A/N: Hello, hello, hello. Here we are again, how fortuitous. This chapter is a little change of pace, but one that was suggested as I was planning out some more for the story. I hope you find it as intriguing as I do!
*Disclaimer*
*As always, I own only my OCs. The main plots and recognizable characters are from the brilliant minds of Bethesda's Elder Scrolls franchise writers.*
Chapter XIII- Dark Days in the Imperial City
Baurus was panicking. He had been assigned to the guard detail for the Emperor and his family only a few days ago and had immediately taken off to the Imperial City as quickly as possible. Even with a good horse, the journey from Cloud Ruler Temple had taken long enough that he had not arrived in the city until late the night before, where he was barely given time to set his pack down before being dragged into a detailed briefing of his new duties. Now, he was standing guard outside of Emperor Uriel's chambers, the only thing between him and any possible threats. It had been about an hour since his post started, and Baurus already felt like he was going mad, the restless need to move nearly impossible to ignore. You must stay focused! This is the highest honor and you will not besmirch it! In truth, Baurus had not expected Jauffre to promote him to the guard detail, having only been a Blades knight for a few years now. It felt surreal, like something only the best should be doing and Baurus was aware enough of his skills to know that he was not that. Caught in his mind, the Redguard did not notice the soft shuffle of feet as they came 'round the bend of the hall and stopped before him.
"Ah, the new Blade that Jauffre was sending. It is nice to meet you, young man."
A voice spoke kindly, startling Baurus out of his thoughts. The Redguard turned and almost fainted on the spot as he came face to face with the Crown Prince, Geldall Septim. The man smiled warmly, his graying brown hair gleaming in the light of the early morning. He wore fine robes, made of dark blue with pale silver and yellow stars embroidered on the fabric so that when he moved and the cloth rippled it was like staring at the night sky itself, full of light. Baurus scrambled to perform the proper curtsies, but was stopped by a raised hand. He noted the callouses, so unlike the smoothness he'd come to expect from the noble class.
"It's alright. I remember when I first began taking on higher duties for the Empire myself. I was one breath away from a panic attack for much of the first week until my younger brothers snapped me out of it. You will be just fine; allow yourself grace."
"Thank you, your highness," he murmured, eyes still wide with shock and cheeks burning with the embarrassment of having been caught unawares by one of the princes. Prince Geldall nodded, pale blue eyes warm.
"I must discuss matters of state with my father, but it was a pleasure meeting you-," he paused, and Baurus replied quickly.
"Baurus, your highness. Blades knight Baurus."
The prince smiled, and nodded again as he reached for the door handle.
"It was a pleasure meeting you, Knight Baurus. I look forward to our time together."
The young Blades knight bowed his head in deference and thanked the prince as he entered the chambers. From within, the sound of warm greetings was heard as father and son sat to break their fast together.
"Here's your ale!"
Baurus blinked as a fresh tankard was placed down on the worn table. It had been a little over two years since that first shift as guard to the Septims. Only two years serving under that family and he missed them keenly. The black banners had shrouded the city for a few days now, since word was released by the Elder Council of the deaths of Emperor Uriel and his sons. Baurus could recall the feeling of walking out of those sewers, the body of the Emperor supported carefully on a stretcher between himself and a group made up of the handful of remaining Blades in the city and trusted guards from the Imperial Watch. It had taken them an hour to find where he was, and in that time all the young knight had been able to do was look at the Emperor and try not to think. When the deaths were announced that evening, the streets had grown silent and shops closed for the day. By the next morning, black covered every flag and statue as the city mourned and got ready for the funerals. The Septims were to be cremated like their ancestors had been, all the way back to Tiber Septim himself. Born from fire and destined to return to it, as all of the dragonblood were. The funeral would be held tonight, in the Temple of the One. He did not know if he would go.
"There you are, I thought you had finished your moping already," a gruff voice teased as the space in front of him was filled by a large Argonian man. Baurus scoffed, grabbing his tankard and taking a deep gulp of the ale. It was sour, and truthfully the Redguard hated ale, but it was damn good at making him not think about the future.
"What do you want, you overgrown lizard?" He said shortly, ignoring the huff of scratchy laughter from the other Blade. Seewul Canigalus was one of the Blades informants, tasked with keeping an eye on activity in the city and beyond that could cause problems for the Empire. Baurus was familiar enough with the man, as he was their main operative in the Imperial City and had been for the past ten years. His reputation among their order preceded him.
"Is that anyway to treat a dear friend, land-strider?" Seewul damn near moped, curling his mouth into an impressive approximation of a pout for someone without lips. Baurus said nothing as the Argonian flagged down a waitress and ordered two bowls of fish soup with water to drink. It seemed he would be entertaining the agent for the evening.
"I heard about what happened, and I wanted to convey my sentiments. I'm sorry it happened, but that being said, I have something you need to see," he spoke in a low but pleasant voice, conscious of any would-be listeners. Baurus felt a hint of curiosity underneath the pain as he was reminded of Uriel's death. I hope that Nord got to Jauffre safely with everything. She had the blades of two of his companions as well as the Amulet of Kings. If any of those were lost? There would be a large number of Blades hunting her down.
The waitress returned, food and drinks in hand. Seewul bared his teeth in a grin and thanked the woman profusely, tipping her extra with a kind twinkle in his eyes that left her laughing merrily before she walked off. Baurus watched all of this and had to admit that the man was a master at charming others. He just didn't try to with Baurus, far more amused with poking him than anything else. Both men took a few bites of the soup, savoring the warmth it provided. No matter the season, in a city built as this one was, the damp tended to linger after dark. It likely had to do with their position on a lake island. Baurus did not much care, but the soup was appreciated.
"What is it then?" he asked tiredly.
Seewul grew grim and reached into his satchel to bring out a book, of all things. It was plain and rather worn out, the leather dull and scratched, though obviously cared for. He opened it and slid it over to the Redguard once he had found a specific page. Baurus brought the book closer and made sure to angle it so that no one could read what was written. His eyes scanned the page and widened.
"That is a plot twist, alright. Where in the world did you get an idea like this?"
The Septims had been purposefully targeted, as they had already concluded, but there was more. It was not the Dark Brotherhood or Morag Tong, but rather a hitherto unknown cult. One that had roots in the capital itself. Baurus remembered the rage he had felt when the Imperial Watch ended their investigation into the deaths of the royal family after barely a day. Inconclusive evidence, they'd said when he had asked. Inconclusive, my ass, he now sneered mentally. From the outside, he appeared mildly interested, chin cradled in his hand as he peered at the pages. Seewul sipped his water and watched the people around them with curious and open eyes, the picture of innocence. Both knew better than to outwardly express any of what they felt in public. Throughout their training, future Blades were taught many things in order to protect their charges, subterfuge not least among them. Each man understood what this was. A debriefing. An interrogation. A friend's listening ear. Seewul had come to Baurus because he was the only one alive who was there for the entirety of the attack. That he was aware of. Baurus had told no one of the Nord, not even the other Blades who had questioned the lack of Glenroy and Renault's dai-katanas. It had not felt like the right time. Not yet anyway. Something in the Redguard's brain might be the key to figuring out who this cult was and what they wanted from a Tamriel without an emperor. I will spare no detail if it helps bring justice to the Septims.
"Read an interesting poem that got me inspired. You can write down what you think if you want," Seewul replied, handing him a thin piece of vine charcoal.
And write he did. Baurus could easily recall the hideously bright red robes worn by their attackers. The stylized gold sun on their backs and the disgusting daedric swords they conjured in a puff of red smoke. They were all he saw when he closed his eyes to try and rest. That night would haunt him for the rest of his life, Baurus knew. All of what he could remember he wrote down and sketched, though his talents did not lay in artistry. It did not take him long, unfortunately, though he included anything that might be of use: from how the attackers moved in the fight, to their faces and shoes, and even a particularly ugly tattoo that one of the sorry fools had on their arm. After finishing, he set down the charcoal and passed the journal back to Seewul, who laughed warmly as he glanced at the worn-down nub of charcoal on the table and the dark dust staining the Redguard's fingers.
"More than a few thoughts, I see. I hope that you were not too cruel; we both know that I am no poet, as much as I would wish otherwise."
Baurus snorted.
"No more than you deserve, you vain serpent," he teased, earning a hiss of annoyance from the Argonian.
They continued to eat, exchanging meaningless small talk that any passerby would immediately tune out. After all, who cared that the captain of the guards was still looking for the mysterious Thieves Guild? That was old news, and not worth anyone's coin. The boarding house's tavern grew crowded as the evening progressed, many eager to drink away the stress of the day. All around them, the voices of different patrons shouted out in orders for food, requests for particular songs from the bard by the hearth, and encouragements to ask girls to dance with them. Despite the grim atmosphere outside, or more likely because of it, the people in the tavern seemed determined to be as lively as possible. Baurus did not know if he respected that or loathed it. Was this their show of bravery? A statement that even the assassinations could not destroy what made the Empire so strong: its people. Or was it an act of cowardice? Hiding behind their drink and pretending everything was fine. Baurus pushed his ale aside, scowling once more.
"You going to the funeral?" Seewul asked. Baurus glowered at him. When he traveled the streets and visited shops, it was all anyone could talk about. That damned funeral. Never before had such a crisis of succession occurred in the Empire's history. No one seemed to be able to focus on anything else without a drink in hand. Most of the city would be at the funeral and many others from the surrounding regions besides. A turning point in history, I've heard it called. But a turning point to what? Cultists were the ones behind his liege's deaths. They would pay for their crimes.
"Are you?" Baurus retorted, taking another swig of his drink. Seewul nodded, face serious for the first time that night.
"Aye, and you're welcome to join me," he offered. The younger Blade laughed unpleasantly, eyes dark and swirling with all the thoughts he could not speak to anyone of, not even the fellow Blade.
"And why on nirn would I want to do that?" Baurus mocked, taking another sip of his ale, the taste nearly making him retch. Seewul cocked his head, and the knight was drawn to the way the Argonian's orange head feathers glowed in the candlelight.
"Because you cared for them and it hurts,' Seewul said bluntly, "The funeral won't give you closure; we both know that pretending otherwise would be nothing but a fool's hope. But maybe it will give you something else."
Baurus ignored the swoop of emotion too dark to be hope in his belly. The Redguard glared tiredly, trying to appear as though he was not interested in something, anything, that could get rid of that growing hollow in him. Uriel forgive me but I cannot rest. There was no reality where Baurus could just let the deaths of the Septims go. He burned for them to receive the justice the Imperial Watch denied them. He glanced up at the Blades intelligence officer.
"Like what?"
Seewul gave his true smile; not the playful, saccharine grin that serving girls saw. No, this one was ugly, full of too many, too sharp teeth that looked like they were covered in blood. It was merely a trick of the light, Baurus knew. The consequence of an overactive imagination and alcohol. He told himself all of this and still felt the uncomfortable way that the hair on the back of his neck raised at the sight.
"A bone to pick."
The sight of the Temple of the One was almost enough to make Baurus turn around and walk back to Luther Broad's Boarding House. He felt his throat tighten painfully as he took in the black banners hanging from the building. They would be gone soon, he thought numbly. Seewul grabbed his shoulder, guiding them confidently through the influx of people making their way to the temple. He had been right. It was crowded, even for the Imperial City. People from every region and other countries had swarmed the place, their voices creating a wall of sound.
Up ahead, at the steps of the temple, stood the Elder Council. It was a party of roughly fourteen members, all from the richest and most influential families in the Empire. A representative of every province and every race stood in the council, so that all interests may be considered equally. At least, that was the intention. Baurus had had the unique displeasure of interacting closely with various members of the Elder Council during his guard duties for the Septim family. Each figure standing above them had their own agendas, separate from their nation and separate from their Emperor. The only one that seemed to care exclusively for the wellbeing of the Empire was their leader, the High Chancellor Ocato. The Altmer man made Baurus uncomfortable, for all that they shared a common cause. He was just so…blank. Ocato was a mediator by nature, and kept all personal opinions close to his chest. Consequently, the elf was known for his stoic attitude towards everyone, even the Emperor.
"He is sure to be in contact with Jauffre," Seewul, having followed his gaze, whispered to Baurus. That would make sense. Both the High Chancellor and the Grandmaster of the Blades were involved in securing information for the Emperor. The two men had each been in their current positions of power for well over a decade, long before Baurus or Seewul found themselves placed in the city. Communication between the two was a necessary thing; after all, a blade was only useful as long as it had something to protect. Ocato kept the peace in the council while the Blades could keep the peace outside of it. Without an Emperor to unite them though, how much longer would that alliance last? An Emperor was needed. One of the Septim line, preferably. Baurus hoped that the Nord woman's ramblings were truthful and not some result of shock. An Emperor would provide stability and someone for their parties to back. Until then, though, they were on their own. And wasn't that a peaceful place to be? There were surely many people in and out of the Elder Council that would gladly see Ocato ousted from his position, preferably with violence. Jauffre might protect him, if he saw reason for it. But he might not, if it meant the Blades retained their positions throughout the Empire. Baurus felt a headache brewing at the unending political machinations. This was why he chose to be a knight, not a politician or intelligence officer. His mind was best put to use with a blade in hand, not a quill.
Silence filled the streets as a funerary horn sounded out, the high brass notes echoing dully through the white stone walls. All eyes turned to face the mouth of the temple. Chancellor Ocato stepped forward, his face impassive.
"Welcome, citizens of the Empire. As devastating of an event as this is, it gladdens my heart to see so many come to give our ruling family the sendoff that they deserve. Selfish actions have taken our Emperor and his children from us, far earlier than they should have been. Yet this will not destroy us." Ocato paused, eyes fiery. Around them, people whispered.
"What will happen to us now?"
"The Elder Council does not truly care, do they?"
"Will Ocato take over?"
The Altmer spoke again and his voice was strong, full of anger and grief. Gone was the man whose silence changed the very ebb and flow of power in the council. He had been transformed into something else. Mayhaps this is the man underneath all of that courtesy.
"No! They will not destroy us, I say! This Empire is not just the Septims. They served on behalf of the people I see before me today. It is YOU who represent the true strength of this nation! The people are the Empire. And the Empire lives on. So, let us no longer mourn, but celebrate. Our Emperor gave his life to better ours. He and his sons worked unceasingly to make sure that we are fed and protected, even after their deaths. That is no grim thing to me. Long live the Empire! Long live the Empire!"
"Long live the Empire!"
The cry was taken up by several people and soon, the entire audience was chanting it. Ocato was handed a torch by an Imperial city guard. As the crowd continued to chant, he made his way to where the largest black banner hung, directly over the entrance to the temple. Inside, the Septims' funeral pyres would have been lit by now. The Altmer raised his torch, the bright flames licking against the fabric of the banner until, with a whoosh, it caught fire. In seconds, the black was gone, replaced by a brand of yellow and red as the flames rose higher and higher. Around the temple and city, similar flames popped up as the guards set fire to the mourning cloths. It is over. The city is moving on. The burning of the banners was symbolic. It represented the ending of the mourning period, brief as it was. Its brevity was an intentional design, created long before, in an entirely different dynastic period of the Empire. The ruler of that time had understood that the most important thing when a leader passed, was returning to normalcy. The livelihoods of everyone in the Empire revolved around active trade; trade that would be shut down during mourning out of respect to the deceased. It was imperative to restart trade as soon as possible, no matter what.
"I will meet with you again in two days' time, land-strider. Same time, same place. I should have more poems for you to look at," Seewul spoke as the chanting at last died down and people began wandering off. Baurus nodded his head, and watched as the Argonian disappeared into the crowd like smoke. He would go back to Luther's and try to sleep.
As he was thinking about the possibility of finally sleeping, a shoulder crashed into him, sending Baurus to the ground. A hiss escaped the Redguard as he felt the skin of his hands tear against the pale bricks. Are you kidding me? Of all days. He glared up, ready to give the sorry fool a tongue lashing.
"Oh, sorry about that! Wasn't watching where I was going!"
The shoulder belonged to a Breton man with long brown hair swept back in a low ponytail at the nape of his neck. He possessed a kind face, soft and gently rounded with a scattering of freckles and moles. Big, green eyes were full and open, not caring to try and hide their owner's thoughts or feelings. The Breton extended a lightly calloused hand to Baurus.
"Here, let me help you up. I am just so sorry for knocking you over!" The man worried aloud as Baurus looked at the hand. He sighed, and gripped it. The Breton pulled him up fairly easily, earning a sense of surprise from the Blade. He knew he was not light, not after years wearing heavy Akaviri-style armor. No, it would be a miracle if any of the Blades were not covered in thick muscle. To be able to pull one up, even armorless as he was? It was a respectable feat.
"My name is Phane Aethelred, what of you?"
The Breton introduced himself with a smile and Baurus took the time to really look at the man. Beyond his face, Phane was dressed modestly, in clothes better suited to life at a farm than in the city. He wore brown stockings, with an older looking but still clean green tunic over top. No jewelry adorned him save for a little pin, no bigger than a gold septim. It gleamed dully in the torchlight, and as Phane shifted, the shape came into view. It was a stylized gold sun.
Baurus blinked.
"Githil," he replied, shaken.
Fortunately, Phane thought nothing of his attitude, likely attributing it to the fall that had started their interaction. I need to know where he got that pin. Baurus shook his head and laughed lightly, putting on a show of brushing himself off.
"It would seem fate has chanced us to meet, Phane. How would you care for a drink?"
The Breton cocked his head and smiled brightly.
"As long as I can cover your first drink. Still feel terrible about knocking you over, Githil!"
Baurus smiled, lips curling.
"Well, I can't refuse such kindness."
