Chapter 01: A Good Elf Goes To War (8th of Mid-Year - 5e 152)
The cool Kalheinian air blows briskly through the streets of Heltreid city. The sun shines brightly in the center of the noontime sky, and the hundred upon thousands of citizens walk about the streets enjoying this beautiful Mid-Year day. From the Heltreid Gardens to the shopping district, everyone is enjoying themselves and having a good time. Walking along the north streets by the Arena, an older man by the name of Ciro Irkain passes by, whistling a tune as he continues on, carrying a long case.
"Good day Ciro," a woman calls as she leaves the arena shop, carrying a brand new red battle raiment. Ciro smiles and nods, not wanting to let go of the package in his hands, and returns the friendly greeting.
"Good day Yrma, did you see of that Viiren guy from North Shore?"
"I did," she replies as she stops to chat the older man up, "heard he betrayed the Grand King's army."
"Yeah," Ciro replies with a laugh, "but I'll talk more with you later. I have business to attend to.
He smirks and holds the case up, showing it to the woman before him. She nods and wishes him good fortune before continuing on. Ciro waves her farewell, then turns and move on. Passing by the shop, he comes upon a small store in the back corner, right against the walls of the city.
The building is old, a relic from the past. The bricks used to build it have begun to fade and the windows are cracked and dusty. A sign hangs above the rickety, saloon-like doorway with the words "Shop" on it, which is noticed by the man, who smiles as he backs into them, opening the doors and heading in.
The inside of the shop is as dusty and dirty as the out. Some of the shops corners are covered in cobwebs, and the windows let in little light, causing a dark, spooky atmosphere. However, despite the dilapidated appearance of the shop, the counters are covered in gleaming artifacts the likes of which this man had never seen. Swords, shield, armor, and so much more. Some of the most amazing objects imaginable. This is definitely the right place.
Behind the main counter is a curtain leading into another room. To Ciro's surprise, it suddenly opens. A young male Bosmer clothed in an astounding blue garment walks out. A smirk spreads across his mouth as he sees the man before him, holding the long case. He continues forward and stops behind the counter, nodding to Ciro, who then puts his case down on the counter.
"Well, Ciro right?"
"That's me," the man replies, holding out his hand. The Bosmer shakes it and begins to unlock his customer's case, "you're Riroden Orkraft, correct?"
"Let's focus on why you're here," he replies, pulling an amazing sword from the case. A ruby-hilted beauty with a black blade. It's in perfect shape and even has the initials U.I. on it, "Ulorn Irkain, if I'm not mistaken. This sword fought in the battle at the Field of Souls if I'm not mistaken. An amazing blade indeed."
"It's been passed down through my family for a long time now," Ciro responds, smiling as he leans over the counter, "I honestly can't believe I'm selling it. It seems surreal, but the family needs the septims."
"Hard times eh?" Riroden asks, nodding as he continues to look over the blade, "well I can ease your fears a little. This blade is definitely worth something. I'll give you two thousand for it."
The man grabs at his chest, feigning a heart attack out of shock. He had never expected to get that much out of it. He agrees to the amount with a tear in his eye and thanks the Bosmeri man full-heartedly. Then, after receiving a pouch with the promised septims, he walks out with a much needed spring in his step.
Meanwhile, back in the shop, Riroden smiles as he takes the sword and displays it on a counter covered in all sorts of rare swords, beside a two-handed greatsword called the Bloodskal Blade. He then returns to the back room, in which is a table. On said table rests a Dwarven shield and a bottle of polish. Sitting down, the elf smiles and begins to continue polishing the shield, when he hears the doors open once again.
"Riroden!"
That voice, he knows it. It's the court messenger of the Emerald Castle. What could he be doing here? Something didn't happen to the Queen, did it? Rushing from the room, he sees that he is indeed correct, coming almost face to face with the portly little man. Breathing heavily, the messenger catches his breath before delivering the news he was sent for.
"Riroden, Queen Roma has requested your presence at once! She says it's of the utmost importance!"
"She's ok though, right? She never sends for me like this."
"Oh, don't worry Riroden. Your mother is doing well. For some reason, she wishes for you to go to the castle right away though."
"Of course, and thank you," Riroden replies, patting the man on the shoulder and sending him to tell the Queen that he'll be there. Sighing, he then proceeds to go to the back room where he locks everything up. He then leaves the shop, locking the doors behind him as he heads into the back street of north Heltreid.
Leaving the back alley, he begins his trek down the street, knowing to head to the castle straight away and not take the time to return to his home. The crowd of people walking down the way has increased since he last passed through, earlier this morning. The sun shines brighter than usual as well. He doesn't think much of it, however, only thinking to himself what the Queen could possibly want with him.
The screams of wild cheering breaks his concentration as he passes by the arena and nears the orphanage. Stopping, Riroden stares at the windows of the old building, remembering his short time spent there, prior to his adoption by Queen Roma Stav-Bringer, the Queen of Heltreid Kingdom. It was just after his parents death. They had sacrificed their lives serving in Heltreid's royal army, protecting the land they held dear. He respects what they did, despite not wishing to follow in their footsteps. His interests remain firmly in mercantile and rare artifacts.
A sigh escapes his throat as he averts his gaze from the building, moving on past it down the road. At this point he can see the statue of the legendary Lorcan Bren-Gard IV, the hero who saved Kalheim and possibly all of Nirn from the vampyric Calcifer Blood-Omen. The giant, golden man stands there regally, shining in the bright sunlight. Beside the statue gleams another amazing sight, the Emerald Castle.
Built entirely of emerald and stone, the castle stands erect on the edge of the city, towering high above everyone below. To the east are the Queen's gardens, as well as a beautiful courtyard often visited by the royals and common rabble alike. The phenomenal sight is truly beautiful at this time a day, and as the elf approaches, he truly understands the glory of it's history.
"Orkraft!" the nearest guard exclaims, seeing the young elf approach, "My word has it been a long time! You never visit anymore. Your mother has become quite sorrowful."
"Well, I'm back now," Riroden replies, passing the Nordic man by, walking into the giant open doors of the palace in his wake. The inside of the castle is as extravagant and amazing as the out. Decor the likes of which most people would kill for, and flowers as far as the eye can see. Paintings line the walls and ruby rugs cover the floors. He walks up the steps, entering the throne room. Before him stands Tetna Javell, the Queen's steward. Her arms are crossed and she has a wild grin plastered on her face.
"Welcome back Riroden, the Queen will see you now."
At that moment, the doors behind the throne open up, and standing there in the threshold is a beautiful, red-haired woman with gorgeous gold and emerald robes. A crown rests upon her head and a scepter in her hands. She has the look of royalty. However, as her eyes spot the young elf now kneeling down before her, she laughs and runs forward, gripping her son in a hug.
"Welcome home Riroden, my son."
The two release each other, and the Queen takes her throne. Her Nordic features shine in the light of the hall as she smiles genuinly at Riroden. He smiles back and asks his mother the reasoning for him being there. At that moment, it's as if a chill sweeps through the room, cutting into the spines of all there. Tetna looks down solemnly, and even Queen Roma's bright smile has faded. Everyone has gone silent, and Riroden can sense the tension in the room. Something is wrong, VERY wrong.
"My son, Helbar is dead."
Helbar Fire-Catcher, the general of the Heltreid Kingdom army is dead!? The man who took out a dozen frost trolls by himself!? The man who defeated an enemy army after having his body turned into a pin-cushion for arrows of all varieties!? This is a man who has done it all, who has survived it all, and he's dead!? What in Talos' name could've killed him, Riroden wonders as he stands there, looking at the solemn faces of his friends and family.
"Grand King Lorcan Bren-Gard Crom II summoned me two days ago," Queen Roma quietly tells her son, "Kalheim is under attack. Vampires have come out of hiding and are trying to attack the province. We don't know why, but what we do know is that there's too many of them. The Grand King needs our assistance, otherwise Kalheim will fall."
Though he fears that he already knows the answer, Riroden swallows hard and asks, "And what is it you requested my presence for?"
"Riroden, I need you to take Helbar's place. I know it's sudden and that you are not a warrior. However, I knew your parents. There were great elves Riroden, the best soldiers we had. They died honorably and hold a special place in this kingdom's history forever. Siran and Kalaila Orkraft are heroes, and it's time for you to prove that they did not die in vain. It's time for you to defend this land."
The silence in the room is deafening. One could hear a lockpick drop, and it's unnerving. A bead of sweat rolls down the elf's forehead, and his eyes bore into the very soul of his mother. He knows how serious she is, and how desperately she wishes for him to do this. But he isn't a warrior, she said it herself. He's a merchant, a simple collector of rare artifacts. He has training in swordsmanship, but only to know the products he sells. He has never utilized these skills in the field.
Queen Roma sees his expression, and knows he will not refuse. She can see his displeasure in the situation, though knows of her sons love for his kingdom. She knows he could never let Heltreid, or Kalheim itself, down. She motions to Tetra, who nods and pulls a crimson cloth wrapped item from a case, handing it softly to the elf before her. He takes it and stares, removing the cloth slowly, and that's when he sees it. An amazing, one-of-a-kind sword. A phenomenal blade of the highest caliber, one the likes of which he had never seen before.
"This is the Talliesllison," Queen Roma tells her son, a tear now rolling down her cheek, "the sword your mother wielded in battle. It is imbued with a secret magicka the likes of which not even my greatest mage has been able to descipher. Your mother left it for you, and it's time you fulfilled her wishes. Take this." She holds a note out for Riroden, so he lets the sword down cautiously and takes the note stained with blood, reading it aloud.
"Dear son. You will unfortunately never know what it's like to have a real mother and father. The enemies have become too powerful, and I am writing this with my last breath. I love you Riroden, even more than I love Kalheim. I entrust to you a dying wish. If our land is ever in need of salvation, I want you to take this blade and become a hero for our people. Whether it be for Bosmer or Nord, for Dunmer or even Khajiit, we are all family in this land. Take this sword in your hand and save the land I gave my life for. And Riroden, live. Live and love, for you only get one chance to do so. Goodbye my son. I'll see you again one day."
The dripping sound of tears hitting the marble floor beneath him fills the hall. All are silent, watching as the proud elf, reduced to his knees, stares at the note with love and thankfulness for a mother who truly loved him. As the tears fall he tucks the note into his garb and picks the sword up, this time by the hilt. The blade scrapes against the floor as he lifts it up, raising it to the heavens as he continues to cry tears of passion. Queen Roma sits there, a bright smile spread from ear to ear as she watches him; and then, he screams. His voice reaches violent octanes as he stands there, the tears now cascading down his cheeks as he holds the Talliesllison high into the air.
"FOR KALHEIM!"