Chapter 15: House Redoran
The Redoran Great House was informed within the hour of Zayden's election to Hlaalu Hortator, which meant the meeting of their high council would come the next day. By that same day's evening they had sent correspondence directly to the Imperial stating at what time they wished to meet. The time they chose was at the very break of dawn, much soon than any previous house. Zayden agreed, being in no good position to deny, and awoke an hour before dawn the next day to eat and get ready. His preparations stirred everyone else from their sleep, Hui and Caius attempting to get ready themselves. Zayden quickly stopped them, telling them he intended on facing the Redoran high council alone.
The escort into the cool, pre-dawn air was a short one, the Redoran Canton being the next one north of St Delyn. No significant type of crowd could form due to the early hour and short distance, making the trek to the Redoran Plaza atop the canton a relatively short one. One within the plaza Zayden entered an annex door set in a tucked-away corner alone, a door that led to a narrow stairwell that led back down into the canton which then entered into a type of reception area. Two Redoran Dunmer, clad in chitin armor and armed with short spears, met with Zayden and escorted Zayden the rest of the way to the high council's meeting chamber.
This chamber, like the Telvanni's, was round and with vaulted ceiling. But unlike the other this room had no tables or chairs to speak of. A ring of cushions on the floor encircled a wide and low metal bowl in the room's center. A bright fire burned within it, the smoke venting upward through a hole in the ceiling. The Redoran Archmaster, Bolvyn Venim, sat in a more raised and prominent position than his five Councilmen; Miner Arobar, Garisa Llethri, Mistress Brara Morvayn, Hlaren Ramoran, and Athyn Sarethi. All members of this high council were dressed in traditional Dunmeri garb, a style of clothing that rang similar to the look of the Ashlanders. All members were Dunmer.
Zayden gave a deep and measured bow to the room before sitting cross-legged in the one remaining spot. With the honored guest's arrival, hirelings entered the chamber to serve sujamma and all the council members began to smoke, all of them through long-stemmed wooden pipes. Zayden joined them with a cigar of his own.
"Great House Redoran welcomes you, Imperial Blackcap Zayden, Telvanni and Hlaalu Hortator, to a meeting of our high council," began Archmaster Bolvyn Venim. Zayden gave another quick and silent bow of thanks. "I must first begin with an expression of disappointment toward you." Already Zayden was getting a bad feeling from the Archmaster. "You have already shown House Redoran disrespect by choosing to meet with our high council last. Do you think of us an afterthought"
"On the contrary," Zayden quickly replied. "It is for the very reason I considered House Redoran my greatest challenge that I chose to face you last. House Telvanni, the most apathetic, was the easiest to persuade. House Hlaalu, driven by their greed, took a bit more to convince. But House Redoran- men, women, and mer of tradition- would be my greatest challenge."
"Indeed," said Bolvyn, accepting the praise but unsure whether to believe Zayden or not. "You clearly come before us not unaware of our conflicts of interest. House Redoran's connection to the Tribunal Temple is strong and many centuries old. You come before us to ask that we grant you the title of 'Hortator' so that you may fulfill the Nerevarine prophecy. This prophecy, of course, would spell the doom of the Tribunal, our ally. I am curious what hope you think you have to convince us to abandon our ways. It is, after all, Redoran men that make up the Buoyant Armigers, warriors who serve directly under Lord Vivec. Again, I ask you, what hope do you think you have?"
"I would not sit before you today if I did not think there was a chance," Zayden replied. "I come before you, in part, not to ask you to abandon your beliefs or allies, but merely to ask you to ask more of it. To reconsider things and see them through a new light."
"You sound like a usurper!" shouted Hlaren Ramoran. "What is there to reconsider!?"
"The connection to your way of life and your trust in the Tribunal."
Stiff grunts of anger and glaring eyes came from the entire room onto Zayden. "Blasphemy!" continued Hlaren. "Blasphemy!"
"Please, hear me out!" Zayden filled the council chamber with his voice. "Your house, House Redoran, is one of great virtues! Gravity to the seriousness of life. Duty to one's honor, family, and clan. Piety to the gods! You put great value in a heavy life of responsibility. These are all grand values-"
"Interesting praise," said Miner Arobar, "from a thief. What would a thief know of duty? What would a thief know of gravity? You live lives off the exploitation of others! You 'earn' nothing for all your 'work.' You expect us to take your opinion on such things?"
"I personally know little of piety, but I know more of the other virtues than one might guess," said Zayden. "I know duty to my fellow thieves and to a greater cause of stifling greater criminal threats that plague the people by beating them at their own game. I know of gravity by recognizing that the official law can only do so much to combat crime and corruption and that sometimes the only way to defeat a criminal is to be a criminal.
The way I see things, the Thieves Guild and House Redoran share more at our core of beliefs than one might first believe. Our drives are not so dissimilar, merely the means through which we fulfill them." Zayden's explanation yielded less than tepid approval. "I do not mean to say we are the same, just similar."
"We are not at all 'similar,'" Mistress Brara spat back, "and I will hear no more sophistry from you claiming otherwise. But I have yet to hear the underlying answer to what our Archmaster has asked. You ask House Redoran to support you in an endeavor that acts against our interests and our ally. Why should we do such a thing?"
"Because your faith," replied Zayden, at length, "in my opinion… is misplaced."
Cries of "blasphemy" came again, now from both Hlaren and Athyn Sarethi, and all the other Councilmen balked in offence. The Archmaster raised a hand and brought the room to order. "You are bold to enter the den and provoke its bear," said Bolvyn. "I should expel you from this meeting right now for your blasphemy. But I will be kind and give you one final chance to redeem yourself. Choose your next words carefully, thief."
"... Redoran high council," said Zayden, "I can not believe you are all unaware of what the future holds without the coming of the Nerevarine. Dagoth Ur remains held within Red Mountain for now, much of his Corprus abominations held back by the Ghostfence, but for how much longer? He holds within his possession the Heart of Lorkhan, the source of his and the Tribunal's power. The Tribunal has been cut off from its power for centuries as Dagoth Ur grows ever stronger. Keeping Ur caged has weakened the Tribunal over the centuries and it can not last forever. When it inevitably fails, the Tribunal will be at their weakest and Ur will be at his strongest, and then there will be nothing to stop his reign of terror."
"And you think yourself the man to save us all from this doom?" Bolvyn dismissively asked.
"In perfect honesty, I do not know. But I bare Moon-and-Star. I was spoken to by Azura and witnessed the events of my past life, that of Indoril Nerevar. I was asked something similar by House Hlaalu, if I might fail. I might. But I will press forward as if I can not, for there are greater things to be concerned with…
Please, heed my words. For the sake of Morrowind, for the sake of Tamriel and the world, House Redoran can no longer afford to put their faith in the Tribunal. It will inevitably lead to the end of all things. Surely you must understand this." The Redoran high council turned stern and silent. They did understand what Zayden was warning about but refused to admit it. Zayden continued. "The Nerevarine prophecy promises the end to Dagoth Ur, but with it the end of the Tribunal. I can not deny that the Tribunal created a golden age for your people and to lose it would be a hardship... but is not House Redoran a power built on hardship?"
Again the high council remained silent but in their eyes glinted a faint flicker of realization. They recognized where the Imperial was heading and secretly wanted to hear more. The five looked to the Archmaster to see what he would do or say next. "Continue…" said Bolvyn.
"The collapse of the Tribunal will create a power vacuum within Vvardenfell, one that the Cyrodillic Empire will attempt to fill, but I believe House Redoran stands a better chance of occupying it. The faith and unity of your people can be maintained and with this new power, I believe, the island can be rallied together to withstand the Empire, making House Redoran the new great ruling force in Vvardenfell. House Hlaalu will lose their power without their Imperial backers."
"How did you get Hlaalu's support, then," asked the Archmaster, "if you believe they are doomed in the future of the Nerevarine prophecy?"
"I never said they were 'doomed.' In truth, I do not know exactly how the future will unfold. I sold House Hlaalu the potential of a prosperous future where the Empire enters Morrowind further. That was enough to convince them to support me. But House Redoran can cut Hlaalu off at the heels and prevent their growth."
"You hold dual allegiances, Zayden," said Bolvyn Venim, "a dishonorable position to hold. You sell both us and Hlaalu a grand future, but one's success comes at the cost of another. Which house do you truly believe will survive the Nerevarine prophecy?"
"Redoran, of course. Business and wealth is a great power, but prone to corruption within. A bedrock of honor builds a stronger house," said Zayden. He spoke his reply with confidence and in some respect believed it, but it was still a mask. The truth was, whether he was speaking to House Redoran, Hlaalu, or even Telvanni, he was simply saying what everyone wanted to hear. It was dirty work but to fulfill the Nerevarine Prophecy it had to be done. Regardless, his response in House Redoran's favor received modest approval from the high council. Zayden felt like he was working the room back over to him. He took advantage and pressed further.
"Your people- the Dunmer people- are mer built and strengthened from hardship. You live within the shadow of a red mountain that plaques you with its ash. Your people took it from the Nords after two centuries of their oppression. Your people, as the Chimer, live through conflict after conflict with the Dwemer until their disappearance. You have much to be proud of and the Tribunal wished to give you a 'golden age.' Perhaps they have, but it came at the price of your identity as Chimer. And it is not a place of honor to exist within. Men and mer of honor, piety, and gravity are rarely bred from times of peace. I argue that the Tribunal, so long as they exist as demi-gods of Morrowind, rob the Dunmer of their hardships and make them weak."
The argument, understandably, made the Dunmer of the room visually uneasy. It was a long, silent moment before anyone spoke further. "You ask much of us," said Athyn Sarethi. "Our support of the Tribunal is centuries old. You ask us to regress to a time before that, when we put our faith in daedric gods who are fickle, unconcerned, and uncaring. It was Azura, after all, who cursed our entire race with our ashen skin and blood eyes because of the actions of three. The same three who now keep the Empire at bay. Do you demand that we surrender this? Do you ask we return to the Daedra, Servant-of-Azura?"
"You admit, then, that the Tribunal is a crutch! You depend on it and if suddenly without you would be weak! Is that the way of Redoran? Strength through dependence and servitude to false gods?" Athyn looked ready to strike at Zayden but the Archmaster raised his voice and once more redirected the room onto him.
"I have seen enough," he declared. "It is clear to me now what must be done. Zayden has declared our gods false, and therefore gives us the highest insult. He states we, House Redoran, should seek a new future divorced from the Tribunal and says it will make us stronger. I submit, then, that the strength of our convictions be tested!" The Councilmen looked between themselves and Zayden, unsure what their Archmaster was suggesting. He then raised a hand and pointed at Zayden from across the fire. "You know the beliefs of the Telvanni, yes? That he who is more powerful is the more correct? Perhaps then we should apply such logic between you and House Redoran." Now the Councilmen were even more perplexed and Zayden began to dread what was going to be said next.
Bolvyn Venim stood up and pointed at Zayden once again. "I challenge you, Imperial Zayden, Blackcap, Twice Hortator, to a duel of honor! Whoever wins will sway the vote of the high council. If you win, House Redoran shall name you Hortator. If you fall, you will never be named." The Councilmen were all in immediate agreement. "Do you accept this challenge, Zayden?"
"What are your terms?" asked the Imperial.
"It will be a duel of martial skill. No use of magic and spells are to be allowed. Do you accept?" Zayden nodded. "Zayden is allowed to stipulate one term of the fight as well. What is your request?"
Zayden thought for a moment before replying that "The fight shall be to thrice blood drawn. I have no desire to kill you, Archmaster."
"It does not reflect well upon you that you are not willing to kill for your beliefs. I'm not surprised the thief choses a coward's way out. But very well, I shall honor your request… I declare the duel shall take place in the Arena Canton in three days, at high noon. Come with all your strength and may the best mer win. I call this meeting of the high council dismissed!"
-o0o-
Zayden waited until he and Caius returned to their room in St. Delyn before divulging the content of his meeting with the Redoran high council. Everyone was understandably worried. The last time he ever fought in open combat, in spite of all his training from Zeela, Zayden was badly injured and forced to kill a headstrong teenager in Ald'Ruhn. But Zayden attempted to less hs friend's worries and, oddly, seemed rather self-assured about the match three days into the future. It soon became clear to the others why.
Zayden began emptying the small pouches on his sword belt of all the small bombs Hui made months ago: fire crackers, smoke bombs, flash bombs, and even a pair of small fire bombs. Zayden asked the Argonian to check if all the items were still in good condition and, if possible, if he could make any more. Hui quickly looked them over and deemed all in usable condition, though most of the bombs' casings had discolored from moisture from the heavy rains days past. He warned at the possibility of failure.
As far as crafting more was concerned Hui admitted he was without many of the necessary ingredients. The most he could currently make were a small bundle of fire crackers and one more smoke bomb but nothing else. Jeed-Ei offered to test her illusion magic and force one of the ordinators to gather more ingredients from the market. Zayden thanked her but refused, saying that what Hui could already make would probably be enough. Zayden explained to the company that he believed that Archmaster Bolvyn would no doubt be superior to himself in strength, but perhaps not in speed. Zayden believed his superior agility, coupled with his bombs as tools to distract or confuse could win him the day.
The city ordinators seemed to actively conspire against Zayden and prevented him and his party from leaving their room for the full three days before the duel. All the food Jeed-Ei had tricked the guard into buying was confiscated back, everyone's meal rations were reduced as punishment, and Caius suspected their water was being subtly poisoned. The ordinators would never outright kill Zayden but they seemed damned intent on making him loose come the day of the fight.
By the evening of the day before the fight the company had finally had enough of their treatment by the ordinators. Even Caius, who previously warned Zayden against causing trouble within Vivec, was livid about everyone's treatment and suggested an escape plan. Jeed-Ei offered to use her magic to influence the guards outside the door once this time the girl had had more training in illusion magic and she was able to command the two without passing out, though the act did render her slightly weak. By her command the two guards walked away from their post and began walking aimlessly, shouting blasphemies against the Tribunal. This naturally caught the attention of the other nearby guard and a brawl quickly escalated. This allowed the company to slip out of St. Delyn canton and into the night, across the city and back to a hidden speakeasy in the Foreign Quarter. There they were finally able to get a proper meal and night's rest.
When Vivec's ordinators learned of the Hortator's escape they issued a search that lasted through the entire night, all of which led to no success, as if his company and he vanished from Nirn. The guard only became more furious when the company was eventually spotted walking casually toward the Arena canton an hour before high noon. The search party that found and surrounded them seemed infinitely angered they were not allowed to simply impale all four of them with their spears right on the spot. They instead escorted them the rest of the way and made their frustrations as clear as possible.
Organizers of the arena made the day into a long spectacle with slave and beast fights starting three hours before the main event. From outside the canton, as the company approached, one could hear the crowds escaping through the open air roof. Once stepping onto the canton proper Zayden was forcefully split from the others. The ordinator that grabbed him stated that the others would watch him die from the stands like everyone else and that he needed to enter through the waistworks. The waistworks entrance was along the waterfront where many boats, small to large, were docked. The entrance itself was a small guarded door that entered into a narrow dimly lit corridor.
Lining each wall were the cell doors where slave fighters were held. The air smelled stale with sweat, urine, and rotten food. One off every several cell Zayden passed had the face of a hopeless soul staring out through the bars of the door. The corridor seemed to stretch on and on, eventually turning into a corridor with larger doors where beasts were held. Many of the creatures, Zayden noticed, were not native to Vvardenfell, but rather Cyrodill, Skyrim, and Elsweyr. Finally the path ended at a stairwell that led the group up to the next level, where combatants of men, mer, and beast races gathered: the "Bloodworks."
The Bloodworks acted like a staging area for fighters to train, eat and drink, and prepare for their matches. There were roaring hearths, young boys and girls serving food and mazte, sparring circles with adjacent racks of wooden practice weapons, and just about every style and type of fighter one could imagine. Anyone here was either an arena champion, a freshly hired sellsword, or a slave that lived long enough to be remembered by people in the crowd. Whoever they were they all seemed preoccupied with their own business of fighting or drinking. None really gave a second glance to the man in the sneaking suit being escorted by ordinators.
The two guards ordered Zayden to sit on a bench and stay there. One of them then split off, stating he would alert the arena's "Pit Master" of Zayden's arrival. A few minutes passed in the remaining two's silence and Zayden began looking around at the fighters. "I do not see my opponent," Zayden stated aloud. "Where is Bolvyn Venim?"
"The Redoran Archmaster," the ordinator replied, "is probably in the Bloodworks on the opposite end of the arena pit. He will probably be called out first." As the guard explained this a little girl approached Zayden and attempted to hand him a cup of mazte. It was promptly knocked out of her hand by the butt of the ordinator's spear. "Get lost, girl. Nothing for him." The girl scampered away with a frightful apology.
After another several minutes the guard returned with an Altmer man clad in armor made from greenish-black orichalcum, a metal prized by and associated with the Orcs. When forged into armor or weapons its strength rivaled that of steel but fell short of even greater materials like ebony or glass. Zayden stood up and greeted the battle-scarred elf. "So you're the 'Nerevarine,' then?" he asked Zayden. "Name's Seanwen. I must give you some credit. You and the Archmaster have drawn a damn good crowd today. I'd wish you luck today but, in all honesty, I'd rather you lose. Bad for business if some n'wah- their words, not mine- defeated the head of House Redoran in my own arena. Just put on a good show and, when you die, make it beautiful. That's what I say."
"You should say something else," Zayden shot back.
Seanwen pretended to ignore the quip and aimed a finger at a gate on the opposite side of the room. "We have another beast/slave fight before you go on. You'll hear a low horn before your match begins and when you hear your que, enter the pit through that door. Trust me, you'll know when that is. It shouldn't be more than ten minutes from now from how those Khajiit were getting hammered by those three frost trolls. So have a drink and make it last, for it will be your last." With that the Altmer left the Bloodworks the way he came.
Zayden practically counted the seconds as he awaited his que. He paced the length of the room again and again, inspected his weapons twice, thrice, and five times. He really did want a drink but knew the ordinators would stop him. Time slowed to a crawl as the sounds of the fighting just beyond the door went on. There eventually came a big applause followed by a lull in excitement. Then came a single long blow of a horn and Zayden knew his time was finally here.
His heart began racing as he approached the door. He stood inches from it and listened to the sounds from the other side. A second blow of the horn came and the crowd went mostly silent. The voice of Seanwen then came projecting loud and clear for the entire arena to hear.
"Ladies and gentlemen! Men, mer, and beasts!" Seanwen began. "The time of high noon is upon us, and as you all no doubt know, today we are proud to bring you a fight for the ages! A fight that truly will alter the future of Vvardenfell and Morrowind! Today, we have fighting in Lord Vivec's arena a challenger that has already claimed the status of 'Hortator' from both Great Houses Hlaalu and Telvanni! All toward the goal of fulfilling the Nerevarine Prophecy!" Boos filled the arena. "And now a challenge has been set by the head of House Redoran for the remaining title of Redoran Hortator. If today's opponent is successful, he shall gain the title!
The rules of this fight had been set and agreed upon by both combatants. This shall be a contest of pure martial skill with no use of magic. The winner will be the one to draw blood from his opponent thrice. And so now I call to the arena pit the first combatant: Archmaster of House Redoran, Bolvyn Venim!" The arena roared a moment later, only stopping when Seanwen spoke again. "And now, the opponent, seeking the title of Redoran Hortator. I present to you the Imperial, Zayden!"
The door before Zayden rose up and he walked through and onto the arena dirt floor. The fighting floor was a large oval measuring one hundred feet at its longest ends. All around were rows and rows of seats stacked practically on top of each other, half of them seemingly filled with a booing spectator. Zayden had gotten glimpses at this hostility toward him over the past days by the crowds that followed him. But now, contained within the arena, now unbridled and unhindered by the threat of ordinator spears, the disdain was palpable.
Zayden quickly scanned the stands for his friends but could not find Caius, Hui, or Jeed-Ei amongst the hundreds of others. He swore he caught a glimpse of them before he turned his gaze back forward, at his opponent Archmaster Bolvyn Venim, and saw something that nearly caused him to collapse to his knees. What stood before Zayden was the mer clad head to toe, helmet and all, in obsidian black armor, polished to a shine and intricately decorated in gold leaf of ornate patterns. The armor was made from ebony, one of the strongest and most costly materials one could afford. A full suit such as this would take an average man a lifetime of savings to afford, and stories tell of the strongest warriors striking ebony armor with massive steel hammers only for it to remain completely unmarred. Then, sheathed at the mer's waist was something even worse.
Sheathed at the Archmaster's waist were two swords, one a long hand-and-a-half sword and the other a wakizashi. Zayden could tell from the hilts, even from a distance, that both blades were made from the same red and black metal of Divayth Fyr's armor. This metal was aptly known as "daedric" because it was ebony even more finely refined by daedric creatures themselves, and the stories and tales of its strength, deadliness, and value rivaled even that of ebony! Zayden glanced at the steel swords at his own waist and thought himself already dead.
Zayden's legs carried him like a ghost the rest of the way to the center of the arena pit. He took his spot next to Bolvyn and turned to face a podium where Seanwen stood high above the pit. Finally at this distance Zayden noticed sitting to the left of the podium was Hui, Zeed-Ei, and Caius. Sitting to the right, separated by their houses, were all the high councils of Redoran, Hlaalu, and Telvanni, including in the latter Divayth Fyr and his daughter-wives.
Seanwen signaled another blow of the horn and the crowd once more hushed. "Our two competitors have now arrived!" he announced, the acoustics of the arena carrying his voice loud and clear. "Redoran Archmaster and Nerevarine Zayden! Once again, to reiterate the terms of the match: no magic shall be used and the first to draw blood from their opponent thrice shall be victorious. Do the competitors agree to these terms?"
"I do," came from both Zayden and Bolvyn.
"Then retreat to opposite ends of the pit and when the horn blows once the more the fight shall start! May the better man win!" The two men walked back to their respective places. Zayden inspected and readied his bomb pouches one final time before unsheathing his messer. Once in place he turned back and faced the armored mer now clutching his larger red and black sword with both hands. After another tense eternity the horn blew and the fight began.
Bolvyn advanced at a casual, menacing pace. He knew as well as Zayden that his armor would protect him and so there was no need to waste any energy running. Zayden took up a fighting stance and forced his heart to stop racing. His weapons may very well be useless but he had to remind himself that armor had their chinks and weak spots that could be exploited or some gap that a blade could slip into. He just needed a moment to find it. And in a flash he devised a way to create that moment.
Zayden took a few measured steps forward and away from the wall but then stopped and stood at the ready letting Bolvyn approach. The Dunmer continued to pace forward, tall sword ready to strike until he got within striking distance. His arms tensed and he was a mere moment from making his first strike, but Zayden struck first. The Imperial snatched up a smoke bomb and threw it at Bolvyn's feet. It snapped and a thick white cloud four meters wide quickly enveloped him. Zayden then threw one of the loudest noise makers he had into the cloud and charged forward before the bomb set off.
He circled around where Bolvyn had just been and spotted him through the haze just as the fire cracker exploded. Bolvyn was caught off guard and the snap made him jump and temporarily lose his balance. Zayden jumped at this opportunity, spied a gap in the armor behind the knee of his left leg and made a strong downward cut at it. The blade met its mark and the Dunmer made a loud pained grunt but Zayden's fears of the ebony armor were quickly realized.
When Zayden pulled the blade back to deepen the cut he was shocked to see the cutting edge made no effect at all. Even in a gap, with all his strength, the cut did nothing to the material beneath. The steel was useless! Bolvyn retaliated by spinning around making a wide horizontal swing that Zayden barely managed to avoid. The mer with all his armor was still amazingly quick!
A moment later the horn blew again and Bolvyn instantly dropped his fighting stance, prompting Zadyen to do the same. A gust of wind blew aside the smoke and the two fighters found themselves surrounded by ordinators and drawn spears. The two were ordered to sheathe their weapons and they quickly complied. Zayden was confused why this was happening and turned with Bolvyn to face the Pit Master. The crowd was roaring with outrage.
"Imperil Zayden!" Seanwen announced. "It was agreed that no magic would be used in this match. You stand guilty of breaking this rule within seconds of the match's start!"
"It is not magic!" Zayden exclaimed back, producing another smoke bomb from a pouch to show the Altmer. "This is a bomb, crafted from alchemy, that explodes on contact when thrown! This required no magicka to use, and is therefore not a spell and not magic!"
"Alchemy is a discipline of magic, taught to mages and wizards alike!"
"But is a skill any non-magic folk can use, have they the ingredients, recipe, and time to craft it. It is not magic!" Zayden reiterated.
Seanwen paused and considered the Imperial's point, turning to whisper and discuss the matter with arena officials to his left and right. After another suspenseful moment he turned back to the pit. "Your argumentation is sound," said Seanwen, "but it has been decided that further use of such craft is henceforth forbidden. Zayden will now surrender all bombs to the guard!" An ordinator near Zayden approached and forcefully removed the pouches from his sword belt. As this occurred Bolvyn Venim took a step toward the Pit Master.
"Honorable Pit Master," he said after removing his helm. "This Imperial has shown dishonor not just to myself, but to House Redoran and to your magnificent arena! Such ill behavior must not go unpunished. I therefore request that the term of 'Thrice Blood,' made by the offenderm be rescinded and be replaced with a term of tradition and one that he may face punishment under. I request this fight now be to the death!"
The crowd roared with approval and made the decision for Seanwen. "Agreed!" he called back. "'Thrice Blood' is officially rescinded. This match shall now be to the death!" Again the arena roared. "Ordinators, clear the field, and let this battle resume!" The golden guards rushed off and the two fighters stepped back from each other, taking their fighting stances once again. Zayden's heart began racing once again. Bolvyn chuckled aloud, the red eyes behind the slit visor of his redawned helm now burning with murderous intent.
"Now, blasphemer," said Bolvyn, "I have no reason to measure my skill. I will now fight with my full might and you will fall beneath my blade! Your prophecy ends here!" The horn blew and the Dunmer exploded forward unleashing a flurry of attacks. The mer's speed and agility once more caught Zayden by surprise and left him little option but to block and parry his every attack. The daedric sword, in spite of being wielded so quickly in Bolvyn's hands, was shockingly heavy. Each clash with the steel messer slightly warped and bent it, each hit threatening to knock it from Zayden's hands. After several blocks Zayden had no choice but to find a break in the assault and retreat away to put distance between the two of them. The crowd saw the retreat as cowardice and began to taunt the Imperial.
Once Zayden put roughly five meters between himself and Bolvyn he turned back to face him. The mer was already walking forward and closing the gap. Now without his bombs Zayden needed to think of a new strategy and quick. He now knew his steel would be useless against ebony, even in the gaps, and one connected swing of the daedric bastard sword would cut through his cloth armor like a fresh razor through paper. The only thing that could damage Bolvyn was another daedric weapon, and the only place he could harm him otherwise… was his helm!
Zayden quickly swapped his sword to his left hand and began grasping at the throwing knife on his chest with his right. Once he found a grip on one he threw it forward and it bounced harmlessly against the armored chest. Zayden threw another, this one hitting slightly higher, the elf still coming closer and closer. A third struck at the neck. Just a little closer!
Finally the fourth hit precisely where Zayden intended. The knife flew forward and true and found its mark right within the slit of the Archmaster's helm. Bolvyn yelped and stumbled backwards and for a moment Zayden believed the knife penetrated the face. But Bolvyn turned his head revealing the knife got itself wedged in the slot too shallow for the point to reach the flesh. Bolvyn scrambled to grasp at the knife and dislodge it but found it stuck fast. This gave Zayden the opportunity he needed.
He used the moment of distraction to spring forward once again and, for added measure, kicked at the arena sand and sent it flying into the helm. Then, using all the strength he could muster, delivered a powerful strike to the side of Bolvyn's head. The blade left no mark and in fact visibly bent from the impact but it clanged loudly against the metal, the vibrations reverberating loudly in the opponent's ears. Again the mer groaned and he fell to one knee. Zayden struck the helm again and again and again, each hit dulling and warping the blade, each strike reverberating and deafening Bolvyn within his own helmet. The crowd was now going wild.
Through the noise the Archmaster finally managed to fight against the onslaught, regain grip of his sword and make a swing where Zayden was only to find he was no longer there. He stumbled back to both feet and began scanning his eyes around himself, his head and vision swimming and clouded. The Imperial was nowhere to be found. He spun frantically around and still his opponent was gone.
"If this is more of your sorcery, Imperial…" Bolvyn screamed. Just then a piercing pain stuck the back of his left leg again, this time many fold worse than the last. This one brought him back to one knee again and found he could no longer get back up upon it. He looked over his shoulder and saw a small pool of blood begin to form around his knee. Bolvyn regained the grasp of his sword and raised his arms up to make another swinging slice behind him but was interrupted by another stabbing pain, this one right beneath the right armpit. Bolvyn screamed and fell over onto his left side and rolled onto his back.
There, standing above him, was the cloaked Imperial, clutching in his right hand his own daedric short sword. Zayden reached down and retried his throwing knife, plucking it from the visor slit and returning it to a chest loop. Zayden raised the tip of the sword over the armor gap where his neck was. "Yield," he requested.
The arena became deafened by the combined cheers and outrage of everyone watching. So loud was the cacophony that Zayden never heard what the Archmaster said back. But not an instant later the mer lurched forward, grabbed the wakizashi by its guard and plunged it toward his own neck, Zayden's hand still wrapped around the handle.
The tip of the blade pierced through his windpipe and jugular vein and a geyser of crimson quickly followed. Gasps came from the stand but the noise level did not dampen. A moment later Bolvyn Venim's head slumped backwards, the sword dislodging from the neck, and the Archmaster moved no more. After another few seconds passed before Zayden bent down to remove the ebony helm and looked into the mer's now lifeless eyes. A deep and familiar chill shot through his bones that reminded him of the boy in Ald'ruhn.
The arena horn blew once again and Seanwen signaled the crowd to hush. "Hortator Zayden! Has your opponent, Redoran Archmaster Bolvyn Venim, been vanquished?"
Zayden slowly rose back to his feet and turned to face the Pit Master. "Aye!" he roared back. "Bolvyn Venim has been defeated and breathes no more!" Another bout of roars and booing filled the arena.
"Then this arena declares victory to the Imperial, Zayden! By right of combat and decree of the Redoran High Council, Zayden shall now be named Hortator of House Redoran." Again the arena spectators made their feelings known. "Also, by Redoran tradition, as victor, you are permitted one trophy from your opponent. Make your pick now!"
Zayden looked next to Bolvyn's body to the now bent and dulled steel messer, then to the weapon of daedric metal clutched in his fingers. He held the item up and declared it his prize. "Then it is settled!" Seanwen continued. "Let this match be told and retold throughout the years! Let it be known on this glorious day that the Imperial Zayden, Nerevarine Hopeful, gained the third and final title of Hortator of the three Great Houses of Vvardenfell, thus fulfilling the Fourth Trial of the Nerevarine Prophecy! Go forth, Thrice Hortator, and revel in you victory, for this day is yours!"
-o0o-
Zayden was escorted by ordinator guard out of the arena pit floor and back into the Bloodworks, the dripping daedric blade still clutched in his hand. All the previous fighters, who never gave Zayden a second glance before the match, now stopped everything they were doing to watch him pass. The Imperial kept his eyes to the ground and locked forward. He only looked up when a familiar voice came rushing toward his right. He turned and was met by the enveloping embrace of his friend Hui, followed by Jeed-Ei, and finally Caius.
"Excellent work out there!" Caius commended. "You were too quick for him and managed to escape the fight without taking a blow yourself!" Zayden forced an unconvincing smile out the right corner of his mouth and it was all he could muster at the moment. "And now the Fourth Trial is complete! All three Great Houses name you Hortator!"
Zayden lifted the short sword and examined the blade in the surrounding hearth light. The blood coating it was beginning to dry and turn a dark brown. "I couldn't hear what Bolvyn Venim final words were to me," said Zayden in a whisper. "I wonder if he cursed me for refusing to kill him. I suppose now only the gods know for sure, and what's done is done…"
"Is something wrong, Zayden?" asked Hui.
"So many things have already happened to me since arriving in Vvardenfell but so much more lay ahead. And this is now the second life to fall from my blade."
"But he-"
"Threw himself against it, yes, I know, but it scarcely feels any different!"
Before Zayden could speak further he spotted from across the room the Pit Master approaching, flanked on both sides by the five Councilmen of House Redoran, none of whom looked at all pleased. The Altmer thanked Zayden for putting on a short but glorious show, one that was sure to bring spectators back for months to come. He was quickly brushed aside by one of the Redoran, Miner Arobar, who approached Zayden and brought his enraged eyes to within a foot of his.
"The Redoran High Council condemns your actions on this day!" he spat in Zayden's face. "You broke agreed upon rules, damn what the Pit Master says! You fight dishonorably, and had our Archmaster not declared it so, none of us would ever elect you our Hortator!
But we are Dunmer of honor. We shall respect our Archmaster's wish and grant you your title, though you do not deserve it in the slightest." Miner retrieved from a pocket a ring of mirror silver band and a large, square cut maroon gem. "This ring acts as proof that House Redoran names you their Hortator." He practically shoved the ring into Zayden's left hand. "The High Council wishes you luck in your fulfillment in the Nerevarine Prophecy and that all you predict of us comes true. Now go forth, and if you ever dishonor House Redoran again we promise to never allow your actions to go unpunished again!" With that the five Councilmen turned and left leaving a flabbergasted Pit Master to look on in surprise.
"Jeez…" he sighed. "I suppose everyone can't be pleased all of the time, am I right?" His attempt at lightening the mood was met with only glares and disapproval. "Like myself, apparently. Ok fine, I know when I'm being told to 'fuck off.' Good show again, Zayden. Hope you come back again to fight sometime soon." The Altmer made a quick retreat before any punches started flying in his direction.
With him gone the company turned their attention back to Zayden who had not lifted his impassive gaze from his newly gifted ring. Caius approached him and asked if his friend was ok. Zayden slowly shook his head. "I never believed this path forward would be easy," said Zayden at length, "but no accomplishment thus far has felt like a victory. The heads of two Great Houses needed to die for me to achieve my goals…"
"They all understood what they were doing, Zayden. They lived by their own codes. I know it feels wrong but this is their way. You are still a stranger in this strange land, as I was decades ago when I was assigned the position of Grand Spymaster within Vvardenfell. This is a difficult thing to undertake, and the road into the Fifth Trial will only be tougher, but I will help you however I can. We will be here the entire way."
Zayden finally lifted his gaze and was met with the looks of his three friends, all of them grinning and placing a hand on their shoulder. Zayden smiled back wearily and a moment later another approaching voice sounded. Zayden and company turned and was met with a familiar face, only this time without his paramores. "Fye," Zayden greeted. "Were you watching in the stands?"
"Naturally," Divayth Fyr answered. "What better opportunity to see the results of my cure. I needed to see your enhanced strength and endurance in person. You bashed that messer of yours into a mangled heep. I think that's evidence enough to keep the Dwemer happy. I know the fight wasn't very long, but did you feel fatigued at all?"
"Hard to say," Zayden replied. "I was so pumped full of adrenaline that I wasn't paying attention to that… I don't think I ever did. I suppose I can not know for sure until I try something else."
"Perhaps a nice long jog?" Fye suggested. Zayden wasn't sure if it was a joke, but as it came from Fyr, just as soon assumed it wasn't. "At any rate, well done on completing the Fourth Trial. The Ashlanders await you next for the Fifth. I won't be able to assist you in this matter much; the affairs of tribal people and the Nerevarine Cult are not my forte. Still, I wish you luck."
"Thank you…" Zayden's gaze fell back downward to his blood-encased sword and after a moment's pause he held the blade up to Fyr. "Here. I owe you a piece for your collection for the help you've given me in the past. I do not desire this blade. You may have it."
"Don't be a fool," the wizard scolded. "This weapon is daedric. Most men and mer go their entire lives never setting sight on such a material. Not even the High Elves- millennium lifespans they have- often see such a thing, no less possess one."
"But you are clad in an entire armor suit of the material, Fyr. Such a material cannot be that uncommon."
"It is. I've lived for four millennia, lest you forget.. It took half that time to assemble what I have and I still have yet to acquire a helm! Keep your prize, Hortator. You have your entire life to repay me and I am in no hurry. You have bigger things to concern yourself with. So, where will you go from here? I believe the nearest Ashlander camp is two days northeast from here."
"We will need to visit Urshilaku Camp first and their wise woman, Nibani Maesa," said Caius. "She will be Zayden's guide for the Fifth Trial going forward."
"But before even that," said Zayden, "I'd very much like to return home to Balmora."
"Very well," shrugged Fyr. "Safe travels, in either respect. Farewell, Hortator." Divayth Fyr took his leave and Zayden and company made their escorted trek back across Vivec to their quarters in St. Delyn. With the Fourth Trial complete, Vivec's order to the ordinators to keep Zayden and his company protected was complete. The ordinators dropped all pretense of what little respect they had for the man and made no qualms in now informing Zayden that they wanted he and his friends out of the city by nightfall. It took substantially less time for everyone to pack their things and be escorted back to the mainland north of the city. There they retrieved their pair of guar mounts and with Caius riding behind Zayden and Jeed-Ei riding behind Hui they left Vivec for what they hoped- but knew would not be- their last time.