Chapter 34: Our Chosen Champion
The eyes of all the guards in Venim Manor followed Llovesi as she walked past, and they were hissing under their breath. Clerks saw her coming, and dropped what they were holding, scuttling away as if they didn't want to be seen near her.
Of course they knew who she was. Every man, mer and child in Ald'ruhn had seen the battle, had seen her speak up in defence of the city. And now here she was, striding through the manor of their Archmaster, covered in blood, ash and dirt. No wonder people were getting out of the way.
Well, not everyone. One of the guards in Dwemer armour cut across her path, standing in front of the door to the manor's private quarters.
"Bolvyn Venim will not speak to you," he said firmly, his arms folded across his chest. "He has no desire to see you."
"He'll see me whether he wants to or not," Llovesi said, emboldened by the adrenaline that was still coursing through her blood. She pushed past the astonished guard into the next hall.
She stopped to catch her breath, and was momentarily stunned by the beauty of the room she had just burst into. It was by far the most opulent manor hall she had seen. It was bisected by a raised bridge, directly opposite the door she had walked through, accessed by wide sets of gilded steps. Pillars and giant mushrooms soared to the distant ceiling, which itself was a mass of intricate mosaics.
She had paused too long; uncertainty was creeping back into her stomach. Moving her leaden feet one after the other, she climbed the wide staircase and turned left.
People in in rich and bright silks were moving hurriedly about the room as Llovesi peered in, trying to spot Bolvyn Venim. Then, a group of the guards in the Dwemer armour moved aside and her eyes locked with those of the man the movement had revealed.
It was the Dunmer man from outside, in the ebony armour. She noticed him properly this time, and wondered how she'd managed to forget him. He filled the room with his presence, a tall, imposing figure in his bright, ornamental, yet well-worn, armour. His red mohawk was slicked upright with not a hair out of place, his beard was neat and trimmed and his scarlet eyes were staring her down with hate and loathing.
Llovesi felt incredibly small in her dirty clothes and battered armour, but she strode over to meet him.
But he turned away. "No," he said, and his voice was surprisingly soft, "I will not talk to you."
"But, Serjo, I have spoken to all the other councillors-"
"And you have their support for Redoran Hortator." He turned back to her, and although his face was controlled she could see the rage burning in his eyes.
"Perhaps you think I am stupid, outlander? Or that I do not pay attention to the affairs of my own house, or care about my city? You were not alone in the streets today."
Llovesi was wrong-footed. "No, I... But-"
"I am not stupid. And I cannot control the others' decisions, but know this. I will veto them. I will never shame House Redoran by naming an outlander Hortator, especially not one so ignorant, foolish and fraudulent as you. You have played your tricks on the other councillors, but they will not work on me. Imperial Spy!"
People were openly staring now, and Llovesi heard a small laugh, which was silenced when Bolvyn Venim glanced furiously around the room.
Her cheeks flushed.
"Bolvyn Venim, I challenge you to a duel for the title of Redoran Hortator."
He stopped in his tracks and swung to face her again.
"Very well," he whispered. "This has gone far enough. I will put a stop to your ambitions in the Arena in Vivec. Meet me there tomorrow morning. But know this, it will be a duel to the death and I am merciless."
He left and the room fell into stunned silence. Julan and Llovesi left as well, to go and tell Athyn the good news, if it could be considered that. Julan seemed strangely excited.
"Wow, Llovesi!" he kept saying. "You're going to fight a duel to the death? Honour and all that stuff? Wow!"
Llovesi felt far more apprehensive. Had she ever fought in an organised fight, with rules and spectators? Bolvyn Venim seemed like he would be a fearsome and accomplished opponent.
Athyn Sarethi shared her concerns. He could do no more than wish her luck, and tell her that he and the other councillors would travel to Vivec as well to watch the outcome.
It was another restless night for Llovesi in the Ald Skar Inn. Visions of Ren joined Clause in the dark tunnels of her dreams.
She woke early, grey and tired, and she and Julan took the guild guide to Vivec.
A full storm was raging over the cantons. Lightning flashed in the blackened sky, thunder boomed overhead and rain slashed violently against the sandstone walls.
She didn't say a word as they walked over to the Arena Canton, nor as they were directed to the fighters' training area. Trying to ignore the trembling of her hands, Llovesi adjusted her cuirass, greaves, boots and bracers, wishing they weren't quite so old and dented. She unstrapped Airan-Ahhe's spirit spear and her glass halberd from her back, and moved experimentally round the padded floor, trying different stances and flexing; warming up. But her mind was strangely blank.
Julan coughed behind her. He looked strangely tense as well.
"Is it time?" he asked.
"I suppose so," Llovesi said, her throat dryer than she would have liked.
"I was just thinking," he continued, "if this is an honour duel, I should probably go and watch from the balcony with the rest of the crowd. Two on one doesn't seem very honourable to me. But if you need me, just call me down on the telepathy ring..."
They looked at each other; both knowing there was no way that situation could arise. Llovesi had to win by herself, fair and square, if her claim to Hortator stood any chance of legitimacy.
"Thank you," she said, and together they left the training area. When they reached the centre of the canton, Julan continued straight ahead, to head outside and up to the balcony. Llovesi turned a corner up the stairs, to the entrance to the arena pit. He embraced her and wished her luck, then she was alone.
A bored-looking Imperial steward was waiting by the door, checking a list.
"You're our ten o'clock?" he asked, "Llovesi, Bolvyn Venim, the honour duel?"
"Yes," Llovesi said, again wishing her throat felt less dry. There was a strange roaring in her ears.
"He's waiting in there for you. I suppose you know all the rules? Just because it's an honour duel doesn't mean you can't be flashy, you know. I know how dry you House types can be. You'll have an audience, in fact, quite the crowd have turned out for this one." Despite his words, he sounded completely uninterested. "If you do win, you're welcome to any of his possessions. Right, I think that's it, have at it."
He stood aside to let her pass, and she opened the door and stepped into the Arena, placing her chitin helm on her head. The roaring in her ears had become deafening, but at least it was slightly muffled now.
The sound was, perhaps in part, the cries of the crowd. She acknowledged them dimly in the background. Raised above her, a great wall of people pressing against the ring, staring eagerly into the pit and cheering, yelling. So many faces. She blocked them out.
The pit itself was wide, circular and filled with raked sand. And there, standing across from her, wearing a grim smile to suit his gilded armour was Bolvyn Venim. He acknowledged the cries of the crowd with a small nod, and stepped forward into the light.
There was an announcer somewhere, listing Bolvyn Venim's titles and achievements, and the roars intensified. She heard her name, and practically felt the weight of the gazes that had fallen upon her.
The crowd had grown silent at her name, and the lack of titles to follow it, so she heard the announcer's next words in all clarity:
"Now, pray be silent for the duel and pay both combatants the respect they are due."
Bolvyn Venim unsheathed his sword, a truly massive Daedric blade and held it out with flourish. Then he ran towards her.
The cheers started up again, but Llovesi found that she could block them out until they were nothing but a dull buzzing in her ears. They didn't matter anyway. Of course everyone here was supporting Venim. He was the Archmaster of House Redoran, renowned, respected, and feared. She didn't have anybody to impress. She had to do this for herself. In a way, that took the pressure off.
She brandished her own weapons and ran to meet him, a well of determination bursting free inside her.
He swung the sword at her head and she ducked, dodging behind him. He dodged too, before she had the chance to get a hit in, but she caught the look of brief surprise on his face. He had expected her to fight worse than this. The crowd, ignoring the announcer, were screaming again.
He came at her again, and although he was fast, even in his heavy armour, Llovesi was faster. He hissed in annoyance as his blade whistled uselessly past her left ear.
She could keep this up, she realised, swinging her spears at his legs in attempt to unbalance him, ducking and weaving as he tried to slice her open. If there was anything she'd learnt from her fights on Vvardenfell so far, it was how to stay alive.
Someone in the crowd laughed as he failed to hit her yet again. He was driving her back, it was true, but she danced and dodged without tiring.
Venim, on the other hand, was panting slightly and beads of sweat were appearing on his forehead. They had been fighting for a long time now, with no blows being landed, and he was tiring. His moves were becoming more erratic, more frustrated.
"Outlander, you fight with no honour!" he roared suddenly, his scarlet eyes wide with rage.
She heard an intake of breath go round the arena, and understood the gravity of the insult.
"And you fight with no skill!" she retorted, pleased to hear a few laughs at her comment.
It had the desired effect, at any rate. Venim eyes widened even further and a vein bulged on his forehead. He launched himself at her again, but anger was making him lose his control. She saw her opening and thrust her spear at the plates of his cuirass.
The blow winded him, but he slashed out and this time his blade connected with her left leg. She felt it bite deep into her flesh until it hit the bone, felt a searing dull ache as the blood throbbed out, staining her boot dark.
Venim grinned, and suddenly looked quite deranged. "Remember outlander, no mercy," he said as she sunk to one knee.
Llovesi stared him in the eye through her helm, and spoke through gritted teeth. "Good. I wasn't going to show you any."
And she ducked under his blade for one last time, and thrust her spear upwards into his chin. He choked, a short, strangled and strangely surprised sound, and toppled backwards.
The crowd howled and cheered. It seemed some had come round to supporting her after all. She crawled to Venim's side as he blinked slowly and his gauntleted hand found the wound in his throat.
"I am merciful, however," she said, "do you yield? There's still time. You don't have to die."
His eyes were glazing over but they found hers, and he sneered, then pressed his wound tightly to speak, choking out each word with force:
"You... must be... a coward... to even... imagine... such a thing. Knights... and gentlemen... do not yield to... animals. I... despise... you. Kill... me. I curse you with my dying breath!"
Llovesi drew her dagger and placed it to his throat, but before she could end his pain, his eyes grew blank and his head lolled to one side. She drew her fingertips over his eyelids, then got shakily to her feet.
The crowd was implacable. They pressed against the wall of the pit, waving, clapping and cheering. Llovesi scanned for Julan's face, for Athyn's face, or indeed for any of the councillors' faces, but she couldn't make anyone out. Then, worryingly, she noticed several Ordinators pushing their way through the crowd, stopping to interrogate random citizens. Thanking Azura she'd decided to wear a helmet that mostly covered her face, she limped back into the waistworks.
"Well done." The bored-looking steward was still there, barely glancing at her as he rolled the scroll up. "Sounds like you gave quite a show after all."
Julan was waiting for her, Julan, his face nearly white with worry.
"There you are!" he said, catching her as she stumbled. "Congratulations! I thought I was going to have to come and get you... let me see your leg."
He pulled her boot off and applied a healing spell. While he was doing this, Llovesi noticed another familiar figure approaching. Athyn Sarethi, carrying a small package and some papers under his arm.
"Really now!" The steward was paying attention, and looked annoyed. "This is not a meeting place! We have more fights to prepare for!"
"It would be best if we moved along," Athyn said, and Llovesi caught something worrying in the tone of his voice. She and Julan followed him to an alcove in a nearby corridor.
"Congratulations," he said, appearing satisfied that they were alone. "I'm sorry; normally there would be more ceremony for this, but you may have realised that the Ordinators are looking for you. Here is a recent public notice identifying you as an Imperial agent. I am satisfied of your sincerity, but I warn you that others may not be so understanding."
He passed her a folded extract from a daily newspaper, and Llovesi read it in growing alarm.
WELL-BELOVED PEOPLE OF MORROWIND!
TAKE HEED!
TAKE WARNING!
The outlaw named Llovesi, stated trade of Adventurer, lately called 'Incarnate' and 'Neverarine', now is shown to the investigating Ordinators and Magistrates of this district to be an agent in the pay of the Imperial Intelligence Service. This outlaw's claims are false. The prophecies this outlaw cites are discredited. The dishonest character and base purposes of the outlaw in perpetrating this hoax are now made clear to all observers. Llovesi is sought for various crimes by Ordinators and town guards. Report all encounters with this outlaw to the proper authorities. If you see this outlaw in public, give the alarm.
Published by the authority of the Temple, the order of the Watch, Magistrates of Vvardenfell District, under the signature and authority of Grandmaster Berel Sala, Captain of the Watch. Hear and Heed!
Llovesi lowered the sheet, her heart thudding. How was she going to convince the other Great Houses of her claims now?
"There's a warrant for my arrest," she said.
"But no description," Julan said, reading over her shoulder. "Not everyone is going to instantly recognise you."
"Julan is right," Athyn said, "and take heart in the fact that not everyone will believe this notice either. In truth it troubles me, and I know it troubles the other councillors. We are not used to such attempts to mislead from our own Temple. But I have some good news too..."
He uncovered the package, revealing an exquisitely carved ring.
"The Council of House Redoran is in agreement. You are the Hortator of House Redoran. On behalf of the House and Council, take the Ring of the Hortator, a token of your office. By this ring others shall know you as our chosen champion.
"I also have a sealed package for you. I do not know what it contains, but I received it from a contact in the highest ranks of the Temple. My guess is that it has something to do with the Temple's position on your claim to fulfil the Nerevarine prophecies. Perhaps a different position to the one they're putting in the newspapers."
"Thank you, serjo."
He nodded, and turned to leave. "Good luck. I hope you are as successful in persuading the rest of Morrowind to unite against Dagoth Ur and his blighted hosts."
Llovesi turned the package he had given her over. It was light and sealed with a wax seal, and there was a note scrawled just below this, which she read aloud:
"To the Outlander lately proclaiming her identity as the Nerevarine, to be delivered with haste."
"Well, open it!" Julan said impatiently.
Llovesi slid a single sheet of paper free, and she read it aloud quietly as they walked through the canton:
"The assertions being made in direct contradiction of the doctrine of the Tribunal, namely, that you are the Nerevarine, the reincarnation of the Sainted Lord Nerevar, are, in addition to being against Temple teaching, incredible and implausible in the extreme.
"The revelations made by the Inquisition, namely, that you yourself are in fact an agent of the Imperial Intelligence Service, otherwise known as the Order of Blades, lately made with substantial evidence by the Lord High Archordinator, Berel Sala, further calls into question the validity of and motivations behind your claims.
"However, as incredible as your claims are, as much as they are in direct contradiction of the teachings of the Temple, and tainted as they are by the inferences to be made upon your close association with the covert policies and interests of the Emperor, the interest of the temple and its leadership, and in particular, the interests of His Immortal Lordship, Vivec, are best served by a close and personal examination of the claims being made, and close and personal examinations of the motivations and character of the claimant-WHAT?"
Llovesi stopped reading aloud and quickly scanned the rest of the letter, her unease now turning to open shock.
"They want me to meet the Archcanon of the Temple, Tholer Saryoni," she said slowly. "In secret, but only when I'm Hortator and Neverarine. Well," she said, folding the letter carefully away, "that probably won't be for quite a while. If I manage it, then I'll go and see this Danso Indules and arrange a meeting."
They had reached the door to exit the canton. Llovesi pulled her hood up, satisfied that with the current weather conditions she wouldn't stand out as too suspicious.
"I suppose this doesn't mean they'll call the Ordinators off tho-ARGH!"
They had stepped outside, and someone waiting in the shadows had stabbed Llovesi in the side.
She gasped and reeled back, but the wound was not fatal, nor even that serious. Whether by chance, or lack of skill, her assailant had somehow managed to avoid hitting any major organs or arteries.
She caught the attacker by their wrist before they could strike again, and twisted it behind their back. They let out a cry and dropped their dagger.
Llovesi realised two things simultaneously. One, her attacker was female, probably a Bosmer, and two, her attacker was a lot smaller than her. So Llovesi twisted the woman's arm further behind her and pushed forward until they were at the edge of the canton. Then somehow they overbalanced, and the Bosmer was dangling over the edge of the canton. Her hood fell back, and Llovesi saw that she was quite young, and looked afraid.
"What do you want?" Llovesi asked furiously. "Give me one good reason why I shouldn't just drop you into the water!"
The Bosmer looked thoughtful for a moment as the wind howled around them both. "I don't suppose me telling you that I have an honourable writ for your execution would change anything, would it?" she asked.
"It... it certainly wouldn't! I know a lot of people want me dead, it doesn't mean I'm just going to let them kill me!"
The Bosmer readjusted her grip, casting a fearful look below her. "Look, I'm sorry," she said, "really, but my career kind of depends on this. And I've mucked up, like I normally do, but I'm still going to have to try again."
This had to be the most surreal conversation Llovesi had ever had. Ignoring the throbbing in her side, and Julan's snickers, she asked: "Who are you working for?"
The Bosmer hesitated but Llovesi shook her threateningly, and she sighed. "Okay, okay, I'm with the Morag Tong. It's really not meant to go like this you know."
"The who?"
For the first time, the Bosmer looked genuinely floored. She stopped struggling quite so much and stared up at Llovesi in disbelief.
"You mean you've never heard of...? But..."
"Oh no, wait, Huleeya was with the Morag Tong, wasn't he?" Llovesi asked, turning to Julan, who nodded in between stifling his laughter.
"You're a guild of assassins," she said, turning back to look down at the Bosmer, "but aren't you supposed to be all honourable? Not much honour in sneaking up on me in the shadows, is there?"
"Yes, well." The Bosmer's tone suggested that if she could have shrugged, she would have. "I was told to be careful with you. You're apparently quite powerful. So maybe I didn't exactly play by the rules..."
Llovesi thought fast, trying to come up with a way to resolve the situation in her favour.
"I think you've just voided your contract," she said, trying to sound convincing. If the Bosmer was as new as she looked, maybe she'd fall for it.
"No... I..."
"I want to meet your superiors. Take me to them."
At this, the Bosmer girl turned truly pale.
"No," she said, grasping at Llovesi's arms so hard her knuckles turned white. "If you would ask me that you may as well drop me into the water. I know my life's worth, and it is not worth that."
"Then let me know where I can find them. I will not mention our meeting."
The Bosmer hesitated for the longest moment yet, her feet kicking uselessly against the empty air beneath her.
"Okay," she said finally, "okay. Let me up and we'll talk."
Llovesi pulled the girl back up, and she scrambled over the wall of the canton.
"Okay," she said. "Here's what I know."