[]
[]
[]
[]
[]
Chapter 21:
Queen of the Chaurus
.
.
.
.
20 Rain's Hand, 4E200
Sacellum of Boethiah, Windhelm
Drevas of Mournhold
The newest recruit was a 15-year-old Altmer girl; she climbed Boethiah's mountain in a worn pair of boots and some tattered fifth-hand leather armor, didn't have anything but the steel axe she killed her bandit rapists with, and their blood crusted on her face.
Telura, one of the five who survived Blackreach, had a split lip from challenging the girl at the gate.
"Couldn't have jumped in a river first?" was the first thing Drevas said to her, and yes, he was aware of the irony, but this was different; it was snowing, and windy, at the statue of Boethiah, "Dumped a bucket over your head? You already passed through the halls, had plenty of chances."
Below them, a stair led into the ancient Nordic cairn that housed Boethiah's Proven; unlike Jorrvaskr of the Companions, this hall had no name. It was were the God-Ancestor's chosen laid their head, until their liege roused them to spill blood and earn their place in the fold once more.
Between them was Boethiah's idol in Skyrim, the God-Ancestor's form that of a feminine serpent, claymore raised to the sky… and before the altar was a disk of black stone, Daedric runes etched around the edges. The statue, the disk, and the item at the disk's center; these were untouched by the snow and wind.
The item was Starfall. There hadn't been as much as a scratch on the dreadful ebony hammer, when Drevas recovered it from the battlefield.
"Boethiah wants me to prove myself with blood?" she waved her axe, which also hadn't been cleaned; there was a mad glint in the poor girl's eyes, "I have come with blood. What more could she desire?"
Drevas shrugged; fair enough, "Then speak with Her," he gestured to the altar.
She looked between the altar, Starfall, and Drevas.
He grinned nastily, "And don't touch my mace."
Girl rolled her eyes and approached the statue; right as she crossed the outer threshold of the altar, a cold wind ripped the blood off her body, and she shuddered to a halt.
Movement, out the corner of his eye, brought Drevas' attention to the stairs momentarily; then he did a double-take, "That you, Jarl Ulfric?" It was, "Telura, give you a Septim for a couple mugs of mead, and another five to bring them to my yurt."
"Right up, Drevas." Good lass. She nodded while walking past the tall Nord, "Jarl."
"Telura," if the lad noticed the snow or wind, he didn't show it as he approached, skirting the runic circle to stand next to the Grand Proven, "Drevas. Not interrupting anything, am I?"
"New recruit, got accosted by bandits; so she's either my Prince's entertainment for the evening, or Pippin Shatter-Shield's getting a new training partner," the Grand Proven smiled easily at the younger warrior, the only person in the Hold Drevas could spar against on even footing, "So, what brings you out this way?"
Ulfric's mouth twisted in humor, and he reached into his robes; a letter, unsealed, was produced and handed to Drevas.
"If you're asking me to kill something bigger, don't expect another freebee."
"Not asking that," Ulfric's smile fell a little as the girl twitched.
Drevas kept an eye on her, but still took the letter.
He was halfway down when the girl turned around; she still looked pissed, but not as bad as when she arrived.
When she spoke it was accompanied by a wind that sliced over Drevas' skin, "My name is Idratha. She wants you to teach me."
He didn't look up from the rather nice letter from the High King, "First lesson: as you probably know now, Boethiah only cares about spilling blood; you don't have to bring it with you to the Sacellum, and doing so is discouraged outside the pit, because it means we have to clean the floors and change the sand more often than necessary.
"Second lesson: when you get back to the Sacellum, there are six things you should do: you sit down, hand your gear to the smith, have a meal, maybe a fuck if you're feeling well enough, see the healer if you're not, and socialize with your fellows. Numbers one, two, three, and five apply to you currently, with four and six being optional after the healer."
Drevas pointed at the stairs, "Now go."
She hesitated a second, looking between Ulfric and Drevas; ultimately, however, she obeyed, but with confidence, like they couldn't see how she shivered in the cold. Both warriors waited until she was gone, before Ulfric's curiosity got the better of him.
"Did she really walk up here in those rags?"
"I swear, lad, it's like they've got no brains these days," he handed the letter back to Ulfric and turned to his personal yurt, "Ass on full display and it's like she doesn't notice," a shriek of embarrassment whispered to their ears, and they laughed their way into the hut.
Ulfric glanced around the trophy-laded tent's interior while Drevas walked over to a cushion and sat in it; large, circular rugs and quilts formed the pillow-strewn floor along with a fire pit in the center, well-preserved Nordic pottery and wide variety of furniture, tables and potted plants taking up most of walls; in one spot, a large chest brimmed with jewels and gold, the rafters and posts were decorated with all sorts of beast skulls and hides…
And above Drevas, a massive, cracked piece of bronze chitin plate was strapped to the rafter, along with what looked like one of the Chaurus Reaper Tyrant's claws, fashioned into a greatsword that was taller than Ulfric was.
But what really caught Ulfric's eye – or ear, rather – was the potted red plant near Drevas' seat, "They let you keep one?"
"Mmm. Didn't exactly ask, but it survived the trip and the planting," Drevas hummed, idly flicking a leaf on the sample of Crimson Nirnroot; he met Ulfric's eyes and raised a brow, "Do you think she's got some ploy in mind?"
"From what I've heard," from the High King, no doubt, "Khepri doesn't want to go too far from that new settlement of hers. Honestly, I don't blame her; the Thalmor are up to something."
"They're always-"
"Not like this, they haven't. Drevas, they've stopped attacking the Talos shrines; right after I send that proposal to the High King, and they back off?" he shook his head and sighed, sounding really frustrated, "Grah, just thinking about it makes me want to renege on the whole thing."
"But you're not going to."
"And have Galmar saying 'I told you so' for the rest of his life?" Nevermind that he'd look indecisive to anyone watching, which was everyone.
"Point," Drevas scratched his beard; yes, even the Thalmor couldn't break Ulfric, not completely. And speaking of which, "And I hear it's Thane Khepri, now. Poor girl must be livid."
Ulfric snorted, "I wouldn't blame her, but this way, she has the authority to protect herself and her interests, should politics get involved. Speaking of the little gathering Balgruuf has in mind, Maven won't be there; really, that's the only reason I think Khepri agreed. No Empire sycophants to save him when she lays into Balgruuf over something."
"True enough… anyway, why'd you bring this to me?"
"Do you remember that mage with the skeevers?"
Drevas scoffed, "How could I forget… he's in Whiterun, isn't he?"
Ulfric chuckled, "It's even better than that, you old bastard."
Seconds later, the Grand Proven was laughing harder than he'd done in the past fifty years; the only regret in his heart was that he'd miss the show.
.
23 Rain's Hand, 4E200
Heljarchen Hall, Weynon Glades, The Pale
Khepri the Beekeeper
"I hate it." I said to my reflection, and Jordis, the only other person in my bedroom.
The dress was lovely, actually; blue and red with gold accents and trim, it was a gift from High Queen Elisif, of all people, and went well with my grizzly cloak, as well as my moonstone prosthetic – it and my flesh hand were currently hidden by gloves made from Falkreath Tree Spider silk – and, honestly, it really complimented my hairstyle, a single waist-length braid with jaw-length curls, treated with beeswax, faming my face.
However, that wasn't the issue.
"Khepri, you look-"
"Like I'm doing a good job of carrying a freaking anchor around on my shoulders." My voice was a strained growl as I fought tooth and nail just to keep standing upright, "I've heard of the burden of duty, but this seems more than a little ridiculous."
The necklace- no, that wasn't doing my "badge of office" justice. A solid gold pendant one-third the size of my fist, decorated with a masterful enamel of Skyrim's coat of arms and hundreds of tiny gleaming jewels, hung from a heavy rope of braided gold; there was a counterweight on my back, at the back of the rope, but that was just a lump of gold-plated, diamond-studded lead.
It was the Chain of Skyrim, an ancient, enchanted piece of stupidly heavy jewelry that was the official badge of whoever held the title "Thane of Skyrim"; very few people actually held the position, and even fewer held it for long, though that was mostly because they were shortly afterward elected to higher office.
That, or they were tossed off their horse when they tried to ride while wearing the fucking thing; thank Kyne Skitter was so strong, or I wouldn't have even considered riding while wearing the golden anchor.
I'd already told the Emperor what would happen if they gave me a White-Gold Rose, a ring so large and jewel-studded, you'd need a team of mules just to move it. Unfortunately, I couldn't avoid the King's Blade or Northern Star… or the Wings of Kynareth, all of which were now weighing down my chest. Each of them was gleaming, beautiful, ostentatious, and so valuable that I was sure each could've bought two Heljarchen Halls. And as if this wasn't enough…
"The circlet looks good on you, though." Jordis tried, and failed, to make things better.
The circlet; it wasn't one of the heavy crowns worn by the Jarls, but it held its own authority. It was beautiful, there was no denying that, fine silver filigree studded with sky sapphires; my bangs hid it partially, as it slightly clashed with my eye color.
"I'm the mayor of a town, not a princess."
"Yes, but that doesn't mean you have to dress in work clothes every day, my Thane." I gave Jordis a dry look, but she wasn't fazed at all, "It's expected of someone of your station to dress a certain way for certain events, and, well, this is technically a formal event."
"I know," I huffed, then winced, because that action shifted the chain around my shoulders, making my collarbone creak, "I'm simply protesting all this gold. Do I actually need to wear the chain?"
"The invitation read 'Thane Khepri', so…" Jordis shrugged, brow furrowing as she thought of something; in the meantime, a younger common Chaurus brought me my sword, which I affixed to my belt while Jordis went on slowly, "Then again… there are very few instances where the Northern Star, the King's Blade, and the Wings of Kyne have all been given to a single person. And the King's Blade is enough for the elevation to Skyrim's Thane, so I suppose you can avoid it; Jarl Balgruuf isn't likely to care, either. Despite his adherence to tradition, I don't think he'll make a fuss if you decide not to wear it; it's only a trip to the meadery for a meal, drinks, and conversation."
"So the real question is: will anyone care if I don't wear a chain that weighs almost as much as I do?"
"I don't think it'll be likely, my Thane. Thane Nazeem wasn't on the list of attendees Steward Proventus sent me, and other than him, only Harbinger Whitemane would likely bring it up, and then it'll only be as a curiosity rather than admonition; he likes you, after all. And… it's obvious, now I see you wearing it, the Chain was designed to be worn by someone with a much broader back than you."
"Good. Then help me get this heavy fucking thing off before it crushes me." Survive Coil, the Endbringers, HIM, and the Tyrant, only to be undone by jewelry. No, I refused to go out like that.
And that's how Bori found us: me on my knees, doing my best to help Jordis remove the Chain without injuring me, both of us muttering unladylike curses.
Seeing our plight, Weynon's official Thane immediately moved over to help, the extra set of hands making things go much more smoothly; once the dreadful weight was off my shoulders and on its way to a storage chest, I let Bori help me to my feet, "Thank you, Bori. Oof, my back."
Steadying me, he suggested while I stretched, feeling a few vertebrae pop, "You could probably have a smaller one commissioned; bloody thing could double as a heavy cuirass."
Smoothing my skirt, I replied, "That'll have to wait until I start producing mead commercially; can't justify the expense, otherwise," he hummed in agreement as Jordis rejoined us, rolling her shoulders and wincing; to Bori I asked, "Everything is secure, yes?"
A letter had arrived yesterday, from Windhelm, and I'd taken Jarl Ulfric's warning about the Thalmor's sudden change of heart regarding the Talos shrines very seriously; yes, they'd aided the Muster, but that was more due to legal obligations than altruism. I wasn't fool enough to believe they'd pack it in just because Skyrim was planning to call the shrines something different, not after everything they'd already done.
And given my place in the grand scheme of things, how I've upset the general status quo… well, it never hurt to be prepared.
Bori nodded, "Everyone's sober and on alert, so no bandits or trolls will be gettin' anywhere near the town. Wumeek and a Nord dame from Silverdrift, Darla, they're manning the bar at Kyne's Repose; the woman was a server in Winterhold, before the Collapse took the restaurant she worked at."
"I activated the anti-Illusion barrier before you woke up," Jordis informed me, to which I nodded in approval; the barrier, the product of a joint project of the College's Masters of Illusion and Enchanting, would prevent anyone from using concealing magics around the Hall. There was a minor array protecting the town; it was specifically designed to Dispel any Invisibility or Chameleon spells, along with a few rarer types that might be able to fool my Swarm.
.
In a series of crags over a mile away, hidden by strong Chameleon magics, Bathes-In-Blood hissed a curse and pulled the Dwemer metal device away from her ear; to the person holding the soul-gem listening array, she said, "We've got what we want; now let's go before she or one of those damn Hunters notices us."
Seconds later, the two Thalmor agents were booking it out of Whiterun, heading back to Solitude so they could report the development to their superior – Bathes, however, also wondered if Elenwen was obeying her order to not use Restoration on her bruised backside for a week. She'd been a very sloppy maid, and it would be such a shame if the Altmer's mistress had to punish her for disobedience as well…
.
"Good… good…" I ran my power over the near area one more time. Skitter was outside the front door, on all six's and waiting to be my steed over Whiterun's plains; Judas was nearly to Whiterun proper, having left a few hours ago with Sophia, Bentley, Twinkie, Chevalier and Defiant.
Below the Hall, Imp was sorting her shiny collection, deciding which pieces would go on display in the house, and the other Hunters were near the botanical garden behind the Hall, acting as a sort of lodestone for my power. So long as Skitter was in my range, I would be able to 'bounce' my power off of just about every Chaurus that was connected to the Hive Mind.
[confidence], [adoration] and [joy] were the prevailing emotions of the Chaurus, these days, and that buoyed my own feelings, giving me the strength to see my next task through.
"My Thane, if you delay much longer, you will be late."
"Right," I nodded, and looked toward the door, butterflies roiling in my stomach, "Yes, I'm leaving now. Keep an eye on things, you two; oh, and Bori. If you see Companion Farkas-"
"I'll tell the nearest Chaurus I see, Khepri," the first – and, arguably, the most decent – man I met in Skyrim assured me, moustache twitching with bemusement, "You go on and enjoy yourself."
Enjoy myself. Odd that such a kind statement would fill me with dread.
.
Whiterun
Jarl Balgruuf the Greater
It was a good idea, Proventus had said; invite Khepri to Whiterun, bring her 'round Honningbrew for a meal and a drink or three, and pitch the idea of her moving to Riverwood. A better climate would do the young lass good, and the bandits down that way would get the hint and clear off, much like the ones over near Silent Moons had done just the last week, the whole band pulling up stakes and haring off to Rorikstead.
Balgruuf and Irileth had agreed – after sending a few troops to patrol the western marches of Whiterun, of course. After all, Riverwood was known to have a few local apiaries, for the town's use, mostly, and the forests of Falkreath were known to have a good many varieties of insect; surely a woman who worked exclusively with the things would be interested.
But, of course, there was the issue of what to do with his children. Frothar, his eldest son, was a polite lad, was genuinely interested and in awe of Khepri the Beekeeper. As he should be; she was the youngest Thane in living memory, and there was talk of making her a Living Saint of Divine Kynareth.
Dagny only wanted to find out what it was like to ride a Chaurus, and that was the only reason she agreed to come on the excursion; otherwise, Balgruuf's only daughter thought the Beekeeper was 'a nasty common tramp that liked to play with bugs'.
Nelkir… hadn't been interested in the event at all, until it was pointed out that he could either come along, or stay in Dragonsreach with only Nazeem, Farengar, and the maids for company.
And, somehow, Harbinger Whitemane got wind of the gathering, and invited himself along; not a particularly bad thing, of course, but Balgruuf would've liked more than two days' notice before the bear of a man, flanked by Aela the Huntress – who Nelkir kept leering at when he thought she wasn't looking – decided to run up the food bill that was getting more expensive by the second.
Bright sides, Balgruuf told himself, breathing in the crisp air of the highland plains, enjoying the clear blue skies painted with wisps of cloud, the sounds of the horses in the nearby stables being put through their paces, the-
"Father! Is that a Chaurus?" Frothar broke the – mostly; Nelkir had been grumbling about something, and the guards had kept shifting – idyllic silence; looking in the direction his eldest was pointing, he spotted a large black-green insect, a Chaurus Hunter, poking at one of the many springs situated the foot of the hill Whiterun sat on.
"I do believe it is, son. Must mean Khepri's getting close," the Hunter jerked back suddenly, then swung a forelimb.
Kodlak let out a deep chuckle as a mudcrab went flying through the air, only to be caught in the mandibles of a second Hunter that'd been hiding in the grass, "Or perhaps they're collecting some crab for the coming lunch."
"Oh please," Dagny sneered, "They're bugs. They can't be that smart."
Before anyone could retort, a blur suddenly flew past the walled barbican that ran up to Whiterun's gates; it stopped near the Hunters, revealing a much larger insect… with a black-haired woman riding side-saddle on its thorax.
"Stand down, Irileth," Balgruuf's Houscarl glanced at him, and took her hand off her blade's hilt; then he looked down at his sons and daughter. Frothar looked stunned, Dagny looked horrified, and Nelkir… was harder to read; nevertheless, "Children, that large insect is named Skitter, the first Chaurus Praetorian in living memory; if the reports are right, no bandit warband can match her might. The woman who just dismounted is Khepri the Beekeeper, Thane of all Skyrim; you will treat her with the same respect you'd show the High King, for her voice is his, understood?"
A chorus of 'yes, father'-s followed, though the sincerity of them differed from child to child. Putting it out of his mind, Balgruuf smiled as Khepri finally walked within earshot of the party; she was certainly dressed as a high-ranking Thane and town mayor, he gave her that.
Skitter the Praetorian rising onto her two very long hind legs and walking as a person would, a dark sash around her torso spelling her name in bright violet stitching… Balgruuf dealt with Nazeem's attitude on a regular basis; this was pedestrian, in comparison, he told himself.
Spreading his arms, he greeted her, "Thane Khepri, a pleasure to meet you at last. Welcome to Whiterun."
"Jarl Balgruuf the Greater, I presume," the young lady smiled, giving a small bow and curtsey, "You have a lovely Hold. Hello, Harbinger Whitemane, Companion Aela; did you get the Tyrant's claw in the mead hall alright?"
Wait, what?
Kodlak chuckled and bowed his head in respect, "Khepri the Beekeeper. We did, and may I say, the Companions have heard a rather lot about you."
"All good, I hope," the lass smiled wider, her face becoming the picture of happiness, before those green eyes alighted on Balgruuf's children. "Ah, and who are these fine young people?"
Balgruuf rallied and gestured – once to his guards, who proceeded to move into an escort position – to his three children, "My sons and daughter; the eldest, Frothar," a respectful bow, "my daughter, Dagny," an eep as she tore her gaze away from Skitter, "pay attention, girl. And my youngest, Nelkir."
Who pitched a small stone at Skitter.
The Praetorian batted it away without the slightest show of effort. She didn't even look at the boy.
"A problem child I take it?" Khepri's voice was warm, but the edge beneath cut Balgruuf's admonition off before it could begin.
"I wanted to see how complete your control was," Balgruuf's youngest shrugged, and then frowned at the Beekeeper, "Doesn't it get confusing, making sure they're all behaving all the time so they don't eat anyone?"
Never before had Balgruuf wanted to strangle a child so badly, let alone one of his own flesh and blood.
"zzzBoyzz." The buzzing, hissing word had come from Skitter, and it had the desired effect. Nelkir started and looked up in confusion at the Praetorian as it continued, "zzzThe Queen doeszz not stop uszz from fightingzz. We, Chaurus, jussst don't like how other raceszz tassste. Nassstyzz."
"Yes, that was one of the reasons they disliked the Falmer," Khepri hummed sagely, ignoring the menacing noise – and sentences – that'd just come out of the insect next to her; to Nelkir, who was now pale-faced with fear, she said brightly, "Though, if you're so curious, I can explain how my powers work, as well as why I put forward legislation to make attacking Chaurus illegal in the Pale, after lunch is concluded."
"My brother is an idiot, uh, Thane. Ignore him," Dagny said meekly, her younger brother deflating with a stressed wheeze; Balgruuf had just enough time to be thankful for this event, as it would no doubt teach Nelkir to think before he spoke, when his darling daughter looked up at Skitter with a hopeful expression, "Uh, Skitter?" another loud buzz, "May I ride you?"
As the party finally got properly underway – with Khepri explaining to Balgruuf's attentive children how to ride Skitter, with Aela and Kodlak watching attentively – Balgruuf said aside to Irileth, quietly, "Remind me to slap Proventus in the face when we get home."
"Of course, my Jarl," she then looked at Khepri, who was frowning at Honningbrew Meadery; to the bug controller, she called, "Something the matter, Thane Khepri?"
"Mmm, that depends; does anyone else know about the mage who's raising… 39 skeevers under the brewery?" a pause, "And may or may not have experimented on them with Alchemy?"
"…make that a punch. And add Nazeem to the list of people receiving one." Balgruuf growled, picking up the pace; with a nod to Kodlak, the Harbinger sent Aela ahead to scout the area – and keep the brewer from running.
Irileth nodded sharply and loosed her sword in its sheath, "Duly noted, my lord."
.
Caverns underneath Honningbrew Meadery
Hamelyn the Skeever King
They'd called him crazy, but soon, they would see the truth.
Jailed for ten years by Jarl Balgruuf for 'banditry', 'keeping unsanitary living conditions', and 'harassing the women of the Hold'; all lies, fabrications by lesser beings, made to hide his genius from the world.
Upon his escape, he fled to the College of Winterhold, but even there, amongst the scholars who sought the deeper secrets of Aetherius, he found nothing but scorn. Simpletons, who couldn't understand his mighty vision!
But soon, yes, the time of Skyrim's reckoning was coming soon.
Hamelyn, King of Skeevers, rubbed his hands together over his Alchemy station and grinned; his last successful tincture, number 21-H, had marvelous effects on the growth rate and size of the mighty skeever. Even better, its effects were homogenous across all skeever subspecies, with no ill effects on any other species of man, mer, beastfolk, or animal; field, cavern, and barrow skeevers were all equally changed by 21-H, and all it'd taken was a few drops in certain water supplies for it to work.
The long and careful experimentation that led up to that breakthrough… the bandits and animals he tested it on, the abominations he needed to put down before they attacked the populace, that woman who thought she could 'civilize him', but merely provided Hamelyn with more Alchemy ingredients and a vector for tissue tests…
Sometimes he shuddered at the horrors he needed to create, so progress could be made; it was one of the reasons he didn't keep notes about the experiments themselves, as his mind was safer than leaving any evidence for the narrow-minded overworlders…
But they would see, soon…
Tincture 77-Y-011 was his latest attempt at giving his loyal subjects venomous saliva, making their ability to bring down larger prey, such as giants and mammoth, a more viable prospect; for this, Hamelyn used the skeever's own tails – those who died naturally, of course – as the primary ingredient. It might work, it might not, but trial and error was the essence of progress.
A furry body rubbed his ankle; glancing down, Hamelyn smiled at Lonny, one of the bigger males, who was making teeth-clicks that seemed hungry in essence, "Food time already?"
After feeding his flock, and making a few adjustments to the latest tincture, Hamelyn was preparing to relax when a shout came from the atrium between his sanctum and the boilery.
"Hey, Hamelyn!" the Breton King of Skeevers grimaced; that was Mallus, the Imperial bastard and meadery employee who Hamelyn had arranged food deliveries with, "Got a few minutes?"
Grumbling, the King rose from his throne of hay and – after making sure the barrier keeping his subjects in place was secure – made his way up to the atrium...
Mallus was there, but he was on his knees and sweating; the cause was the curved, fire-enchanted katana held to his throat by a young woman in finery next to him, Jarl Balgruuf standing on the other side.
Snarling and calling on his magic, Hamelyn was about to strike both the old bastard and his new whore down when a blood-chilling chitter sounded in the small room, making him take a second look.
…goodness, those were a lot of Chaurus Hunters.
"What are you waiting for?!" Mallus asked, struggling with the ropes on his wrists, "Kill th-"
The sword twitched. His head rolled.
The woman sighed, and met Hamelyn's gaze with pursed lips, "Good afternoon, sir. I hope we can discuss this in a civil manner?"
Hamelyn chewed on that for a moment; on the one hand, Balgruuf was no friend of his. On the other hand…
He jerked his head at the nearest Chaurus Hunter, "These yours, or has the Jarl sunk even lower than my worst expectations?"
The Jarl glared, looking like he was going to start yelling, but the woman only smiled, her eyes remaining cold as ice, "They are mine. I am Khepri, Beekeeper of the Pale, Thane of Skyrim, and Queen of the Chaurus."
Well! He knew he should have hocked that emerald for a subscription to the Black Horse Courier.
"I am Hamelyn, the Skeever King, former Alchemy Adept of the College of Winterhold," he folded his arms over his chest and, fighting down the desire to kill them both – because like fuck he was that stupid – he asked, "What do you want?"
"You, out of my Hold, preferably after a visit to the headman's," the piss-brained milksop who called himself Jarl snarled. "First you engage my people with banditry, and now this?!"
"Balgruuf," the self-styled Chaurus Queen interrupted what was no doubt a fascinating tirade, not taking her eyes off Hamelyn, "Either find your patience and shut up, or leave," the 'Jarl' spluttered, but the girl wasn't done, "I was told of this one by the Arch-Mage; he is quite skilled in the Destruction school of magic, and could easily kill you in less time it takes you to blink."
"Oh, so you're one of the Arch-Mage's, are you?" Hamelyn sneered, preparing to let the lanky bitch have it-
"No. I am self-employed, or at the service of the High King; the reason I originally came here was because Jarl Balgruuf invited me for lunch. I admit," the flat line her mouth had become turned into a wry smirk, "that I was more interested in seeing how a brewery was put together, concluding some business with the Companions, and finding what kind of man Jarl Balgruuf is, than any desire for sampling this establishment's wares. I have it on good authority that the mead is pretty shitty, compared to home-brewed. Imagine my surprise when I noticed you, and your… subjects… milling about beneath the meadery."
…huh. This girl was really not meeting any of Hamelyn's expectations, and that was getting him quite unnerved about the conversation he was having… and he was also worried about his flock. What did she mean, 'noticed them'?
"Regardless, the only reason I didn't have one of my Chaurus kill you while you were reading," what. "was because I'm interested in what you're doing, in a purely academic sense, of course."
While Hamelyn blinked and did his best to get his thoughts in order – someone was interested in his research? – Jarl Balgruuf spoke heatedly to the Beekeeper, "Khepri, this filth is a known criminal, a rapist and murderer."
"Okay, for the last time," Hamelyn snapped at the stupid Jarl, "I admit to being a thief, and a murderer, but I have never raped anyone!"
"And the women who accused you?"
"They were either lying, or someone had something to gain from having this mage on the run," shrugged Khepri, "because he's telling the truth."
"How can you tell?" challenged the Jarl; admittedly, Hamelyn was pretty curious too…
A dragonfly buzzed out from behind Hamelyn, and… landed in Khepri's palm.
She… said she'd noticed him…
How long had she known he was there?
"I perceive and control every insect in a given range, Jarl Balgruuf; throughout this conversation, I've been monitoring both of your heart rates. Not only can I tell that Hamelyn isn't lying about his innocence regarding rape, I can also tell you doubt the claim even now, but, well," those cold green eyes slid to look at the Jarl, who gulped, "it's understandable; if you hadn't convicted him, you'd have lost face for pardoning a murderous bandit, and the masses' respect in the process.
"That's neither here nor there, though," she turned back to Hamelyn, who was no longer even flirting with the idea of trying to kill this nightmare, "I'm curious about the research you've undertaken, as the idea of raising and, in time, controlling skeevers is… fascinating, to me… but, honestly, I'd prefer to have your work peer-reviewed before I make any offers of employment."
Hamelyn's mental gears caught on something, causing his train of thought to derail.
Em-employ- "C-Come again?"
"Yes, what?" the Jarl was equally incredulous.
Khepri withdrew a handkerchief and began wiping off her blade, speaking plainly, "Hamelyn, may I assume you would, in the fullness of time, attempt to find a way to mentally influence your subjects so they would more efficiently do your bidding?"
…ah, Hamelyn thought he could see where she was going, "You're interested… because my work parallels yours."
"Hmm, no; my ability isn't magical," she replied as she sheathed her sword, though a few wasps, moths and butterflies began orbiting her body, "Because of this, however, it means I must put safeguards in place for when I'm not around my apiaries, as making honey, honey products, and other specialty items is my primary concern; wouldn't do for the bees and other pollinators to wander off. The Chaurus, of course, can govern themselves; so long as no one tries to antagonize them, they will be peaceful to the races of Nirn. Nevertheless, these facts are secondary to my primary concern:
"This talent will, likely, die with me. That thought is… distasteful, to say the least."
"Which is where I come in," Hamelyn rubbed his balding head, giving Khepri a shrewd look, "You'd find me someone to review my work, help me improve it, and not only would I get a budget to actually do that, you'd have a safety net in the event some lucky ass manages to off you?" She nodded, and the Skeever King thought about it.
It really, really irked him, just thinking about giving up his crown to some girl, but it was this or death; he could read between the lines, could see that, even if he killed Khepri and managed to survive all eight Chaurus Hunters in the room… there were a lot of Chaurus out there. Which brought up a rather good question.
"And if the Falmer try to take back the Chaurus?"
Khepri arched a brow at him, "What Falmer?"
Hamelyn blinked, then gave the Jarl a questioning look; Balgruuf nodded, slow and serious.
Well then.
The Skeever King clapped his hands and put on a shit-eating grin, "So! If I'm to be moved, I'll need separate lodgings, provided you can find me somewhere to stay, of course."
"I'm sure the Jarl knows of a convenient cave or ruin you can hole up in, for the interim," the Jarl nodded slowly, but didn't look happy, which made Hamelyn positively ecstatic; sure, it wasn't the bloody vengeance he wanted, but… well, Khepri. Only a fool, a madman, or a killer born would ever have a chance against that.
"As to finding you colleagues, I think I have an idea…"
.
Evening 23 Rain's Hand, 4E200
Fellglow Keep
Elarie the Caller
The leader of the Fellglow Coven had just finished cleaning up the remains of another failed teleportation experiment when a knock sounded on her bedroom door; she'd left the door to her laboratory open, just in case one of her sycophants needed something, but…
Well, Elaire's latest test subject had made quite the mess of herself. Literally.
Giving the length of intestine dangling from the chandelier a dirty look – and a desiccation spell, making it shrivel into dust – the Altmer mage huffed and went to see who it was.
If she was being honest with herself, the past few weeks had been a little nerve-wracking; a new settlement had popped up over at the Weynon Stones. Interesting at first, but when Elaire sent Jolie – the resident geomancer with big breasts – over to take a look…
Khepri the Beekeeper was the mayor of the settlement, renamed Weynon Glades, had sunk a fortune into putting up a hall, a domed greenhouse, lovely houses for settlers and the resident guardsmen, even a general store, apothecary, a shrine to Kyne, and an inn had cropped up alongside the farms of the new town.
More than that: the local marauders were already in Khepri's pocket, escorting hunters through the Pale's forests in search of game, and that's if they weren't laying a blanket out near the inn to sell pottery and salvage from the barrow – legal and inspected beforehand, of course.
Just the thought of the woman's abilities and administrative qualities made Elaire shiver, both in fear and desire; the things Khepri could reveal to the world of Conjuration and Mysticism, if only one were brave enough to actually interview her, unlike the College, who just released a short treatise on the Chaurus life cycle.
(Yes, it was fascinating like nothing else, but it lacked any sort of professionalism or substance, nothing to whet Elaire's appetite for knowledge)
Ah well; it wasn't like her Coven advertised itself, limiting their test subjects to hedge witches, Forsworn, and bandits. No one anyone would miss. The person knocking at her door was probably Jolie, coming to collect the Caller for dinner; smelled a bit like roast goat again, but beggars couldn't be choosers.
Opening the eye-level slide revealed that it was indeed Jolie, but the poor girl was sweating and pale with fear; sharply, Elaire asked, "What is it?"
"Khepri is outside, and she brought the Chaurus."
Elaire felt her heart plummet through her boots, heading straight into the bedrock; Khepri was here, and they weren't prepared…
A blue butterfly suddenly fluttered from out of sight, flitted through the opening, orbited Elaire's head, and departed again, making straight for the door to the keep's rubble-strewn courtyard.
The Caller shivered, and spoke as evenly as she could, "P… Put another plate on the table, in case she stays for dinner."
Jolie frowned, "…are… are you-?"
"Yes, I'm sure," Elaire snapped, grabbing one of her more official-looking circlets and a staff of Fire Wall; unlikely to be effective, but something substantial was better than taking her chances with summoning atronachs and daedra. Whipping the door open, she grabbed the younger mage's shoulder, "We cannot afford a fight with this one, she is an army killer. So, I will go out, greet her, find out what she wants, and hopefully talk over terms after a nice dinner."
Jolie nodded, like her neck was a hinge, then asked, "R-right, yeah. Um, should I break out one of bottles from the collection?"
Licking her lips, the Caller nodded and patted the lass on the shoulder as she made for the keep's entrance, "Good girl; Surilie Vintage 3E410 should do." As Jolie ran off, Elaire promised herself something: if they survived this, she'd take a closer look at those geomancy theories regarding soul gem-to-ore ratios. Daedra willing, there might be something that'd help them come closer to legitimacy in the public eye, make it so they no longer had to scrape and scratch for meager returns. But first…
Blowing out one more sigh, she opened the outer doors with a push of will, and strode proudly into Fellglow Keep's courtyard; evening was setting in, and it looked like rain on the horizon, but the night was delightful. Not humid or hot enough to be uncomfortable, not cold enough to cause a shiver.
Across the courtyard, Khepri stood, dressed in fine clothes, her black hair braided and cleaned immaculately, a silver circlet nearly hidden by her bangs as the Thane of Skyrim checked the time on a pocketwatch; on her right was a beautiful blonde Nord woman wearing purpose-built plate with red trim, a Stalhrim sword and glass sword-breaker on her hip, sharp blue eyes scanning the area constantly for threats.
On Khepri's left was the Chaurus Praetorian, Skitter, standing upright, inhuman gaze pinned on the Caller; around the ruins were other soldiers of the Pale, interspersed with Chaurus of both common and Hunter variety.
So… either they were here to root them out, or Khepri was being cautious.
"Hail, Khepri, Beekeeper of the Pale, destroyer of the Falmer, and Queen of the Chaurus!" Elaire bowed respectfully, "I am Elaire the Caller, leader of the Fellglow Coven, and master of this Keep."
"You and various suspected members of your group are also wanted by the Empire, the Aldmeri Dominion, four of the nine Holds of Skyrim, and the Penitus Oculatus for apostasy, necromancy without a license, five counts of kidnapping, eight counts of aggravated assault, twenty-seven counts of murder – though that was in the Summerset Isles, and while not applicable here, the Ambassador to Skyrim might be interested in a private discussion about that – grave-robbing, public indecency, and a few dozen other offenses that I really don't have the time or stomach to list.
"To put it shortly, Caller," Khepri looked up and gave Elaire – who was now starting to sweat – a very dry look, "I would be well within my rights to have the guards and my Chaurus summarily execute you and your whole Coven and mount your heads on pikes around this tumbled keep, but that would be ignoring the fifteen bandit warbands your group either displaced or eradicated since your formation, as well as the sex trafficking ring you broke up in 4E197; what I'm saying is, I believe you may have a use to me. Am I incorrect in this estimation?"
Never in her life had Elaire felt so small, and she was head and shoulders taller than the woman addressing her; nonetheless, an answer was expected. She gave one.
"N-Not at all, Beekeeper," she cleared her throat with a slow, deliberate movement, "I assure you, our researches here are well within the guidelines set by the College of Winterhold, with… a few, ah, bendings, of the rules where Conjuration is concerned; worship of the Daedra is, of course, forbidden," she added when Khepri's gaze became very cold, "and though we have many faiths and beliefs in these halls, we place magickal study before all else."
"Hmm," Khepri seemed to chew that over for a moment, before speaking clearly, "And the eight people currently locked in the dungeon?"
Damn, she was good, "Bandits, to a one; I even have the bounty posters in my personal quarters, if it pleases you," and then, Elaire's stomach growled loudly enough to be heard over the wind; coughing, and ignoring Khepri's amused look, the Altmer mage added, "I, ah, was just about to have dinner with my fellows; if you'd care to join me, we can discuss this matter in more detail afterward?"
The Queen of the Chaurus tilted her head one way, then the other, and finally shrugged, "Very well, but my Houscarl and Skitter will accompany me; everyone!" she shouted to the gathered guards as she began to carefully approach, the armored blonde and the Praetorian following her, "Take a load off; this shouldn't take long."
Happily, it didn't, the entire encounter lasting just over two hours; the meal was delicious, the conversation sublime – complete with a recounting of the Chaurus Reaper Tyrant's slaying in Blackreach – and, after some furious negotiations, the Caller was up one probationary treaty that included a modest budget, as well as an official Writ to Practice Magic for the whole Coven and the promise of someone who was researching swarm control coming to move in soon, and down several of her vintage bottles, along with a measure of her people's independence. If Weynon Glades was attacked, she and the Fellglow Coven were honor-bound to assist the defense.
So, while she was extremely glad to see Khepri's back, all in all, Elaire felt better times were ahead for the area. And no, it had nothing to do with Khepri taking all the Frostbite Spiders infesting the oubliettes with her (it had a lot to do with that).
.
24 Rain's Hand, 4E200
Saarthal
Overseer Ancano
It was obvious to Ancano's eyes, even if none of the less-intelligent members of the College could see it: the draugr had been trying to penetrate the barrier before him.
Fatal to all who touched it, the plan had likely been to use the four Deathlords to weaken the outer barriers, allowing Jyrik to access the prize beyond; and what a prize it was, indeed! For, though no others had noticed it, Ancano had.
There was a perpetual magicka battery beyond these barriers, one that was actually powering the walls of death separating him from the prize he – and the Dominion, of course – had been seeking, here in the barbaric lands of the north.
Now, all he needed was a way forward; a few tests – involving a couple filled black soul gems, some less-than-ethical spells, and some caustic muttering – and the Thalmor Overseer felt ready to begin.
Raising his hands, one holding an empty grand soul gem, Ancano stuck his tongue in his teeth and prepared to-
"Whoops~! How clumsy!"
-get his ankle hooked by an unseen assailant, and sent falling forward into the barrier; as he passed through it, to the other side, the very life and vigor of his body was sapped from Ancano, leaving a gray, shriveled, eyeless husk where once a healthy and hale Altmer had stood. He was dead long before he hit the ground, as his soul was dragged out and into… something.
The battery he sought, the magical locus that could power the Great Work his people were laboring on, was not a battery, but something… both older, and younger, and far more glorious than anything his or anyone's wildest dreams could fathom.
On the other hand, Ancano himself had no time to really appreciate this, as his soul was swiftly shredded by the sheer force that dwelt in the husk of KINMUNE, that which might one day be called the Eye of Magnus.
But again, Ancano didn't care. Nothing really mattered, anymore…
Meanwhile, his hidden assailant giggled with mischief and did a little jig, "Ooh~, nasty Elf thought he could sneak a peek at a big seeecret, bother and bluster and be so bombastic, end all things and stop the wheel's roll, before the great bells begin to toll! Too bad, so sad, can't have the Queen of Bees and Blades and Thieves become mad! Ta-ta, oh dead speaker of Aldmeris, and before I forget: Hail Sithis~."
With one more giggle, Cicero, Favored of Sithis, slinked back into the shadows, happy to have done a good deed for the lady who cleared all the spiders from his temporary home; but, he had to return home and but swift!
Otherwise, he might miss another message from his Lady; although, that wasn't likely.
After all, he only needed to watch the sky…
.
25 Rain's Hand, 4E200
Heljarchen Hall, Weynon Glades, The Pale
Khepri the Beekeeper
I thumped my head against the table, really quite annoyed by all the letters next to my placemat, especially one in particular; running a town was, well, easy, compared to my other duties as a businesswoman and Thane.
Most of the invitations, I could ignore; as Jordis put it to me, with all my other duties to occupy my time, the only ones I needed to worry about were those that fell on holidays. Of those coming up, the only one I absolutely needed to attend was the Mid-Year Celebration; traditionally, it was a day of fortune and good luck, with Temples offering blessings of the Divines to the common folk for less charge than usual. It was also a popular day for marriage.
These days, it was mostly used as another excuse for people to get drunk and fornicate, though the marriage bit still held true.
However, the fact I'd agreed to attend the Celebration at the Thalmor Embassy wasn't why I was frustrated; Skitter would be with me, and besides, the first chance I got to cancel, I was taking it. They could be polite on their faces all day long, I did not trust them one bit.
Neither was I frustrated by the positively massive vein of iron the Blackreach-Weynon tunnel diggers had run into; that'd be mined out and isolated in due course.
Nor was it the five commons entering their Hunter trance at the same time, overwhelming my senses as they were exposed to the greater Hive Mind for the first time in their lives; this was more an educational opportunity, and a challenge: I was running out of names. Three boys, two girls; hmm…
No, the reason for my irritation was… far more mundane.
"How the fuck did you put up with Thane Erikur for all these years?" I asked as Jordis arrived with our breakfast; waffles with maple syrup, a bowl of hash and eggs, cup of strong tea. My Houscarl set down a steaming teapot and my teabox; silently, I thanked all the Gods for her, and all others I'd met and befriended on my journey, before tucking in.
"Mostly through being stiff and unyielding against his every advance, Khepri," she replied while seating herself across from me, her expression sympathetic as she lifted the offending letter and read it over. "…on the other hand, if you forward this to the High King, he might get flogged, privately in all likelihood, or at the very least given a verbal whipping during court. High Queen Elisif might just join in, if she sees this… offer."
Chewing and swallowing, I managed my beehives – the next honey wave was almost done – checked on my Chaurus – [joy] and [elation] met me, all of them, even Skitter, eager for more Hunters to add to the [Queen's Herd] – and waved my fork at Jordis as she flipped the letter away, her face now disgusted, "When I said I would like any other reason to avoid the Mid-Year soiree at the Embassy, an orgy whose content clearly walks the line with Daedra worship was not what I had in mind."
"You should visit the Temple to Dibella in Markarth, sometime," Jordis rolled her eyes and cut her waffles with minute precision, shaking her head, "I swear, that place is either the reason for all the oddness of the city, or the only reason it hasn't descended into madness."
Recalling a letter from a few weeks ago, I informed Jordis as she drank her coffee, "Farkas said it was a little better than his previous visit; apparently, Calcelmo's museum is getting a steady stream of tourism, since the Muster, so the Jarl's been tightening the security, which means the streets are safer. Anyway, I won't be visiting that city anytime soon; even though the Jarl ordered a good number of pots, there's just something about that Silver-Bloods that doesn't sit… right…"
I trailed off as three people entered my range, from the direction of Whiterun. I recognized two of them, while the third wasn't familiar at all, but one of them…
"My Thane?" Jordis' voice shook me from my sudden bout of anxiety over the cleanliness of my Hall, and how prepared I was to receive this particular visitor.
"Farkas is here."
.
.
.
Happy New Year, folks!
(thank god it's over... *sees '2021: This Time, It's Personal' on the horizon* FUCK)
But enough about that. Couple things about this and the previous chapter, just to avoid some confusion.
Last chapter, the Thu'um's effects on the prepared and unprepared were showcased, as well as the difference between someone who's been dealing with draugr all their life (Farkas) and someone who hasn't (With-Teeth), as well as good adaptation to new opponents (Fairsi).
This chapter, we see A: me getting this plot moving, and B: Khepri being tired of people wanting to kill her just because they broke the law and thought they could get away with it. Don't weep for Mallus, he was one of Maven's after all.
AND NOW FOR REVIEWER RESPONSES!
HUZZAH! 500 REVIEWS ATTAINED!
The 500th review belongs to BobSquirrelKing. Thank you, mighty squirrel king!
CthuluWarlock: Yeah, if her mind was whole, she would be able to do some tech stuff; sadly, Khepri wouldn't be able to tell you the first thing about gunpowder, nevermind how a gun works.
SkyCaptain502: Closet sub for Bathes only; thing about BDSM, a certain amount of mutual trust makes the encounters much more pleasing. Still, I'll keep the omake idea in mind.
Arcane Howitzer: Because Khepri is paranoid as all get-out. She subtly checks everything not prepared by herself, Jordis, Callidus, or Bori's wife, because she knows people want to kill her; they've tried to kill her already, and will try again. Khepri will take no chances, and Elenwen knows that, because she's not stupid; even though she's a Thalmor, Elenwen knows Khepri wouldn't have survived the things she has by being careless. So, poison's off the table.
AnimeA55Kicker: Oh, he's gonna~. And she's gonna get him right back. All that and more, next chapter.
That's all for now, folks! Until next time.
~Baked