The Emperor's Heart
Chapter 9
Martin Septim had spent three days in his room. His time had been spent solely on deciphering the Mysterium Xarxes, with occasional breaks for sleep and food, per Jauffre's insistence. The monk had grown so concerned about the heir to the throne that he asked Martin to move his study into the great hall, for 'better lighting to preserve his vision'.
The priest was no fool; knowing well that Jauffre feared the effects of the Xarxes on his soul far more than the strain on his eyes. Martin wasn't offended, however, and agreed to being uprooted. After all, this was no mere book he was dealing with, and would be lying if he said it wasn't affecting him. His dreams had grown darker; sinister voices whispering unspeakable things as red and black swirled about him, intermingled with images of decaying and desecrated corpses. It was enough to make any man give up sleep forever.
But all was not in vain; he had made a little progress in the daedric tome. It seemed that it was in fact possible to enter Camoran's Paradise, but it would take a ritual, and a great deal of power.
Closing the large book, the priest rubbed his eyes. He needed a break, and perhaps a stronger ward. His time as an acolyte of Sanguine had not nearly prepared him for the evil that seeped out of this book. It was wholly corrupting, if not handled with absolute determination against its terrible power.
"Your highness."
Martin looked up to see Baurus standing near. He was the most recent Blade to return to the Temple, and was eager to serve Martin in every way possible. Despite the priest's best efforts to get Baurus to address him by his name, the Redguard continued to regard him in regal fashion.
"Yes, Baurus?" The last Septim smiled, despite the title. The man no doubt blamed himself for Emperor Uriel's death, and wanted to make amends through Martin. He didn't blame him in the least, and rather than refuse his efforts, Martin tried to accept them graciously. If it brought the Blade peace, so be it.
"I was just on my way out to train. Master Jauffre thought it might be a good idea for you to join me."
"… and, no doubt, take a recess from my research of the Mysterium Xarxes?" The priest added with a knowing smirk.
Baurus had the decency to look sheepish before nodding. "There is a set of armor for you in your quarters, Sire. I will provide you with a weapon of your choosing in the courtyard." He bowed before heading towards the large doors. Seeing them reminded Martin that Lysara had yet to return.
He frowned, thinking of the Nord woman. Jauffre had sent her to determine if the strangers spotted down the mountain were a threat. He had heard talk of spies amongst the other Blades. The grandmaster was wise to send her; no doubt she could flush the enemy out of hiding. Still, did he need to send her on every dangerous errand? Were there not others here at the temple that could go?
He sighed, a little disgusted with himself. It bothered the priest how much he worried about the girl. She seemed more than capable of handling herself, and proved it each time she returned. She would return; he had little doubt of that. Still… for her to be in harm's way, and for him? It didn't sit well at all.
Perhaps a little diversion was called for.
The last Septim entered the courtyard, bearing the armor that had been waiting for him in his room. It was clearly a grade above the others', with silver inlay and a few precious stones within the iron. Baurus ushered him towards a table containing steel of every shape and size. He looked over each piece, finally settling on a mace.
"Excellent choice, my lord." The Redguard was swinging his sword expertly as he readied himself.
Martin nodded. He had to admit, it felt… right. Strange, considering he hadn't held a weapon since he was at Weynon Priory, and never before that.
Baurus fitted him with a shield. "We can begin with a few simple parries to warm up. Then I'll teach you how to strike effectively."
It was refreshing, albeit tiring, to spar with the Blade. They had spent well over an hour going over the best ways to attack without being vulnerable, and how to use your enemies' strength against them. Baurus was an excellent instructor, but was most definitely holding back. Martin doubted it had anything to do with his own inexperience, and more to do with the Blade not wishing to embarrass the future emperor.
They had stopped just as the sun was beginning to set. Orange and gold stretched across the evening sky. A few other Blades were out as well, their swords and axes clanging, disturbing the peace of twilight.
Martin removed the heavy cuirass and grieves, relieved by the coolness of the air as his tunic clung to him. Baurus congratulated him once again, and promised to spar with him the next day. Too late did Martin notice the Redguard's eyes look past him.
The priest was grabbed from behind, a nasty-looking dagger pressed firmly against his throat. His assailant pulled him back in order to whisper in his ear.
"Very good, your highness, but for one thing: your enemy will not revere you. He will not hold back, and he will not fight fair." Lysara emphasized this point by pressing the blade a little harder.
Martin shivered, but not from fear. The front of Lysara's body was flush against his back, and her warm breath tickled his neck. Thank the gods she was at least wearing armor, the leather a barrier to his feeling her every curve. He tried desperately to block out any perverse thoughts and images.
"Now, if you'd like to really train, I'd be happy to lend my services." Lysara stepped back and stood squarely in front of him.
"I don't think that's such a good idea..." Baurus trailed off after receiving a pointed glare from the Nord woman. Sighing, he held his hands up in defense and backed away slightly.
Lysara turned back to Martin and smiled, her dark blue eyes bright with mischief. "What do you say, your highness?"
The priest picked up the mace again from the table. "Very well. But if I can best you, you must always call me 'Martin'."
The assassin nodded, grinning, before lunging at the Imperial with a cry. He barely had time to block her attack before she swept her foot under his, causing him to stumble back. He nearly fell on his arse, but recovered in time to dodge another swipe from her dagger.
By the Nine, sparring with Baurus had been nothing like this. The Redguard let up any time Martin seemed to struggle, and gave him ample opportunity to return hits. Now he had to duck and dodge just to stay on his feet.
Lysara frowned inwardly. If he was to be emperor, the man had better be able to defend himself. He would be the face of the empire, and may one day be called to defend it. There were many vultures in high places who would love to get their hands on such a prosperous province.
He had been so fierce at the priory… had it been a fluke? The gods intervening in order to keep the heir alive?
Their contest started off shaky, but as it went on, Martin's footing became more sure, his stance straighter. Before long, he was returning swings. Many Blades had stopped to watch the fighters as they whipped around the courtyard, swinging and swaying furiously. If everyone didn't know any better, they might have actually believed that they were trying to kill one another.
Was it possible to feel exhausted and empowered all at once? Martin's movements now matched Lysara's. Swing for swing, blow for blow; as if they were dancing like they had one thousand times before.
Finally, as the sun was waning, Martin dove in for a risky move. Dropping the mace, he grabbed the Nord by the front of her cuirass, pulling her in close. Her large eyes grew bigger as he hooked his foot behind her ankle and yanked it back. As she fell, the Imperial's other hand went for her dagger, pushing her wrist inward until she was forced to release it. By the time she hit the ground, the priest was on top of her, her own dagger held just under her chin.
Lysara, out of breath, stared up in surprise at Martin. He was equally panting, with sweat trickling down from his brow. But he wore the most satisfied, smug grin she had ever seen.
One she could have sworn she'd seen before…
The crowd had gone completely silent. It wasn't until the Nord woman began to laugh that they relaxed, and another moment after that they began cheering. If any had doubted the priest's ability to rule, it was laid to rest in that moment. Martin Septim fought like a true warrior; a true descendant of Tiber Septim!
Standing, Martin held a hand out to the Hero of Kvatch. She allowed him to pull her up, watching him intensely. Now this was the man she remembered fighting alongside at Weynon Priory. "Well done… Martin."
The priest smiled triumphantly. It had felt good to combat Lysara, and even greater to have won. It was hard to believe he had it in him.
"That… was incredible!" Baurus approached the two, finally coming out of his daze. He congratulated Martin again before turning to Lysara. "Shall we grab something to eat? You must be starving."
"Actually Baurus, if you don't mind, there are matters I wish to discuss with Lysara." Martin hadn't meant his words to come out quite so clipped. Fortunately, Baurus didn't seem to notice.
"Of course, Sire. I'll have dinner sent to your quarters." He bowed, retreating for the mess hall.
The heir turned back to look at the Nord woman. Gods, it was good to see her again. Like opening a window after been kept in too long. The Blades were very kind and obliging, but he still felt out of place, like a stranger. She was also a stranger here, which connected them, in a way. Lysara made him feel a little less alone.
Mentally shaking his thoughts away, he motioned for her to follow him.
The room was large, with intricate wood arches that loomed into the ceiling. A chandelier hung directly above, its candles giving a soft glow to everything. The bed was enormous and lavish; fit for a king. Lysara hadn't taken the time to appreciate the beauty of the room until then. It was warm and inviting. But that might very well have been the result of its occupant.
Sitting at a small table by the only window, she sank into the plush chair, exhaling tiredly.
"I hope your last journey wasn't too taxing." Martin took the seat across from her.
She smiled weakly. "No more than usual."
"Well, I appreciate what you are doing; we all do." The priest looked down at the Mysterium Xarxes, frowning. The Nord woman followed his gaze.
"How goes the research?" Lysara noticed just how tired Martin looked. No doubt pouring every waking hour into that damnable book and constantly putting up wards was wearing him out.
"I believe we can open a portal leading to Camoran, but it won't be easy," he opened the tome, pointing at several symbols the assassin didn't understand. "I've learned that the Mysterium Xarxes is both the gate and the key to Camoran's Paradise. In some sense, the book IS Camoran's Paradise. Mankar Camoran bound himself to the Xarxes when he created his Paradise, using dark rituals which I will not speak of further. A gate can be opened from the outside, however. It will be more difficult, as I will have to temporarily bind myself to the book."
He looked up to see Lysara frowning at him, her eyebrows nearly knitting together. Before she could protest, he held up a hand to silence her. "I know, it seems a terrible idea… but it is the only way. I will be perfectly safe, I can assure you."
The Nord sighed, looking down. Her eyes caught sight of her pack, realization dawning on her. She reached for it. "Speaking of books…"
Martin watched curiously as she pulled several volumes out of her sack. Laying them on the table, she slid them across to him. "I thought these might help in your research, and… "
The priest looked through the books: Liminal Bridges, On Oblivion, The Amulet of Kings, and-
"A Life of Uriel Septim VII?" Martin held up the book in question. Lysara shrugged slightly, playing with the edge of another book, her eyes refusing to meet his. She wasn't sure if it would be a good idea to bring that one, in light of the circumstances. He may even have had it already.
She felt embarrassed, which irked her greatly. What was the big deal? It was just a book…
"I just thought that… in case you wanted to know more about him…" Lysara feigned indifference.
Martin held the book gingerly, reading the cover again. She had brought him a book about the late emperor. His father…
"Thank you, my friend." It was the sincerity in his voice that made the Nord look up. His eyes shone brightly with gratitude. He reached over and placed his hand over hers. There was no jolt, but she did feel a great warmness flow into her; much like one feels when coming home after being away too long. She returned his smile.
It was then that Baurus opened the door, a tray of food in hand. Lysara pulled her hand away and placed both under the table in her lap, immediately missing the warmth. The Redguard looked between the two before placing the tray on a nearby desk.
"Will you be needing anything else, my lord?"
Martin opened his mouth, but a patronizing female voice interjected. "Yes, Baurus, a reprieve from your incessant pampering."
The blade gave the smirking Nord an unamused look. Clearing his throat, Baurus relaxed his rigid stance in an effort to appear nonchalant. "If you are up for it, I would invite you to spar with me again tomorrow, your highness."
"I would like that. Thank you." The priest had to admit, the fighting had made him feel… alive.
Baurus nodded, turning to face Lysara. "I suppose I should expect to see you there too, right?"
"Why, I wouldn't miss it for the world!" She exclaimed, a hand coming up to flourish dramatically.
Martin chuckled at the exchange between the two Blades, causing both heads to turn. It was the first time he had ever done anything like that. Baurus bowed again sheepishly and excused himself. So much for making an impression.
Lysara stretched and stood. "I'll leave you to your dinner."
"You're not staying to join me?" Martin tried to dispel the disappointment that threatened to surface.
She shook her head. "I am sure my Blade sisters are anxious to see me, and I am not very hungry- just tired." She paused to look at him fully. "Another time, I promise."
"Of course. You must be exhausted. Rest well, my friend."
"Lysara."
"I'm sorry?"
"If we are friends, then call me Lysara." The hero didn't know why, but she wanted him to use her name. It felt more… intimate.
"Then rest well, Lysara." His heart was beating faster. He felt like he'd won some sort of a prize just then. She turned around to leave. He hesitated before asking, "Join me for breakfast?"
She turned back slightly and nodded, saying nothing as she went out the door. If she stayed any longer, he might have seen the crimson stain on her cheeks.
By Sithis, what was happening to her?