Morrowind is owned by Bethesda. 'Tis the season for exams and assignments, but I'll keep writing when I can. - D
That year Frostfall came early. Biting winds brought sleet to Balmora and the sea around Sadrith Mora turned a sullen grey. Ash storms and rain had turned Ald'ruhn into a quagmire, and wood had to be imported to make makeshift paths across the black mud. Winterbell always felt that Frostfall was her season, despite the fact that her bones ached more on cold mornings with each passing year.
After the business with Sharn, Winterbell did not feel as welcome in the Balmora Mage's Guild. True, Sharn had kept her word, but the Orc was noticeably chillier towards the Dunmer mage. Winterbell continued to do her duties, including some from Ranis. Her opinion of the Guild Captain dropped with each task, and Winterbell followed her orders creatively, to try and minimise any damage to the Mage's Guild reputation. A few of the other mages noticed this, and were silently approving.
Winterbell also took Baladas's advice to heart, watching her back every time she was in Sadrith Mora. There was a half-hearted attempt on her life one night in Nelo's dormitories, but Winterbell felt that it was more of a test of her powers than a genuine attack. Nevertheless, it filtered down that the Archmagister, and consequently Nelos, did not approve of Winterbell's meteoric rise in the ranks, and the tasks Gotheren's Mouth set grew increasingly more difficult and dangerous.
It was during those first bitter months of Frostfall that Winterbell met her next significant ally.
The councillor who had originally inducted Winterbell into House Telvanni was Galos Methendis, Master Aryon's Mouth. His quests generally led back to Vos, one way or another. Winterbell found Aryon's tower fascinating, and she had wandered around his museums with interest. He appeared to be very popular with the people of Vos, but Winterbell felt it presumptuous to visit the mage without being ordered to do so.
Eventually Winterbell was ordered to deliver something to the Master personally. She had the impression that this task was more than a simple delivery, and that Aryon wished to size her up personally.
Winterbell braved the choppy coastal waters, huddled below decks out of the icy breeze. Someone up on deck claimed to see an iceberg on the Northern horizon, but Winterbell had no desire to witness the phenomenon.
The guards at Vos nodded deferentially to the mage as she strode up the grassy slope to Aryon's tower fortress. Winterbell had made herself a levitating amulet, and discovered that casting it once wasn't quite enough to get her to the door of the mushroom tower.
Aryon's chambers were surprisingly small, and once one got inside stairs were thoughtfully provided. Winterbell nodded approvingly. While it seemed fit that Telvanni mages should be suitably inaccessible, she was getting heartily sick of bumping her head on their ceilings. Aryon's guard nodded politely, sizing up Winterbell's glass long sword. Winterbell straightened her hair briefly, and then walked in to meet the mage himself.
To Winterbell's surprise, Master Aryon was, by anyone's standards, beautiful. Like most Telvanni, it was impossible to tell his true age, but his fine-boned face was smooth and his long hair, carelessly tied back, was black. He stood and shook Winterbell's hand, welcoming her with the practiced tones of a seasoned diplomat. The small part of Winterbell's mind that was still a teenager noticed that his smile was breathtakingly sexy. The rest of her mind noted that he had few books and no alchemical equipment was in evidence.
"Welcome, Winterbell. I've heard a lot about you." He graciously accepted the daedra skin that Winterbell had been charged with delivering, and motioned for her to sit. "You've been causing quite a stir in certain quarters, something I'm sure that old trickster Baladas has made certain of."
"He seems to have a few scores to settle." Winterbell said guardedly. Aryon nodded in agreement,
"He was ahead of his time. The old guard did badly when they alienated him."
A servant brought in flin for the Master and his guest. Winterbell complimented Aryon on his unusual tower, and he expounded on the inspiration behind its design until the servant had gone.
"There are quite a few things being said about you, Winterbell. Many of them contradictory. But do I understand correctly that you're a member of the Mage's Guild?"
Winterbell contemplated lying for only the briefest second, "That is correct. I currently hold the rank of Magician."
"Well then," he chuckled, "no wonder Gotheren hates your guts."
"What do you think?"
"Me? I honestly don't know what to think. I think at some point you're going to have to choose between the two; and that's no choice at all. You cannot leave a House."
"Baladas said as much."
"You have a good understanding then, for an outlander. Don't take that as an insult. If you had been born here, doing what you have done would have been impossible. There seems to be up and coming outlanders everywhere these days." He mused.
"When exactly would I have to choose?" Winterbell asked, relieved that Aryon didn't seem to have any peculiar ideas about her uniting the factions.
"When they throw you out, I suspect. Once it gets to the ears of enough Guildhall Captains they'll probably get Trebonius to expel you. His hatred of Telvanni is probably the only coherent thing left in that head of his."
"Winterbell." Aryon looked at her, his gaze sharp and calculating, "Tell me, exactly what rank are you in Telvanni?"
"Lawman...err...woman."
"I see. You do realise that the next promotion would bring you to the rank of Mouth?"
Winterbell looked startled. She hadn't realised just how far those seemingly random promotions the Mouths handed out had taken her.
"You'll need a patron." Aryon continued, "And an opening for one of them doesn't come up often. Well, unless one is made to come up. To be perfectly frank, it would be a bold move to promote you now; something in direct opposition to Gotheren."
"Telvanni needs a new direction. We've been out here, in the middle of nowhere building towers. I wouldn't say our time has been wasted, but now there are more important things to do. The majority of my colleagues seem oblivious to the changes that are happening in the West. House Redoran is stagnating; it has been dying for generations now, their philosophy and methods outdated. It's only a matter of time."
"As for House Hlaalu," Aryon smiled, "well, this is something that isn't common knowledge, but there are large factional splits growing in some of the old families. It's all to do with the Empire. Imperial expansion has made Hlaalu rich, but at the expense, so it has been argued, of culture and pride. There is a growing movement to oust the Empire from Morrowind. Whether or not it succeeds is irrelevant. What is important is that infighting weakens the House as a whole. Our greatest opportunity is approaching. With Gotheren at the helm, it will certainly be missed."
"What does this have to do with me?" Winterbell had a shrewd suspicion what was to come next.
"You might be just the person we need to get rid of Gotheren for good. You're not a politician, Winterbell, but you are audacious and powerful. I have heard stories of your seemingly bottomless reserves of magicka, and there are rumours of more subtle powers within you. If you follow my advice you may go to the very top."
"As a figurehead." Winterbell said flatly.
"Yes." Aryon admitted. "Most Archmagisters are. Gotheren has certain powers over the council, but he has no direct control over us, the councillors. House Telvanni is, at its heart, an individualist organisation. Our members include some of the oldest and most powerful men and women on this island. We bow to no one. We have an Archmagister to maintain stability. As long as no councillor believes he can best Gotheren in single combat there is peace."
"Why don't you do it?"
"Because I'm not good enough. My skills lie in diplomacy, not raw destructive magic. Baladas could probably do it, but he won't."
"Good grief," Winterbell ran her hand though her hair, "being part of this House is the most surreal experience."
Aryon laughed, "I'm sure you're not the only one to feel that way."
"I don't know that I want to do this. I have all this research to do-"
"I can't make you do anything against your will, but this is something for you to consider carefully. If you decide to stay within the lower ranks it will be more dangerous for you."
"Why?"
"Because of your membership of the Guild. As a lawwoman you are unprotected by those in power. Baladas's reputation can only do so much. If Gotheren decides he's had enough of you he will see that you are gotten rid of."
"And you can protect me from that?"
"Gotheren has few friends amongst the council. I flatter myself that I have more allies than he does. I cannot guarantee anything, but he'll think twice before he antagonises us."
"I'm not agreeing to anything either way," Winterbell said cautiously, "but I would like to know what you would have me do."
"I would have you replace Galos. He's a good man, but it's obvious that the meetings are exhausting him. I've offered him promotion and small tower of his own for him to step down, should you accept the position. He is more than happy to do this; I believe he wants no part of the coming conflict."
"I don't want to sit around in the council house all day. I have duties to do, for both factions."
"Don't worry; I wouldn't neutralize your position as a loose cannon by cooping you up in there. Your promotion is the first step in a chain to unseating Gotheren. Until things settle down again, the council is irrelevant anyway."
"All this requires nothing more than your consent. However, there is a task I would like you to attempt to do, at least. If you fail, well, at least we tried, but if you succeed, we will have another powerful piece on the board."
"What would you have me do?" Winterbell felt rather nervous at the gravity of Aryon's statement.
"I want you to try and persuade Baladas to rejoin the council. You seem quite...err...close to him, so you're more likely to have success in persuading him than I am."
"I should probably know why he quit the council in the first place."
"That's reasonable. I was only an Oathman back then; most of the finer points went over my head. Officially Baladas clashed with Gotheren over the so-called rogue Telvanni. Gotheren thinks they are our front-line, and we will conquer the island by building mushroom towers all over it. Baladas, far more sensibly, believed that diplomacy and espionage were the way forward. Unofficially, well, there was talk of a woman, some research partner of Baladas's. Apparently a powerful item was involved as well. Like I said, I don't know the details."
Winterbell listened raptly, trying to imagine Baladas getting worked up over a woman. Eventually she gave up.
"I suppose this is all ancient history now." She said.
"Don't be so sure. We have long memories. Anyway, I would suggest you speak to Baladas about the official version only. For all I know the rest was just gossip." Aryon's expression said plainly that he did not think that was the case, but Winterbell nodded in agreement.
"I will think about your offer. And I thank you for your confidence in my abilities."
"You deserved it. I shall wait for your response, think on it well. There's no hurry yet, trade and warfare tend to grind to a halt during Frostfall."
Aryon handed Winterbell a minor reward for her delivery. By now Winterbell had all but forgotten her original purpose for visiting. She left Vos in a daze, still shell-shocked by Aryon's candid offer. By now night had fallen, but there was one ship departing for Sadrith Mora. The wind had dropped, but it was still bitterly cold. Winterbell stood at the prow of the boat, her breath clouding in front of her face, and her hands pulled inside the sleeves of her thick robe. She smiled faintly to herself,
"Frostfall really is my season."