*Kicks in double doors, strides inside and strikes a pose* I hear y'all have been lookin' for an update.
Let us not dwell on the long months we've been apart. The eons of silence that left the Wolf wanting. Let us instead look to the future. One full of updates and angst and all manner of interesting goings-on.
Yeah, it's a hodge-podge of format,s but I've at last brought a chapter to completion. And the first of the next Wolf Book, no less. Here's hoping the updates will be regular. I will make an effort to keep putting things up. None the less, I'm so very glad to be back. Enjoy!
It was a narrow road that stretched down the steep mountain slope of the Jerall Mountains and into the northern border of the Great Forest. The Orange Road, they called it. It went largely untraveled. Long stretches were treacherous and the road was devoid of settlements, the mountain proving unwilling to give up its sovereignty to mortal folk. It held all the firmer during winter months, like now, when the snow reached lower, icing trails and sending frigid gusts cutting close to the ground.
The wilderness was better suited to nomads and bandits, and there was even word of a Daedric cult far up in the snowy peaks, if one were to choose the wrong fork and travel too far. If the average traveler wished to move between Chorrol and Bruma, they were better served going by way of the Black and Silver roads. And so they did—a longer distance, but patrolled with some regularity by the Imperial Legion—leaving this path largely unused.
Yet someone walked it now.
She strolled down the narrow mountain road with alacrity, steps sure and soft, bound up in a dark stained leather armor that barely whispered as it moved. Chainmail peaked out around the shoulders and cuffs, and light plating stood in subtle relief, each piece strategically placed to maximize defense without compromising mobility. Roguish in make, but equally useful to a warrior accustomed to close combat.
Silvery inlay and tooling told of the skillful crafting that had gone into it's make, while rougher mending proved that the set served its function first.
And she wore it like a second skin.
Her true skin was deeply tanned from a combination of frequent exposure to the sun and her mixed Redguard and Imperial heritage. A fur cloak tied close around her shoulders warded off the chill, and the thin travel pack that carried supplies enough for a short trek hung heavy off her back. But there was a spring in her step, impeded only by a small measure of fatigue and the sway of the long black blade on her hip. The crisp winter air seared her lungs with every breath, and she took deep breaths while she could.
It wasn't as though she'd never have another chance. But the opportunities would doubtless be much further apart from now on. She sighed. Divines, she wasn't even back yet and already looked forward to her next outing.
The woman kept her eyes peeled. And, when the opportunity presented itself, she ducked off the path to hop atop an outcrop with a clear view down the mountain. A good place for her last stop, and she dug the last of her rations out of the pack, to eat as she surveyed the landscape.
She could actually make out the shift of the forest from here, the spears of evergreen that gave way to the barren skeletons of the deciduous to the south. Their trunks were dense and uninterrupted for many, many miles. But looking west, with the air as clear as it was today, she could just make out the tree line, where the Great Forest ended and the Colovian Highlands began, the start of the grasslands just glimpsed in the distance.
It was tempting. To just cut through the forest and head out in that direction. A couple hours of good time and she'd be in the tall grasses of the Highlands. She hadn't been out that way before. She'd only seen the oceans of grassland from a distance, fronds swaying by the millions in the wind. There were tales told of ruins and tall standing outcrops hidden within that expanse. The mystery was alluring. Enticing. What might she find once she stepped out upon those plains?
A sharp shake cut that thought off real quick. No, not now. She had responsibilities now that did not permit her to indulge in such spontaneous expeditions as she might have been able to a year ago. Duties that needed seeing to.
And she was late.
Sharah, the Wolf of Cyrodiil, grabbed for her pack and dropped down from her seat to continue her way down the mountain path, this time at a faster pace.
The path bottomed out after a while and she was engulfed in the Great Forest proper. The chill lost its edge the further down she went. Sharah's eyes wandered her surroundings, missing little, a habit she'd developed over the years after one ambush too many. And honed under the guidance of a certain infamous figure – who would remain nameless.
Granted, it was harder to set an ambush in a winter forest than a summer one; but there was a point where one couldn't turn those tendencies off.
The care proved unnecessary, as the Wolf reached Chorrol without incident in a few hours. Though, later into the afternoon than she probably should have.
The Chorrol city stone walls stood almost as high as the trees around them—with a healthy space maintained between the two in the way of farmland, cut out of the Great Forest's territories. The fields weren't a patch on those in the Nibenay Basin, but they supplied a fair share of the citizens' needs while also holding the forest back. After all, walls mattered little if an enemy could scale a tree and hop over. Chorrol was an island in the middle of the Great Forest, defensible, and one of the fairer cities in the Province. And Sharah had traveled the length and breadth of it, so she could judge.
Once in sight of the gate, her gait changed. No longer the easy, carefree, silent tread she'd performed without thought when unobserved. Her feet fell harder, her head lifted, back straightened, and the sway of each step migrated from her hips to her shoulders, every movement projecting confidence and command. The walk of a warrior of authority. The Wolf of Cyrodiil took second to the Master of the Fighters Guild. She had to.
With a wave and a call, she caught the attention of the gate guards. No demand for her identification was made, as they recognized her on sight. They ought to. Sharah's ascension to Guildmaster of one of the province's most prominent guilds was still the talk of the town. Chorrol's rumor mill hadn't finished chewing that bit of news to pieces yet. The city gate swung open and she was admitted with a salute that she returned, if a bit offhand, and Sharah made her way inside.
Down a short stretch of street, the Great Oak plaza was first to come into her sight. The oak itself stood tall, darkened leaves still clinging to its limbs, supporting cushions of fallen snow each had managed to catch in the last flurry. Impressive manors ringed the cobbled plaza, housing Chorrol's most distinguished residents and Guilds: Fighters and Mages both. Sharah swung an immediate right, making for the front door of the former, giving a gracious nod to those out in the chill who greeted her, and trying to ignore the loom of the city walls.
The Hall was warm, at least. Closing the door behind her, Sharah loosened her cloak and took a look around. The Fighters Guildhall was as good as home to her. She'd grown quite familiar with it in the last year and a half. Though only the last month or so had been spent as Master thereof.
The first floor was a living area. The antechamber was small, some shared Guild-owned items on a nearby table for public use. A good means of encouraging a sense of fraternity. The dining room to the left was occupied by several Guild members who weren't keen training outside in this temperature. At her appearance, most dropped their card game and stood to greet her with salutes and "Master"s.
And for a split second, the place felt alien. The building, the people; all of it. A year ago, she'd been one of them. A Guildmate; someone to sit around the table with, have a drink with, or invite into the game.
Now? She was their 'Master'. Master of this place. Of what it represented. Of those within its walls. Of every other Hall like it across the province, in every other city of Cyrodiil. Master of the Guild of Fighters, and all that included.
"As you were," she said quickly, waving them off, and she strode up the stairway immediately ahead before they could say another word. Or she could turn around and head right back out the door again.
Second floor was the living area. Beds and chests for each member of the Hall lined either wall, the floor largely empty. The only bed occupied belonged to the newest boot, who was collapsed face first. The iron cuirass haphazardly dropped on the ground indicating it was all he'd been capable of before passing straight out. Sharah made an effort not to giggle. He preferred the mace, which meant Oreyn had probably taken up the task of training him in the specialization. And Sharah knew from experience that said training could be…intense.
Another floating staircase brought her to the third: an open loft that served as the Guildmaster's office.
Her office.
Sharah stamped her feet hard, her toes tingling with feeling, and went around behind the solid oaken desk dominating the space. Her pack was shrugged off and dropped up against the wall, her cloak made it to a stand in the corner before Sharah turned to face the Guildmaster's desk.
Her desk.
It was about as solid as one could get. Dense oak, thick, wide, broad, with intricate carvings around the edges and sides had held up well over the years. The whole structure proclaimed the authority wielded by whomever sat behind it. There were documents on it that hadn't been there when she'd left. Sharah sighed, unbuckling her sword and hanging it over the back of the equally impressive chair behind before dropping down into the Guildmaster's seat.
Her seat. Divines and Daedra! How long was it going to take to get used to this?
It still felt strange to step into this space and consider it hers. Granted, it had only been a handful of weeks, and the advancement itself had been sudden. But Sharah still felt an intense disassociation between herself and the position she now held.
Sharah shifted around, which – shockingly enough – did nothing to carve out a furrow in the wood beneath her, or soften the high, stiff back behind.
Nor did glaring ahead shrink the imposing expanse of the oaken desk. Surrounded by the trappings of her office, it was hard not to equate them to an overlarge cuirass being placed around her shoulders: heavy, cumbersome, and meant for someone…more.
It didn't help that her guildmates were walking on eggshells around her, and she around them – the lot of them trying to figure out how to treat each other now. Or that she took every opportunity given to get out of the guildhall and disappear into the wilds. Or that this damned chair was so uncomfortable!
Another hard shake dislodged some of the sensation, and Sharah focused forward on the documents at her fingertips. She exhaled harshly, snatched the first one off the pile and kicked her heels up on the corner of the desk with intent. Time to get to work. That was what she was here for, wasn't it?
She'd gotten through a handful—contract updates and new member submissions, mostly—when the sound of heavy footsteps on the second stair made her look up in time to see Modryn Oreyn ascend into sight.
The Guild Second had been precisely that for two Guildmasters—well, three now—spanning over half a century, with decades in the Guild proper beforehand. Or course, being a Dunmer, a couple centuries were just barely beginning to show on him; mostly in the form of the creases that carved out his signature scowl. Were one foolish enough to make mention of it, however, he was liable to order them downstairs for training, and beat the living tar out of them until they were the one asking for a rest.
He was a hell of a warrior, and could probably run this guild blindfolded. But when Sharah had offered the position to him, he'd declined. Second was enough for him. He'd trained Sharah's predecessor in Guild management, and he was ready and willing to do the same for Sharah. Frankly, she couldn't have managed without him.
He came up the last stair without a word, carrying his heavy iron cuirass and mace like they were nothing. Her legs tensed, but Sharah caught herself before she dropped her feet and stood. Right, right. She was Master now. No standing at attention for the Second.
Oreyn fixed her with his perpetual scowl, red eyes standing in stark contrast to his blue-grey skin. "Glad you could make it back, Wolf. I was about ready to organize a search party," he said, pointedly.
Sharah was comfortable enough with him for a half eye-roll. "A half day over hardly calls for a man-hunt, Oreyn."
He grunted. "Depends on what happens while you're gone." When he didn't expand on that, Sharah assumed it was just a hypothetical, and that no cataclysm had actually occurred in her absence. Good thing, too. The Guild had had enough of those to last them a few decades already.
Oreyn took a survey of the room. He spied her weapons, her pack, her cloak, all freshly placed and still a bit of frost clinging to the shoulders of the latter. Then, finally, he settled on her. And her boots. On the desk.
The creases of Oreyn's face deepened, and he fixed that practiced scowl back on her. It took Sharah a second or two to catch his meaning. And she lifted her chin and held his gaze.
A minute into their stare-down, Sharah was fighting not to let her lip quiver.
Oreyn's brow cocked. Her lip twitched. The bridge above his nose pinched together…and she lowered her feet off the desk. First one. Then the other.
Oreyn's scowl smoothed and he gave a grunt. And Sharah couldn't help the snort that escaped, which earned her a brief reproachful glare.
"I thought I was the Master, here," she teased.
"You are," Oreyn replied, picking up one of the documents she'd finished with. "I'm just here to keep you in line."
"So, same old, same old?" Sharah asked, not bothering to smother her smile. He grunted again, but she saw the little glimmer of humor in his eye. She might be Master of the Guild now and he might be her Second, but Sharah couldn't see their relationship changing too much from the time when she answered to him.
He nodded toward her travel-pack and asked, "Find anything interesting this time around?"
Sharah grinned outright, recalling the fruits of her latest adventure, and just about vaulted out of her chair. The pack was quick to relinquish this excursion's prize: a long wrapped length lashed to the back. She removed the object and hopped up to offer it to Oreyn.
With something of a bemused look, Oreyn took the length and unwrapped it to reveal a long—badly abused—saber. A style of blade mostly favored by…
"Pirates?" he asked, cocking his eyebrow again. "How did you manage to find pirates this far inland, Wolf?"
She shrugged, unable to keep from smiling. "Just lucky I guess." Story of her life. Maybe it was the stars she was born under. Maybe it was because she'd done a favor or two for the daedric prince Nocturnal. Whatever the reason, she'd just gotten used to it over the years.
"Oh!" she exclaimed, dashing back to the bag and prying it open. She pulled out a small satchel of gems and a pair of dwarven gauntlets, brandishing them with an identifier of, "Treasure." Giving the gauntlets another look, she offered them up to the mer. "These are enchanted, but I can't tell with what. Think we can make use of them somehow? Perhaps a bonus for someone?"
Oreyn took the gauntlets, scrutinizing them and finding no significant sign of wear. Enchanted materials tended to hold together better than their unenchanted counterparts. "We'll run it by the Mage Guild, see what we're dealing with. Then make a decision." Setting aside the gauntlets, he asked, "So I'll ask again: how, exactly, did you manage to find pirates?"
Sharah dropped into the guildmaster's chair and regaled him with how she'd found the cave behind the waterfall. Then about the small passage at its back that had led into a cavern, one entire wall of which being comprised of toppled stone. And trapped within: a pirate ship, still haunted by the spirits of its crew.
Oreyn listened with no sign of the astonishment or disbelief that most might give when someone told them about finding a pirate ship in a cave on a mountain. The mer was unflappable.
Though when she was done, he shook his head and gave a hint of a smile. "Only you, Wolf. I don't know how, but you always manage it. Somehow."
Sharah just grinned. "Just lucky, I guess."
He let out an amused 'humph', but she marked a flicker of disappointment in Oreyn's eyes that he wasn't quite able to mask. He probably hoped that her urge for adventuring would eventually mellow out and she'd take her post properly. In the back of her head, Sharah sort of did, too. And successes like this pushed things in the other direction.
But even with that hanging between them, he still managed a show of approval. "Well, I'm glad it turned out well. Even if climbing into a half collapsed cavern filled with undead pirates is something I'd rather you do less of." Another reproachful cock of the eyebrow had her grinning back.
"I'll make an effort to avoid ghost pirates in caves in the future," she said with a smirk. Oreyn grunted, and put the topic aside. Because she was liable to find something just as outlandish next time, and they both knew it.
"Now that you're back, there's work to do."
Sharah swiveled up straight in her chair. "Yes, sir," she said, with all the enthusiasm of a new boot. He gave her a look but proceeded to focus on the documents between them.
Working together—with Oreyn there to give context on several matters and her to provide the 'Master's' approval—they spent the rest of the evening finishing off the paperwork. During that time, the rest of the guildmates partook of a meal downstairs, filtered out to and in from their evening escapades, finally hitting their bunks on the second floor. None bothered the Master and Second at work, however.
Once the last document had been taken care of, Sharah stretched, ready to hit the sack herself. It was that hour, after all. The responses and orders for other Guildhalls would be sent out with the morning courier, and there were some notations yet to make in the Guild records, but that could wait.
Oreyn, however, was looking steadily toward her travel pack. Even tired as she was, she knew that look and mentally braced herself. She'd thought she'd have at least a day before this came up again.
He saw her shift in posture and took pity on her. "Tomorrow," he said, knowing they were both on the same page about 'what'.
The tension bled out of her shoulders immediately. "Thanks, Oreyn."
He grunted and stood up. "Get some rest. I'll find you tomorrow and we'll talk."
Sharah nodded, grateful, and stood, grabbing her bag and following him down the stairs. But whereas Oreyn continued down to the first floor and left the Hall to head home, Sharah made for the partitioned-off bed in the corner of the second floor.
When she'd taken on leadership of the Guild, Oreyn had wanted her to bunk away from the rank and file guildmates. Something about maintaining the authority due her position by way of a physical distinction. But Sharah already had enough reminders that things were different now: no contracts, being confined to Chorrol, the unspoken distance that her guildmates maintained between her and them now that she was their 'Master'. Being called 'Master' by those who'd been her comrades.
The bunk was just one more step than she wanted to take. Oreyn had a point—he always did. But she just wasn't ready to give this up. Not yet. Although she had allowed Oreyn to get cloth partitions brought in to at least give the sense of separation.
Sharah emptied her pack, removed her armor and proceeded to flop onto her bed with a sigh. The feel of her mattress, the wooden walls and ceiling of the Guildhall, the scent of wood and grease and leather, the sound of her guildmates asleep around her. Sharah sighed again and hauled her blanket up over her shoulders and snuggled in. Even if things weren't exactly the same, it was good to be home.
XXX
Morning came early. Sharah rose when her guildmates began stirring. Once dressed and in view, they greeted her as was due her station—though it made Sharah want to grimace. While a few nursed hang-overs, others welcomed her back to the hall and asked after her adventure. Sabine Laul was particularly interested in the cave, so Sharah marked it on her map of the province so the Guildhall's resident smith could take a look for herself in the future. It ought to be safe, now that Sharah had gotten rid of the ghosts, but she'd need to be careful of any unstable rock formations.
Before breakfast, Sharah went down to the basement's training area for some drills. She wasn't the first one down there, however. Already running through basic stances was a silver haired Imperial woman old enough to be Sharah's mother: Vilena Donton, former Master of the Fighters Guild and Sharah's predecessor.
Like Oreyn, she favored a cuirass of iron; though unlike him, her weapon of choice was a blade. Sharah came down the stairs and announced herself. "Good morning, Vilena. Nice to see you around the hall."
The former Guildmaster paused in her exercises and turned to smile back and reply, "Good morning, Wolf—Uh, Master." Sharah's stepped out on the practice mats and they exchanged a wry smile. Seemed Sharah wasn't the only one still adjusting.
"Getting back into fighting form, I see."
"I am." Vilena nodded, spinning the blade once and holding it upright. "Not quite as easy as I remember. But good enough to teach."
Sharah's eyes widened with realization. "Oh, that was you who had the new boot ragdolling onto his bunk last night."
Vilena nodded again, performing another sweep with the sword, smoother this time. She stood there, casting a long wistful look up the length. "I didn't realize how much I missed this."
It must have been a while since Vilena had trained in earnest. Vilena had spent the last few years mostly grieving the deaths of her sons, Viranus and then Vitellus having died on contracts, one after the other. Those priorities had landed the Guild in trouble. Trouble that Sharah had ended up as a driving force in dealing with. Then, when Sharah had confronted their guildmaster after the fact, Vilena had passed the Guild's leadership to her then and there. Sharah couldn't imagine it having been a particularly well thought out decision, but it seemed to have done wonders for Vilena.
Vilena saw her looking and sheathed the sword. "So how have you been holding up?"
"Well enough," Sharah shrugged. "The Guild is still recovering, but with no real opposition, it's been steady."
The only real issues at the moment were Sharah's alone, and that was nothing to trouble her predecessor about. Vilena's abdication of her position had been abrupt. A sudden realization that she could no longer lead the Guild as it required. There was no need to rub in that Sharah had never asked for, nor wanted the job. Her issues with the position were pretty obvious if anyone was really looking.
…Which Vilena seemed to be, if that cocked eyebrow of hers was any indication.
Sharah groaned and rolled her eyes skyward then all the way back to Vilena. "Is Oreyn going to teach me that eyebrow thing, or is it just something you pick up working with him?"
Vilena actually threw back her head and laughed with this full-bodied sound that filled the whole basement. She clapped her hand over her mouth, more surprised than Sharah by the sudden outburst. Divines and Daedra, how long had it been since this woman had laughed like that?
Giggling herself out and wiping her eyes, Vilena replied, "I suppose it's the former. But as to the other," she sobered quickly, "I know it was sudden. But I also know you're up to the task."
Sharah nodded, giving every indication of acceptance. "It's just the transition period that's a pain in the ass." Another bout of laughter from Vilena, freer than the first and not so quickly hidden behind a hand. "So, Vilena, care for a sparring partner?"
The older woman's face set, eyes alight and confident. "Don't think you need to take it easy on me, Guildmaster," she declared, drawing her blade anew.
"Wouldn't dream of it, associate," Sharah replied.
They drew blades and took their positions. But before the two could actually engage, the new boot came around the bottom of the stairs and stopped on a Septim, his face turning swiftly to a rictus of indecision. Sharah needed only a few seconds to realize: he was here for training, wasn't he.
Sharah yielded the floor before either he or Vilena could say a word. He needed the training more than she needed the exercise. "I'll leave you to it," she said as she passed him. The boot snapped to another of those damned salutes as she went by. Sharah just patted him encouragingly on the shoulder and proceeded upstairs. Behind her, Vilena gave Sharah a nod, then turned hard. "Alright, boot. Let's get on with this."
Sharah felt the urge to snigger. Did Oreyn mean to pass all these things on? Because that was his bark, no question.
The mer himself found her after she'd bathed and was finishing breakfast. He was courteous enough to wait until she was done eating before jerking his chin to the stair and heading for the second floor. As Sharah followed, she braced herself for what was coming.
They made their way to the second floor and through a lone door on the East wall. The passage beyond overarched the street below. Sharah had passed under it after she'd entered Chorrol yesterday. The building it led to was a tower, of sorts, with three stories. The Guild used it mostly for storage.
The third floor was their destination. Containing only a few chests of higher quality weaponry, it served as Oreyn's unofficial office. The guildmaster's office was largely open to the rest of the Hall. Anything said there was liable to be heard in the floors below. This room, however, was private. For conversations he'd rather none overhear.
Oreyn planted himself on one of the chests, and Sharah sat down on one across from him. Then she waited.
He'd doubtless been thinking on this for a while, but Oreyn still needed a few minutes to gear up. "What do you know about Vinondeius Donton? Vilena's grandfather?"
Well, that wasn't how she thought this was going to start. And Vilena's grandfather…
"Can't say I've even heard the name." Three guildmaster's ago? Sharah wondered if her parents had even been born yet.
Oreyn nodded. "He was Guildmaster when I joined up. He served in the Legion and ran the Guild like a military branch. Hard as nails and commander of his men. He ordered you to do something, and you did it. No questions asked."
Sharah turned her head away, trying to tuck a smile into the corner of her mouth. But Oreyn caught it. "Something funny about that?"
The smile escaped, but she answered, "No. That just answers a few questions about you." Like where he picked up that grouchy scowl from. Him giving her that very scowl this very instant almost cracked her up, but she coughed to hide it and pulled herself back under control. "Sorry, sorry. Please, continue."
He glared, probably realized it didn't carry much weight at the moment, and went on.
"His son, Vilena's father, was Valion Donton. Didn't matter if he was blood to the Guildmaster, he was expected to serve alongside everyone else. The old man was clear on that. Which means he and I wound up getting acquainted." Oreyn's face softened as he recalled fond memories. "I joined up about the time he came of age, and over the course of training and contracts, we became friends. We completed most contracts together, rose in the ranks together. And when Vinondeius turned the Guild over to Valion, Valion named me for his Second."
Sharah listened, but found herself recognizing in that tale something of Oreyn's own actions regarding her and Viranus Donton, Vilena's youngest son. He'd sent them on a couple contracts together, and had likely hoped to instill the same kind of relationship between them as Oreyn had had with Varion. At least until... Best not to bring that up now.
Oreyn leaned forward, making sure Sharah was still paying attention. "Unlike the old man, though, Valion taking the title of Guildmaster didn't affect how he worked. He still stood right alongside his guildmates, like he always did. Led from the front, still participated in contracts, trained them, all that."
The mer sat back, sneering off toward the window. But the expression lacked heat. "Of course, someone had to deal with paperwork, so I learned to get comfortable up here. And it worked." His face fell, the reminiscence turning painful. "For a while. Until one of those contracts took him."
Sharah leaned forward over her knees. "And you let him?"
Oreyn's head swiveled around to fix eyes on her again. "He was Guildmaster. That's how he wanted to run things, so that's how things ran. And I had his back, so we made it work." His gaze softened a bit. "Made the old man steam every now and again: a commander mingling with his soldiers. But it worked."
"But…contracts," Sharah pointed out. "Letting the Guildmaster go off against bandits and monsters. Isn't that reckless? I mean, look at what happened to—" She clapped her mouth shut right as Oreyn's glare darkened. His hands curled into fists, but the rest of him went very still.
"Vitellus," he finished for her. "And Viranus. You can say it." His brow descended, hooding his eyes. "And yes. That's what happened. To both of them, in fact. Vitellus had a lot of his grandfather in him. But they were not reckless. Any time Valion went on contract, it was always alongside others. As many as he thought appropriate given each circumstance. And I insisted the same for Vilena's boys. They never went off alone, and never went gallivanting into the wilderness without cause or backup."
Sharah dropped her eyes at that, tracing a few whorls in the wood at her feet. Point taken. Not that she wanted to say it aloud.
"So what about Vilena?" she asked, hoping to redirect him back to the, apparent, history lesson he'd brought her up here for. A weak attempt, but he let her have it.
"Vilena did things differently than either her father or grandfather. More hands off than Valion, less militaristic than Vinondeius. She'd had Vitellus by the time she took over, so it wasn't like she could be out there anyway. At least not until he, and Viranus, were old enough to go along. But her place was always here."
Sharah ventured, "So, what's your point with all this?" Admittedly, she hadn't known much about her predecessors beyond Vilena; and only her in the last few years. But Sharah was already struggling with her position. How was pointing out the strengths and successes of her predecessors supposed to make her feel better? Or was he looking to get her to emulate one or another?
Oreyn glared at her. "My point, Wolf, is that each of them ran this guild their own way. Vinondeius was a military man. It's what he knew, so it's what he used. Valion spent so much time in the trenches of guild work, it's what he did best. So that's where he led from. And when Vilena was unable to direct the Guildhalls in person, she empowered them to manage themselves more independently. They each had their own style of management, and the Guild prospered under each of them."
Sharah shifted on her seat. It felt like he was telling her she wasn't doing enough. The Void, she felt like she wasn't doing enough. Did he have to rub it in?
Running his fingers through his mohawk, Oreyn growled, realizing whatever point he'd intended hadn't hit the mark. "Look, I know this hasn't been easy for you. But I get the sense you're waiting for the next catastrophe to hit."
Sharah thought for a moment…and her shoulders slumped a little. "I guess so. A bit." She huffed softly, shoving back to lean against the wall. "Can you blame me? The last year's been one thing after another." One crisis, then another; a rogue Companion trying to expand his group south, outright attacked a Fighters Guildhall; then a confrontation with the Blackwood company—on the other end of the province—immediately after.
"I know," her Second agreed. "But running a Guild during a time of conflict is going to be different than running it in a time of stability."
"And how am I supposed to do that, then?"
Oreyn's reply? "I don't know."
Normally she might make a jab at him about the admission: Oreyn, not know something? Never.
But this wasn't something to joke about. This was a real concern. A pressing issue. One that had plagued Sharah since the moment Vilena had pressed the badge of office into her hand. Vilena had so failed in her task these last few years that the Guild had come under real physical threat. Now Sharah—with no management experience, mind—had the job. Then Oreyn brings her up here, goes through all her predecessors, and offers no guidance?!
"Then what in Oblivion are we doing up here?!" Sharah demanded, coming off the chest.
Oreyn shifted quickly forward, planting a hand on her shoulder and pinning her back in her seat. "Listen to me. You are not Vilena. You are not Vitellus. You are not Valion, or Vinondeius. And you're not going to run this guild like they did. As to how you're going to run it? I don't know. And neither do you. My point, Wolf, is that you need to figure that part out. And you're not going to do that with what you're doing right now."
Sharah shrugged loose of his grasp and shot to her feet, turned – and had nowhere to go. Too small a space, too much furious energy –
She growled. Turned. Found another wall and pulled up short. Then sat down. Then stood up again. And still there was nowhere to go.
Her jaw clenched and she paced the bare four steps the room gave her, tense. Frustrated. Finally slamming to a stop at the sill of the room's single window, at once willing herself still and furiously yearning for the open air beyond the glass.
And all the while, Oreyn remained still on his seat. Watching.
Sharah stared ahead, barely seeing the glass, trying to wrangle her thoughts.
He was right. Of course he was right, he was Oreyn. When was he ever wrong? She gripped the window-sill, rubbing her thumbs into the smooth wood while she tried – really tried to do as he asked. To think about what came next. What she was supposed to…No. What she wanted to do with the Guild.
And behind her, Oreyn waited.
The city wall wasn't angled well to catch sunlight from this angle. She couldn't even see the forest beyond. But she could just make out the edge of the city gate from here. There was no space in here…
Her thumb found the grain of the sill and ran its length. Then drew back, and ran it again.
And Oreyn waited.
Sharah sighed.
"…It was so much easier when I was just following orders."
At her back, Oreyn huffed. "Yes it is," he agreed.
Not an answer. But…
Another run along the grain.
And another.
The third pass faltered…
"I…"
She exhaled, her shoulders slumping. Why was this so hard? "I don't…think I can stay here. I'm not…" She tried – and failed to suppress her wince. It really hurt to disappoint him. Sharah took a deep breath and stood up straight, turning to face him. This was the kind of thing he needed – deserved, to hear straight. Like a Guildmaster might. Right?
"Oreyn…" He hadn't moved from where he'd planted himself, seeming to sit straight at attention while simultaneously leaning casually on one knee. How did he do that?
Sharah refocused. "I can't…stay here."
Not a tick. Not a single trace of reaction.
"I thought as much." His tone was as good as a punch to the gut, though.
Sharah's gaze dropped. "Sorry."
But Oreyn waved her off. "No, no. I should have anticipated. It's not like this was news. I trained you after all." A smile tugged briefly at Sharah's lip.
Yeah, he'd trained her. Plucked her out of the ranks and set about shaping her into the next Second. Meant to succeed him as he'd prepared Vitellus to succeed Vilena. She'd very much been a mobile force then, too. Why had either of them thought that would change just because she wore the Guildmaster's patch?
The two stayed silent for a time, processing.
She wasn't going to be like Vilena. Or Vinondeius. Valion felt like a better match, but that wasn't right either.
No. Sharah was going to lead her own way. But as to what that way was…
Well…like he'd said: she needed to figure that part out.
…And she wouldn't do that from in here.
Oreyn – tapping an internal font of wisdom, it seemed – headed her off to the conclusion. "I have some conditions."
Sharah looked up, listening.
Oreyn pegged her with a classic 'Oreyn glare'. "First: you keep me apprised of your travel plans. I want to know when you get to a city, when you leave it, and where you're planning to go next."
A grin split her face open, and she dropped her head trying to hide it. Not that Oreyn seemed to share her humor.
"Second. No adventuring." A single laugh leapt from her mouth and he seemed to take it as an affront. "I mean it," he snapped, though not sharply. "I won't have the Fighters Guild Master offed on some cave-run on my watch."
A firm demand but she saw the glitter in his eyes.
Except, again, this was Oreyn. When it came to the Guild, he wasn't going to let her off the hook over anything.
"And third, no contracts."
Sharah took a breath to argue, but Oreyn beat her to it. "I mean it, Wolf. If you mean to be out there, I'll at least have you out there with some security."
"Didn't you just get done telling me Valion led well from the ranks?" she pointed out.
Oreyn eyed her pointedly. "I also pointed out you were not Valion. Or any of them. No. Contracts."
Sharah met his glare, trying to stare him down. She was Master of the Guild, after all. Didn't that mean she was in charge? That the final word on anything was hers? That he, as her Second, should be the one to –
Those hard, ruby colored eyes held firm; stern; and…
Her gaze dropped. But only to roll wide and sideways.
"Alright, fine."
Oreyn huffed lightly, and sat back further on his seat. "Keep in mind, Wolf, I know you. If I didn't say it, you'd be on every contract you could get a hold of. Coin or no."
Sharah grinned, sitting back down on her crate. "True."
He grunted. "Think of it as a show of confidence in your guildmates. As much as you staying out of trouble."
The official air of their converse settled. At which point, she ventured into the more personal side.
"Are you sure you're alright with this?" The Guild was still getting back on its feet. Vilena's shortcomings over the last few years had been far-reaching and undercutting. And it would be years before confidence was recovered, both within the Guild and in the public that supported it.
Oreyn sighed, one hand clenching atop his knee. "Like I said: I know you. And frankly…" His clenched fist relaxed, falling lax from forearm to fingertips, over where it was braced. And he looked up to meet her eye. "I should have known you wouldn't be content here. That being Guildmaster wouldn't 'cure' your Ragada Urge." Another brief smile. Sharah was only a little surprised he remembered the term for the Redguard specific wanderlust. Except his gaze stayed steady. "I should have known better. And not tried to pressure you to adhere to Vilena's example. I was wrong. And I'm sorry."
Sharah blinked. She wouldn't say she hadn't felt the pressure he spoke of. Or that he hadn't been a chief source of it. Or that she hadn't felt his expectations justified. Or that she wasn't half tempted to shrug off his apology rather than address it.
Except...she was Master now. And if her Second made such a mistake, and it affected the Guild – as this one very well had…
Sharah sat up and met his steady gaze with one of her own.
And couldn't quite do it. "We'll just have to get better, then, won't we."
Not quite a reprimand. Not quite a 'master' yet. But she'd get there. Or more, she needed to get there.
Sharah leaned back over her knees, gazing out the window again. No more adventuring. No more contracts. No more spontaneous or rash action. She didn't know what that even left her with. All she could hope was that the answer was out there, somewhere.
With that hope in mind, all she needed to do was get out there and find it.
Sharah be back, so am I, and isn't it great! Please take a second to leave something behind. Oh, it's so great to be back!