Chapter 4:
Dealings
The Elder Scrolls Series is property of Bethesda. Familiar of Zero is (currently) property of Media Factory (I believe)
"Talking"
"Thoughts"
"Powerful (Dragon/Daedra/etc.) speech"
"DOVAHZUL"
Line Break
In hindsight, Louise considered, she really should have tempered her expectations. Somehow, she'd gotten it into her head that she'd be learning fantastical new abilities and spell-craft from the first moment. But instead, Johan, her new, impromptu 'instructor', contented himself with staring out the carriage window, watching the woods pass them by.
A brief, dark thought entered her head; that she'd been duped into giving an old man a free ride. But then she recalled the conviction in his eyes as he repeatedly asserted that he could teach, as well as the fact that he shot a fireball at that dragon's face. You didn't do that unless you had equal parts power and confidence.
"Tell me, mah lahzey, what does it mean, to be a mage?"
Louise jolted at his voice. She focused on him, but he was still looking out the window. "What does that mean?" she blurted out.
He cocked a brow, shifting his eyes but otherwise staying still, "What does what mean?"
"That phrase, mal hazy. You keep calling me that." She crossed her arms, "I'd like to know if I should be offended or not."
Johan smirked, "Mah lahzey," he repeated slowly, giving Louise a chance to mumble the words beneath her breath, "translates to 'little mage'."
Louise scowled at that, which caused him to laugh heartily, "Well, you can't say it isn't true."
"I refuse to answer to that," Louise spat out.
"Suit yourself," his smile slowly disappeared, "but back to my question."
Ah yes, what it meant to be a mage.
Louise straightened in her seat, clearing her throat, "Nobles are the descendants of the Founder, Brimir," she recited from memory, "As such, we are obligated to learn and cultivate our gift so that we might prove His faith in us to be true."
She smiled to herself, she'd always had a hard time with that as a child.
"Religious tradition, that's why you wish to learn magic?"
Her smile fell at his dismissive tone, turning into a scowl, "Serving the Founder is the best way one can live life," she said heatedly.
"Then why don't you become a priestess in his honor?"
Louise seethed, Éléonore had said the very same thing more than once in their youth.
Johan shook his head, "We won't get anywhere if you can't answer the question."
"But I did!" Louise shouted.
"No," Johan replied with just as much force, but far less volume. "You told me why 'nobles' study magic. I asked why you, Louise, study magic."
Louise scoffed, "What difference does that make?"
Johan levelled her a blank stare, "If you can't figure that out you're either dumber than I thought or allowing anger to cloud your mind."
Louise sneered at the insult, but before she could retort, their driver informed them that they were nearing the town.
Line Break
Johan cracked his neck as he stepped out the carriage, his fuming charge trailing behind him.
Founder Brimir, he recalled her saying. Obviously, a deity of these lands; similar to Julianos based on context alone. But there was something else to him; something that Louise hadn't directly touched. Something to do with 'nobles'. But what?
Hopefully one of the books he'd appropriated would hold the answer.
He turned his gaze to the town, narrowing his eyes. He grunted, pointing his staff forward. "Wait for me at the armorer's," he stated.
"Why?" his still irate pupil asked.
"It's a central location, close to the road."
He heard her huff, but she stalked forward nonetheless.
As she left, he turned to the carriage driver, reaching into his pocket, "Where were you originally heading?"
The driver arched his back, groaning lightly, "Her family's estate. A few more hours down the road."
Johan nodded, "Let me just grab a few things from the carriage; you can take the rest back." He walked forward, dropping a few of this land's coin into the man's hands.
He eyed the small stack appreciatively, "Will do, Sir!"
Johan grunted, easily picking open the first of Louise's luggage. He frowned, reaching down and pulling out a corked bottle. Opening it up, he sniffed, "Hmm, decent scent." He rummaged through the bag some more, finding a plethora of pleasantly smelling, but ultimately frivolous items. Good for someone living in a castle, not so good for travelling through woods.
He searched the next case, eliciting a pleased grunt as he saw the multiple books, sheets of paper, and scrolls—the books, upon further inspection, filled with her own notes in the margins. He smiled, closing the book—he knew he made a good choice.
The third bag he'd opened held what he'd been looking for—clothes. But he was disappointed that they were all high-class finery—even the undergarments.
The other bags held miscellaneous items that would only slow them down. Though, he did pause at a small portrait of a young woman with long pink hair similar to Louise's—regardless if they were family or just close friends, he admired the fact that the two were close enough to dye their hair the same color.
Thus, he picked out two suitcases, rearranging them so that they only held her own personal notes and writing supplies and the hardiest clothes—though he did pack a few of the cleaning supplies, as well as the photo.
After that, he put the rest of the luggage pack, and smacked his hand against the carriage, "On your way, good sir."
The driver nodded, a smile on his face, "You have a pleasant journey."
Johan nodded in reply, waving as the carriage rode off.
Taking a moment to make sure no one was nearby, he flicked his wrist, and the two suitcases disappeared into his own pocket dimension, along with his staff.
He returned his gaze to the town, a predatory grin on his face. Now, for an old pastime; bartering.
Line Break
"Thank you for the cart, and good luck with the baby," Johan called out over his shoulder, waving goodbye to the merchant and his heavily pregnant wife.
He spared a glance at his new cart; it'd be a good way to build up Louise's muscle—she's thinner than a twig! He then frowned, pushing the idea aside since, along with her bony body, she was also incredibly small—she wouldn't be able to comfortably hold the thing. "Oh well," he shrugged, "I'll figure something out."
He continued on his way, outwardly stone-faced, but inwardly singing in joy. He'd spent too long away from civilization, with only dragons and monks to keep him company. Sure, he'd learnt quite a lot—both in terms of the Thu'um and the early history of Nirn—and there was no want for conversation, but there was just something about walking through town with a haul of goods, legitimately purchased or otherwise.
"Oi, there you are, you degenerate imbecile!"
Johan frowned, he'd been hoping to put this aspect of civilization off for a while.
He turned towards the commotion, puzzled at the sight before him.
There, just on the other side of the road, were four men. Two of them looked like hired soldiers, one was dressed in a very dirty set of working clothes, and the last was dressed in more finery than the emperor of Tamriel himself.
The well-dressed man jabbed a finger towards the worker, "You're late on your taxes!" he said.
The worker wrung his hands together, "But Sir Leir, I paid them! I gave them to your man right here!" he pointed to the soldier on the left—the taller of the pair.
The soldier in question sneered, "Sorry, friend, but I'm afraid I have no idea what you're talking about." This set the worker on a small speech on exactly when and where he paid the man.
Johan saw this for what it was; a shakedown to fill an already fat coin purse, he'd seen it more than once before he sequestered himself atop the Throat of the World. But there were a couple things of note about this one in particular. For one, there was true desperation in the worker's voice, so this little scam was new. Two, no one was doing anything to stop this.
Granted, he had no idea who this Leir was, he could have been this town's Maven Black-Briar equivalent—though he doubted that. But even if this was a powerful figure, he expected some righteous folk to at least look on in anger. Yet no one did. If anything, they hurried along, an air of defeat permeating the area.
"Well, since you don't have coin, I suppose I'll just have to take that daughter of yours."
…What?
"N-No, please, not her."
Leir clasped his hands beneath his back, a sleazy smile forming on his face, "Yes, I'm in need of a new maid."
"Y-You can't have her!" the worker snarled in fury and shoved the man down. Johan smirked at the display and reached into his pocket to pull out some coins for betting. The next moment made him pause, however.
The worker froze, arms still outstretched, eyes wide with fear. Leir shook his head, red in the face and glaring at the worker with a vengeance, "What are you idiots waiting for, seize him!"
At the command, the two soldiers reached for the worker, each one grabbing him by an arm. The man struggled, crying desperately to be free, but to no avail. By then, Leir had gotten back up, face set in a snarl, "I think we need to work on your manners," he growled.
The man's struggles reached a fever pitch, but all it got him was a fist to his nose. From there, the two soldiers dragged the man kicking and screaming into a nearby alley, Leir following with a downright giddy step.
Johan sighed, dropping his cart and rolling his shoulders. With a quick flick of the wrist, his cart vanished from view, and he quickly strode forward, following the quartet.
He heard blows landing against a body, and a peek around a corner revealed the worker, backed up against a wall, the two soldiers whaling on him while Leir twirled a wand in the air. Johan could see that he was talking but couldn't hear anything over the worker's pained cries.
Not that it mattered, he mused darkly as he summoned a Bound Bow, he'd heard all he needed. He could tolerate a shitty scam, but sexual extortion? The thought alone made his blood boil. He knocked an ethereal, purple arrow, two more held in his hands; he remembered the last time some greedy fools tried to set up a sex-slave ring in his territory—which, in his heyday, encompassed all of Skyrim and Solstheim—he always saved black soul gems for those wonderful occasions.
By the time he'd readied his first shot, the soldiers had dropped the worker, and Leir was pointing his wand at the bleeding man, a red glow emanating from the tip. He started speaking again—either a spell or more caustic words, Johan couldn't tell. Not that it mattered, since not a second after an arrow tore through his throat.
In the time it took for the corpse to crash to the ground, he'd sunk his second arrow into the taller soldier's head. His third shot, unfortunately, missed its mark, lodging into the man's shoulder. Not that it mattered all that much, considering the bolt of lightning that blasted his against the wall, vaporizing him.
Johan sighed, "I'm out of shape," he said beneath his breath, dispelling his bow and walking towards the cowering worker.
The man peeked his head out from his fetal position, quickly ducking back down when Johan stopped in front of him. With a click of his tongue, Johan held his hands out, streams of golden light flowing from his palm to the man, healing his wounds.
The man stayed on the ground for another moment, only looking up when (Johan assumed) he figured out he wasn't in pain anymore. He stared at Johan with wide eyes, "W-What have you done?"
Johan snorted, kicking Leir's corpse, "Isn't it obvious."
The man didn't respond, instead staring at Leir's corpse, face going pale.
Johan rolled his neck, "Regardless, I shall handle the clean-up, you go on to your family."
"W-What have you done?" the man said hysterically. He repeated those four words—complete with the stutter—in a maddening mantra. Idly, Johan wondered if Sheogorath would be proud.
But he didn't have time to talk things over with the man. So, summoning an orb of pale green energy into his hand, he cast a calming spell on him.
At once, his entire being relaxed, and he rose to his feet.
Johan repeated his previous statement, and this time was met with a nod and a smile. The smile disappeared when the man returned his gaze to the corpses at his feet, "What about—"
Johan cut him off with a wave of his hands, "Like I said, I'll take care of it." He frowned, "Though, if, if, someone does come by and ask questions, just tell them that last you saw them, you handed them your latest fee."
The man's smile returned, and with a quick wave, he left the alley.
Johan turned his attention to his kills, stroking his beard in thought. He then snapped his fingers, and idea coming to mind.
A quick FUS blew away the remains of the one soldier, and a couple thrall spells rose the other and Leir from the dead.
He held his hands out, "Coin purses," he commanded. At once, the pair gave him all their money. Tucking it away, he said, "Head east, down the main road. After about a mile, you," he pointed to the soldier, "stab him," he pointed to Leir, "a lot. Make sure to cut off his head where the arrow wound is. After that, run as far as you can to the South."
The soldier groaned lowly.
Johan grunted, casting a time-release spell on the soldier. "And don't talk to anyone on your way."
The two thralls groaned and went on to dispose of themselves.
Line Break
Louise scowled as Johan came into view, "You're late!" she cried.
The foreigner smirked, "I don't recall giving you a timeframe?"
She felt her cheeks heat up, "R-Regardless, it is most uncouth to leave a Noble such a myself waiting outside such an," she eyes her surroundings, "establishment."
Johan snorted, further infuriating Louise, and gestured to the building, "You could have waited inside."
Louise stepped back, scandalized. Why would she dare enter the building? She had no need of Commoner arms. Before she could voice such thought, Johan pushed past her, entering the shop.
Fuming, she followed him inside.
"Hello! Welcome to my shop!" a skinny Commoner with a noticeable hunch and wide-brimmed glasses said from behind the counter.
Louise immediately schooled her features into a less displeased look; 'you must never show a Commoner the depth of your emotions;, she'd heard countless times.
Johan nodded at the man, "Hello. I'm going to need to look at your hunting supplies—daggers, bows, arrows, that sort of thing."
The Commoner nodded, gesturing to his left, "I've got a wide assortment of daggers here, and bows are along the wall. Let me get some arrows from the back." That said, he left further into the building.
Johan walked forward, grabbing a dagger and examining it.
Once she was sure the Commoner was out of sight, Louise stomped forward, harshly tugging on Johan's sleeve, "What in Brimir's name are you doing?"
"Checking out daggers," he said flippantly.
Louise scoffed, "Obviously. But why?"
Johan paused, letting out a brief bark of laughter. He then looked down, blinking, "Oh, you're serious?" He sniffed, "How else are we to defend ourselves?"
Louise stared disbelievingly at him, "Are you daft? We have magic! Why would we—!" her next words died in her throat as something sharp pressed against her throat. She paled, slowly gazing down, trembling at the dagger held at her throat—she hadn't even seen him move!
"Never," there was a low growl in his voice, "underestimate the utility of a dagger." He drew the blade back, allowing Louise to breath, "I've seen far too many a mage fall because they didn't have a back-up when their magic failed them." He returned his gaze—stony and cold—to her, "You are especially at risk, considering your reliance upon a stick," he said, lifting his other hand, holding her wand between his index and middle finger.
Subconsciously, Louise slapped both arms to her left hip, eyes, if at all possible, growing wider.
His cold visage melted away after that, a keen smugness overtaking it. He flicked his left hand forward, tossing her wand—which she caught in shaky hands. He then flicked his right hand, tossing the dagger in the air, catching the flat of the blade in his palm. He extended his arm, holding the hilt towards her. Gulping down her anxiety, she grabbed the weapon, gingerly holding it in right hand.
Johan groaned, crouching down and grabbing her wrist, "Like this!" he said, moving her fingers so that she held it properly. He grunted, "Comfortable?"
Louise nodded numbly.
By then, the Commoner had returned from the back, "Sorry about the wait," he said, holding a large number of arrows in his arms, "Some of the arrowheads looked a bit shoddy, wanted to find some better ones for you."
"Oh!" Johan stood, a grateful smile on his face, "Thank you!" He grabbed a couple arrows, balancing them on his fingers. He nodded, placing them down and moving for the bows along the wall. He stopped in front of a barrel full of weapons, however. He looked over his shoulder, "What's this?"
The Commoner leaned forward, adjusting his glasses, "Ah, those. Got them from some traders a week or two back. They're older pieces, but if you're interested…" he trailed off.
Johan returned to the barrel, slowly stroking his beard. After a moment, he reached inside, pulling out a long, single-edged blade, covered from the hilt up in a deep layer of brown rust.
"That one?" Louise unintentionally blurt out. When Johan turned around, cocking a brow at her, she blushed, but stood her ground, "I mean, there are so many better things here!"
Johan's eyes crinkled in what she assumed was amusement, "Oh, you have so much to learn, mah lahzey."
Louise twitched at the phrase, but Johan returned to his original task. He pulled a curved, wooden bow form the wall—very small compared to him, she noted. It wasn't until he was in front of her that she realized this was another Commoner weapon meant for her.
He held the bow out, then frowned, pulling it back. He turned, facing the counter, and shifted his hands until his left hand held the bow, and his right was resting on the string. "Hold it like this," he then held it out for her to grab.
She did so, praying to Brimir that this day never reached her family's ears. After she mimicked his pose, he asked her if she was comfortable with its weight. She wanted to shout that she wasn't, that she wasn't meant to sully her hands with such an item; but then she remembered the dagger he easily leveled against her throat and answered honestly.
"It's…alright."
Johan nodded, "Now, pull on the bowstring."
She begrudgingly did so, grunting as it resisted. But she wouldn't let that stop her; beneath her it may be, she would not allow some Commoner tool to best her. Thus, with a grunt of effort she as hard as she could, only stopping at Johan's command.
He pointed to the bow, "Observe this shape; memorize it. This is the bow's maximum draw distance, anymore and you'll liable to break the string.
Louise nodded, huffing slightly to keep her arms from trembling.
Johan smiled softly, "You can release the string now."
She readily did so; which ended up being a mistake, for as soon as she let go, the string slapped against her arm with a mighty CRACK. Louise cried out, dropping the bow and clutching her arm, refusing to shed tears.
At once, Johan crouched down beside her, groaning lightly, "Not all at once!" he exclaimed.
Louise shot him a seething glare.
Johan held up a hand, "Drem, er, peace," he said, "The fault lies with me. It's obvious you've never held a bow before, I should have told you how to properly release it." He clicked his tongue, "Now, let me see your arm."
With a huff, Louise held her injured arm out, hissing as he pulled back her sleeve to get a better look at her wound. She cringed at the, recognizing the beginnings of an angry red welt— Éléonore a number of such wounds on particularly idiotic servants.
Johan tutted, "Oh, this won't do at all." He hummed a wordless tune, and then came something more shocking than anything Louise had ever seen in her entire life.
Johan's hand, previously hovering just over her wound, glowed white. She was sure her jaw dropped, and then dropped further as tendrils of…energy flowed from his hand to her arm; and what followed was not what she would all particularly soothing, but pleasant nonetheless, as the mark quickly disappeared, leaving her arm as pristine as it was mere moments ago.
Johan stood, dusting his hands, leaving Louise gaping at her arm, then him, then back to her arm. Eventually, she closed her mouth, asking, "W-W-What was that?"
"Magic," Johan said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.
Before she could further question this newfound enigma, Johan returned to the counter. "Okay then…I'll take these daggers," he placed four daggers on the counter, "these bows," he placed three bows on the counter, "all those arrows, and," he placed the rusted blade on the counter, "this blade. Along with…five pieces of leather, and a polishing kit."
The Commoner hummed rubbing his chin in thought, "Well, that's all going to come together to about twelve hundred Écu. But, in honor of this bulk purchase—as well as the spectacular lightshow—I'll cut the price of the arrows in half, and toss in a leather bracer for the girl, some quivers for the two of you, a sheath for the blade, and the polishing kit for free. So, in the end that'll be," he bobbed his head in the air, "nine hundred Écu."
Johan nodded, reaching into his cloak and—startlingly quickly—counting out the necessary coin, along with about fifty extra, 'for the trouble it took to grab the arrows,' he'd said.
The Commoner scooped up the coins, readily thanking Johan, before frowning, "Give me a second, I'll grab some baskets to help you take these outside."
But Johan declined, waving his hand and—in another display of impossible magic—summoned a cart, already filled with various items.
The Commoner, ignorant of the impossibility of what had just occurred, whistled, "Now that's a handy bit of magic."
Johan agreed, and helped load the items onto the cart. After that was done, he waved his hand over the cart, and it vanished from view. Were she in a better mood, she might have laughed at the sight of the Commoner hesitantly poking the space where the cart previously was. Instead, she quickly followed Johan outside, where she was met with another shocking piece of information.
"Where's the carriage?"
"Hm? Oh," Johan cleared his throat, "I sent it on ahead to your home, along with the majority of your luggage."
"W-What? Why?" Louise spluttered.
"Mah lahzey," Johan began, "We're chasing after a dragon. Do you know where they live?" Before Louise could answer—mountains, obviously—he continued, "I'll tell you where they don't, villages and towns. And frankly, you had way too many useless items."
At that, anger boiled up in Louise, and she exclaimed, "And who are you to judge what is and is not useless to me?!"
Johan cocked a brow, "A mage many decades your senior that lived with dragons for a fair chunk of those decades."
Louise faltered at that, somehow knowing that he spoke the truth. She then stared down at her feet, dejected at the loss of her items.
Johan sighed, "Keep in mind, I didn't just send everything of yours away. I kept the majority of your clothes—not the dresses, though—some of your fancy smelling lotions, and all your notes," he hummed, looking down at her with what she thought was approval. "Along with that framed portrait of the pink-haired woman. Who is she, by the way?"
Despite everything, Louise smiled, "My sister, Cattleya."
Johan smiled, "Well, she seems like a lovely young woman."
Louise allowed her mind to drift to happier times, "She is…" But then the present came barreling through, and she pointed an accusatory finger at Johan, "Wait, what was that thing you did in the shop, with your hands!"
Johan raised his eyebrows quizzically, "I told you, magic."
"But that's impossible, magic can't be cast without a wand!"
Johan smirked devilishly, raising his hands, "Can't it?" Within seconds a flame flickered to life in his right hand. In his left, a series of green, transparent cubes formed and floated above his palms.
Tentatively, breath caught in her throat, Louise stepped forward, "H-How?"
Johan laughed, closing his hands and cutting off the lightshow, "That's a complicated question."
Louise licked her lips. Her skill with a wand was abysmal, but this…she stared up at her teacher, "Can…can you teach me how to do that?"
He smiled, "Mah lahzey," he said fondly, "why else are we here?"
Line Break
Cattleya idly pet Cher—an orange tabby she'd found near the edge of the estate—as she looked through her letters. Admittedly, there were not many—especially since her sickly disposition reached the ears of every young male heir that lived within Tristain—but she still had a number of friends from her academy days, to say nothing her darling Louise.
Ah, speak of the devil, a letter from her sister.
She frowned as she observed the letter, there were tiny dry splotches all over it. Her heart ached—she'd hoped these days were behind them. Nonetheless, she reached for her letter opener.
"WHAT!"
Her mother's sudden roar made her jump, dropping the letter and opener. At once, she bolted out her room, almost running into an equally distressed Éléonore. Together, they ran towards the main hall, walking into the sight of their mother yelling at a cowering messenger, a letter crumpled in her iron grip.
"I-I'm s-s-sorry, Duchess, but I can't t-tell you anything," he whimpered, "I w-wasn't told anything, n-nor did I open t-t-t-the letter."
Mother scowled, "Fine!" she spat out, "Get out of my sight!" The messenger quickly scurried away.
Éléonore, always the braver of them, cleared her throat, "Mother, what's the matter?" She paled, "Is it Father?"
Cattleya gasped, she hadn't considered that!
Thankfully, Mother's next words assuaged her fears, "No, this has nothing to do with Centurion." Cattleya let out a relieved sigh, only to quickly suck it back in as Mother said, "it's much worse."
Before either of them could ask what, Mother was already striding off, "I'll tell you on the way to the armory."
Just then, a maid entered the room. "Begging you pardon Duchess—"
Mother cut her off with a glare, "Have you more news from the academy?" The maid shook her head, "Does it involve the Duke of this house?" Another shake, "Does it absolutely require my attention?" There was a brief pause, before the maid shook her head hesitantly. Mother grit her teeth, "Then get it done, and get it done quickly," she growled.
The maid paled, bowing her head and quickly stepping out.
Cattleya stepped forward, "The Academy?" she gasped, "Is Louise alright?"
Mother waved her off, "This has nothing to do with Louise! No, this is much…much more dire."
And then she, along with her sister, gasped. Because a sliver of emotion—other than anger—slipped through their mother's steel visage. Fear.
A/N: Next up, the first day of camping. Be sure to leave a review. Later.