A/N: Chapter 15 reposted with minor text changes. Other writers out there, do you find all your errors and awkward ideas only jump out *after* posting? It's like the lights will only flip on when stuff's way out the door.
TheArchmage1: As long as I have JAVA, Winte.r never ends
But Win7 is. Switching to Win10, clean wipe.
Reinstall all software & futz with licenses. Tweak, tweak, twerk
Triple shot, whole milk, and a couple of marshmallow bars also
Cholesterol and sugar levels exceed tolerances. System overload
ZZZzzzzz
GalacticHalfling: Well, they thought they had the best intentions…
Disclaimer: What's Bethesda's is theirs, likewise for mod creators.
Chapter 15: Sadri's Used Wares
Curtis scowled as he studied himself in the fold-out travel mirror. He was meeting Steward Revyn Sadri soon and nerves had him primping. He was anxious to make a good impression so today he wore a college adept's robe instead of work clothes — neatly pressed, iron-gray and dusty blue robes of no particular discipline and soft College boots. His belt buckle, however, was a small, silver dwemer machine cog. Curtis had had Master Enchanter Sergius enchant the robes for warmth and health regeneration instead of the usual power and discipline-specific boosts.
Months of good diet and conscious care had softened and plumped out his skin so that Slitter's old battle scars were less noticeable. His hair and beard had thickened and acquired a healthy sheen, its cinnamon brown was more pronounced and had natural red highlights. Curtis had gotten used to the long, straight hair instead of his old cornrows and wore it today in temple braids brought together at the back of his with silver clasp also shaped like a dwemer cog.
He'd heard a lot of strange stories about the Dragonborn's — about Windhelm's Steward of the Gray Quarter, the dunmer pawnshop dealer who was now one of Jarl Ulfric's sworn and trusted advisers. Summed up, the 200-plus, former hand-to-mouth pawnshop owner married the young daughter of a very rich and influential Imperial family.
She adventured and dragged home treasure; he sold the treasure, invested, and built up an even greater fortune. She acquired land and titles with her sword; he set up profitable ventures at each property. He was even credited for the first Telvanni colony setting up on his wife's Morthal property right across the bay from Solitude.
It was said he discovered the secrets of the vampire army of Volkihar. It's said he brokered the freedom of the Reach from the Empire. It's said he and his wife freed Solstheim from the grip of an ancient dragonpriest's spell. It's said the Emperor is a personal friend of his. It's said his house and shop had guardian ghosts, and that rare and mysterious treasures could sometimes be found in his shop.
Sadri's Used Wares — Curtis loved watching those creepy TV shows of demon-chasers who tracked down cursed and haunted objects sold from a pawnshop. Then there were those strange shops, those lost-and-found emporiums that showed up in mysterious places at the strangest of times, that sold answers, solutions, even salvation if the buyers were willing to pay the price.
"Ready, ser?" Ilya called from the hallway.
"Coming."
Escorting them into the Quarter was Sadri's apprentice, a tall nord woman who looked suspiciously familiar although Curtis couldn't recall any purple tinted mahogany haired ladies with large, luminous, maple amber eyes. Her style of dress was different. Ilya identified it as High Rock fashion. Her name was Yannig Blackwing, mid-20's, from a small town between the Reach and High Rock, and just beginning her apprenticeship to learn higher-level business planning and finance from Sadri. She was currently Sadri's second apprentice with two more to come in the future.
Curtis knew that the Gray Quarter would be bigger than the Game. A lot brighter too with the tall street lamps throwing down both radiant heat and light. Curtis was eager to explore the Quarter once he was done meeting with Sadri. Maybe he could persuade Yannig to do that, or get her to recommend someone.
Sadri's old store had been partially converted to an office building, but he still lived there as his primary residence. A second floor had been added as his residential area. But for today they would be meeting in the private rooms of the Cornerclub's owner.
And that place was way beyond the Game version. A lot of money had been poured into turning the seedy bar to a really nice place for drinks and light meals.
A lot of armored uniforms having lunch. The Cornerclub was obviously a cop hangout. It fit with what Curtis had learned from ex-Windhelm dunmer. Sadri was general politics and business, Ambarys, the Cornerclub's owner, was law enforcement (but not necessarily Windhelm law), and the Muthsera Elani, the lady who ran the community center, was social services — The Windhelm Tribunal. The bar's location was convenient for cops policing the primary commercial core in the Quarter that stretched between here and the docks.
Two sets of stair from the main floor. They went up the stairs behind the bar which led to the kitchen. The other stairs went up to a large, open room with bunkbeds and lockable chests rentable per night. As they cut through the kitchen to get to the stairs to the third floor, Curtis noticed a door in the wall that would be shared with Sadri's place. Meeting here made a bit more sense now.
They entered the parlor room where Sadri waited. The central table was covered with paper and various object that Curtis proudly recognized as the many items he had introduced to Winterhold primarily to help with construction and because he missed them, and then because it gave a nudge to the local crafting and fabrication economy. Ordinary things like safety pins, paper clips, duct tape, those snappy luggage strap buckles, clothes hangers, grease paint sticks, construction helmets, rubber bands, small ceramic water filters, mirrors, magnifiers and microscopes and telescopes. Warming the room was a potbelly stove with a tea kettle on top. The papers, at a glance, were not just reports but copies of schematics Curtis had made for hands trucks and dollies, bolts, screws, pump sprayers…
Sadri more or less looked as he did in the Game except for being older and grayer and dressed in clothes of simple cut but fine cotton and silk. The soft, slightly smarmy voice was the same. After making introductions, Yannig left to keep Ilya company downstairs in the bar.
"Sedura," said Curtis, bowing his head.
Sadri returned the gesture. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you after reading all the reports from the College. The reality of our world, I hope, is one you are getting comfortable with?"
"I'm getting there, sedura. I've got great friends who are helping me along."
"Excellent." Sadri turned slightly and swept his arm towards a side table with bottles and food trays. "I've had a light breakfast brought in. There's tea, kafe, and juices."
"Coffee? Really?" said Curtis, eagerly moving forward. He deeply inhaled and was happy to find the scent was enticing even to his new body. "Milk? Honey? Sugar?"
"Milk and honey. No moonsugar, sorry."
Curtis filled a mug of pot boiled coffee and took a sip. Thankfully, being dunmer, the temperature burn on his tongue was less than it would've been if he'd been human. A dark roast — he preferred light to medium — but it was still nectar. Soon as he got time he was gonna fabricate one of those drip cones and spec out paper requirements for filters. He liked coffee, but he wasn't a fan of the oils. He wondered if mushroom parchment paper had less of that wood pulp flavor? Ooh, hey, how about that plunger thingy that wasn't a french press that makes pretty good almost-espresso…
Sadri gently cleared his throat and Curtis realized he'd just been standing there for gods know how long with the steaming cup to his nose in a coffee-induced daze. He piled some food on a small plate and carried it back to the table.
They were silent for a while, enjoying their meal and studying each other. Curtis expected the other to make some comment about Slitter. Sadri, however, had undoubtedly read all the reports and didn't appear interested in wasting time with inane, repetitious questions.
"Your tale of the Skyrim Game is fascinating as well as horribly frightening. I quite enjoyed your outline of, um — en-pee-sees? — myself included. I laughed to find I shared the same domestic script as Taarie in Solitude. I would agree that I would be a whiner if I was confined to a country estate. In truth, I'd
have argued. Even then, if I'd have agreed, I would have bought a packhorse soon after to go peddling out of sheer boredom.
"Now the main quest of killing Alduin … that was interesting."
"What I remember of Skuldafen probably won't help," said Curtis apologetically. "The real place most definitely will be bigger and more dangerous."
"Of course. And if my beloved must go to Sovngarde, Alduin will be more desperate and certainly not content to just fly around and stupidly wait until she finds the three Tongues. It would be a fight every step of the way to the Hall of Heroes. And Tsun will be raising his axe to a living woman, not a dead soul who has only an entrance test to fail, not her very life and soul. In Sovngarde, she's beyond the help of her Ancestors and must fight alone.
"Unacceptable," he pronounced softly, bitingly.
Curtis hurt at seeing Sadri's distress and hearing his fear. "I could be wrong. Lotta things here the Game got wrong." It was all the comfort he could give.
The old mer raised his eyes and there was a look that almost scared the ghost out of Curtis.
A blink. It was gone, to be replaced by good humor. Curtis wasn't fooled, but he knew it would be smarter to follow the other's lead.
"Yes. One hopes. Like all you've accomplished in less than two years." He picked up the snap clasps. "I especially like these. And the safety pins.
"You've brought new industry to Winterhold that will certainly bring in coin during the time it will take to rebuild their ship-building and fishing industry. The College is also contemplating an expansion into non-magicka science arts. It's been centuries since Winterhold was considered a center of learning. We are pleased by that. We expect that, in spite of Jarl Korir, Winterhold will soon be become a college town again."
"Yeah. Steward Kraldar is certain Jarl Korir will be happy once he sees how many nords are coming home to find plenty of jobs available," Curtis said. "We also want Winterhold to be known as a center for non-magic innovation, not just for the College. You know, rebuild and promote nord work ethic and crafstmanship."
"Excellent," said Sadri. "But I asked you here to speak about a very special job. Tolfdir has told you that Knight-Paladin Gelebor is coming. He should be in Winterhold by the time you return there. I wanted to tell you the story of Hidden Vale and the Vampires. Stories that weren't part your game."
Curtis nodded enthusiastically. "I'm guessing expansion modules that came out after I stopped playing. Skyrim is 10 years old after all. That's pretty ancient where I come from. But the Elder Scrolls are still pretty popular and people just keep writing new stuff for it. My brother still plays it from time to time and that's after he's downloaded a butt-load of new mods." Curtis got up to get another cup of coffee. He also topped off Sadri's tea.
The next four hours Curtis listened to the wildest stories of the Dawnguard, the insane Lord Harkon and his obsession to find Auri-El's Bow. There was also the sad story of the Falmer brothers. One brother was the warrior who guarded for thousands of years his people's last sacred haven. The other brother was the arch-curate fallen to vampirism. His greatest evil was to write the prophecy that fed the mad Lord Harkon's ambition; his last act of faith to Auri-El was to imprison in his defiled temple an army of frozen vampire falmer.
And then the story of Miraak of Solstheim. Solstheim was a place Curtis had, at least, heard of even though he never played the Bloodmoon expansion on the Morrowind game. The Winterhold quest line had been altered slightly by the Dragonborn because Savos Aren got to live a couple more years. Savos had been retired to Solstheim to do research on the Miraak problem for the Dragonborn. He still died. It chilled Curtis to hear Revyn calmly confess to wielding the knife on Savos to use him as the blood sacrifice to bring an ancient nord god to power.
The two stories would mesh when the Dragonborn brought her mate to the Vale and Sadri underwent the pilgrim's journey for the sake of Knight-Paladin Gelebor. With Sadri acting as Mouth for the ghosts, there came the revelation that ancient Falmer slept somewhere in Winterhold and that Gelebor's service would be redeemed by Jhunal's champion of lost knowledge, who would find and awaken the lost Falmer.
"Me," said Curtis, grimacing. "Yeah. Savos called me 'champion' though it really didn't register with me then. He made it damn clear I'd been snatched back from the void and into this reality to do work for this owl god.
"I've actually been enjoying it so far," he admitted. "I miss my family, of course, but if I wasn't alive here, I'd be dead. After this life, I dunno. I'm betting that since Jhunal is a Divine his faithful get to go to Aetherius rather than Mora's depressing bog hole.
"Uh, I don't suppose you would know?"
"No, I don't know. Apologies," said Sadri. "I don't know what Urag may have told you, but I only communicate with my Ancestors; rarely with any other and only under very special circumstances."
"Yeah. S'okay. Don't sweat it. I'll still live my life like I think I should."
Sadri soon after ended the interview, apologizing that he had other meetings to get to. "I invite you to head over to my shop. I believe you know it formerly as Calixto's Museum. My first apprentice, Savela, is there and is eager to meet you. She is thinking of attending Winterhold for a year and thinks you could advise her on her academic choice. Please keep in mind she is unaware the Archimage is my wife.
"Ah, and you and your companion, Ilya, may have half off on any purchase made today in my shop.
"It has been a true pleasure, sera, and I hope we have time to meet again before you leave."
+—+—+—+—+—+
"Yannig took your friend shopping after the first hour," said the Cornerclub owner, Ambarys. He gestured to an elderly, silver-haired dunmer wearing a fur trimmed leather cap and the heavy chitin armor of a Quarter guardsman. "This is Second-Commander Veryn Avehan. He'll be your guide and guard escort about the Quarter."
Curtis didn't miss the distinctive sword Avehan wore. He lifted his eyes up and Avehan smiled. "Nice sword," Curtis said. "A Balmora Special or souvenir picked up somewhere?" Stupid thing to say. Why would a dunmer be carrying around a Blades akaviri katana?
"Cosades didn't hand out shit except for assignments," said Ambarys, surprising Curtis. "That's a souvenir from the ruins of Cloud Temple Sadri's cousin, Julius Victor, found and brought back. He gave it to Revyn, Revyn gave it to me, I gave it to Veryn because I'm happy enough with my shortsword and Veryn liked it because it would replace the one he'd lost. Happy?" The two mer looked hard at him. Curtis backed up, hands up placatingly, saying, "OK, OK, sorry I asked."
"The story bits Revyn shared with me about you are hard to believe," said Avehan. "Jhunal of Apocrypha bringing in a soul from a place beyond Aetherius. A Nerevarine. I have so many questions."
"Oh, hey," Curtis grinned tentatively; he had a bad feeling about this. Two old Blades from Morrowind. He'd thought meeting Fast Eddie the Rat was as real the Morrowind Game could get, but these two felt like trouble he'd best avoid. "I guess here I'm a true False Incarnate. Great."
Ambarys snorted and set down two mugs of sujamma. "A drink for the road, seras, then get out of here."