A/N: Life got the better of me.
Chapter 9
Ulpia Cosma had a very hearty voice, especially at six in the morning. Apparently Farwil thought the same, because he was now in the hallway, arguing with her in a loud, screeching tone. The cacophony was unbearable.
Bremman climbed out of the bed and peered outside. The door to one previously locked chamber in the living quarters stood wide open; some servants were running around carrying pillows, towels and Nine-knows-what. The Khajiti doorkeeper, Ra'qanar, stood near the doorway with his arms crossed, obviously supervising their work. Curious, Bremman stepped out of his room. The Khajit noticed it and walked to him, his tail slightly wagging.
"Ra'qanar wishes you good morning, young master."
"Good day to you too, sir." Ra'qanar was one of the kindest people in the Castle. He even provided Bremman with a copy of 'ABCs for Barbarians', apparently the most beloved children's book on Vvardenfell. Bremman loved the book, too. There wasn't much to read, but the pictures were beautiful. "What are they arguing about?"
"We are preparing one of the rooms for lady Llathasa's most esteemed cousin. It seems that his arrival was hastened, so lady Ulpia asked us to prepare it this morning. Master Farwil thinks she chose a wrong time to do it."
"Countess' cousin? Really?" this obviously translated to 'a member of the House Redoran', which made it so interesting
Ra'qanar nodded "From a distant and beautiful city of Blacklight, home to the honorable House Redoran."
"Why is he coming here?" asked Bremman, glancing at Farwil. The Dunmer was looking at lady Ulpia with a defiant expression. He was too engrossed in the quarrel to even notice his surroundings.
"Ra'qanar is but a poor Khajit. Ra'qanar doesn't know, why." the Khajit looked at Bremman and perked up his ears "Ra'qanar noticed the suspicious lack of silverware in the aforementioned room, though. Punish this simple servant if you see fit, young master, but Khajit must say that the lock was picked by an amateur! A solid job, sure, yet devoid of finesse."
Bremman's face reddened. Oh, by Stendarr...
"Young master has a bright future before him." the Khajit observed "Please excuse Ra'qanar, for this poor servant has some urgent matters to attend."
Ra'qanar walked away, swishing his tail in swooping motion. Bremman observed him with caution. Khajits...
Farwil has finally stopped arguing with Ulpia Cosma and tried to return to his room. Aside for the fact that he was dressed only in a shirt and a pair of loose trousers, he had an unusual aura of authority around him. Bremman decided to join his friend in this harsh morning hour.
"Hello." he said. The Dunmer looked in his direction and managed a smile.
"Hi there." Farwil yawned "I didn't get much sleep because of this whole thing" he waved his hand at the working servants "I hope this Redoran guy's carriage crashes somewhere in the mountains and he dies a horrible death." The sleepier Farwil was, the worse his curses have become. While he has been careful not to direct them at certain people - Bremman included, which felt surprisingly nice - the rest of the world could just rot away and die.
"Who is this Redoran guy? I've only heard that he's from Blacklight, wherever it is."
"A Redoran city in the mainland, quite close to the border with Skyrim." Farwil piped up "And I don't know who in Oblivion is this guy. A fighter, I've heard. Though almost all Redorans are fighters..."
"Lady Indarys too?"
Farwil nodded "Yeah, she was a pretty skilled warrior. A few years ago she could still wreck havoc among the Arena warriors with a warhammer." he said, his voice laced with pride. "Two years ago she received some news from Ald'ruhn and vowed to never take up fighting again."
"Why?"
"She never told me." Farwil shrugged "Actually, every time I tried to ask her about it, she got really mad. And she hardly ever gets mad." he paused "Mostly when I ask her about her life as a Redoran."
"Huh, strange." Bremman have never seen Llathasa Indarys angry. She was a perfect example of a ruler - calm and collected, with the air of noble grace about her. What could've possibly made her so upset?
"I wonder what kind of person this Redoran is." Farwil began "Of course, he still deserves painful death; but just in case he survives. Why was he even sent to Cheydinhal, of all places?"
From what Bremman has already heard about Morrowind, people were usually sent here because of some horrible crime they've committed. What kind of criminal was the Redoran guy? Did he steal something valuable or spied for another Great House? Or maybe he was affiliated with the Dark Brotherhood?
"Family matters?" he suggested "Maybe he just wants to do some sightseeing?"
Farwil shot him a cold look "Sightseeing. Brilliant."
"Cheydinhal has some pretty stunning landscapes..."
"Hey, stop making fun of me!" Farwil pouted and turned away from Bremman. He sighed and put a hand on his friend's shoulder.
"Look, I'm sorry." the Dunmer stopped pouting "Anyway, I think we won't learn anything new from the people here. Let's ask around." Farwil nodded, his eyes suddenly wide with excitement.
It was going to be interesting.
They ran out to the courtyard, looking for anyone competent. Farwil suggested asking in the barracks; something Bremman wasn't too happy about. The Dunmer insisted on it to the point of cursing, though, so he had reluctantly agreed. Next to the quarters they spotted a familiar figure.
"I have an idea." Farwil whispered "Just stay close behind and be intimidating."
Bremman didn't have many experience in being intimidating, but he decided to do his best. He followed Farwil as he approached the city guard.
"Hello, mister Gregori." Farwil chirped "Could you please tell us where the Captain of the Militia is? I have to speak with him." from behind Farwil, Bremman waved at Gregori. The guard went pale.
"C... captain Harsius is... curren-tly on a pat... patrol." Gregori stuttered out, looking down at what could've been the end of his career.
"Really? Oh, that's a shame." Farwil smiled with atypical sweetness "Maybe you can offer us some information, can't you?" the Imperial nodded, sweat running down his face. Bremman felt the sudden urge to laugh, but calmed himself. This was too awesome to ruin.
"You see, me and my noble companion here are rather interested in the arrival of our Redoran guest. Say, could you tell us something about this affair?" Farwil looked in the direction of the Castle "Good information will be rewarded. Weak, or no information..." he paused dramatically.
Gregori looked as if he was about to faint.
"I... heard that he... he is a Re-redoran." he replied, trying to sound as firm as it was possible "From B-lack-light."
"Yes, we already know it." Farwil said in a patient, somewhat condescending tone "Got anything more to add?"
"He's to arrive to-today's afternoon." Gregori was grasping at the straws now "Lord Farwil, please, I have a family..."
"Why, a good guard shall never be afraid of their superiors." Farwil reached out and patted Gregori on a forearm "Now, brave soldier, carry on with your duties. The future of Cheydinhal depends on it. And of our people." he added and turned away. Bremman followed, waving his arm in a mock salute.
"I thought he was going to piss himself." Farwil snorted as soon as they were out of earshot "The s'wit is all high and mighty only when it comes to innocent civilians."
"At least we know something more now." Bremman pointed out. Deep inside, he was almost sorry for the guard, 'almost' being the keyword "And since he arrives today, we won't have to wait long for the answers."
"We have to wait very long! The afternoon is, like, a six hours away!"
Right. Farwil was incapable of waiting. Even a few moments of boredom made him very upset; and when the Count's son was bored, he wasn't the nicest person around.
"Did you hear about the new painting of Mr. Lythandas? He has painted some kind of a fort, defended by soldiers. They say that when you look at it at certain times the soldiers start moving and they defend this fort from an unseen enemy. It's just a rumor, though."
Bremman has overheard the story tonight, somewhere near the kitchens. He had meant to tell Farwil about it in the morning, but this whole ordeal with the servants put the story out of his mind. Now was a good time to reveal it, he thought. It wasn't as interesting as the arrival of a Redoran guest, but could keep them occupied until afternoon.
Farwil looked at him, his eyes shining again. "I don't know what I'd have done without you, my noble friend." he said "We shall investigate this rumor at once! Prepare yourself for an adventure! Huzzah!"
The house of Rythe Lythandas and his wife was situated in the southern part of the Temple District. It was of a medium size and built in the style typical for Cheydinhal. Though Bremman has found himself near the house multiple times before, he had never had a chance to go inside.
Farwil walked to the entrance and knocked. "Hello? We've come to see the new painting!" he announced loudly. The door opened a crack to reveal a young, attractive Dunmeri woman. She smiled at her guests.
"Ah, you must be Farwil, the Count's son! Come in, please." she motioned for Farwil to come inside. It seemed that she didn't notice Bremman's presence at first; he wanted to back away, but Farwil pulled him along.
The house was clean, but sparsely decorated. Much to Bremman's disappointment, there were no paintings on the walls. The visitor's attention was instead drawn to the big windows, adorned with red curtains. The fabric looked very old and was faded and fraying in some places. The interior was well lit, but Bremman supposed that it was only natural for a painter's studio.
"It's a pleasure to see you here. My name is Tivela Lythandas." she smiled at both of the boys, finally acknowledging that Farwil brought someone along "The painting gallery is upstairs, in the first room on the left. Should I prepare something to drink?"
"I suppose wine is not an option?" Farwil asked, his hopes suddenly piping up. Bremman only shook his head.
"I'm afraid so, my lord."
Farwil pouted. "Then we'll just see the paintings. Do they really move?"
Lady Tivela stifled a laugh. "Well, why don't you go upstairs and see it for yourselves?" she said and winked at her guests "There are some other visitors right now, but it shouldn't be a problem."
"Let's go then, my brave friend!" Farwil pulled at his sleeve with such force that for a moment Bremman thought he was about to stumble. Without complaining, he followed the Dunmer upstairs.
At the first floor they were finally able to see why Rythe Lythandas was known as the greatest artist in the whole Empire.
The paintings displayed in the corridor were mostly landscapes - yet it seemed as if each of them was a small window with its own view. Bremman wasn't an art connoisseur, sure, but the images were breathtaking. The play of light filtering through the leafblades, the branches lifted by the wind - it was easy to believe that the scenes would start moving any moment now. Bremman has never been to the forests of County Cheydinhal, but looking at the paintings felt as if he were there.
Farwil was looking around, wide-eyed. "I know these places!" he whispered with excitement, pointing at one "Look, this one is from the Hero Hill, just above the Reed River. And these must be the ruins of Fort Scinia - though I've never been there, only read about them in a book."
"My cousin has been there, with some guildmates." a high-pitched voice came from the gallery room "A dangerous group of bandits has inhabited them, so the Fighters' Guild was sent to dispatch it."
A fair-haired boy peered from behind the door. Judging from his appearance, he was a Nord. In Cheydinhal, Nords usually didn't wear those heavy fur-lined cloaks - especially indoors - but maybe this boy was a newcomer and really wanted to dress the part. It must have been pretty hot inside this cloak, though.
Farwil narrowed his eyes at the sight of the stranger. "Who are you and why are you spying on us?"
The boy's eyes went wide "A-ah, I'm so-sorry. I didn't mean..." he stuttered, his words half-muted by hands covering his mouth. By Farwil's standards, it was an almost warm greeting, but the boy looked as if he wanted to hide, preferably somewhere dark and desolate. Bremman didn't want to cause the boy any more harm. His malicious streak has been probably satisfied by torturing that fucker Gregori earlier today.
"It's nothing, really. Sorry if we had startled you." he cut in and walked up to the boy. The Nord flashed a timid smile, without showing his teeth.
"No, not at all. I am Jornulf Winter-Sun, son of Hagni of Winterhold in Skyrim." he bowed "Nice to meet both of you."
Bremman stiffled a groan. If this Jornulf was anything like Farwil – and judging from his long introduction, it was the case – Bremman had to prepare for a long and boring conversation. He glanced at the Dunmer. Farwil's eyes were practically sparkling.
"Farwil Indarys, of House Hlaalu." he started slowly, as if to observe the other boy's reaction. Jornulf made a small sound and stared at him with wide eyes. Farwil's tone momentarily changed to smooth and self-confident. "Why, yes, the future Count of Cheydinhal. Nice to meet you, too."
"I'm Bremman Senyan." he held out a hand and shuddered; Jornulf's skin was cold and his fingers were thin as twigs. No surprise he needed that cloak.
Farwil looked at the Nord, his head crooked to the side "Your cousin is in the Guild? I've been there a few times but I have never seen you."
"Ah, I've arrived... a month and a half ago, I think. At the beginning of Heart-Fire..." the name of the month was milled by both Jornulf's strange accent and a sudden fit of coughing. Bremman stepped closer; both he and Farwil were observing the Nord cautiously.
"Um, do you need any help?" he laid a hand on the boy's shoulder. Jornulf was slowly regaining his breath; he managed a small smile.
"No, I'm... alright. The nights here... are pretty cold, you know. I... must have caught something." he explained between wheezes. Farwil's stare sharpened.
"Even colder than in Skyrim?" he asked with his arms crossed. "I can't believe it."
"No, in Winterhold... it was so cold that I hardly ever left the house during the winter. The autumn, too." Jornulf continued, seemingly unfazed by the others' shocked expressions "Here it is much nicer, although still a bit too cold for me. Especially those harsh winds..."
Bremman didn't really know what to say; even Farwil seemed speechless. The Dunmer just stared at Jornulf, unblinking. The Nord didn't pay much attention to their reaction; he walked to the nearest painting and laid a hand against the frame.
"You know, I have been here since morning and these magical paintings haven't moved even a bit."
"He was weird." Farwil announced as soon as they were out of Lythandas' house. "Fun, but weird. How in the Oblivion can a Nord be so weak to cold?"
"How could I know? He is the first Nord I've ever met." It was almost true. Bremman didn't count those who he had... borrowed money from. He was sure they didn't mind it, though. "Anyway, we should hurry back to the castle. The Redoran can already be here!"
Farwil stopped momentarily "I totally forgot! The Redoran s'wit!" he spat, shaking "Nobody was looking for us, though, so maybe he hasn't arrived yet Or he has really fallen to his death. Let's go, Bremman! Huzzah!"
The Dunmer broke into run while still speaking, so it took Bremman a moment to register his words. Cursing, he followed Farwil down the paved alley. The castle wasn't far. They would surely make it on time.
When they finally reached the gate, Bremman rested his hands on the knees, trying to catch his breath. Farwil tugged at his arm.
"Look, the Redoran guy is there!" he whispered in excitation. Bremman looked up.
And indeed, in the middle of the courtyard stood a carriage. It didn't look fancy or anything, just an ordinary carriage typical for cyrodilic roads – certainly nothing like Bremman imagined for a member of a powerful house. They moved closer to the scene – quietly, half-hidden behind the bushes. Lady Llathasa was standing near the carriage, hands clasped with those of a stranger.
The Redoran was taller than Farwil's mother; and of stockier build. His head was bowed and his back slouched, partially covered with matted black hair. Despite living all his life in Cheydinhal, Bremman wasn't an expert on Dunmers, but it seemed that Llathasa's 'cousin' was much older than she.
"Sarvyn, welcome to Cheydinhal." she was smiling fondly at the newcomer "You can't remember this, but I saw you when you were just a baby, before your family moved to Blacklight. I can recall it clearly, though."
Well, he wasn't an expert on Dunmers.
"Thank you, lady Indarys. It is an honor to meet you." Sarvyn said in a raspy voice "I'm glad to be here, in Cyrodiil. Morrowind has been most..."
"Hush, boy. I'm truly sorry for your loss and Azura only knows how much I can relate." lady Indarys has cast a quick glance at their hiding place "Farwil, my sweet, why don't you stop behaving like a Morag Tong assassin and greet our guest?"
Farwil sighed, brushed some stray leaves from his hair and clambered out of the bushes with as much dignity as he could manage. He turned back and looked at Bremman, surprised.
"Come on, you've heard my mother." and in a lowered voice he added "I don't like him too."
Bremman wasn't sure if the Countess' order applied to him, but he followed Farwil anyway. They walked closer to Sarvyn. The Dnmer stared at them; his face betrayed no emotion.
"Nice to meet you, cousin Sarvyn of Redoran. I am Farwil Indarys and I wish you a wonderful stay in our city." Bremman recognized this pattern of speech. Farwil was half-quoting an advertisement for a run-down inn somewhere near the road to Bravil; Bremman was practicing his reading skills on this very edition of the Black Horse Courier.
"Sarvyn Llereith of Blacklight. The pleasure is all mine." the newcomer replied in a flat voice. He looked at Bremman with a neutral expression. That man was creepy; it took Bremman a few seconds to form a sentence under his weird, unemotional scrutiny.
"I'm Bremman Senyan. It's an honor to meet you, sir." the Dunmer bowed his head, acknowledging Bremman's introduction. All of them fell silent.
"Mother, we are rather busy. Excuse us." Farwil couldn't fully mask the nervous tone in his voice as he grabbed Bremman and pulled him toward the castle, not stopping until they've reached their living quarters. The servants were already busy with carrying Sarvyn's belongings into the formerly empty room. Farwil looked at their work with his brows furrowed.
"I don't want this... Redoran scum to live so close to me." he finally uttered "Why didn't he fall from some stupid cliff, why?"
Bremman blinked in disbelief. Farwil was quick to judge people, but this was... different. He knew the man for twenty minutes at most. The Redoran didn't say anything hurtful towards Farwil, his family or Cheydinhal; he also didn't profess his deepest respect for the City Watch and Ulrich Leland. And Gregori, for that matter.
"He's creepy, true, but maybe he isn't that bad." he started, only to be cut by a shriek
"You don't understand!" the servants have stopped in their trails, unsure of what to do. Bremman has also halted. He has never seen Farwil like this; not with the tears welling in his eyes and his fists clenched. The Dunmer was shaking like a homeless dog in a downpour, with gritted teeth.
With one swift motion he grabbed Farwil's wrist and before the other boy could've reacted Bremman almost shoved him into his room. He sat the Dunmer on his bed and stood before him, one hand on Farwil's shoulder.
"Calm down." he said and – obviously pushing his luck – added "Knights aren't supposed to react like this."
"Says Tamriel's most renown scholar." snapped Farwil. It was a good sign, if an unpleasant one.
"Well, you have told me so." Bremman gently shook Dunmer's shoulder "Come on, Farwil, why do you hate that guy so much?"
He sat in silence for a moment before answering. "Because Mother was supposed to hate him, Redoran and all."
Well, yes, Farwil mentioned that before, but was it really the reason? "Um, could you explain it to me?"
Farwil looked at him blankly "Look, Mother told me that she has cut all ties with her Redoran family and she didn't want to hear from them ever again. A fucking Redoran stranger arrives in the Castle and she is all happy about it, sharing secrets and stuff with him." he sighed "And there are rumors, horrible rumors, surfacing from time to time. Spread by fucking servants who deserve to be torn limb from limb for this."
"I didn't hear any horrible rumors in the kitchen." Bremman pointed out "Unless you count 'Ulene Hlervu has put on some weight'."
"But they'll start appearing now, like they always do when we have a visitor. They all think that I'm too dumb to notice." Farwil shook his head
Bremman, too confused to think up an advice, said only "I don't think you're dumb."
Farwil stared at him, dumbfounded; he looked at Bremman for such a long time that it felt almost uncomfortable. Bremman was about to turn around and walk out when Farwil suddenly smiled.
"You're, like, the best sidekick and friend ever." the Dunmer said with a cheerful tone "Forget the Redoran, the paintings were shitty anyway."