My Time in Hell: The Authorized Biography of Arch-Mage Sabastian Ashcroft
Recorded by Valin Elenil
Chapter Two – The Dragon Falls
For my second interview with famed Arch-Mage Sebastian Ashcroft I sought to curry a bit of favor with the oenophile and brought along a bottle of Surilie 415, a fine vintage which set me back a pretty septim but will be worth the cost dear reader if it leads to Arch-Mage Ashcroft opening up to us.
Once again we met in the back room of All Things Alchemical though instead of the Dunmer Flanu Hlaalu who greeted me last time I was met with an Argonian of indiscriminate age and gender identifying themselves only as Naxult.
Having taken the time to review my notes from our last interview I was determined to press the Arch-Mage more this session, really dig into his story and see what I could find out. He arrived promptly this time seeming less guarded and more open to the idea of the interview.
Without preamble he sat and began speaking, "I see I didn't run you off yesterday."
"I can be quite stubborn too Arch-Mage Ashcroft."
"Naxult tells me you bring a…offering?"
"More like a gift. A bottle of Surilie 415. If you like we can open it now."
He leaned back in his chair with a wry smile, "Trying to butter me up eh Dunmer?" Before I could reply he waved away my protests, "No that's smart. I respect that. Sure I'll accept your gift. After all this *is* a transaction. I give you something…a story you can sell to your paper; and you give me something…a bottle of wine. I like that. It's much easier for me if this is a transaction."
With a practiced hand he removed the cork and poured the wine into his decanter. "So, where did we leave off?"
"You were in jail for…"
He chuckled, "Getting drunk and pissing on the gates of the Arcane University…right. I suppose I should provide a bit of context for my actions. I mean you obviously remember that my father had just died, but that really had little to do with it. His death I mean. It was his life and my childhood that had instilled a sense of disdain for the Mage's Guild in me."
"As you probably recall my father was not a fan of government. He didn't particularly like anyone telling him what he could or could not do. This went doubly so for the Mage's Guild which he saw as gatekeepers for who could and could not learn the Arcane Arts. He was right of course. The Mage's Guild set rules and guidelines on the use of magic in the Empire; and mostly for good reason. Magic is not a tool to be used by those who lack the intelligence to understand how it should and should not be used. Someone has to keep this power out of the wrong hands."
"You mean those who would use it for selfish and evil purposes?" I interjected.
Arch-Mage Ashcroft gave me a withering look, "I mean those too stupid to anticipate the consequences of their actions. Any idiot can swing a sword around and hurt someone, but that same idiot tosses an errant Fireball and entire families can be destroyed in a house fire. Magic is power. True power. And power should only be wielded by those who can handle it."
"It sounds like you believe Mages are superior to everyone else."
He snorted derisively, "Of course I do."
I was stunned. He must have read my incredulity on my face because his entire demeanor changed.
Arch-Mage Ashcroft's voice took on a slightly mocking tone, "I'm sorry do you believe the fantasy that everyone is equal in the eyes of the Nine? Grow up! You Dunmer live for hundreds of years whereas Orcs are lucky to see sixty. Does that seem equal to you? If someone is born into wealth, be they Man or Mer, do you honestly believe they live the same lives as those born in poverty? Equality does not exist, only the powerful and the powerless."
"But wouldn't that make Magic the ultimate balance in the Universe? Pauper or King…Altmerian scholar or Orsimer barbarian anyone can harness Magicka and work wonders right?"
"Please." He spat, "Anyone can draw; only an Artist makes art! It's the same with Magic. Any dullard could make light with enough training…only the true masters are capable of this!"
He leapt to his feet faster than I thought possible in a man who, though he appeared to be in his late fifties, must have lived for over a century to have experienced the things he was detailing to me.* He spread his arms wide as a green light seemed to radiate from him and in an instant my surroundings changed. The cheerfully decorated interview space was replaced with a tortured landscape under a dull red sky.
* In fact Sebastian had celebrated his 111th birthday just that year and I am happy to report that at the time of editing for this biography, Sebastian Ashcroft is still very much alive and despite his gruff demeanor and fashion sense; still draws the gaze of lasses at least a quarter of his age any time we visit a tavern.
An ocean of lava spread out all around us as far as the eye could see. Broken battlements surrounded us and four large towers of black stone burst from the landscape scattered around the island on which we stood. A horrible droning noise assaulted my ears and the smell of ash and brimstone assaulted my nose. Underneath those familiar smells was a lingering odor of death and rotted meat, like the smell of a bloated rat on the side of the roadway. The air was hot and thick making it hard to draw a deep breath. In the distance I could see a red glowing portal shaped like the eye of a beast writhed in fire and pulsating.
After a moment the illusion faded and the nightmarish scene was replaced by the warm comfort of our interview space in the back of the shop. Arch-Mage Ashcroft had reclaimed his seat and was watching me
"That was Oblivion!" I gasped.
"No…that was an Illusion cast by a Master of the Craft." He said, pouring himself a goblet of wine from the decanter.
"But it was so real! I could feel the heat…smell the ash…"
"It is best when crafting an Illusion to use a subject either the caster or the target is very familiar with. It adds to the realism. In this case I obviously drew upon my own knowledge."
"So it's true? You really did spend time in Oblivion."
"First of all don't say Oblivion like it's one location. The sixteen planes of Oblivion are not one place…well not like you would say it. Oblivion itself is an extension of the Void and the sixteen planes while all occupying the same metaplane are vastly different to one another. I spent time in the lands of Mehrunes Dagon; that is what you saw a moment ago."
"And Second talk of my time in Oblivion is skipping ahead in the story and if I were to tell you about it now you would lack the context to properly understand. So let's put that aside for now and return to the topic at hand. How much I hated the Mage's Guild at the time of my father's death."
"So my father had problems with authority and I inherited that bias, but further exacerbating my issues with the Mage's Guild were the actions of the Skingrad Guild's mages during the last years of my father's life. As I told you last time Father refused service to the Skingrad Guild and this resulted in quite a bit of bad blood between them. I suppose it doesn't hurt that at the time Skingrad specialized in Destruction magic and I…well I think Destruction magic is for half-wits who cannot think their way out of a problem so they just blow up everything they can see."
Pausing to take a sip of his wine Arch-Mage Ashcroft muttered, "If I wanted to kill something there are far easier ways then just lighting it on fire."
Shaking his head ruefully he continued, "But in any case, the Skingrad Guild and I did not see eye to eye on much of anything, so on the one hand I had my father's constant complaints about the Mage's Guild's overreach and on the other I had mages like Adrienne Berene who despite being one of the more well-read mages of her time still thought everything could be solved by the judicious use of below freezing temperatures."
He cocked his head to the side and looked upward slightly, "Thought I'll give her credit for preferring the less flashy frost damage, at least she wasn't pretentious. All of this led me to being unimpressed with the Mage's Guild, but it was the banning of Necromancy that really set me off."
He held up his hand to ward off the question that was already forming on my lips, "No I was not a Necromancer." He paused for a second, "Well…not really. I learned to conjure skeletons at first just as a big 'Fuck you' to the Guild. Honestly I couldn't tell you when my penchant for Conjuration began…before or after Kvatch…it's been so long I can't say with any certainty."
"And of course there was my sister." After making the statement I saw the first genuine smile I had ever seen on Arch-Mage Ashcroft's face.
"She's not a blood relative of course. But Hal, Falanu Hlaalu, came to live with us back in 427 of the last Era. She's Dunmar, obviously, and she had been accused of practicing Necromancy in Morrowind so her father sent her to live with us. I think her father must have known my father at some point but it was never talked about. I was fourteen at the time and she was thirty but *very* immature. In all the ways that matter she is my older sister."
"Was she a Necromancer?"
My question seemed to startle him out of some reverie, "What? No…her father was and she got blamed for it. Then she got shipped to another country where she knew no one and saddled with the stigma of being unclean somehow. Just because someone suspected her of practicing magic forbidden by the Mage's Guild. Not banned mind you, just forbidden by the Mage's Guild. And if you think Necromancy is frowned upon in Cyrodiil believe me it's a fair magnitude worse in Morrowind."
"And so all of that, the death of my father and my anti-establishment sensibilities, landed me in a jail cell. On a night when all the available cells were occupied and only one cell, which was normally left empty, could house me for the night until I sobered up and stopped attempting to flash blind the guards." Again the mirth filled chuckle, "In the end they had to slap magicka dampening shackles on me."
He shuddered slightly, "Not a pleasant experience."
"The night of my incarceration was Last Seed 27, the same night of the assassination of Geldell, Dnman and Ebel Septim and the eventual assassination of Uriel Septim himself. I told you before that the cell I occupied was meant to be left empty? That is because it was a secret escape route maintained by the Blades in the even that they needed to evacuate the Emperor from the city."
"When I was discovered in the cell, with the worst hangover I had experienced hitherto in my lifetime I might add, the Blades were confused. Luckily for me their Capitan cared little for whatever petty crime I had committed and opened the door immediately, commanding me back against the wall. As he approached however Uriel noticed me and broke off from his bodyguards to speak with me directly."
"Uriel told me he had seen me in a dream, a vision he called it, and he knew that I was important to the empire. He spoke of the Nine and how they had brought us together." The Arch-Mage frowned and I thought I detected a bit of self-reproach in the gesture, "I was hungover and annoyed so I spat back some flippant comment. I pretended not to know who he was or why I was in jail but his responses were...measured? He seemed to know exactly who I was and why I was there. All these years later after all the events that transpired I suppose it is possible that the Nine really were speaking to him. I don't know. I know I thought he was crazy at the time."
"But…he was the Emperor!" I protested.
"So?" he countered.
I floundered at that point.
"Look kid I know that you grew up in this new Era, so the idea of a divinely appointed Emperor as opposed to one who earned it by force of arms must seem very romantic to you. But all I saw was a very old man wearing clothing that cost enough to feed a family for a week who hadn't actually *done* anything to rule the Empire for the last fifteen years. Everyone knew that High Chancellor Ocato was the one running the Empire, Uriel was widely considered to be a figurehead for the Elder Council. So no I didn't feel any particular loyalty to my Emperor."
"The Blades led the Emperor through the secret door and down into the sewers to escape the city. I followed because I wasn't about to stay behind and face whatever was chasing them, especially without my Magic to protect me!"
"We got separated for a time which was both annoying and stressful given my lack of access to Magicka but I happened to stumble upon a small Goblin tribe and acquire their Totem* to use as protection until I could figure out a way to remove the shackles."
*Perhaps, dear reader, you are not familiar with Goblin Totems. Each tribe's totem is a powerful object created by placing the head of a Shaman on a staff after she has died. It is the most important object the tribe possesses and for Sebastian to have 'acquired' one he must have killed the Shaman who it was entrusted to.
"I'm sure the Blades and I both hoped to never see each other again but sadly the passageway only went one place and we met up as they were dispatching more of the red robed assassins I now know to be Mystic Dawn agents. I was perfectly content to let them travel on ahead but Uriel insisted that I join them. He spoke of stars and Birthsigns and Prophecy…"
He shook his head, "I'm pretty sure Barus and I held the same opinion on this Prophecy; but as Barus was quite fond of saying 'Blades are loyal to their Emperor above all' so he handed me a torch and instructed me to protect Uriel with my life."
"Unfortunately I was unable to do so."
Arch-Mage Ashcroft paused his recollection here and stared into his goblet. At least a minute passed in silence before he spoke again.
"Uriel Septim died right in front of me that night. He was the first person I had ever watched die. Violently anyway. I don't know if you have ever been in battle kid but it's nothing like you read about. Death by blade is not a quick affair. Even a skilled killer cannot snuff a life like one snuffs out a flame."
"The assassin struck while my back was turned. I had taken up a position guarding what I thought was the only door but the Mystic Hand were well versed in the sewers under the Imperial City and the assassin entered through the obfuscated passage the Blades intended to use. When I heard him I turned and loosed a bolt of lightning from the Totem, striking the assassin dead, but it was too late."
"I knelt down to comfort Uriel and he pressed an amulet into my hands. He begged me to find his last remaining heir and 'close shut the jaws of Oblivion'. By the time Barus arrived he was gone."
"Barus took Uriel's death hard. He was out of sorts and when I told him of Uriel's last command he directed me to his former Grandmaster, Jauffre, at Weynon Priory. I tried to protest, saying he should take it, but he just pushed a key into my hand and shoved me down the passageway which eventually led to an exit out to the City Isle."
"As soon as I saw the waters of Lake Rumare I considered tossing the Amulet into the lake and returning home to sleep in my own bed. But I suppose I was still a little hung over and felt a sense of responsibility to see the Amulet to Jauffre so I could be done with the whole affair. Hangovers always make me emotional."
"I can't believe it…"
The Arch-Mage looked confused, "Really? I thought the circumstances of Uriel's death were known at this point? Didn't Praxis Sarcorum's write some sort of expose about the Emperor's death in your newspaper recently? I understand he's planning on writing a book about the Oblivion Crisis…"
I interrupted him at that point. "I can't believe you were so….so…."
"Blasé?" he offered sweetly.
"Un-moved! The Emperor died right in front of you! He confessed that he had a secret heir! He warned you about the coming of the Oblivion Crisis! How could you have even considered walking away?" I was on my feet at this point; my finger jabbing accusingly at the Arch-Mage in what, in hindsight, might not have been the safest manner.
Unperturbed, Arch-Mage Ashcroft sipped his wine. He let me stand there for a few moments before he spoke.
"Kid I was far more interested in the reappearance of Nirnroot and the Alchemical advancements it represented. Ironic really since I still maintain that it was the weakening of the Barrier and the infusion of Daedric energy that caused the resurgence of the plant. Of course Sinderion was always quick to point out that were the Nirnroot dependent on Daedric energy they would have gone extinct again as soon as the Crisis was over. But given the incredibly mutagenic nature of the plant I still stand by my theory."
He narrowed his eyes and his voice grew cold, "I'm sure had I been a Blade, or a Knight, or even a penniless Associate of the Fighter's Guild in search of 'adventure' I would have been more…moved…by Uriel's death. But I wasn't. Nor was I surprised that he had a bastard son out there. And as for the coming of the Oblivion Crisis *no one* knew what effect the darkening of the Dragonfires would be."
"The lighting of the Dragonfires was just a ceremony. Performed when one Emperor died and another took their place. It was an excuse for the rich and powerful of the Empire to parade around in fancy clothes and eat expensive meals. No one suspected there was anything more to it. I'm sorry if that doesn't fit your pretty picture of what happened. The truth rarely does."
"I think we're done for now. Don't show up tomorrow I have plans. In fact don't come back until the first of next week. That is if you actually want to write the history of what happened and not try to fit my story into some doe-eyed romantic fantasy you've concocted to sell newspapers. You know where the door is."
He didn't move from his chair. He just sat there sipping the expensive wine I had brought and staring daggers at me.
That ended my second interview with Arch-Mage Ashcroft. Despite our…heated exchange…I fully intend to return at the first of next week dear reader. Praxis Sarcorum's recently published account of the Oblivion Crisis may have presented the Hero of Kvatch in a more flattering than factual light and we at The Black Horse Currier intend to give you the real story!