Within an hour of the redguards departure, Curio bade his guest accompany him to the Hlaalu Treasury, in the cantons waistworks, that they may spar with swords both fine and exotic. Just after midday, ordinators bowed their heads to him and Curio as they passed, the councilmans highstanding in the community more than evident.
Reaching the Treasury, Curio presented his key to the proper ordinator, and was admitted to his safe, a large room full of chests large and small. Curio unpocketed a second key, and unlocked one of the larger chests in the room, on the floor: from it, he withdrew two glass swords, their blades a shocking green, slightly transparent. Curio slung one over his own shoulder, and he the other. They left the Treasury for Hlaalus Plaza, in which one of Curios servants announced the sparring match:
In the spirit of our Houses Ancient Tradition, Councilman Curio, valiant and brave protector of the Hlaalu, shall engage in a spar with his imperial cousin, the noble hand of Umbacano, Jollring. They will armor, arm, and spar for the gods: though unworthy, you may spectate as the preparations are made and the spar conducted. Woe, oh woe unto him that does not stay to see this event!
Many gathered in the form of an oval around him and Curio. Curios servants helped both of them into steel armor, the Seal of the Empire strangely absent from the councilmans suits. Once armored, they grasped and felt the claymores, swinging for practice, gauging thrusts by shifts in weight and energy exertion.
Settled in their armory practice, the two had at each other pleasantly, the glass claymores music making upon each touch. Light of feet with legs nimble and eyes quick, the two made spectacle in Hlaalu Cantons Plaza. By their events end, he and Curio were tired, and the crowd cheered in rare form. It reminded him of an arena match without the bloodshed and the greed.
Retiring to Curios manor again, the two disarmed, disarmored and donned robes. Curio was in the middle of telling him the latest gossip when a dunmer was admitted to the room. Curio introduced the two: Orvas, this is Jollring, a new friend of mine. Jollring, this man here is Orvas Dren. You could say he keeps Hlaalus hinges greased.
Dren insisted he speak to Curio alone, his eyes shifting. Curio obliged, and he and Dren entered a bedroom and Dren closed the door. Light reflected off of a limeware platter.
He went out of the manor, a lichen mask on his face. The plaza was desolate, footfalls resonating in the mostly empty highceilinged hall. The earthen browntan in its slight dark shade reminded him of a less reputable part of the Imperial City. The dunmer were to him a dirty race, a marked race, and he found comfort in the company of his host. He found a dunmer walking to a tall clay pot in a dark corner of the hall, and approached him. Red eyes found his own, as he unsheathed a small glass dagger, and stabbed the dunmer in the neck, quickly and forcefully. The dunmer dropped when the dagger was withdrawn, red blood pulsing onto his lightyellowed common shirt. He waited some time for the blood to stop before he pushed the head to his thigh, grasping at the skull and the hair and let him drop to the puddle on the floor. He walked away from the body, back into the manor, and removed the lichen mask.
He sat down at the dining table when Curio and Dren came up from the lower level. Dren might have consumed moon sugar in the meantime; Curio bid Dren farewell, and sat down next to him. They discussed the dunmer people.
My dear Jollring, the dunmer here are a good people, not at all the type they are in mainland Cyrodiil. They make up for their ashen skin in their work ethic. They are sour over our Empires occupation of their country, they think we deposed their gods, but they bear it. It hasnt been easy for them.
They are insolent. They think they are our equals. When I came here softly I shared a boat with the pagans, one acted as my guide to Balmora. I made conversation, I tried to be kind. But they are an ashen plague among our peoples.
You must be more accepting of them. I am a Hlaalu here, I do not believe in interbreeding among the childconscious. I do not concern myself with that business, but I respect the dunmer and the dunmer and the imperials and the imperials and the bretons and the bretons. But think, my man, in your Imperial City there is a fighter who became the champion of the Arena who is himself a breed between an imperial or a breton and an orc.
The Grey Prince disgusts me.
That is his name, I could not remember. But if anything it shows not all interbreedings are necessarily abominable, but from them can arise good fighters, good specialists.
But they are not as men. Their fairer sexes are but throwaway fancies in the Imperial City. The halfbreed scum they beget must be destroyed.
I say, you do have a strong feeling on all of this.
One of Curios dunmer servants came to him, exclaiming murder in the plaza. Curio looked to him and the two went out and saw a dunmer in a pool of blood. There were many surrounding the body, and ordinators speculating when the deed was done. After a short time, he whispered loudly look how they destroy one another. At this he was glanced upon by the crowd, most dunmer.
Late that night when he and Curio played a game a servant begged his lords pardon as he admitted a poorly clothed khajiit. The khajiit carried a thick and heavy bag. Curio asked the khajiit its name and the khajiit did not answer. We want money, it said. Curio looked to his friend for help. He asked the khajiit what was in its bag. The khajiit spoke:
In isle not far from this city, we found a redguard thief dead by wounds who carried bag, this bag, and a note. Sirrah are the ones of the note. We have what she had, and we want money for it.
He knew exactly what was in the khajiits bag. Before the khajiit could notice he procured a glass throwingknife and hurled it into the khajiits head and the khajiits eyes centered to the knife in between its eyes and it stumbled backward and fell and blood came up out of its mouth, the bag in its clenched fist. He got up and took the knife out of its head and cut off its fingers, freeing the bag. Curio looked on and did not know what to make of the episode. He sat down next to Curio and after a while they continued their game.
The bag in his own hands, he left Curios manor the next day, setting out to return to his masters house.
