Chapter IV: The Amulet of Kings
Frostcrag Spire…
23 Frost Fall 4E21
"The Imperial family seems to have a curse over it," the Nord observes.
"The Septim line does have some unfortunate history. Why today is a day of observance of one such event," Aywin comments.
"Broken Diamonds," The Khajitt nods. "I have visited Glenpoint, you know, where it happened."
"I'm sorry, I am not familiar with this," the Bosmer says curiously.
Aywin nods. "On this day in year 121 of the first era, the Empress Kintyra Septim was killed by the usurper Uriel III in the Glenpoint Imperial Dungeon."
"Such a terrible thing to have happen in a family so great," The Bosmer sighs. "I had never heard about that."
"History is full of many of these sad occurrences that we take for granted," Aywin nods.
The Khajitt grunted. "Yes. Your tale, for instance. You say you were there, Milady. But so far we have not heard of your role."
Aywin nodded. "Ah yes, I suppose that might seem a bit confusing. Well the fact is when this disaster at Kvatch occurred I was preoccupied."
"Preoccupied?" The Nord asks. "May I ask in what way?"
"The time is not quite right to tell you that bit of the story. Don't you want to know what became of 'Brother Martin'? Of Kvatch?" Aywin asked.
It was clear that Aywin was set on telling the story her way, and the three men returned to their seats.
Kvatch, Chapel of Akatosh…
29 Last Seed 3E433
The soldiers entered the chapel of Akatosh in the center of what remained of Kvatch. The steeple had fallen over, but otherwise it seemed to have been protected by the gods. The stained glass windows of the nine divines that rounded the main chapel were in as good condition as they had ever been.
The altar in the center had not so much as suffered a scratch, and the red drapery around it still shone brilliantly.
The civilians who chose to stay in Kvatch than risk fleeing were huddled around this chapel. Some praying at the smaller altars underneath each glass depiction and others cursing the gods for taking away their homes, lives and families.
Ignin, Saryn and Davion sat around a small table enjoying a brief meal.
"Brother Martin will be with you directly," Savlian nodded. "He is tending to the wounded."
Ignin nodded and took another sip from his goblet.
"This guy is really the Emperor's son?" Davion asked.
"Best not to say that aloud until we have him in a safe place," Menian sighed. "The enemy has many ears."
Ilend shrugged his shoulders. "If they can unleash this kind of chaos upon us I wonder what good this man can do. Even if he is the heir that doesn't mean the Oblivion Gates will all suddenly close, does it?"
"There is much we don't know," Savlian said. "I think that is the point. I think only the Emperor knew."
"And why did he not tell us?" An upstart named Beirich Inian cursed. "Why must he hide things from the people he protects?"
"That is the Imperial Prerogative, Beirich," Savlian said sharply.
"I wish I could help you but I have sworn an oath to the Fighter's Guild. I am needed in Anvil as we speak," Davion nodded.
"I understand. The Emperor charged me with this task, you are free to go your own ways. Keep an eye on Cyrodiil. Dark times are a head of us," Ignin nodded.
"I am heading into the wilderness for a while. If more of these Oblivion Gates are open I want to see them. Perhaps I can identify a pattern," Saryn suggested. "I will write to you."
"I don't know where I will be in a few days to be honest," Ignin shrugged.
"Trust me. My letter will find you," Saryn nodded shrewdly.
At that a young Imperial man with short brown hair walked up to the table. He wore a gray robe and looked thoroughly discontent.
"You have need of me? If you need a healer, perhaps I can help. If you need a priest, you had best look somewhere else," Martin sighed.
"I must have a word with you, and I insist for our safety that it be in private," Ignin nodded. He cast a look towards Savlian who nodded approvingly.
Martin nodded and followed Ignin out of the Chapel and into the ruined streets of Kvatch. The plaza was barren now. All the soldiers were in the chapel tending to the wounded, burying the dead and drinking to the memory of both the Count of Kvatch and Emperor.
"I do not know what help I can be," Martin said. "Having seen what I have seen I am finding my faith strained."
"There are Gods," Ignin said flatly. "And they have a plan for you."
Martin turned to Ignin. "Who are you?"
"My name is Ignin. I was sent by Emperor Uriel Septim to find you," Ignin explained.
"Me?" Martin asked. "I am but a simple priest."
"No you aren't. You are a son of Emperor Septim. The Heir to the Dragon Throne," Ignin said.
Martin cast a suspicious glance around him. "My father was a farmer. Why should I believe any of this?"
"There is a man named Jauffre in Weynon Priory near Chorrol. He told me all about you. Perhaps he can prove that you are who you are."
Martin sighed. "I suppose staying here will do me little good. For some reason I feel as though I can trust you. I've heard of what you did, you know. Closing the Oblivion Gate, liberating the city from the Daedra. I can tell you are no enemy of mine."
"So you will follow me to Weynon Priory?" Ignin asked.
"Yes. I place my life in your hands, do not fail me," Martin said, although he seemed to lack some resolve.
Saryn and Davion exited the chapel along with Savlian.
"I am heading out now," Saryn smiled at Ignin. "May our next meeting be more favorable."
"I look forward to your letter," Ignin returned the smile.
Davion wasn't sure what to say, but patted Ignin on the shoulder and took his leave. Savlian turned to Martin and then back to Ignin.
"Ilend and Menian are on patrol but they wanted me to send their thanks to you before you left. You have done Kvatch; indeed the Imperium a great service today," Savlian nodded.
"It was nothing," Ignin nodded.
"So Martin. You are leaving then?" Savlian asked.
Martin simply nodded. Savlian looked at Ignin with a slightly grim expression on his face. "If you must travel by the Nine Divines stay on the road. The wilderness is no longer safe anymore."
"Don't suppose you have any horses?" Ignin asked. "I must get Martin to Weynon Priory as fast as possible."
"The Imperial Legion soldiers left some by the city gate. They say you are free to take them."
Ignin nodded. "Very well then. What about you?"
"I? My days of fighting are over I am afraid. I've made Ilend the new Captain of the Guard. But I will stay on in an advisory capacity. Please, if you ever need our aid, just let me know," Savlian nodded.
"I will do that. Farewell," Ignin said.
"Godspeed," Savlian replied as he headed back to the chapel.
Bravil, Residence of Henantier…
29 Last Seed 3E433
Henantier lay asleep in his bed on the top floor of the small shack that he called his home. Kud-Ei and Alessia sat on a bed opposite his.
"Hopefully he should awaken soon," Kud-Ei said, clutching a small amulet in her hands.
About six hours earlier, Alessia had followed Kud-Ei to this place. Kud-Ei had explained that a fellow guild mage, Henantier, had a dangerous habit of experimenting with magic.
"He told me his latest project involved his deams," Kud-Ei explained. "He wanted to create an amulet that would allow him to enter his dreams."
"'Enter his dreams'?" Allesia asked. "But anybody can dream."
"Yes. But with this Amulet he would create a world completely within his own, bound only by his imagination. He got the idea from the Orb of Vaermina, the mystical Daedric Artifact that is supposed to allow one to bring their dreams into the real world," Kud-Ei had explained.
"But why would he want to do that?" Alessia asked. "Amusement?"
Kud-Ei shook her head. "No. He meaned to turn his dreams into a training ground where he could test and experiment with even more dangerous branches of magic."
Kud-Ei registered the look on Alessia's face and changed her tone at once.
"This was not an evil wish. He had little interest in the college of Destruction. But certain powerful magicka of any college has its risks. And… technically speaking the Mage's Guild frowns on such reckless behavior," Kud-Ei sighed. "That is why I could not ask the Guild for help."
"How can I help him?" Alessia asked.
Kud-Ei brightened up at once and explained the situation to Alessia. The Amulet had been constructed. It was called the Dreamworld Amulet by Henantier. Kud-Ei's plan was to have Alessia wear it and sleep next to him, which would allow her access to his dreams.
"Why can't you go?" Alessia asked.
"I'm somebody in his memory. If he saw me in there, he would simply dismiss me as a figment of his imagination. The only way this could work is if it was a total stranger," Kud-Ei explained. "Find out why he has not been able to wake up. And be careful. Henantier told me once that if he died in his dreams, anybody sharing his dream would die as well. I am putting you at the mercy of my colleagues darkest imaginings, and I am sorry."
Alessia gulped. She had not figured this to be a life threatening chore, but she had already promised Kud-Ei that she would help. She put on the Dreamworld Amulet and, with some difficulty fell asleep.
Henantier's Dreamworld was unlike anything Alessia had ever seen. At first glance it seemed to be his house, but there was an odd red tint to the place. The far wall of his bedroom looked like a cavern rather than a house. The bottom floor held a variety of doors each with a different appearance.
In the center of the bedroom stood Henantier, babbling to himself. He did not, apparently, realize he was in a dream. Alessia had tried to explain to him the situation, but he simply shrugged her off, mumbling about "getting out".
Steeling her nerve she decided to explore this dreamworld more fully. There were two doors on the lower level, a small door embedded into the cavernous rock wall on the far side of the bedroom and a door that looked like a stone grate on the other.
This was the door she chose first. At once she saw darkeness, with a small path lit by only a few glowing crystals. She reached at once for a torch, but found that entering the Dreamworld had robbed her of everything but her garments. She tried to cast a spell, but even that failed. Unsure of what to do she felt around the ground before her and found a small casket.
Inside, mercifully, was a torch.
She moved along a stone path in front of her. Under the torchlight she saw a pressure plate and dodged it. Looking up she saw a makeshift trap of falling boulders which, had she not been able to see the pressure plate, would have undoubtedly crushed her.
She reached a small circular platform, with the center missing, leading into a large hole from whence light emanated. Swinging blades crisscrossed the path around and Alessia carefully made her way around them.
As she stepped off the platform and onto another stone path she at once could not breathe. She looked at the ground and saw vents of flowing, poisonous gas. She held her breath and ran to the next area.
Falling blades which she barely avoided smashed down in front of her, followed by more falling rock traps. But at the end of this passage was a small altar. On it floated a small round orb that glowed blue. The words around the altar read: Perception.
She grabbed the orb and in an instance found herself back in the room with Henantier. Henantier was now up and moving, able to tell walls from ground. He seemed slightly more docile but still not ready to talk. Heading downstairs she entered the door that would have been the exit to his house in the real world.
Terror struck her.
She was in a cave, completely filled with water. The waters went down into the abyss and there was no end in sight. She cursed that she was not Argonian and waded towards a small casket that held a small potion.
Figuring what this must be, she drank it and then dove down into the water. She could breathe, for a little while. It was the second time in just a few days where she had experienced the odd sensation of being able to breathe water.
But then panic struck. She was nowhere near the bottom but far too far from the surface to retreat and the effects of the potion had worn out. She held her breath as best she could clutching at the rocks.
The rocks revealed another small casket and inside another potion. She forced the bottle into her mouth and downed it. Life seemed to return to her and she continued diving downward, realizing that down was the only way out.
At the bottom of the cave there was another door. She opened it and found herself standing in the center of a small fort. Another altar stood here, the orb it held glowing orange. The altar read: Courage.
Henantier now seemed to have the bravery to talk to Alessia, but he bombarded her with questions and when he failed to answer them satisfactorily, he threw what was nothing short of a childish hissy fit.
Alessia entered the small cavernous doorway. The path here was slightly dark but manageable and a small casket stood awaiting directly in front of her.
She opened it and saw a scroll with a variety of symbols, arranged in three unique patterns. At first this meant nothing to her, but as she walked down this path she saw a small grid of pressure plates, surrounded by columns. These columns had holes with brass blocking, the telltale signs of an arrow trap.
Looking again at the scroll she understood. Almost every symbol was unique on the page, but one repeated along a small path. She breathed in and set her foot on the first pressure plate marked by this symbol.
Nothing happened.
She followed the path to the end, doing the same for the two more complex grids ahead of her. At the end of the path, she saw a small purple glowing orb. The altar read: Patience.
Henantier would now listen to her and understand her, while before he had been too impatient or cowardly to do so, but he still wanted to do nothing about his predicament. He didn't have the willpower to move.
Alessia entered the last door on the bottom floor which had bloodstains all around it.
A small casket stood beside her, filled, somehow with every weapon and armor imaginable. She reached down into the somehow bottomless basin and grabbed a staff and some light armor, draping it over herself. She walked up the stairs in front of her into a large replica of the imperial arena and was assaulted by three minotaurs.
She dodged the hammer of the first deftly and sent a blast of lightning its way, radiating through the staff. Finally she could cast magic again! Always having preferred lightning for some reason she sent two more monstrous blasts at the other other two minotaurs knocking them down. A stairwell rose from nothingness and let up to a spectator seat.
The orb glowed green and the altar read: Resolve.
Henantier now seemed to have forgotten everything, but at the same time seemed more himself then ever. Alessia explained to him one last time what had happened and he nodded.
"I can see now that what you were saying was no story at all, but the truth. And I'm a fool. I had no idea that the amulet could hold such power over me. I set out to create a way to conquer my failings, but it seems the tables had turned, and they conquered me. I don't know how you did it, but I thank you. Now we must wake from this dream and take our places in the real world again. Farewell."
Alessia had woken with a start. She and Kud-Ei sat on the bed awaiting Henantier's awakening.
"Are you sure you did everything right?" Kud-Ei asked as thirty minutes passed.
"I'm sure," Alessia nodded.
Henantier began to stir. Kud-Ei gasped with joy and hugged Henantier as he slowly awoke.
"So affectionate," Henantier laughed. He turned to Alessia. "It's good to see you in the real world. I'm indebted to you for rescuing me from my nightmare."
"It was nothing," Alessia nodded. "What took you so long?"
Henantier shrugged his shoulders. "I had to finish something off."
And as Alessia looked at him, the Dreamworld Amulet had vanished from around his neck.
Anvil, Fighter's Guild…
29 Last Seed 3E433
Having been up most of the night battling Daedra it was no surprise that upon Davion's arrival at the guild he promptly made his way to the living quarters and fell asleep. He awoke sometime in the mid afternoon and went about his business, looking for Azzan, a fellow Reguard who was the Chapter Head.
He was a tough looking guy who seemed as though he could hold his own against gro-Khash with little difficulty. He wore a full set of Steel Armor and sat behind a desk laden with his weapons of choice.
Davion had barely uttered a syllable when Azzan nodded. "Contract right? You're a bit late."
Azzan seemed to catch-on that he might have said something offensive and changed his tone at once.
"But of course you must have come from Kvatch," he said in a much more somber tone. "That new shook us all. And of course the news of the Emperor's death."
"I actually fought alongside the guard at Kvatch," Davion nodded. It was not an attempt to boast, but an indication that he would like a more significant task than delivering weapons.
"Well than this contract should be a piece of cake," Azzan continued. "I need you to help Arvena Thelas. Apparently she has some rats in her house."
Davion sighed. There was nothing he could do about it but accept the assignment.
"Yes, rats. I'm sure she can explain it to you better than I. She lives here in Anvil. Go and talk to her," Azzan ordered. "Good luck."
On his way out he saw a husky dog blocking his way. The dog sniffed him and began to bark in a fairly pleasant way.
"Oh sorry!" A Dunmer woman smiled, moving the dog out of the way of the door by his collar. "That's Mojo. He's a real tough dog and a great judge of character."
The Dunmer knelt down and gave him a hug.
"Um. I'm Davion, a new recruit. You are?"
"Llensi Llaram. Fighter's Guild through and through," she replied somewhat automatically. "We all sort of get used to Mojo though. He's kind of this guild's adopted pet."
"You say he's a good judge of character?" Davion asked.
"Some of the older members take that rather seriously. If Mojo had started growling they would have been very suspicious of you. But it seems you passed the test," Llensi smiled. "I'm sorry you must be busy. We can talk later."
As odd as that encounter was, it would not come close to comparing with Arvena Thelas. She was also a Dunmer and if it hadn't been for his friendship with Modryn Oreyn he would have sworn all the folk of Morrowind were insane.
She did have a problem with rats in her basement. However it was not quite what he had expected.
"That's right! Rats! In my basement," she cried hysterically. "And something has been killing them! It's horrible. My poor babies! You must do something!"
At this Davion took an imperceptible step back. He didn't dare say that the thing he wanted to do was inform the guard that there was a madwoman loose.
"I don't know what I'd do without them. Their little pink noses and their scaly tails. Please. Get to the basement and find out what's happening."
Davion wasted no time. He was eager for this contract to be done. He went down into her basement and heard the squeaking of at least four rats. He heard a growl and lifted his claymore.
To his utter amazement there was a mountain lion- a full-grown mountain lion- attacking the rats. He cut the lion down before the beast even took notice of him and made sure that the rats were okay.
A quick visual scan confirmed this and he made his way upstairs to talk to Arvena who was more adamant than ever.
"A mountain lion? In my basement? But… how? That's not possible. But, it happened! What if there are more? What if it wasn't alone? Where there's one there will be more. Find Pinarus Inventius. He's a hunter, and knows this area inside and out. He'll know what to do," she ordered excitedly.
Technically, Davion was still under contract and so grudgingly he made his way to the Count's Arms, a pub, where he might find this Pinarus. After some chatting with the barkeep he discovered that Pinarus was out on a hunt at this very moment. Davion left the main gate and saw Pinarus not 200 yards away firing his bow.
As Pinarus went to claim the game, a fine deer that his arrow had struck, Davion walked up to him.
"Nice shot," Davion nodded.
"Thank you. Pinarus Inventius; marksman, woodsman and hunter at your service," he said, extending his free hand.
Davion took it. "Davion, Fighter's Guild."
Davion explained about the mountain lion in Arvena Thelas's house.
"Mountain lions? Here? Odd. If they're around I can find them. Come with me. A hunt will do us good, and maybe make that old nut feel better," Pinarus nodded.
The two men walked through the tall, golden grass fields of the plains near Anvil. The Gold Coast was aptly named. A tree or boulder here or there, but mainly the sweet summer air and the brilliant plains.
This was the life as far as Davion was concerned. Sea air filling your lungs, the sound of the waves and the wind through the grass. If Pinarus was right about one thing, this hunt was doing his old heart good.
Pinarus raised his hand near a circle of boulders on the back side of the walls of Anvil.
"If they're anywhere this is the place," Pinarus said. He rose his sword. "Probably no more than three or four of them."
Davion lifted his claymore. They jumped over the boulders and were in the midst of a lions den. As Pinarus had predicted, four of the beasts met their charge with an alarmed response. Pinarus cleaved the first ones tail off, finishing him with a quick strike to the neck while Davion struck another down with his claymore.
The hissing of the third came too late and Pinarus suffered a deep bite in his shin. Cursing loudly, Pinarus turned and dispatched the beast with his dagger. The fourth leapt at Davion, knocking him back against a rock. His claymore slipped from his hands. Just as the great cat was prepared to take a bite out of Davion's head, the beast slumped down and fell over, an arrow in the back of his head.
"Good shot," Davion nodded again.
Pinarus returned his nod. "That should be them all. I can't imagine more in this area."
Davion was amazed to see him still walking, but then as a hunter he must be used to all kinds of injuries.
"Go tell Arvena this is all taken care of. Good hunting," Pinarus waved as he made his way down the coast.
But, of course, it wasn't over yet. As soon as he returned to her house, Davion heard Arvena screaming. He rushed down to the basement where the poor woman watched helplessly as another lion began to feast on the rats.
Davion wasted no time in dispatching this beast. Arvena now seemed more deranged than ever.
"Thank the gods you killed that thing. This is ridiculous! Someone's out to get me, to get my poor babies! I'll bet it's that Quill-Weave next door."
"Quill-Weave?" Davion asked.
"She's the one. She's never liked me or my sweet little pets. I know it's her. I've even seen her sneaking around in back of my house at night."
"Well then fine. I'll stick around here until evening falls and we'll just see," Davion said.
The Colovian Highlands…
29 Last Seed 3E433
Saryn was having an unusual day. Having slept in a tree during the morning she made her way north. However the sight of another Oblivion gate made her veer off to the east. She was not prepared to deal with more Daedra.
Wandering through the valleys she found herself on the southernmost extreme of the Colovian Highlands, a few hours north would lead her to the Imperial Nature Preserve. She groaned in annoyance, she did not want to hunt in this area and so headed south again, determined that she would find the next road she could and simply head to Anvil. The sea air would do her good and she could eat all the fish she wanted.
It was at this time that she stumbled upon Shadrock Farm. Night was fast approaching and she decided to try and barter a room with the owner Thoreley Aethelred. Thorley was an interesting man, to put it delicately. His first offer Saryn politely declined, and the conversation turned south from there.
The final agreement was made after Thoreley noticed Saryn's weaponry. During the course of the conversation she had made it her business to make it ever more obvious.
"You're a hunter then? Perhaps you can help me. There have been bears in this area and they've been eating my flock of sheep," Thoreley explained. "Hunt them all down. There's about five or six of them. Bring me their fangs as proof you've done the job and you're welcome to a night in my guest bedroom."
Saryn agreed, exhaustedly and set out on the hunt. The first bear she spotted about fifteen minutes north of the farm. She dispatched it easily from a distance and removed its front two fangs with her dagger. Following pawprints northwest of that location she stumbled upon a pack of three of them huddled around a campsite. Apparently they had enjoyed a very different meal today.
She sent an arrow into the first one. This alarmed the other two and the bear that was hit started growling angrily. Saryn jumped from her perch and finished the deed with her dagger.
One of the two that were startled sent a massive paw her way, knocking her back onto the grass. She rolled with the blow, giving herself some distance and quickly shot two arrows into its head. The third one was charging fast and tackled her before she could react. They both rolled down a large hill. Saryn managed to come out of the fall relatively unscathed, but the bear was not so lucky. He hit a boulder on the way down, cracking his skull open.
Saryn retrieved the fangs from these three and made a guess that the bears were likely no further north than this. Turning south she passed Shadrock Farm again and saw two more sets of pawprints. She followed them southeast and saw that one of the bears had already been dispatched by an Imperial Forester, who was now under attack by the second. She shot the bear with an arrow just as the bear was about to strike a lethal blow to the Forester.
The man thanked her and had no problem offering her the fangs of the bears as trophies.
Well, as it turned out Thoreley Aethelred was not exactly a man of his word. He had no guest bedroom, but kindly offered Saryn a book as a reward for her hard work. A book which she proceeded to hit him over the head with.
She found a comfortable looking oak tree a few miles southwest of Kvatch, sighed about spending another evening in a tree, and settled down for the night.
Imperial City Waterfront…
29 Last Seed 3E433
R'darra returned to the Waterfront, but it was not to the triumphant Thieve's Guild welcome she had expected. The Waterfront was crawling with soldiers, all asking everybody they could find about the Grey Fox and Armand Cristophe. Heironymus Lex himself was offering a bounty of gold for the person who turned him over.
Ka'sis sat in his usual spot under the solitary tree on the backside of the Waterfront.
"Ka'sis? What's going on here?" R'darra asked.
Ka'sis hissed. "I'm sure I don't know the specifics. I am not a member of the Thieve's Guild, just a humble beggar. But it would seem that your last mission was a trap."
"What?" R'darra demanded.
"Find Methredel. She's a member now, you know. She should be able to give you more details. And hurry. You don't want to be asked to empty your pockets I am sure."
R'darra thanked Ka'sis and headed towards Methredel's house. She knocked once and the door was open. Methredel nodded and invited her in.
"What is going on?" R'darra asked.
"Relax. Everything is going according to plan," Methredel explained calmly.
R'darra scowled. Everything most certainly did not appear to be going according to plan.
"R'darra, listen. The Gray Fox has known for sometime that there is a traitor in our midst. Somebody who has been reporting to Heironymus Lex. So he set up the mission in Cheydinhal as a fake. There was no contract," Methredel explained.
"But I don't understand. Why me?" R'darra asked.
"The actual member of the Thieve's Guild who did the job was irrelevant. Armand would be blamed for the job by this traitor. Having somebody else do it gave Armand time to get into hiding, which he has now done," Methredel nodded. "Now we are going to expose this traitor, shake suspicion from Armand, and get these Legion pigs out of the Waterfront in one fell swoop."
"Alright," R'darra nodded, sitting down. "What do you want me to do?"
"You have the bust of Lady Cheydinhal correct?"
"Yes."
"The traitor's name is Myvryna Avano.. You must plant the bust of Countess Cheydinhal in her house and then report her to Heironymus Lex himself," Methredel explained.
"But he will not trust me."
"Maybe not. But he will have no choice but to investigate. Do this now and Armand will be cleared of all charges. Now get to it."
R'darra had no trouble at all with the first part of the mission. Sneak into Myvryna's house and drop off the bust. Simple enough work for an experienced thief. The tricky part was dealing with Heironymus.
"What's this? Have you suddenly grown a conscience in the past two nights?" Heironymus laughed when R'darra made the report. "Besides I have no reason to trust you."
R'darra was in no mood to be trifled with. "You are the only one who seems to think I am involved in any illicit affairs, Captain. I have never had any charges filed against me. Showing your prejudice, I think."
"Oh come off it. Don't embarrass us both with this nonsense about you and your friend Ka'sis being nothing more than poor mistreated little urchins."
"I don't care what you think of me Captain, only that you will do you duty as a Captain of the Guard and investigate any possible lead. After all, suppose my tip off is correct. What would people think when they realize you could have caught this culprit much sooner?"
Heironymus rubbed his chin. He then spoke more to himself than R'darra. "No. It can't be. She's my…" Heironymus noticed R'darra again. "That is I've no reason to suspect her. Very well I will investigate your claim. If you are wrong I will fine you for filing a false report."
"That's your prerogative, Captain," R'darra smirked.
The two strolled down to Myvryna's house. Myvyrna was just returning home and rather alarmed to see the Captain of the Guard and what she knew to member of the Thieve's Guild approaching her.
"Heironymus? What are you doing?" Myvryna asked.
"Investigating. Step aside," Heironymus said as he entered her home. He uncovered the bust within moments. "So R'darra was telling the truth. It was you all along, and you were just trying to pass the blame onto Armand! And after you've been giving me all this information I never expected this of you."
"You fool! Don't you realize? This was a trick! You've just ousted me to the Thieve's Guild," Myvryna shouted.
"It amounts to the same thing," Heironymus said somewhat carelessly. "Either way you are no longer any use to me. You'll be coming with me. And you."
Heironymus turned to R'darra.
"You are free to go," Heironymus said as though it disgusted him greatly.
Imperial City Waterfront…
29 Last Seed 3E433
Azeg-Rael awoke in a crate in the Marie Elena, a pirate ship docked at the Imperial City Waterfront.
The previous night he had been given the assignment to kill the pirate leader, Captain Gaston Tussaud. Everybody in the Brotherhood seemed to have their own ideas on the best way to tackle this objective.
Gogron wanted Azeg-Rael to just charge in and slay all the pirates.
"There's no chance for a bonus anyways; you can have more fun that way," he insisted.
Teinaava mentioned that there was a balcony on the bow of the ship that led straight into the Captain's Cabin. This was good advice, although how Azeg-Rael was going to stealthily climb onto the backside of this vessel was something he didn't have an answer for.
In the end, he chose to just cram himself in one of the crates and wait for them to load the ship at nightfall, which they did. He emerged from the crate less than gracefully, making perhaps a bit more noise than he should have, but the guard watching the crates was silenced before he could alert the others.
Azeg-Rael snuck along the shadows of the interior of the ship until he finally made his way to the Captain's Cabin. Captain Tussaud was eating his midday meal. He had just enough time to move his hand down towards his Cutlass when the Blade of Woe found his throat.
The kill was quick and clean, the dread pirate uttered not so much as a final syllable before life left him. Azeg-Rael wiped the blood off the blade and smiled at his handiwork.
Suddenly there was a loud banging on the door. Azeg-Rael turned and heard the voices of the concerned pirates.
"Captain? We heard banging. Are you alright?"
Azeg-Rael saw the exit to the balcony behind him, but he stood his ground. Three of the pirates burst in and shouted at the sight of their dead captain.
"You!" The first mate shouted, a brazen dunmer woman carrying a cutlass. "What have you done?"
"That was business," Azeg-Rael chuckled. He walked calmly up to the first mate. She slashed at him with her sword but he caught the hilt with his hand and tore it away from her. As the other two pirates watched on in horror, Azeg-Rael stroked the cheek of the woman and hissed. "But this will be for pleasure."
Imperial City Arena…
29 Last Seed 3E433
Borin was not bloodthirsty. He was tough, he liked a good fight now and then, but he took no pleasure in killing others… unless they really deserved it. He had been unsure about the arena because of the policy that all matches must end in death.
However actually being there in the heat of battle somehow incensed him, bringing his primal instincts of murder alive. The Nord he was fighting was no slouch with a Blade, slashing at Borin and getting a good slash in now and then. Borin's hammer was always a bit too slow to make more than a slight contact.
Sweat was pouring over him, his heart was racing. The scent of blood that had been trailing in his nostrils from the moment he entered the Bloodworks seemed to intensify exponentially. He had become a killing machine. The only thing he knew was that this person in front of him must die.
With one mighty flourish his hammer smashed the chest of the Nord who fell over on the ground. His sword was nowhere near him and he couldn't move. And Borin stopped for a moment.
The man was defeated, the battle was over. Was this man's death really necessary?
"It's a disgrace not to finish it," came a soft voice from behind him.
An old woman was walking up behind him from the Bloodworks. Borin could not comprehend what somebody like her was doing in a place like this.
"I'm Ysabel, the Battle Matron," she said, answering his unasked question. "I know what you're thinking. The same thing as every softhearted fool who ever walked into this ring. You can spare him. The battle's over and you've won.
"It's not that simple. The men come into this arena knowing that they can die. It makes them feel alive. If you remove that element from this place, it loses its meaning. The spectators certainly won't care for it.
"We may play at being kind-hearted individuals but there is a glory in battle and if you remove this man the right to die by steel, the life he will live beyond it will be nothing but shame."
The Nord reached slowly for his short sword. His hand clasped around it and he swung it up at Borin, carving a great scar in his arm.
Borin lifted his hammer, closed his eyes, and smashed his hammer down one last time.
"You should quit," Ysabel hissed. "This is not the career for you."
Shrine of Peryite…
29 Last Seed 3E433
Cierra arrived at the shrine of the Daedric Prince Peryite and found an odd sight awaiting her. Five followers of Peryite stood around the shrine, perfectly still. This would not have disturbed her if it was not apparent that some of the people were mid-motion.
The statue of the dragon spoke into her mind:
"This one moves! A welcome change. So, mortal, you have found my shrine, and you have seen my followers. They are an embarrassment to me. The fools cast a spell in the hopes of summoning me to them. It was prideful and foolish, and it has had its consequences. My followers are trapped between worlds; their bodies here on this plane, their souls in Oblivion. I would have you reunite the bodies and the souls. I will transport you to the plane of Oblivion in which they are trapped. Find their souls. When all are collected, I will return you here. Return to me when you are prepared."
Cierra saw a fiery gate appear in front of the statue. Rumors had reached her ears of a similar gate in Kvatch from whence monstrous creatures came, but none seemed to be flowing from this one. She touched the fiery gate and felt the uncomfortable swooping sensation of teleportation, landing on barren rock.
The smell of fire and sulfur, the sound of that terrible heat lightning; it was a terrible sight. Cierra looked around and found that she was on a ring-shaped island cast upon a sea of lava. Behind her there was a blue gate, perhaps the way back to Cyrodiil.
As she venture around she saw the avatar of one of the followers cowering in fear as two large reptiles began snarling at it, preparing to attack. Cierra rushed in slashing the back of the first one with her short sword. The second bit at her arm, but she snapped it back in time and spun round deliver a second killing blow with her blade.
"Thank goodness you came. Those creatures might have killed me!" The man cried in gratitude.
"Not likely," Cierra replied coolly. "Your attempt to summon Peryite has trapped you within Oblivion in spirit only. Your body remains in Cyrodiil."
"But… how can that be?" The man asked.
"It is the reason why even the wisest mages do not tamper with magic beyond their understanding," Cierra replied creating a fireball within her hand and blasting it through the shadow of the man at massive Atronach made of ice.
The man looked down and patted himself. "I… I see. You have made your point quite, erm, pronouncedly."
Cierra pointed in the direction of the gate to Cyrodiil and moved along the island. Retrieving the other four followers was more of the same. Only one gave Cierra a bit of trouble as he was rather insistent on trying to write down the account of his adventure; apparently not grasping the concept of his condition.
"You have returned my followers, mortal. The natural order is restored, and for this, I thank you. Perhaps they have learned the folly of attempting to touch a Daedra Prince. Take this, with my blessing. May it bring you order."
And appearing in a soft blue light in front of the statue was an elaborate golden shield, the words Spell Breaker etched on the backside. She had read of this shield but could not believe that it was a Daedric Artifact. It was a legendary shield that would block magical attacks. This was a worthy addition to her armaments indeed.
Bruma…
29 Last Seed 3E433
On his way out of Chorrol, Will was accosted by a man named Reynald Jemane. He was walking home from a stroll in the woods carrying a tankard of ale in one hand and a rude gesture in the other.
"What do you mean you seen me in Cheydinhal!" He shouted. "You mean imposter. I ain't never been to Cheydinhal in my life. And I don't have no time for this nonsense."
Will shrugged off that unpleasant encounter with the man and found his way to chilly alpine town of Bruma. The next vendor he had to speak to was an Altmer by the name of Suurootan.
The man wasn't firm or decisive, he was downright stubborn. He did not haggle so much as repeat the same price and over and over for his wares. He would not concede on any of Will's demands and finally Will was forced to consider him a lost cause.
"Look I'm not shelling out 543 gold for what you have to offer, I would lose money selling it back. I'm barely scraping a profit at 400, which is- and shall always be- my final offer," Will explained. "Now if you can't see fit to agreeing to that more than reasonable price I can find another vendor."
"Don't think you can fool me. This stuff is worth almost double along the Gold Coast. Sailors will by this stuff for thrice what I am charging you," Suurootan insisted.
"Which is all well and good if sailors were my clientele, but my store is in the town proper not on the docks. I sell to the locals, who have no desire to drop 15 gold per unit on your goods. Now are you resolute in your demands or shall I bid you good day?" Will insisted.
Suurootan gave a haughty little sniff and Will considered himself excused. He made his way to the nearest pub he could find and ordered a pint.
"Well," he thought. "At least that gives me more gold to barter at Cheydinhal."
Suurootan's refusal to meet his demands had hurt him, but not as much as the loss of Seed-Neeus's business would have. He counted his blessings and continued to down pint after pint…
Weynon Priory…
29 Last Seed 3E433
Ignin and Martin arrived at Weynon Priory to see the buildings under attack by a small squad of red-garbed men. They rushed in to the priory and Ignin and Martin ran after them.
Inside four of these men were holding Jauffre at knifepoint. One of them insisted, in a dark voice.
"You will tell us where the heir is, or-"
"Or what exactly?" Ignin shouted, letting an arrow fly, striking the man square in the head. He fell back against the altar, dead.
"Excellent timing," Jauffre smiled, raising a Dai-Katana from his back. "You take the ones on the left, eh?"
The battle was over in a manner of moments, Jauffre moving with speed and dexterity defying his age. This man was truly a worthy protector of the Emperor.
"There were more," Jauffre sighed. "They killed Brother Maborel and ran off with the Amulet of Kings." He looked up and saw Martin. "But you must be Martin Septim."
Martin nodded, "So I am told."
"So we have lost the Amulet and gained the heir. This priory will be no good to us as a defense. Though truly no place is safe against the enemy leveled against us," Jauffre pondered for a moment. "Still it is fitting. We must go now to Cloud Ruler Temple north of Bruma. It is a stronghold of the Blades. A few men can hold it against an army. It might give us a fighting chance."
"Very well then," Ignin nodded. "Lead the way."