She turns, to see a Forsworn man, a veritable mane of untamed black hair spilling down his back. He's still armored like he expects his skin to turn away blades - that is, not at all.

"You know her?" the guard says, voice wary.

"Sure," he responds. "Lianda's an old friend. Exact opposite of an assassin. If she had issues with someone, she'd challenge them to open combat. Respectable, like that."

Her lips twitch into a faint smile despite herself. "Maeghin. It's been awhile. Glad to see you're same as ever."

He shrugs, and then turns to the guards. "Well? Let her in. I still owe her drinks."

The guards exchange glances, then seem to decide this is over their paygrade, and step aside.

Maeghin leads the way through, allowing Lianda her first look at Markarth in three years. The daily market still seems to be going, though people are nervous and subdued. The Silverblood Inn looms by the entryway, but Maeghin makes a face, says, lowly, "Sorry, but I need to take you to the Keep."

"Wasn't expecting anything else," Lianda reassures him. "We can catch up later."

He nods, and then keeps walking.

Lianda lets the conversation lapse into silence, turning over what she'll say in her head as they approach Understone Keep. She hasn't been into the building, but doesn't look around as she walks, instead keeping her gaze forwards.

Maeghin brushes their way past the Keep's guards, and one goes ahead of them to announce their arrival. (Maeghin does identify Lianda as the dragonborn, and the Champion of Meridia, but gives no other titles for her.)

There's a woman sitting on the Jarl's throne. She's tall, with straight black hair woven into a feathered headdress, and light brown skin painted with silver powder. Maeghin touches his right fist to his left shoulder as he enters the audience chamber, and Lianda nods to her - a sort of half bow, as she usually uses for the Jarls.

"My lady Aithne, I present to you Lianda at'Sharinda, dragonborn and Champion of Meridia. She is here to speak with you," Maeghin says.

Aithne gestures, and he steps back. She turns to look at Lianda, then. "Well met. I have heard your name on the wind before; you are well spoken of. What business do you have here?"

"The Jarl of Solitude requested that I come, to speak to you and your people," Lianda says, somewhat bluntly. "I represent myself, but she did ask that I let her know what has happened."

The Forsworn woman evaluates her, then nods. "Your honesty does you credit. Most would try to conceal their motives." She stands, descends the steps from the throne. "Come. Let us talk elsewhere. Maeghin, you may return to your duties. I will have you sent for when our guest is ready to leave my presence."

Maeghin repeats the fist-to-shoulder gestures. "Of course, my lady," he says, then turns and walks out without more than a glance at Lianda.

Aithne turns back to Lianda, then. "There is a private meeting room that would be more fitting for this, do you not think? I will have food and drink sent there." Before Lianda can respond, she gestures at a woman standing in the corner, who leaves.

"Thank you," Lianda says. "My journey has been long, and I appreciate the hospitality."

"It is no bother." Aithne strides off, clearly expecting Lianda to fall into step. "That was something we prided ourselves on, before this whole mess. No stranger turned away. Unfortunately, changing times made us forget who we were once."

"Kindness to strangers is a good value, and one more people should possess." Lianda keeps her voice neutral and light. "It is considered a virtue in Hammerfell, though many of the noble houses make more of a show of it than any actual sustenance."

"An unfortunate trait of many nobles," Aithne says, voice a bit wry. "But it is good to have values shared with at least one neighbor." They reach the meeting hall. Once they're in, Aithne seats herself casually at the head of the table, and gestures to a chair for Lianda. "Now. What would you ask of me?"

Lianda sits, and thinks. "I would like to know the truth of certain rumors, and your intentions for the people of the Reach - all people of the Reach - and your position with relation to the Civil War, the Thalmor, and the Empire."

"A long list." Aithne puts her elbows on the table, clasps her hands, and leans forwards. "I intend simply to help the people of the Reach live the best lives they can. Free from tyranny and war alike - assuming we are left alone. The recent troubles have drained this land of its resources, children, and spirit alike. I would remove us from at least one of those - we might not be able to do much about the dragons or vampires, but we can stand apart from the war."

She pauses as servants enter, bearing drinks and light fare, and once they're settled - and the same woman from before has stationed herself in the corner - she continues with: "The recent leadership did not allow the people to be as they wished - not even in as simple a question as their private worship. There was a man in the holding cells when I arrived, interrogated and slated for execution for the simple crime of having the wrong sort of amulet. Imagine! And they are worse towards the Old Gods of my people. As a Champion of the Glister Witch, surely you can sympathize."

Aithne pauses, takes a long sip. And then, in a softer voice: "I have no desire for revenge for the trespasses against my people. Peace and prosperity are my greatest callings. War is merely one path, and one I will only walk if my hand is forced." Her gaze sharpens. "But make no mistake. If the Empire turns against us, we will not make the following fight pleasant for them."

Lianda nods. "I understand your position. Still, there are troubling rumors about your rise to power…" And she recounts the tale of Aithne's ruthlessness upon seizing the city, and her execution of even bureaucrats.

"I do what I must," Aithne says. "And I don't tolerate those who would threaten this land. Still, the vast majority have been left alone - even though they grumble about it, and whine that I don't permit the same excesses the prior administration did."

Lianda takes a sip of her drink to give herself a moment to think - it's a Forsworn brew, taste sharp, and she didn't develop a taste for it when she was in the area last. Still, it's enough for her thirty throat. "Your soldiers seem well disciplined," she says after a few moments.

Aithne snorts. "They know how to shape up, even if Madanach let them run around like children playing at war. One thing the Imperials have over the Stormcloaks is discipline; I dislike much about the Empire, but their soldiers' training is impeccable." She leans back a bit. "I do strongly intend to stay out of the mess with the Civil War, and with the Thalmor. I'll let people worship however they please, as long as they harm none."