My Time in Hell: The Authorized Biography of Arch-Mage Sabastian Ashcroft

Recorded by Valin Elenil

Chapter Four – The Hero and the Heir

I noticed a change in the Arch-Mage as I sat down to conduct our fourth interview. His body language was less guarded and he seemed far more cheerful than our previous encounters.

He already had a glass of wine in his hand when I arrived however so perhaps it was more the effect of alcohol than any goodwill he felt towards me.

"Welcome back." The Arch-Mage said with a noticeably cheerful voice. "We left off in Kvatch I believe."

I nodded.

"You may remember that I told you that the Battle for Kvatch lasted throughout the night. That was not hyperbole, by the time Savlian Matius and I arrived at the Refugee Camp the sun was fully visible in the sky. I imagine I must have been awake over twenty-four hours at that point but there was no rest in my future. I had to find Martin."

"Lack of sleep does strange things to your perception of the passage of time. Some things seem to take forever whereas some pass in a blink. I remember wandering through the refugee camp looking for Martin for what seemed like hours but couldn't have taken more than ten minutes. I found him tending to a wounded man on the edge of the encampment. After he was done tending to the villager I pulled him aside intent on convincing him to leave with me. At first he took me for a Townsguard since I had yet to change out of the cuirass that Savlian had insisted I wear the previous night, but he soon recognized me as the Hero of Kvatch everyone was talking about."

"I told him he was in danger and that he must come with me, trying to keep my explanation as vague as possible lest we be overheard. He scoffed and brushed me off saying that everyone was in danger and he was needed to tend to the wounded in Kvatch. Having little choice I drew him further away from the crowd and told him of his parentage."

"As you can imagine he didn't believe me. I pressed the issue telling him I had witnessed his father's death and Uriel's final wishes were for me to find Martin and bring him to safety. He continued to argue with me, claiming that his father was a farmer and I must have the wrong man."

"At this point I wanted nothing more than a hot bath, a nice cup of wine and to sleep for a week so I admit my attempts to persuade him became less delicate. Were I more practiced with Illusion magic at the time I likely would have just Charmed him but instead I spat out that everyone in Kvatch was in danger the longer he stayed."

"That brought him up short."

"I told him that powerful forces were hunting him and they could very well have been behind the opening of the Gate which destroyed Kvatch. He still seemed hesitant so I appealed to his intelligence. I asked him point blank what reason I would have to lie to him. If he were simply a humble priest of Akatosh, the son of a local farmer, to what end would I lure him away from Kvatch?"

"He finally relented and I told him to gather his belongings quickly. Within the hour he had retrieved what little of his possessions remained and we set off to Weynon Priory. I chose to avoid the roads because I had no idea how real the threat of assassins was and quite frankly I wanted to get there as fast as possible."

"Of course I'd never traveled off the roads before and as it turns out you move far slower without a well beaten track to walk on."

"We spoke very little that first day. I was too tired to do anything other than put one foot in front of the other and Martin was, I imagine, coming to terms with the identity of his patriarch. We spent the night at a sheep farm near Shardrock, bartering with the shepherd for lodging by agreeing to treat one of his injured sheep. Bears are quite common in that part of the West Weald and apparently the shepherd, one Thorley Aethelred, had saved a sheep just that morning from being drug off by a particularly large specimen."

"I was able to fashion a poultice of Lady's Mantle Leaves and Cairn Bolete Caps with a small mortar and pestle I managed to acquire back in the sewers below the Imperial Prison. It was far from my best work but more than enough for a wounded sheep. As I slowly reduced the mixture down to a paste Martin joined me around the small fire I had made. Without a word he produced a bottle of Surilie Brother's Red and two wooden cups."

"It was not a notable year, probably only aged the bare minimum before bottling, but I can say that I savored every drop."

"Neither of us spoke, we just sat and drank our wine. I was so exhausted at that point that I actually fell asleep before the poultice was fully reduced but luckily Martin had a passing knowledge of Alchemy and woke me before the mixture could burn. I gave the poultice to Thorley and even helped him apply it properly then took full advantage of the meager lodgings we had procured and slept."

"We awoke a little after dawn and bid Thorley farewell. He dropped numerous hints that anyone who could address his bear problem would be richly rewarded but I informed him firmly that we needed to be on our way. Martin wanted to help, forcing me to remind him that we had appointments to keep. He was unmoved so I suggested that as an alternative we could pass along Thorley's situation to the next Imperial Forrester that we ran across since it was their job to deal with this sort of thing after all."

The Arch-Mage smiled, "Martin genuinely cared for people. It was annoyingly inspiring."

"It sounds like you respected him."

"Not at first." The Arch-Mage admitted, "But over time I grew to respect and admire him. He was intelligent, compassionate and possessed a dry wit I found hilarious."

"He was my best friend."

The Arch-Mage looked away but I could see the tears in his eyes. We sat quietly for a time before he coughed and continued.

"That day's travel included much more conversation than the previous. We started by discussing wines and when Martin confessed that he was a fan of the Surilie Brother's house I shared with him my relation to the family. He seemed suitably impressed and we spent at least an hour discussing our favorite blends and the best way to decant prior to drinking. Eventually we exhausted the more airy conversation topics and we were forced to address the Dramora in the bathtub as it were. The Oblivion Gate that had destroyed Kvatch."

"I was surprised to learn that Martin had a more than scholarly understanding of Daedric Magic. When I pressed him on it he merely replied 'I wasn't always a Priest' and gave one of his smiles that let you know he knew something you didn't. We spent the rest of the day discussing the Barrier and techniques to optimize conjuration."

"The Barrier?"

"The Liminal Barrier is a magical phenomenon that prevents free travel between the various planes of existence. It is the primary limiter on the efficiency of the Conjuration School of magic and men and mer have spent a thousand years attempting to circumvent it; to greater and lesser effect. The origins of the Barrier are disputed; or at least they were prior to the Oblivion Crisis, now everyone assumes they know the truth. In simple terms the Barrier is what prevents another Oblivion Crisis."

"And the Barrier exists now because of Martin's sacrifice?"

The Arch-Mage closed his eyes and took a deep breath, when he spoke his tone was patronizing, "No that's Imperial propaganda. The Barrier has always existed, Martin's sacrifice only strengthened it." He snorted, "In certain places. In truth Martin Septim didn't sacrifice himself so we would have a Barrier to protect us from Oblivion, he knew better than to think that. Martin gave his life to stop Mehrunes Dagon. He did it because he still felt guilty about his past and thought if he sacrificed himself it would make up for the hurt he caused."

"Hurt he caused?" I asked confused. I had never heard anything about Martin causing 'hurt' before.

Arch-Mage Ashcroft sighed, "Look…we're getting ahead of ourselves again. Let's just say we spent the day discussing magical phenomenon and leave it at that shall we? We made camp in a rather large cave that was infested with imps. After dispatching the creatures we made a fire and I set about removing the bile from the imps' gall bladders. When distilled properly imp gall produces a very pleasing scent that many a Countess applies as perfume."

"The third and final day of our cross country journey was overcast and dreary. The weather seemed to affect Martin's mood, or perhaps it was the upcoming meeting with Jauffre which put him in such a foul humor. Whatever the cause Martin was quiet throughout the day and as we approached Weynon Priory in the late afternoon I could tell that he was dreading what was to come."

"Ironic really since what was to come was dreadful."

"As we approached the Priory I saw the old Dunmer shepherd running towards the road, hot on his heels was a humanoid figure in Daedric armor wielding a Daedric mace. Catching sight of us Eronor, that was the Dunmer's name, called out for our help. Martin pulled his enchanted dagger and charged forward completely oblivious to the fact that he was charging towards one of the very assassins the Blades sought to keep him safe from."

"As I circled around Martin and his opponent I caught sight of Prior Maborel's lifeless body lying in front of the door to the Priory. Martin and the un-named assassin were circling each other trading blows so I slipped in behind him unaware and drew out his life-force as I had done with the Daedra."

He looked off to the side and confided, "It was…unsatisfying…but effective and the assassin dropped dead."

He turned to look at me again, "Eronor rejoined us and told me that the assassins had struck without warning, approaching as simple travelers before summoning armor and weapons out of thin air. When asked about Jauffre he directed us to the Chapel. We hastened to the Chapel and inside we found Jauffre engaged with three assassins. Despite his advanced age Jauffre wielded his Akavirian blade with grace and precision. Two of the three assassins fell as we entered, the second falling when he took his eyes off Jaufffre to take note our arrival."

"I expected the remaining assassin to lay down arms and surrender but she did not and soon she too fell to Jauffre's blade. Wiping the blood from his blade the old man spoke, hastily informing us that the assassins had struck while he was praying. I wondered that Jauffre kept a blade hidden in the Chapel but before I could comment he hastened out, calling over his shoulder that he must make sure The Amulet of Kings was secure."

"We followed Jauffre into a secret room in the Priory where his fears were confirmed. Somehow the assassins had known the location of the Amulet of Kings and had taken it. Jauffre slumped into a chair defeated."

"But only for a moment."

"He caught sight of Martin, standing in the back radiating an aura of trepidation like a child afraid to speak up in class because he didn't know the answer. Jauffre rose from the chair and approached the Priest of Akatosh. I made the rather un-necessary introductions and Jauffre nodded proclaiming that not all was lost."

"I expected Jauffre to bow or even drop to his knee and swear his fealty to the Emperor but he did neither. Instead he moved to a cupboard, removed a set of saddlebags and bade us follow him. He explained on the way that Martin was obviously not safe at the Priory so we must move him. He led us to the stables out back where three horses were waiting. As we saddled the three he announced that we would set out for Cloud Ruler Temple a stronghold of the Blades in the mountains north of Bruma."

"We rode hard through the night following the Orange Road. As dawn was breaking I feared that Jauffre intended for us to ride through the next day as well but just as the sun rose he veered off the roadway and led us to an Ayleid Ruin to the north. Jauffre took the horses to a secluded patch of grass out of sight of anyone traveling past and then brought us to an equally obfuscated campsite that I suspected the Blade had used many times in his youth. Martin and Jauffre sat together next to a small fire and spoke in hushed voices but I didn't have the strength to join them."

"I despise riding a horse."

"The saddle sores, the smell, the jarring impact each time the creature's hoof touches down that seems to vibrate every bone in your body. When we finally stopped moving I slumped down to the ground in the area Jauffre had indicated removed the tabard of the Townsguard cuirass I was still wearing after Kvatch, balled it up as a pillow; then fell into a fitful, uncomfortable, miserable sleep."

"We slept through the day and the following night saw still more riding as we continued along the Orange Road until it ended at the Silver Road. There we turned north and rode into the mountains, bypassing Bruma and following a winding snow-covered path that doubled back upon itself dozens of times crisscrossing its way upwards. At last just as the first hint of pink lit up the eastern sky we turned a final bend in the road and were met with the massive gates of Cloud Ruler Temple."

"Sentries must have spotted our group as we approached because two heavily armed and armored members of the Blades were waiting for us when we arrived. Their demeanor changed instantly when they spotted Jauffre; aggression turned to welcome then to cheer when Jauffre introduced Martin as Martin Septim the lost Heir. Jauffre led Martin up to the stronghold as a crowd of Blades, most no older than I, formed two lines along the stairs standing at attention as Martin walked between them."

"Jauffre introduced Martin once again and bade the Heir to address his Blades as their Emperor. Martin gave a fumbling speech full of humility and candor, with just a twinge of self-doubt, but it didn't matter. The Blade's cheered and brandished their swords. Jauffre dismissed the rank and file and pulled a more mature looking Redguard, who was one of the duo who greeted us at the gates, aside for a hushed conversation."

"Seeming a bit out of sorts Martin walked over to where I was standing, a few feet away from the general hubbub and smiled meekly. 'Not much of a speech I admit' the last of the Septims confessed to me. And I felt sorry for him. He had not asked to become Emperor. He was a simple Priest of Akatosh who by virtue of the blood in his veins was being forced into a role he was ill prepared to handle. And in that instance I pictured the whole of his life laid out before me."

"He would shelter at Cloud Ruler Temple while Jauffre sent out agents to determine who was behind the coup, for that was the only explanation for the death of his father and brothers. Eventually the culprits would be found and the Amulet of Kings retrieved and Martin would ascend to the throne where he would serve as a beloved figurehead as the Imperial Council ruled from behind the scenes just as they had always done."

"It was all so clear to me and I grew angry with myself for getting caught up in such a banal exercise? How much time had I wasted on this farce, a week? My attention would have been much better applied conducting experiments on Nirnroot with Hal and Sinderion. Or even more importantly working to fill the orders which no doubt choked my mailbox back at the shop."

"My resolve hardened as Martin wandered away lost in thought and Jauffre approached. He offered to make me a member of the Blades and allow me to stay at Martin's side. I practically sneered at him as I declined, informing him that my service to the Empire was complete. Uriel had tasked me find Martin and I had done so. 'Thus ends the tale of the Hero of Kvatch' I said as I struggled out of the Townsguard uniform and dropped it on the ground between us. I turned on my heel and walked away. I suppose the entire scene was slightly diminished by the fact that I was now wearing the tattered remains of a shirt and I was undoubtedly shivering from the cold though I couldn't feel it at the time over my righteous indignation."

"I walked slowly out of the fortress imagining everyone's eyes on me, though it's far more likely that no one was looking at all, and began the long journey back to my shop on the East Bank of Lake Rumare."

"I was so sure I was right." He shook his head with a sigh. "It was many months later that I realized just how wrong I was."

"I don't understand how you couldn't see it at the time." I blurted out.

Then Arch-Mage Ashcroft did something I never expected. He smiled at me. Not a sarcastic smirk or a condescending grin but a genuinely warm smile.

"You're still looking at this through the lens of history Valin.* You still see me as the Hero of Kvatch, the Savior of Bruma, a romantic figure out of a fairy tale. But I'm not…I'm just a man. And whatever I might be now…at the time I was just a twenty year old kid with a debilitating hatred for authority who had just lost his father. All I wanted to do was go home."

* In editing the book I realized that this marks the very first time Sebastian called me by my name. I thought nothing of it at the time of course but I can see now that this was when he really started to open up to me.

"And so I did. It took me nearly four days to make the trip and along the way I heard rumors of the destruction of Kvatch, and even more disturbing that Oblivion Gates had begun appearing all over Cyrodiil. If anything, the rumors of more Gates should have turned me around and forced me back to the Blades but I can be…stubborn. And so after almost two weeks I returned to my home."

"And found it burnt to the ground."

He placed the empty goblet he had been holding for the last few moments on the table next to the long empty decanter and rubbed his forehead. "But I don't really want to get into that today. I think I'll end it there."

"You know," Arch-Mage Ashcroft said with a smile, "I'm enjoying telling this story much more than I thought I would."

We made arrangements to meet again tomorrow and I gathered my notes and left. My head was swimming as I made my way to The West Weald Inn where I had purchased a room for the duration of my stay in Skingrad. I had so many questions. What was Martin's mysterious past? How had the Arch-Mage's shop burnt to the ground? I could hardly wait for the next chapter to be told.