddenly hit. Amidst the lingering hum, that grotesque face became clearer and clearer.
In a daze, Simon heard a raspy voice shouting: "Who lives in a pineapple under the sea? SpongeBob SquarePants!"
-------------------------
If you enjoy this story, you can read 70+ advanced chapters on Patreon!
Webnovel will keep getting 1 new chapter every day but Patreon readers can stay far ahead.
Maybe it's not a big deal now… maybe it will be later.
[email protected]/Greyhounds
"And If you're enjoying it, drop a Power Stone for me!"