Summary: Revyn still can't catch a break. There are more guests to handle, new royal-assigned bodyguards to break in, and further House-building concerns to deal with.
Note: I continue to slowly revise earlier stories, mostly just correcting typos, changing word choices, rephrasing awkward elements.
Nesting Instinct, p.3
He yawned. He couldn't help it. Gods, his wife was one cranky Dragon. Every night she was turning about, kicking off blankets, and waking up crying because her back hurt or her legs were cramping. And shouting Kaan Drem Ov (Kyne's Peace Trust) did very little to calm an unborn babe. There was no sleep to be had. He was surviving on two-hour afternoon naps in his office, once even under the kitchen table.
It wasn't just Helsette requiring his time, Ulfric and Jorlief had constant demands as more non-Nord guests arrived from Morrowind, from Cyrodiil, even from Black Marsh. Anything non-human to be handled landed on his desk.
So much political guano to choke every cliffracer in Morrowind if St. Jiub hadn't already killed them all.
Well, his beloved had brought back from the Soul Cairn St. Jiub's long lost book (now in its second publication run), and St. Jiub's amulet of stamina and hauling was helpful to him as he ran around the city with baskets of treaties and contracts and courtesy gifts. Ulfric had recently made it clear to his court that his Dunmer steward was more than a token courtesy to the Dunmer elements in his Hold; he had power to speak for Ulfric in certain matters, make promises in others.
And to make this even more clear to the many Nords returning or moving to Eastmarch, Ulfric had ordered one of his own units of personal guards, Stormblade Hrafnhildr and her unit of elite warriors, to be Revyn's escort inside Windhelm or anywhere else. Revyn would have preferred Dunmer, but Ulfric wanted no ambiguity whose authority Revyn represented.
Fine. At least he was not required to find nearby quarters for them, and he could use whatever security he preferred inside his home and offices. All he had to do was let Dana share his itinerary with the Stormblade and she would see that the appropriate number of soldiers would report to him.
"How long will you need to stay at Fort — at Old Mora?"
"Aldmora. Only a long as it takes the escort from Ivarstead to get there. And then perhaps one night to let the guest they escort rest. He's an old man and unused to long travel."
He refilled his teacup. They were meeting in the kitchen of his home. The Stormblade and her unit were not invited to go any further than that. Right now, she was here with two soldier, and none of them touched anything from the food tray nor accepted any offer of drinks.
"I'm going myself to meet this guest to put him at ease, although I've never actually met him in person. My wife has had the honor during her occasional work with the Dragonborn, but obviously she's in no condition for any sort of travel. Keep his identity confidential, madam. We are meeting and escorting to Windhelm Master Einarth of High Hrothgar."
Hrafnhildr looked surprised. "A Graybeard! They do not leave their monastery, not normally. What is the occasion, if I may ask, or if you know?"
Revyn couldn't read her beyond her initial surprise. Not all Nords held the Graybeards in reverence, seeing them as ancient blowhards riding the glories of the past. And if they had proved their power in the recent assassination attempt when Jarl Ulfric met with Emperor Titus Mede II at High Hrothgar, then some scorned them as cowards for having such power and refusing to use it during the war for independence.
"I do not know, madam, that was not included in the missive I'd received from Thane Mor of Ivarstead. A pigeon can only carry tiny bits of paper and only so much can be written. All I know is that I'm eager to meet him. I've always wanted to travel to High Hrothgar despite the snow and ice my wife warned me about. I've felt that since I've resigned to Skyrim being my home from now on, I should pay respect to ancient enemies that may now be considered friends." He smiled gently into Hrafnhildr's frozen expression. "Alas, I've been too busy to get up there. It will have to be some time after the coronation.
"I would like to leave by tomorrow, if you please. I have a meeting with Jorlief in the morning and, hopefully, it will not take too long. It would be nice to leave before noon. I will be using the two guars I received as gifts. Get the beasts used to traveling about in Skyrim. Apprentices Gilavin and Miss Constance will be coming with us." He looked past her. "And are these two my escort to the dinner with the Shatter-Shields and the Merchants Guild?"
"Yes."
"Hm. Well, I actually won't leave for another hour yet. They may wait here or in the Cornerclub next door. Thank you for your attention, madam Stormblade." He loaded up a plate for Helsette and brought it upstairs.
X—X—X—X—X—X—X
"This is hardly worth your time, Archmaster, a mere escort service is beneath your dignity," said Revyn. Behind him, Hrafnhildr glared at the Redoran nobleman and his five-mer escort, all mounted on battle-guars. Gilavin sat easily atop the restless Yalif, his wife's guar. Revyn's own mount, Alda, was the smallest in bulk, but it had the longest legs so it stood tall. He hopped onto the saddle as Alda crouched low.
Archmaster Varvur Sarethi grinned. "Oh, but I've been hearing so much about this Aldmora. A Dunmer city sponsored by the Nerevarine? So bold. Naturally, I want to see it since I've already given my support to his declaration to create a new House, albeit a minor one and independent of any of the major Houses."
Revyn rubbed his eyes. "I suppose I can't stop you. But, if you please, serjo, who told you I was riding out?"
"Serjo Inelisi. She is mindful of my interests."
Revyn gave up any further argument. "An honor, then, to be able to show you some of the land that is our home." He glanced at his Nord escort, but none of them let slip their masks of indifference.
The guars chirped and hummed, eager to be running, and the horses whinnied and pranced nervously at the monster-sized alien lizards. The route Revyn had chosen was the road along the west bank of the Yorgrim River, past Morvunskar. They camped for the evening around Mixwater Mill. A dragon had flown by, but it ignored them, probably more interested in finding something sizable to eat in the arid, volcanic plain east of the river.
The Redorans were also interested in poking around in the desert-like land and rode off with Gilavin as their guide to explore the area while Revyn, Constance, and his escort rode onward to Aldmora.
Revyn was enjoying the ride, the guar's two-legged jogging was easier on his buttocks, hips, and back than the up-down motion of a horse. Alda's jogging was slower than a horse's gallop, but it forced the Nords to keep their mounts at a brisk trot to keep up.
They came to the outskirts of the new city. There were tents everywhere and a few rough, one-room buildings, workshops or bakeries with smoking chimneys rising from each. Small mountains of stone and wood were being shaped, smoke from dozens of ovens baking pottery or food. The walls around the old fort were down and ground torn up as drainage, sewage, and water tunnels were being laid in. The land they were in was at the junction of three rivers, and there were many underground rivers and lakes in the area. Proper foundation had to be taken seriously.
"Looks like those elves haven't gotten here yet," remarked Hrafnhildr. "Bah. Foreigners."
Revyn turned to her, frowning. "We Dunmer were never welcoming to outlanders in our homeland, and so I understand your attitude. Nevertheless, Stormblade, the Archmaster of Redoran is the same rank as a Jarl. All Redoran Clans answer to him. My wife and I are born to the Hlaalu, but my wife has managed to get herself adopted into other clans, Redoran among them, in the same manner that my wife has been acknowledged Thane in several Holds. She owes him an amount of loyalty and so do I. Keep your disrespect of the Archmaster outside of my hearing."
"Aye," she tersely acknowledged.
The found that the Indorils had arrived hours earlier and had set up a large group tent topped with the crossed daggers banner of Riften. The Graybeard and Thane Selrun Mor had their own curtained off section within the tent, but both came outside to a large mat quickly rolled out for the guests. Revyn settled, cross-legged on top of a firm cushion. Constance settled on another cushion between her betrothed, Selrun, and the Graybeard. She fussed over the old man, making sure that his tea cup was full and that he got samples of all the goodies she'd baked the day before and lovingly packed.
She also gave him one of the new writing tablets recently created in Winterhold by the inventor, Master Curtis. It was a simple board with a layer of dye-infused wax overlayed with a nearly transparent sheet of whitish silk. Press down upon the sheet into the black wax with a blunted stylus or even one's fingernail to form characters. Lift the sheet to erase. There were a hundred of such tablets to be delivered later next month to the orphanage for school use, but she'd brought for the Graybeard's convenience since he could not speak without possibly killing anyone within hearing distance. Master Einarth was quite pleased with the writing board.
They left it to Constance to charm information out of the Graybeard, who found even he, at nearly 150 years, was not impervious to the attention of a lovely young woman. They soon found out that Einarth was born in Windhelm, the son of a city guardsman and a farmer who grew potatoes and had a herd of cows she made cheese from. He was one of five children. The youngest. He wouldn't inherit the farm so he was apprenticed to a tanner in the city. That gave him the opportunity to sneak into taverns and listen to the bards. He'd listened to the tales of ancient heroes, even one or two about the ancient Tongues. Those stories caught his attention like no other tale did.
Eventually, his feet took him to the pilgrim's path to High Hrothgar, where he'd stayed ever since.
Until now. Change was creeping upon High Hrothgar. Their secret Dragon master had been exposed. There were now more visitors, more initiates applying than had been seen in centuries. It was overwhelming to the four masters.
Master Einarth wanted to walk the land he'd grew up on. He also had a gift for Ulfric, the lute left by his ancestor, King Jorunn, the Skald-King, when he'd come to High Hrothgar for aid against the Kamal Snow Demons and was given the Shout to call a Hero from Sovngarde. New acolytes had been set to cleaning out long-unused rooms and had found the instrument. They knew it was his by his name being branded on the leather strap attached to the case the instrument was in.
Gilavin and the Redorans returned with a harvest of frost spiders, each spider an arm long head to spinnerets. Introductions were made and Selrun went with them to talk to some of the settlers to find enough oil for a deep fry pot. Constance went with them to shop for other foods among the settlers to ensure that something else would available for those who felt squeamish about deep-fried spiders.
Master Einarth then passed a letter to Revyn.
"Deplorable timing," said Revyn, sighing deeply after he'd read the letter. "I will, of course, forward this request to the Dragonborn. My wife, unfortunately, is in no condition to assist. I know you would not feel comfortable with mages of the College poking about. My initial thoughts are to request assistance from the Nerevarine and Taliesin. The Nerevarine, we have lately confirmed, is a Dragonborn. You must have heard him shouting. He is a skilled warrior and a modest user of magic. Taliesin is a battlemage. There are the Companions, even if Little Nicky is no longer the Harbinger, and the Wolf Teeth mercenaries. Finances for the Companions and the mercenaries is something I and my assistants can work out. High Hrothgar could use a dedicated lay staff, but we can talk about that later."
Master Einarth retired to take a nap before dinner. Revyn wanted to find Aval Atheron to discuss Aldmora's progress.
"My lord, I've heard several things that I am curious about and would like answers to, if you would indulge me," said Hrafnhildr.
"Ask," said Revyn.
"Why would the Graybeards need assistance from your wife?" asked Hrafnhildr.
"They would prefer the Dragonborn and, as you heard, I will forward their request. That's why I'm going to find Aval. He would know the fastest courier presently available from here. My wife has assisted the Dragonborn on various projects and has been to High Hrothgar a number of times. The Graybeards are comfortable with her wandering about their monastery."
"Yes, but what do they need assistance with?"
"They've detected magic users trying to get past the great windstorm barrier that protects the peak of their mountain where the Dragon Paarthurnax lives. They fear either Thalmor or perhaps over-ambitious mages wishing harm to their master."
"Who are Nerevarine and Taliesin?"
"The Nerevarine is a legendary hero of Morrowind. His name is Severus Timberwolf. My wife's family call him 'Uncle Wolf.' He is the Dunmer equivalent hero to your Dragonborn. His mother was a Nord serving in the Legion, his father, we think, was an Imperial. Due to certain events in Morrowind, he attained an extended lifespan and is over 200 years. He is an adopted member of my wife's Imperial half of her family. Part of my people's prophecy of him calls him "dragon born," which we believed — accurately enough at the time — to mean he would be an outlander from the empire of Man. Born under the dragon of the Imperial flag, you see. We had no knowledge of the Dragonborn legends of the Nords. But he has the ability. He discovered it while visiting his niece, the Dragonborn, in Winterhold. They were discussing their respective legends and got curious about that descriptive phrase in his. They tested it, and found it was true. We've been urging him to make time to visit High Hrothgar."
"A second Dragonborn. Amazing. And Taliesin?"
"My wife's elder brother. He's a very powerful battlemage trained both in Imperial and Dunmer magic practices. He has been assisting his uncle in hunting down Dragons."
"You claim kinship with the Dragonborn, the first Dragonborn then?"
"Ah, haven't heard the gossip? It seems my wife's father had an affair with a healer from Winterhold. During the Great War, he was injured and the Winterhold healer attended him. Things happened, but he was already married to General Inanna Faro. We had no knowledge of the kinship until the day the Dragonborn demanded her place at my father-in-law's funeral service. There were too many witnesses to count. Our King Ulfric was also there to witness."
"Who is Little Nicky?"
"Nicholas Faustus Felix, my wife's cousin. He was briefly the Harbinger after Kodlak Whitemane. His sister is married to the leader of the Wolf Teeth Mercenaries based in Riften. They own Goldgenglow Estates and produce lovely desert wines and teas. Little Nicky gave up the Companions when he was politically adopted by the Emperor and is currently being trained to become the next Emperor of Cyrodiil, Titus Mede III.
"The Felix Family have a long history with the Medes."
Revyn wondered under what rock had Ulfric uncovered Hrafnhildr from that she didn't know the gossip about Little Nicky? That had been major Skyrim news that the Emperor had tapped the Harbinger of the Companions to be his heir (topping the shocking news that Kodlak had chosen an Imperial to be next Harbinger).
"I can see these Riften mercenaries jumping to your summons, but the Companions, even after Nicholas Felix has given up his position?"
"The new Harbinger, Farkas Jergenson, is going to marry Amalie Meris Felix, the new owner of Honningbrew Meadery, making him a Felix cousin. And even if he were not family, shouldn't the Companions be willing to lend their swords in defense of the Graybeards?"
The Stormblade was quiet for a long while, allowing Revyn to concentrate on talking with Aval and on the contracts and finances Aval was handling to build the town, along with some political discussion about the town being the foothold of a new House, and inhabitants, such as Aval, who wanted to remain faithful to their original Houses.
Frost spider. Interesting. The poison in their spongy cooked innards imparted a not-unpleasant numbing to one's mouth, and the overall taste was improved with sauteed herbs mixed into the mash. The sparse meat of their legs was steamed, soaked in spices, wrapped loosely around a core of saltrice and minced vegetables, and deep fried. The unlaid eggs in one female was quite delicious without any additional spices after it was steam poached.
The feast went well. For those who didn't want spider, there was venison or fish. Constance and Master Einarth politely sampled some of the mash, but they preferred the meat-wrapped saltrice and vegetable rolls and the poached eggs along with fish.
For the evening entertainment, the Archmaster challenged Revyn to a mock duel, promising to go easy on him. They were Redoran, after all, and they wanted to see his combat skills. Revyn was glad he'd bothered to refresh his spear and knife skills. At his best with spear, he was able to keep pace with the Archmaster up to the intermediate level. He did marginally better with close quarter knife skills. Revyn didn't delude himself that this polite exercise was anywhere near true combat level. This was clear when the Archmaster and Thane Mor went at it.
This was followed up by other matchups between Indorils, Redorans, and Stormcloaks. Hrafnhildr's people all impressed with their heavy two-handed weapons.
Good food, good battles, minimal injuries. Eventually, all retiring to their tents to sleep. The Redorans had brought a group tent. Revyn had packed a large tent, but the Nords preferred just to roll in their individual blankets outside the tent, so it was only he and Gilavin, and Constance went to sleep with her betrothed, Selrun Mor, in the Indoril tent.
Back to Windhelm. Where to put the Graybeard? The monk was not picky and would have been happy on a cot in a corner of Revyn's basement office. But once word was out that a Graybeard was in town, Revyn did not want a mob of Nords converging on his home. At the Palace? He was sure Ulfric would happily kick some guests out, though even the noble guests were sleeping three or four to a room with their servants sleeping in the halls. Ulfric might well grant the Graybeard half of his bed (Ulfric's personal servants were already sleeping on the floor of his suite). Having Master Einarth deep inside the Palace would make it difficult for Revyn meet with him to discuss security plans for High Hrothgar, but political-wise, it was probably the best to be done.
Thankfully, his secretary, Dana, had settled that issue while he had been fetching the monk. Up 'til now, her uncle, the Court Wizard was the only one who hadn't been required to give up space for guests. No one wanted to share a room with a cranky wizard, not even other wizards who may have accompanied their respective noble employers. Wuunferth the Unliving only grumbled under his breath and sighed loudly when Dana invaded his chamber with a pair of houseboys to move furniture and shelves of alchemy and enchantment supplies aside and to scrub clean the floor space where straw, thick wool cushions, and blankets were laid down for the Graybeard.
Wuunferth could be also be counted on to abet any secret meetings Master Einarth needed with either Revyn or Helsette. However, Revyn did caution Master Einarth that Wuunferth was not among those who knew that Helsette was the Dragonborn. He'd carefully explained the long-running deception to the monk. For example, Selrun Mor knew the truth because his daughter was the Dragonborn's steward in Whiterun, and she was unable to keep that secret from her father. Constance and Gilavin did not know. They, like most people, believed Helsette and the Dragonborn were separate people, that they were half-sisters, a lie encouraged by the late Antony Felix and by her mother, Inanna Faro. As a general rule, assume that the deception was true. Those who knew the truth would play along.
Revyn apologized for the game, explaining that not everyone wanted the Dragonborn around, and even less would be happy to find out the Nord hero was a Dunmer/Imperial half-breed. I won't say a word, promised Master Einarth with a sad smile.
X—X—X—X—X—X—X
"You've impressed the Redorans, love, now for the duels with the Hlaalu." Helsette rubbed Revyn's hunched shoulders. "They're going to try to get you to give up declaring a House separation. They've already sent a representative to try to persuade me and grandmother while you were gone. They're going to offer you a seat on the Hlaalu Council."
"I'm not even officially the House Lord of Sadri and they want me on the ruling council? They must know they're operating from a weak point already then." Revyn rolled his head back and rested it against his wife's belly. Little dragon kicked his cheek and he smiled.
"Little pebbles before the landslide," said Helsette.
"Maybe." Revyn rubbed his eyes. "It's not as if House Hlaalu isn't without resources. The Argonians may be holding most of the South Plains, but they really can't do anything useful with it. House Hlaalu, if it's willing to sacrifice its wealth, could buy the land back."
"And sacrifice their pride," said Helsette, shaking her head. "I would hate to hear the arguments from House Dres. They'd accuse of Hlaalu of land grabbing."
"Well, if Dres hadn't so much of their wealth tied up in land that Argonians seized …" Revyn shrugged. It wasn't his problem so he wasn't going to put much thought into it.
"That would be a nasty war. Such a fallout between partners in crime."
"Dres was built on slavery. Hlaalu got an unfair trade advantage thanks to Imperial laziness and exploited it, also investing heavily in Dres plantations. Argonians yanked the land bank out from under both. Hlaalu's wealth, however, was portable and so remains in better financial condition than Dres." Revyn yawned and stretched. "Now, can we talk about something else? I don't want to think about the Hlaalu Council until I have to meet with them tomorrow at Refugees Rest.
"How about Aldmora?" he asked. "Aval tells me if we want something big and solid, we should let him know so that he can see foundations are put in. Or do you want a mushroom like at Windstad?"
"You know me, dear, I don't need anymore showpiece houses. A nice, comfy pod home is fine."
"Well, rooms for live-in servants and possibly a guard, children, a stable, at least one guest room, and since we don't have to worry about snow, how about a rooftop garden like Flora and Julius have at Goldenglow? Add a cozy little gazebo like you have at the College?"
"Ooh, that would be nice.
"But I'm also thinking, Revyn, that we go ahead and buy back a bit of Sadri land at Lake Hlaalu as Gilavin's father has offered us," she said briskly. "Make it a small trade house and a token presence of our House in Morrowind, like our Severin House is Winterhold College's presence on Redoran's Solstheim. So at least we can say House Aldmora has a physical land stake in Morrowind. Rather like when I was required to purchase properties in Markarth and in Solitude before they would give me the title of thane."
"I've no objection off the top of my head," said Revyn. "If you think it strategically sound, love, I'm willing to work up the numbers for it."
"Hm," she hummed thoughtfully. "Considering this was offered to us by the premier Sadras lord of that region who's willing to acknowledge our new House, it's too good a toehold to pass up. The remnants of the East Empire Company may no longer be welcome in Morrowind, but I'm sure we Felixes can find stuff worth trading."
"Insider knowledge," said Revyn. "Also, the fact that Felix trade is not interested in exploiting or exporting Morrowind's resources, unlike the defunct East Empire, which once had such a choke hold as to force Morrowind to sell and then buy back it's own products. That could work."
"Probably best not to mention Dareano's offer at tomorrow's meeting," mused Helsette. "I don't hate Hlaalu, some of them are kin in a distant way. And I've known many honest and decent Hlaalu merchants and adventurers and soldiers."
"We do exist. But it is a truism before the fall that the higher you go into the true power movers, the more treacherous the games. The nobles that could afford to be generous, honest, honorable, weren't the ones holding the reigns. House Hlaalu has a chance to reshape itself, but it is going to be costly both in coin and in blood. I'd like to stay out of it as much as possible."
She stroked his hair. "I know, dear, I know. And I agree. But we may not have that luxury. At least, by separating to a new House, we can claim legal and moral justification — at least by Morrowind code — to distancing ourselves from Hlaalu House conflicts. The truly hard part is placating the Ancestors. Unfortunately, that seems to fall on you, although Cousin Flavia may be able to assist you even though she's an acolyte dedicated to Zenithar."
"And Joric," groaned Revyn. "Since we're adopting Jhunal also as our House's patron.
"But we still have to get official acknowledgment of our new House from the Morrowind Council, else we'll have no legal status," he stated. "Right now, the only Great House willing to acknowledge us is House Redoran through Varvur Sarethi. House Telvanni has only two of their five Masters on our side, and Indoril is undecided. House Hlaalu has yet to acknowledge our claim."
"Oh, I'm sorry, my dearest," said Helsette ruefully, "we were suppose to be talking about something else than tomorrow's meeting." She struggled to bend forward to kiss him, but had to give up. Revyn, on the other side of the baby bump, was just too far away. He grinned, pushed himself up to sit beside her and take her in his arms.
"It all right, beloved. We can't seem to evade discussions on House-keeping." He rubbed her belly. "It's for our future after all."
Related stories: #07 Ordination, #27-29 Doomsday, #75 Briarpatch p.3, (2nd Life) #27 Severus