Thank you for bringing me the news of his death.

I hope so, although I'm beginning to worry.

I knew something wasn't right. Thank you for telling me this, outlander. And thank you for disposing of the Argonian rabble that murdered him.

I knew something wasn't right. Damn those Argonians! Thank you for telling me this news, outlander, grim as it is.

He's a farmhand here, yes. I sent him to Bal Foyen to fetch some supplies, but he has yet to return.

Poor Ulves. He didn't deserve such a fate. I don't know how we're going to run this farm without his help. He was irreplaceable ever since my husband injured his leg.

Something happened to Ulves? Please, %PCRace, tell my husband Nols the news, whatever they might be. He's downstairs.

Ulves has been irreplaceable ever since my husband injured his leg. We couldn't run this farm without his help. I suppose he's still out on an errand.

Heem-Wan and Illisheeus killed him? I won't shed any tears over his death. He treated me badly. But... I would've preferred if these kinsmen of mine had helped me go free instead of kidnapping Ulves. One enslaver is dead, yes, but my life is no better for it.

He works for serjo Nols Alver.

We snatched him from the Alver plantation fields southwest of here. He had Argonian blood on his hands. He got what he deserved.

You utter fool.

Yes, get out of here. We will be gone soon, too. Someone is bound to come looking for him.

Yes. We will be gone soon. Someone is bound to come looking for him.

There are only two kinds of folks in the plantation fields -- slaves and slave-drivers. And this one sure as hell wasn't a slave. He was guilty.

Indeed. Now, please excuse us. We shouldn't linger here.

Keep your childish notions of right and wrong to yourself. Do you not understand the cruelties we have suffered at the hands of the Dark Elves? This was no low-minded murder -- this was retribution of the most moral order. There was justice in this violence.

We snatched him from the Alver plantation fields southwest of here. He had Argonian blood on his hands. We know it. So we killed him.