Perchance to Live

This is so exciting! I thought I'd never have an important job to do, but here I am, tasked with recovering and writing down the memories in the Planisphere's Deep Deck, where no one's been allowed since…well, it's been centuries, at least! Even better, Sotha Sil himself asked me to do it! He said this task needs a 'delicate touch' – take that Fendne, you surly old nix-ox – and that I was the perfect person for the job! Well, maybe he didn't say exactly that, but the sentiment's there! I'm so honoured to finally have a chance to prove myself! Maybe if I do well, the Congress will see I'm ready to start participating in more important research!

But, before I get ahead of myself, I need to focus on these records. I should start from when Sotha Sil first entered my study. It was such a shock to see him, I almost dropped the ingredients I was holding for my new stamina potion! He came in with that usual calm air of his, looked me in the eye, and said, "Relarise, I must ask if you would do something for me." I jumped at the chance! No job too big, no task too small!

I offered him tea – Mother always said to offer tea to guests, no matter who they are – but he declined. I must have come across as a stammering child, but he didn't seem to mind. He just waited until I'd collected my thoughts and asked him exactly what he needed me to do.

"There are some memories in the Deep Deck that need my attention," he told me, "but I cannot recover them myself. I am in need of someone to collect them in my stead. Would you be willing?"

"Of course, Lord Seht!" I almost screamed.

"Are you certain? I warn you – the Deep Deck hasn't been visited for quite some time. It could prove dangerous."

"That's no problem for me, Your Grace. My destruction spells are top-notch. I'm happy to help!"

I mean, who wouldn't risk life and limb to be the first to review the secret memories of the Clockwork God? Who could pass up such an opportunity? I was so eager to start that I almost forgot to ask what memories I was looking for. When I did, Sotha Sil's expression changed to one I'd never seen on him before. He seemed upset; not in the same way that I or anyone else would be upset, of course, but he had this sort of…vacant? Wait, no, not vacant. The Clockwork God could never be vacant. It was more like he had a dejected sparkle in his eye. It's difficult to describe, and anyone who knows him would tell me I misjudged it. But then he told me:

"A time of change is on the horizon, Relarise. I must prepare for the return of my son. The memories you seek are his memories, truly; even if had by others. I shall have a list prepared before you leave."

That was when I realised just how important this was. No one's heard from Sotha Sil's son since he left the City. There are so many rumours about why he left, but now I might finally have a chance to know the truth! Oh; I mean that as respectfully as possible, of course.

I've always thought it odd that he went, though. He and Sotha Sil were inseparable. I mean, he spent half his life under his feet. There was a rumour that his father had given him a secret mission which I was more inclined to believe than others, but now? I don't know. I suppose I'll find out soon enough!


Getting down here was more difficult than I thought. The Deep Deck is in such a state of disrepair that the factotums that aren't malfunctioning are just hostile. Not even the Astronomer could tell me what to expect. I'm glad I practiced my spellcraft before I left.

For my first discovery – so far, it seems every memory here revolves around Sotha Sil's son in some way. From a preliminary scout it appears that while many of the stars here do belong to the Seht-Son himself, a vast majority have come from other sources. It feels like an enormous library dedicated entirely to him. I don't understand why Lord Seht would lock them all down here, even before he left, but I'm not one to question his wisdom.

Most of the stars have broken out at some point; it looks like the memory receptacles were smashed up. The factotums, perhaps? I'll need to be quick if I want to catch them all. Another reason why old Fendne couldn't do this – he's stiffer than a Khajiit in the cold.

Lord Seht marked out the key memories he wants to review. I believe I caught the first one soon after I came in. I should write them up in this journal, just in case something happens to them. These stars can be so fragile!


Star One:

The heat of the Well carried memories that were best left forgotten. But Sotha Sil was not a mer to shy from painful thought; and he had much to do, much to do, before the artefact could be allowed to sleep again.

The flame rose and danced, but when he stared within it seemed hardly there at all. A memory of flame, not part of the world of tangible forms. But he could be convinced, at least for a split second, that he had returned to that dark and deadly pit in the heart of Red Mountain, where the Mad Child sought penance from ashes. His mechanical fingers tightened over the vial he clutched, and he considered once more the decision before him. As he raised his hand to look upon it, he saw the soft, curling rays of light within, white and delicate – purified.

"If you manage this, Sil," came a voice, rousing him from his thoughts, "a reignited Well could have unfathomable potential."

Divayth Fyr emerged from behind a desk left adjacent to the artefact, laden with tomes upon tomes of research, esoteric scrolls with no equal or copy. Clad in his Telvanni wizard armour, Seht watched the Well-cast shadows flicker and race over his flared pauldrons, as if even they were frightened to cross him.

"It will be an impressive feat," he acknowledged as the wizard came to his side, "but we must practice caution, Divayth. This is no mere Daedric artefact."

"I suppose I can see the wisdom in tempering ourselves. But my friend – reconstituting a Daedric soul? Imagine if it could be manipulated, if we could do the same with the souls of other creatures. The potential applications are limitless. If this works, of course."

Sotha Sil looked from his companion to the Well. To have revived it so far from the Chambers had required all of his focus, and still he was uncertain if it would perform. The Mad Child's memories, which would have cracked the mind of a mortal man, had borne little fruit in how to operate it. The artefact seemed to have chosen him just as much as he had chosen it.

As Divayth watched thought mar his friend's oft-inscrutable face, he folded his arms and looked deeply into the Well's depths. In Seht's atelier, surrounded by mechanical parts, brass factotums that had been shut down or put to sleep, it was out-of-place. Incongruous, even. But the wizard knew how important the Clockwork God considered his research. In the last few years, all else had fallen to the wayside in this pursuit. If not for the Apostles, Fyr fancied even the Brass Fortress would have become in dire need of repair.

"Sil," he said, but his friend did not react immediately. It was a moment before he had drawn his eyes away from the vial to acknowledge him. "How do you know that he won't just do it all over again? I'm not averse to great risk in the name of discovery, but he did almost succeed. How do you plan to contain him?"

"Fear not, my friend," Seht assured him. He tilted the vial in his hand, inspecting it, perhaps, and Divayth had the strange sense that the light within reached out and pressed against the glass. "I refined his essence. Removed his memories. Whatever should emerge from the Well, it will not remember what came before."

"This memory-harvesting of yours isn't an exact science," the wizard pointed out, "and what's the point in resurrecting him without his memories? Will that not make him useless for your research?"

"He has Daedric blood, my friend. Though not of a pure line, he may yet possess an innate understanding of the concepts which shape our world. The secrets of Oblivion, or even of the Mundus, could be laid bare to him," Seht smiled softly. "And there are more reasons for him to live than to serve us."

"Not good ones," the wizard snorted, but he conceded his friend's point. He turned once again to the vat before them, his arms folding across his chest as sweat beaded across the lines of his forehead. It occurred to him, at least distantly, that the power that throbbed from it was somehow alien, wrong; not quite Daedric, but close enough that a lesser mage would be quite convinced.

Sotha Sil pulled the vial's stopper and tilted it over the Well. It was such a simple action to tip the light out and into the flame, and yet for a moment he could not do it. In every calculation, success had but a marginal lead over failure. A fifty-point-three to forty-nine-point-seven percent ratio. If the scales did not tip in his favour, he would need to be prepared to put the Mad Child down. Then he would return to his research, and the long process would start all over again.

With a sigh, he poured the essence into the flames below.

The reaction was slow, at first. A low gurgle, a rumble; and then enormous tremors shocked across the ground and shook the entire atelier. Divayth leapt to the desk so that he would not stumble into the Well himself while Seht fought to remain upright and on his feet. Mechanical parts rattled and rolled on to the floor. It felt as if the entire fabric of reality were about to tear around them.

"Is this supposed to happen?!" Divayth called out over the clangs and clatters.

"It shall pass," came Sotha Sil's reply.

It felt an age before the worst of the tremors died out and left the atelier in disarray. Pieces were scattered about the floor, brass scuffed and bent, circuits shattered into tiny fragments. The soles of the wizard's feet vibrated as he cautiously rose from the desk. He watched as his friend straightened himself, and there was a resounding, deafening silence.

"I assume that didn't work," Divayth said. Sotha Sil looked over his shoulder to respond, but he was interrupted by a thin, warbled cry.

His head snapped to the Well. In the fire and flames, he saw it; the fruit of his labour, naked and pruned, writhing not in pain, but in the throes of new life. Seht reached forward and clasped him gently in his hands. Lava poured from his skin as he eased him from his fiery cradle.

Divayth, who had so far remained at the desk, all but scrambled to reach his side as the Clockwork God rose to full height. He was looking down at his arms, and from his lips soft, quiet comforts fell, unheard by his companion. Once the wizard saw what he cradled, he came to an abrupt halt.

It was an infant – a newborn, in fact, so small that it appeared almost comical against Sotha Sil's tall frame. Golden eyes were filled with tears and his mewls were soft and pitiful. When he reached up to tangle a hand in Seht's long white hair, his skin appeared to shine in the firelight. If Divayth's eyes were not so trained on the creature, he may have noticed the hardly-there smile on his friend's face, or how his hand moved to cradle his head while the other rested upon his chest, so that he could better see him.

"Well, no harm in an attempt," said the wizard as he turned on his heel. "Back to the drawing board, then. Throw that back in and we'll see where we went wrong."

Divayth had reached the door before he realised his friend was not following him. He turned, a hand on the doorframe, to see he had not moved so much as an inch, still faced in the other direction and inspecting the creature he held.

"Did you hear me, Sil? We need to figure out what happened."

"No, my friend," replied Sotha Sil, "I believe we may consider this a success."

"What?" He drew further into the atelier, his tone astounded, close to indignant. "Have you gone mad? This isn't going to help your work at all."

"He will, in time. With nurture and care, he will prove quite the boon to the Clockwork City."

"It's a misfire, Sil – no need to double down on a mistake. They happen."

But his friend did not relent, and indeed it seemed as if he did not hear him at all. Seht was too focused on studying the creature's physiognomy to respond to Fyr's words. He saw a beauty in him that was destined to flower forth. After a while of silence, the wizard behind him let out an exasperated sigh.

"Are you meant to be a god or a nurse-maid?" He asked. Perhaps it was the sharpness of his voice that stirred him from his thoughts, but Sotha Sil turned, child in arm, to look at him. It was a calm gaze, wise and cool, and one that Divayth recognised from countless debates.

"This could negate all we feared might happen if he returned to life," he pointed out. He felt a pull on his robes, and when he looked down he saw the creature's hand had fastened on his lapel. His mewls had tapered off into hungry gurgles. Seht allowed a smile to curve on his lips. "He is young. Malleable. His trust is unyielding, and his potential limitless. This provides me a much better opportunity to protect him from those who would wish him harm. To teach him, as he needs to be taught."

"You deplore distraction, Sil," Divayth pointed out. "Children, the hideous little monsters, are prone to being underfoot and in the way. There's no reason to impede your work."

"My friend, you misunderstand the nature of my work. I am merely a cultivator, the shaper of a beautiful, relentless garden, for which my research acts as a seed. I sense that this small creature, helpless though he may be at the moment, will be more vital to the future I envision than all of my past experiments. I must shape him, as I do all else. My efforts will bear great fruits."

Seht felt little fingers brush against his skin, and his resolve hardened.

"Yes," he murmured as he looked down on the child. "I will raise him as my son, here in the Clockwork City. The lastborn of the Chimer. He will make a worthy addition to the Brass Fortress."

The wizard rolled his eyes and moved towards the door. "Oh, someone find me a bucket. This is nauseating."

Sotha Sil heard the whir and click of the locking mechanism as the door slid open and closed behind Divayth. Alone, he once more held his charge closely to his face, a hand to support his head, the other his body. The child's arms flailed, not yet in control, to catch the Dwemer helmet he wore, or the long strands of hair that fell over his shoulders. In his slim face, the narrow nose, the large eyes, Seht saw a familiar structure, and in his memory he saw the Mad Child hale and whole. But the past was written. He could still influence the future.

"Welcome home, Sotha Aem'uvus. My son."

The gears wound into place.


Hold on – Aem'uvus was born in a lava pit? Daedric blood? The same U-vee that collected my books for me when I couldn't get to the library myself? Taught me the nuances of interplanar communications? Son of the Clockwork God, Keeper of Knowledge Known? Him?

Is Lord Seht playing a trick on me? He isn't the type to do that, normally. Not that anyone knows him very well, I suppose – Father of Mysteries and all that – but still. This would be a pretty strange trick, wouldn't it? And these memories have been down here for a long time.

There's so much to unpack just in this first star. References to a past life, which don't seem to paint a pretty picture. It seems as though Aem'uvus did something (perhaps something that led to his death?) that was bad enough that His Grace and Fyr were concerned of it happening again. What could it have been? An experiment that went wrong, perhaps?

It seems that there's a lot I don't know about Sotha Aem'uvus. Lord Seht never spoke about his mother, but I always assumed she was a fantastically beautiful Mer of some sort who had passed away. I never expected it to be a Well. Or is it even a Well? What did he pour into it? It was called an 'essence' – an essence of perfection? Beauty? He mentioned he'd refined it, removed the memories. To avoid what, though? What did he do that he couldn't remember? And where do the Daedra come into this? Does this mean Lord Seht wasn't his original sire?

Oh dear, I'm already starting to get distracted by questions instead of doing my job. It's just so fascinating! To think, I'm the first person to see this happen since it actually happened! And I'd bet a bottle of sujamma that the more memories I review, the more I'll find out. This is even more exciting than I first thought. A mystery! I wonder if the rest of these stars will be as easy to find as the first one. I hope so. I can't wait to see what the other memories reveal about Sotha Sil and his son.

My mother would be so proud of me right now. Relarise Sathler, explorer of the Clockwork God's Deep Deck! Wait, no – that sounds awful. Let's try again. Relarise Sathler, entrusted recorder of the Clockwork God's secrets! Nope, too much of a mouthful. Then again, so was 'Sotha Aem'uvus', but we all just called him U-vee when Lord Seht wasn't around. How about…Relarise Sathler, the Mystery of Morrowind's most trusted collector! That's a name I'll grow into, I think.

I'll do my best to record the stars I find in chronological order. It'll help me organise and edit my notes for when I compile them for Lord Seht. I'll have to keep my eye out for any wandering factotums, as well. Imagine, all this effort just to get roasted by an old-model machine!

If I come across more information, I'll be sure to scribble it in the margins here. A good scholar never misses a chance to make a note!


A/N:

I'm in the process of rewriting a lot of my old stories, and because I love Aem'uvus' character, I've made this a priority. I was so disappointed with how the first attempt turned out that I couldn't feel any pride in it, so now that I have a better idea of what I want for it, I'm eager to start over. Not a terrible amount has been changed in this first chapter, but it will become more apparent for those that read the first copy.

Thank you for reading this second attempt at the second story of Aem'uvus. The same mistake stands as my previous story in which I forgot that Vivec City was only built after the Akaviri war.