In the darkness I was running, my hand gripped tightly by a woman's as trees and other foliage whipped past us. Brambles scratched at my legs and branches cut at my cheeks, but I could not slow for the woman's incessant tug on my arm. Gasping, I followed her, knowing only that to stop meant to die.
"Aranwen," she said, weeping as we sprinted along. "Aranwen, keep running!"
Yet as hard as I tried, the evil thing behind us kept catching up, gaining on our pitiful attempt at escape. I couldn't run as fast as her – my legs were too short, my lungs, too little. I was slowing her down. She was going to die. I was going to make her die.
Her hand was ripped from my grasp suddenly. I pitched forward into the bushes and hit the earth, crying.
"Mama!" I screamed. "Mama, where are you!" But the only thing that greeted me were crazed, brown eyes that stared at me from the darkness of the trees, and a cruel, thin smile that grew ever larger as it watched me.
"You belong to me," he said, and then his hands were upon my face and on my skin, touching me, feeling me, and the cruel smile kissed my lips with a hunger I couldn't satisfy.
"I'm sorry," I whispered, and then, "no!" But he only laughed, and I was consumed by him.
I woke to dim sunlight filtering through the grey fabric of the tent around me. I frowned, narrowing my eyes as I waited for them to adjust, then lifted my hand to brush away the hair clinging to my brow. It had been some time since I had dreamt even a little about my childhood, and I was puzzled by its brief appearance.
"I'm glad to see that you're awake."
I turned my head to face the voice that filled the tent, half startled by its suddenness, and sighed inwardly with relief. It was Martin. He had been safe here after all. He sat on a low stool, looking exhausted, but pleased. I guessed that I'd been his project for the night. Well, morning.
"What time is it?" I asked. My voice was unbelievably rough.
"About eight o'clock in the morning… the 1st of Heartfire."
"Over a day?" I cried, sitting up, noting vaguely that my side didn't hurt. That was good. Martin looked away unobtrusively, as if pretending to notice and study some insect on the ground, and I glanced down to find myself exposed but for my undergarments. I sucked in my breath.
It wasn't that I was embarrassed – I'd had my fair share of men in my youth and visited too many healers over the course of my life to be so – but rather my vanity was stung. My side was a twisting mass of scar tissue and new, red skin, and it snaked from the bottom of my ribcage to my hip and almost across to my bellybutton. I'd always been vain, but lately that vanity had become more of a pride in my lack of battle scars, at the prowess I displayed in keeping my body unmarked. Your insides are coming out, a voice inside me said. Soon everyone will see just how hideous you are underneath, no matter how noble you pretend to be. I ignored the thought and reached for the new shirt folded by my pillow.
"Whoever healed you kept you alive," Martin said quietly as I dressed, "but it was not cleanly done. The wound was soiled and infection spreading. Your shirt was actually healed into the skin. I did the best I could, but I am no great healer. By the time Oleta came there was nothing she could do. It will probably remain that way for the rest of your life. I am sorry."
I tugged on my last boot and sighed, looking up at him.
"I'm alive," I said. "That's what counts. I'm grateful for what you've done." I spied my armour neatly piled in a corner of the tent, and reached for it.
"You don't intend to fight again so soon?" he asked, his voice vaguely admonishing. "I've stayed here this past day to ensure you live. Do not waste it."
I met his eyes squarely as I pulled a leather greave close.
"I have to take you to Jauffre," I said, strapping it on. "I'm hoping we won't get into trouble along the way, but hoping doesn't mean it won't happen."
Martin gave a slight shake of his head.
"I wondered if you were going to bring that up again," he said.
"I have to," I replied. "Jauffre thinks you're the only one who can stop this."
"I don't even know what 'this' is."
I gave a sigh and straightened, trying to work out in my mind how best to explain the situation.
"A few nights ago, Emperor Uriel and his sons were slain by assassins," I began. "It was a well planned strike. No one was ready for it, not even with the usual precautions." I paused again, still unsure how to explain his part in it.
"This is grave news," Martin replied, thinking I was finished. "But I fail to see how it involves me."
I looked up at him.
"Martin... You are Emperor Uriel's final heir."
He fell into stunned silence, his face frozen in disbelieving astonishment.
"Emperor Uriel Septim?" he said after a moment, incredulous. "You think the emperor is my father?"
"Martin, I know it must be difficult to believe, but––"
"No, you must have the wrong man. I am a priest of Akatosh. My father was a farmer."
"I know what it's like to find out your parents aren't who you thought they were, but please, you must listen. I have to take you to Jauffre."
Martin rose from his seat.
"No," he said. "It is you who must listen. There are people here who need me. Even if I am the emperor's son, I won't be dragged to court to play puppet to nobles who would use me, not when I can be of help here. I thank you for what you've done for Kvatch, but I can't go with you. I'm sorry." He turned to leave. I rose.
"Martin!" He paused, back to me, one hand lifted to draw back the tent flap. "I wouldn't take you from your home for something so petty. Not when your people needed you," I said. "But if you stay here, it won't solve anything. The daedra will keep coming for you. More invasions could occur. Kvatch might not be the only casualty."
There was a moment of silence.
"Are you saying the daedra attacked Kvatch because of me?" he asked. His voice was quiet, broken.
"With Uriel and his sons dead, we fear you're the only one with the power to relight the Dragonfires," I said. "The barrier between Tamriel and Oblivion is broken. You are the last threat to Mehrunes Dagon and his domination of the mortal realm. It... makes you a target, unfortunately."
Martin turned to face me, pain etched in every line of his face.
"So all this destruction, all this death," he said. "It is because of me? It is my fault?"
I shook my head.
"No, not your fault, Martin. You can't choose whose son you are, and you didn't choose this." He let his gaze fall from me, taking in, it seemed, the stool beside my makeshift bed and the grass around it. "Come with me to Weynon Priory," I said gently, feeling the need to draw him from his thoughts, whatever they may be. "You've done all you can for your people here. Now it's time to meet Jauffre and see what can be done for the rest of Tamriel."
He was quiet for a moment.
"You destroyed the Oblivion gate, they say," he said finally. "You gave them hope. Helped them drive the daedra back. Aided them when there was no reason for you to." He lifted his eyes to me once more. "Yes," he said. "I'll come with you to Weynon Priory and hear what Jauffre has to say."
I gave him a small smile, relieved and grateful.
"Go say your farewells," I told him. "I have to finish armouring up anyway, and there's no reason you shouldn't be allowed to say goodbye to your people. I'll wait." He nodded his head in agreement, and then stepped outside. I let my breath out in a long sigh, looking around me with hands on my hips. After a moment, I reached for my new Kvatch hauberk.
I decided to cut across country as I had done before. Although it wouldn't afford the protection the road gave with all its Legion soldiers patrolling it, I was uneasy taking Martin near people I couldn't be sure weren't the enemy. In addition, due to my little nap we'd already lost a day, and I wanted to make it up. As it was, it took us almost an extra day to reach our destination, exhausted as were, even with Shadowmere. The sun was almost ready to set as we trudged up the road to Chorrol, speaking of nothing of substance. I wanted to keep his mind off Kvatch and the new twist in his life.
"Look there," I said, pointing out the first glimpse of the priory through the trees. "Not far now." We had only gone a few more steps when Eronor came racing around a corner in the road, his limbs flailing and eyes wide with fright.
"Help!" he cried, and I drew my bow, looking for his source of fear. "You must help! They're killing everyone at Weynon Priory!"
"Hold on," I said, grasping his shoulder with my free hand to keep him from running past. I strained my ears for sound of approaching enemies as I watched the road with my peripheral vision. "Tell me what happened." He shook his head, hysterical.
"I don't know! I think they're right behind me! Prior Maborel is dead!"
"Who's attacking Weynon Priory?" I demanded, shaking him a little to return his attention to me. He swallowed and shuddered.
"I was in the sheepfold when they attacked," he began, only a little of the panic leaving his voice. "I heard the Prior talking to someone, looked around the corner to see who it was. They looked like travellers, ordinary. Suddenly weapons appeared in their hands and they cut down the Prior before he could move! They saw me watching and I ran."
"Where's Jauffre? Is he safe?" Out of the corner of my eye I saw Martin glancing around uneasily. I sensed the magicka he held at the ready. Eronor looked down as if trying to remember.
"I don't know. In the Chapel praying, I think." Desperation flooded his face again. "You must help us!" Voices sounded on the road ahead. He looked back fearfully.
"Take the side road to Chorrol," I told him forcefully. "Alert the Guard. Under no circumstances are you to be seen by the enemy, is that clear?" He nodded, and I released him. I gestured at Martin. "Take Martin with you," I added. He turned to the priest, but Martin shook his head.
"I would go with you," he said to me. "My abilities can be of use at the Priory." I frowned at him. What he said was true, but it was too risky.
I was about to refuse when Eronor gave a cry and cringed away, turning to dash down the road. An assailant in daedric armour bore down on us, and I nocked an arrow and let fly in one smooth movement. Whether or not the enemy was killed by my arrow or Martin's bolt of lightning I wasn't sure, but I glared at him as I retrieved my arrow from the still twitching body anyway. "Fine," I grudgingly agreed. "Come with me, but stay out of the way and don't get yourself killed."
The Priory was swarming with attackers, all wearing the same daedric armour, and Martin and I plunged ourselves into the fray without a second's hesitation. I heard a shout from my left and noticed Brother Piner fending off a group of three, and shot several arrows in the direction of his attackers, killing two of them. He took the opportunity to cut down his final assailant, and I turned to face my own. There was no need. A last roar from one of Martin's spells faded as the remaining attacker fell, and then it was over.
"Gods blood! They came out of nowhere!" Piner cried as he rushed to our side. "Have you seen Grandmaster Jauffre?"
"Eronor said he was in the Chapel," I informed him, and an expression of mingled relief and worry overcame him.
"Then we should check there for him," he said. "Come on!"
The sound of steel upon steel assaulted our ears as we pushed open the heavy door, and Piner dashed by me to come to the aid of his mentor. Jauffre was holding his own against three more of the attackers, but with Piner, Martin, and myself it was over in moments. I sighed and surveyed the mess as I counted my arrows. Jauffre sheathed his sword.
"You're back! Thank Talos!" he said. I shouldered my bow and faced him squarely.
"You're alright?" I asked. He nodded.
"Yes. I was praying in the Chapel when I heard Prior Maborel shout. It gave me just enough time to arm myself."
"Then those that are alive are safe. Good. You have the Amulet?"
Jauffre froze, worry lighting up his eyes.
"I keep it in a secret room in Weynon House," he said. I swore and turned about, making for the exit. Jauffre, Piner, and Martin fell into line behind me.
Inside Weynon House, Jauffre stepped ahead to lead us to the secret room, but he had little need to do so. The shelves that had hidden it from view had been overturned, and the door was wide open. Even as he reached a hand inside the drawer of the lone desk inside to retrieve the Amulet, I knew we had failed.
"They've taken it!" the grandmaster said. "The Amulet of Kings is gone!" I swore again, silently reminding myself that I needed to come up with a curse other than 'Oblivion take it', considering the circumstances.
"The enemy has defeated us at every turn," Piner said dejectedly. I shook my head.
"Not every turn," I said. I moved to where Martin stood uncertainly in the doorway, and placed and hand on his shoulder, guiding him deeper into the room. "Jauffre, Piner, meet Martin Septim."
"So it is you," Jauffre said, nodding. "You will forgive me, Sire, for not giving you a proper welcome considering the circumstances."
"Er, yes. No need," Martin replied awkwardly. Jauffre turned away and leaned forward, placing his hands on the desk as if to find strength in its unyielding grain.
"So it has not all gone against us. Thank Talos for that." He straightened, and faced us once more. "You cannot stay here, Sire," he announced. I frowned. "We have driven them off, but they will be back once they learn of your survival, which they will."
"If he can't stay here, where will he go?" I asked, anger colouring my tone. "He was supposed to be safe with the Blades. I didn't take him from Kvatch only to put him in more danger."
"Nowhere is truly safe against the power arrayed against us," Jauffre admitted. "But we must play for time, at least. We will go to Cloud Ruler Temple, the hidden fortress of the Blades, in the mountains near Bruma. A few men could hold it against an army."
"Bruma? You want us to travel, exposed, to Bruma? It was dangerous enough getting him here!"
"We have little choice. We should leave at once if we want to arrive by nightfall tomorrow."
I glanced back at Martin, who met my eyes tiredly. He was exhausted, I was exhausted, but Jauffre was right. There was little choice. Nowhere was safe, and we had to move quickly before the attackers – who I recognized to be of the same order as the assassins who murdered Uriel – could strike again. I sighed. Jauffre moved passed us, murmuring a 'Sire' and bowing his head. Brother Piner followed.
"I'm sorry," I said, turning to Martin. "I truly thought you would be safe here. I wasn't my intention to take you all over the province."
"The fault doesn't lie on you. You did what you thought best," he replied, his voice low and soothing as it always was. "Let's continue on to Cloud Ruler Temple. I haven't had a good night's sleep since Kvatch was attacked, and I'm sure you haven't either. It will be good for the both of us to have a safe place to rest." I watched him silently for a moment, and then heaved a heavy sigh.
"You're right. Let's go," I agreed.
Jauffre was waiting for us at the bottom of the steps, a bed roll and bundle under his arm, and he led us outside to the stables where we found two horses waiting for us, each saddled and bridled by the good Brother Piner. Jauffre and Martin were waiting for me by the time I had retrieved Shadowmere from the courtyard and settled myself.
"We'll take the Orange Road," said Jauffre, walking his horse over to me. "We'll be a little more exposed, but at least the Watch will be around to keep a check on the assassins, and we won't have to worry about getting lost. I know a place to make camp along the way, and, if we're lucky, we should arrive at Cloud Ruler Temple before the sun sets tomorrow." I shared a glance with Martin, and gestured for him to take his place behind Jauffre. With Uriel's heir safely between us, we set out.
I debriefed Jauffre on the situation at Kvatch and on what had happened there as we made our way. I was as gentle as I could, but I could tell my words brought back memories Martin didn't wish to remember. Afterwards, I trotted up beside the priest, allowing Jauffre to get a few steps ahead to gain some privacy.
"How are you doing?" I asked.
"I'll be fine once we reach Cloud Ruler Temple," Martin replied. "I just need some rest."
I lowered my eyes at his solemn tone, studying the roadside vegetation.
"I know what that's like. To be fine. To need rest."
He didn't reply, so we rode in silence for several minutes. Presently he turned to me, his eyes studying my face.
"After what you told me about the emperor and his Blades while we travelled to Kvatch, I was sure you were one. Jauffre tells me this isn't so," he said.
I shrugged.
"It's true. I'm not."
"So why are you doing this, then? Why endanger your life needlessly for me?"
I gave a short, humourless laugh.
"First off, I wouldn't say that saving your life put mine 'needlessly' in danger. Saving your life seems to be a pretty big deal right now. Also, I'm rather miffed about all the people those assassins have killed, and keeping you from them seems like a good way to get their armour all in a twist."
"You're not worried about them coming after you?"
I looked over at Martin, a teasing smile on my lips.
"Martin, if there's one thing you should know about me, it's that I'm very hard to catch." I held his gaze a moment longer, waiting for the worried frown on his face to ease a little – which it did – before facing forward again. "Also, danger to my life is of little concern to me. I'm the Champion of the Fighters Guild. If I didn't want danger, I picked the wrong career."
"So did your guild master send you to Jauffre, then?"
I shook my head, the memory of me lying to Modryn about my activities clear in my mind.
"No. Emperor Uriel did," I said. "I was there when he died. He gave me the Amulet of Kings and told me to find Jauffre, as Jauffre would know where to find you." I faced Martin again, my expression serious. "My being the Champion dictates that I offer my services to those who need them. You need them. My duty as a citizen of Tamriel dictates that I serve the Emperor when commanded. I have been commanded. But this is also my home, and there are people in it that I love and care for. Kvatch was enough. I had friends there, and good men from the Guild. I won't let these Oblivion-touched bastards take any more from me. That, and I..." I trailed off, looking away. That, and I want to be forgiven. If I save enough lives, does it balance the scale for how many I've taken?
"That, and...?" Martin prompted. I shrugged, not really wanting to answer.
"Nothing, really." When I turned and met his eyes, however, I found that I couldn't follow through with the lie. There was something of his father in his gaze, in his ability to make me want to be... more. Not a liar. Not a murderer. I sighed. "I haven't always been a wise person," I admitted. "I've made mistakes, done bad things. Most of them have hurt others. I think part of me believes that by saving you I can make up for some of them."
Martin looked forward and didn't say anything, and inwardly I wondered if I had said too much. I'd meant to comfort him with my show of determination, but perhaps telling him that I had a shady past hadn't been the best way to do it.
"I know what it's like trying to atone for something," he said, breaking the silence and pulling me from my thoughts. "I have also made mistakes in my past."
I regarded him solemnly for a moment, then cracked a grin and raised a teasing eyebrow at him.
"Oh, have you now?" I said. "That's it, no more imperial royalty for you. Everyone knows the Septims never make mistakes, especially that Pelagius fellow." I gave him a wink. Pelagius III, of course, was best known as Pelagius the Mad, and was rumoured to have defecated on the floor of his palace just to give the servants something to clean up. Martin gave a slight laugh.
"For a champion of the Fighter's Guild you seem to know quite a bit about history."
"I could say the same for you, priest. Let's just say I've read a lot of books." What I didn't tell him was that most of those books came into my possession by illegal means, and that I often made quite a good profit on them. Martin suddenly sobered.
"Am I really Emperor Uriel's son?" he asked. I nodded towards Jauffre.
"He would be the one to know. Apparently it was he who took you to your parents when you were a babe." Martin fell quiet again, and I looked down at my horse's mane, unsure of what to say. I had also been lied to about my parentage – I knew the feelings involved could be complicated.
"I'll leave you to your thoughts," I said, and dropped back to my former position behind him.
By midnight we were all nodding in our saddles, Martin especially, so we decided to make camp and settle down for the night. Jauffre and I took turns keeping watch, ignoring Martin's protests that he could do thus as well, and so it was with a measure of weariness that I watched the sun rise only a few hours later. I rose to wake Jauffre, and, shortly after that, Martin. The rest seemed to have done the priest little good, however, for the lines of fatigue and the dark bruises of exhaustion were still heavy under his eyes, and I wondered how much he had actually slept. We broke our fast on the few supplies Jauffre had prepared, and set out on our way again.
By the afternoon the cold walls of Bruma had appeared before us. We were on the road the enter the city, but, perhaps a mile or so from it, we turned onto the scrub beside it and began climbing the mountain nearby following a path even I was hard pressed to detect. It became a switchback trail as we climbed higher, reminding me unpleasantly of Kvatch. From the looks of it, Martin was feeling the same way. I trotted up beside him.
"What is it, my friend?" he asked as I slowed to match his pace, and I took a breath, revelling in the sensation of cold air filling my lungs while I tried to buy time to arrange my thoughts.
"I'm just wondering how you're doing," I answered after a moment. "This reminds me a lot of Kvatch; I was thinking it might be the same for you." Martin didn't look at me. Instead, he chose to keep his eyes fixed on the fortress looming above us. I felt like he was studying it.
"What happened at Kvatch was what happened at Kvatch," he said. "I'm old enough now to know not to dwell on things that cannot be changed, and it is as you said: now is the time to see what can be done for the rest of Tamriel." I didn't reply – I had nothing to say. Martin was surprising me at every turn. I had expected to be needed by him, to help him bear his burden of grief and death and sudden emperor-hood, but it simply wasn't so. He was so human, so embittered against the gods who betrayed him, yet he possessed the same strength that I had seen in Uriel – an emperor's strength.
I gave myself a mental shake. An emperor's strength? Honestly? I was getting soft and all… romantic. Ugh. I'd have to change that. Modryn would highly disapprove.
Martin and I may have spoken more, but it was then that we arrived at the top of the trail. Jauffre dismounted, Martin and I following suit. As we neared, the great gates of the fortress groaned outward, revealing a soldier garbed in full Blade regalia, as Baurus and Glenroy had been at the start of this adventure.
"Grandmaster," he asked. "Is this…?" His eyes flicked to Martin and Jauffre nodded.
"Yes, Cyrus. This is the Emperor's son, Martin Septim." Cyrus stepped forward, bowing deeply to Martin.
"My lord, welcome to Cloud Ruler Temple. We have not had the honour of an emperor's visit in many years!" It was obvious Martin was a little out of his element with the situation, but he took in a breath and stepped up to the challenge, performing admirably, if awkwardly.
"Ah, well, thank you," he said. "The honour is mine."
"Come," Jauffre said, guiding him in. "Your Blades are waiting to greet you." I followed the group silently up the grand steps, feeling a little out of place as I waited to the side while Jauffre led Martin past the two, orderly ranks of Blades to their head. There, they turned, facing everyone.
"Blades!" the Grandmaster began. "Dark times are upon us! The emperor and his sons were slain on our watch. The empire is in chaos, but there is yet hope. Here is Martin Septim, true son of Uriel Septim!"
The Blades around me drew their swords, raising them to the heavens as they cried out, "Hail, Dragon Born! Hail, Martin Septim! Hail!" When their shouting had finished, Jauffre turned to Martin.
"Your Highness, the Blades are at your command. You will be safe here until you can take up your throne." Martin seemed to take a moment to absorb this, and then, with sudden decision, stepped forward.
"Jauffre," he said, and then, to everyone, "all of you. I know you expect me to be Emperor. I'll do my best, but this is all new to me. I'm not used to giving speeches, but I… I wanted you to know that I appreciate your welcome here. I hope I prove myself worthy of your loyalty in the coming days. That's it. Thank you." Jauffre moved beside him, nodding approvingly.
"Well then, thank you, Martin." He turned his attention to the Blades, looking every inch their leader even with his greying hair and monk's robes. "We'd all best get back to our duties. Eh, Captain?" One of the men near the front nodded, and the soldiers dispersed. In the aftermath I made my way to Martin, who seemed relieved to see me.
"Not much of a speech, was it?" he said. He glanced around at the Blades. "Didn't seem to bother them, though. The Blades saluting me and hailing me as Martin Septim…" He shook his head, almost as if in disbelief. "I don't mean to sound ungrateful – I know I would be dead by now if it weren't for you, thank you – but everyone expects me to suddenly know what to do, how to behave. They want an emperor to tell them what to do, and I haven't the faintest idea."
"You did fine. I'm sure they understand," I said, trying to reassure him. I crossed my arms, absentmindedly rubbing my side that had been ripped open not long ago. "In any case, you know what needs to be done, so there's no reason to worry for now. The Dragonfires can't be lit without the Amulet, after all."
"Of course, the Amulet of Kings," he said. "So we" – he stopped and corrected himself – "I can take it to the Temple of the One and light the Dragonfires, and stop the Oblivion invasion."
I smiled at him, the half smile I gave when I was pleased but not enough to show it properly.
"See? You'll do fine as emperor," I said gently, quietly. Martin let his breath out with a shake of his head.
"The emperor… that's an idea that will take some getting used to." He straightened up, seeming to take strength from his next thought. "In any case, you are right: we need the Amulet first. Maybe Jauffre will know where to start." I was about to reply when a Blade walked up, his brown eyes gazing out from beneath the rim of his helmet.
"Your Majesty," he said, capturing Martin's attention and effectively cutting me off. "If you would like to come inside, I can show you to your quarters." The priest glanced at me, apologetic and with some uncertainty, and then nodded to the soldier. The man gave a bow, and then turned to lead the way. Martin paused beside me, hesitating.
"Don't worry about me, my friend," he said, noting my expression. "I'll be fine. Get some rest – we can worry about the Amulet later." He then stepped after the soldier, following him through the east door of the temple. I sighed as I watched them leave, wanting to go too. I had grown protective of Martin in the short time that I had known him, but I had no claim to him. He would be as safe with the Blades – if not safer – than he would be with me.
As I stood there, alone, the slight wind tugging infrequently at my hair, I felt a pang of loneliness. What was I doing here? I belonged with Modryn, with the other Fighters. I wasn't a Blade or a Legionnaire sworn to the service of the Empire. I wasn't some model citizen able to change the tides of fate. This... wasn't my place.
I wondered bitterly if this was all Uriel had wanted me to do. Had I just been a messenger after all? The Blades didn't need me – I had my uses, but they were spent. No one had come out to greet me. No one had offered me a place to stay. Perhaps it would be better if I just left.
Besides, Modryn could always use my help, and, if I was honest with myself, I still had my promise to keep to him. The promise I had been carrying out as I was captured by the Imperial Guard.
Yet if I abandoned Martin now…
Footsteps sounded behind me, and I turned to see Jauffre making his way towards me. In his hand he held one of the signature curved swords the Blades used, and I wondered what use he would have of it, seeing as he already carried his own blade sheathed on his back. He stopped in front of me, holding the sword reverently before him.
"You have proven yourself a loyal servant of the Empire," he said, and I stared at him in surprise. "As worthy as any of the Blades to stand by Martin's side during this crisis. As the Grandmaster of the Blades, I would be honoured to accept you into our order." He met my gaze solidly, his brown eyes boring into my own. "Will you join us?" I stood still, my eyebrows up in my hairline, not knowing exactly what to say.
Maybe no one offered me a bed, but Oblivion take it all if this wasn't an offer of gratitude.
"Jauffre, if you jest, it isn't funny."
"I am offering this opportunity in all sincerity, Sarasamacial. Baurus did well to send you to me, and I wish to offer some reward for the service you have already provided for the Empire."
I drew in a deep breath, staring at the sword held in his aged hand, weighing the pros and cons and trying my best to keep my excited feelings out of the way.
"What would be my duties as a Blade?" I asked slowly, keeping my eyes on the sword. I felt more than saw Jauffre nod, as if he sensed the reasons for my hesitation.
"The Blades are sworn to the service of the Emperor as the mortal representative of the Dragon Blood of the divine Talos." Amusement coloured his tone as he continued in his account. "You would be required to do little more than what you have already done. I am sure the work would be very similar to your Fighters Guild."
I lifted my eyes to meet the Grandmaster's, a wry smile on my face.
"Of course," I said. "Because fighting off assassins, finding long lost heirs, and trying to prevent Mehrunes Dagon from taking over Tamriel is a normal day's work in the Fighters Guild."
The corners of his mouth twitched up momentarily and laughter shone in his eyes, but the Breton said nothing, choosing instead to wait patiently for my answer. My attempt at distraction failed, I put a hand to my head, smoothing the hair there while I tried to collect my thoughts.
"I... I don't know Jauffre. This is a great honour – I mean, I can't even really believe your even thinking about giving it to me, but… I-it's not that I'm ungrateful or anything, it's just…" Gods, I wish Modryn was here. He'd know what I should say.
I looked up and met Jauffre's eyes.
"Jauffre, I'm a Fighters Guild champion, and, as admirable as that is, it's about the only honourable credit I've got to my name." I glanced away. "I don't want to be a part of something big – I mean, I want to be a part of this, of saving the Empire, but I'm not sure. I don't think I…" I don't think I fit in here. Not as a Blade. I've done too many horrible things to be one of the emperor's men. I always screw up.
"Sarasamacial, you are one of the most courageous warriors I have had the honour to meet. You have put your life in danger for no other reason than you believed it to be right. I have spoken to Martin about you, and he has told me of your actions in Kvatch. You didn't need to help Savlian Matius. You could have left with Martin long before you did." He caught my gaze unwillingly, offering me a mentoring, encouraging smile. "You are more suited to the Blades than you think."
I smiled uncertainly back, wanting to but not entirely accepting his words. My vision dropped to the sword resting between us, and, although I gazed longingly at it, I couldn't make myself pick it up. I wasn't ready to be a part of the Blades. I was barely able to hold on to the responsibilities – morally-wise – of the Fighters Guild. As much as I wanted it, I needed more time to adjust, to figure myself out. Besides, I couldn't abandon Modryn, not after all he'd done for me.
"I can see this is a difficult decision for you. Why don't you sleep on this and give me an answer when you are ready?"
I sighed, unhappy to disappoint him, but relieved at the same time. He reached out a creased hand to take mine, and pressed the hilt of the sword into my palm. I glanced up at him, startled.
"Jauffre, I can't…"
"If nothing else, think of it as your reward," he said, taking back his hand. "That is Akaviri steel – most would do more than aid Kvatch for a chance to get it."
I nodded, holding the sword reverently to my chest as a grateful smile touched my lips.
"Thank you, Jauffre."
He nodded and turned to the fortress, his arm gesturing at its majestic expanse.
"This fortress is well supplied with arms and armour," he told me. "Use what you need from the armoury in the east wing. There is a barracks in the west wing if you require rest, and if there is anything else you need I am sure one of the Blades will be able to help you." I murmured my understanding, and he continued. "As it is, we have no word of the Amulet or its whereabouts, so perhaps you should take some time to re-supply and familiarize yourself with the fortress while you can. You may not be a Blade, but I daresay you will be spending some of your time here."
I nodded, a small, determined smile briefly growing on my lips.
"I'm here for the Empire. Until this crisis is over, please think of me as one of yours."
"I will. I'll contact you if the situation changes," Jauffre replied, and with that he turned and made his way over to a pair of sparring Blades in the courtyard, calling out advice as he did so. I watched for a moment, and then, with a gleeful brush of my fingers against my new sword, headed into the fortress.
The Great Hall of Cloud Ruler Temple was dark and warm, a respite from the cold of the dying day outside. Strong, wooden pillars ran down the length of the room, holding up the high, vaulted ceiling, and, from the rafters in between, rows of Akaviri swords hung, their blades glistening in the light of the fire burning in the grand fireplace at the end of the hall. With a sudden pang of sorrow, I realized they were the arms of the fallen Blades, and I wondered briefly if Renault's and Glenroy's were there too. With lowered eyes I turned, making for the east wing.
It took me some time to explore all of Cloud Ruler. It was, without a doubt, one of the largest fortresses I'd ever seen. I wondered as I wandered through rooms – great hall, barracks, armoury, a small chapel, kitchen, storerooms, and many others – how such a fortress had remained hidden all this time. I had never even heard whisper of it in all my time as the Grey Fox, and how it was able to get its necessary provisions without attracting attention was beyond me.
After ascertaining the armoury held only heavy armour of no use to me and making the acquaintance of yet another Blade – Ferrum, his name – I took the steps leading up from it and found myself, to my great surprise, in a library. It was a rather warm and comforting place. Bookshelves lined the walls, tables and chairs were set out, red carpets covered the floor, and, at the far end, set away from the books, was an alchemy set. I took in a deep breath, revelling in the smell of the books and allowing a small bit of contentment to enter my heart. Home, for me, had always consisted of books and an alchemy set, whether it was in my small room at the White Stallion Lodge, my corner in the Guild common room, or my study in Rosethorn Hall. Vicente had been very adamant about my learning to read proficiently as a child (and as a consequence there was little that brought me as great a pleasure as a new book well written), and my taste for the alchemical arts, although initially fuelled by a desire to outmatch Lucien's poison apples, ran deep throughout me and sated an otherwise unquenchable desire to learn and create.
The smile that had grown on my face faltered. The Brotherhood. When I first left it, all I had wanted was, at alternating times, reunion and revenge. It had hurt so much to be betrayed, to be a loyal servant thought a traitor, and to be hunted like a man-eating animal. And being hurt had made me angry. But if there was one thing the Brotherhood had taught me, it was "survive first". So I had. I'd fled, and taken refuge in the ranks of the Thieves Guild. I learned, better than before, how to disappear into the shadows, how to move without leaving a trail of death behind me. I stopped dyeing my hair a nondescript brown as I had in the Brotherhood and let its bright colour hide me in plain sight. The pain of betrayal eased with time. I learned again to trust. Fulfilment ceased to come from the moment when I took a mark's life to the moment when I outwitted it, or, later again, when I defended or defeated it and returned to Modryn for commendation on a job well done. I learned to forget about the Brotherhood. I had been able to pretend it never happened. At least, so it had been until the massacre at Water's Edge. Now it haunted me again, as fresh as the day I had fled from Applewatch.
"You'll always be with me, won't you?" I said, dolefully reaching out to touch the worn spines of the books before me.
"Did you say something?"
I glanced up sharply, noticing now the still form of Blade sitting at the edge of one of the tables, an open book held loosely in his hands. I pushed down the flush of embarrassment that threatened to colour my cheeks, and was infinitely grateful that I had spoken aloud in my mother tongue of Bosmeri rather than Cyrodiilic.
"Oh, sorry. Just reading the titles. Didn't realize anyone else was in here," I lied. I forced away all thought of the Brotherhood.
"Ah. It's no trouble," the Blade replied. He frowned at me for a moment, as if trying to distinguish my features in the fading light. "You're the one who save Martin, aren't you?" he said. I nodded and crossed the distance between us as he rose, offering his hand. I smiled as I took it, pleased by his firm grip.
"I'm Sarasamacial," I said. "Or, if we're being formal, 'Champion Sarasamacial of the Cyrodiil Fighters Guild'. Pleased to make your acquaintance."
The man gave a grin, small, but sincere.
"The pleasure's mine," he said. "Since we're being formal, I suppose I'm 'Knight Brother Achille of the Blades'."
I smiled and kept his gaze a moment longer, then glanced down at the book he had been reading.
"Mixed Unit Tactics," I said, raising the cover enough just to read the title.
"Offended?" he asked, his tone half teasing, half goading, and I smiled again and shook my head.
"Not really. I suppose I should be, seeing how it is a documentary of my people's humiliating defeat at the hands of the Khajiit, but what can I say?" I lifted my eyes to his, crossing my arms over my chest as I leaned my weight on one hip. "I'm really an awful patriot. I don't quite understand why Jauffre wants me as an ally." Achille shook his head with a soundless laugh, reaching over to touch the soft pages as he turned through them.
"Rumour has it Kvatch was liberated because of you," he told me, finally pausing in his browsing on an illustrated page. "Maybe that's why."
I unfolded my arms, straightening.
"It really is only a rumour. I wouldn't have gotten anywhere without Savlian Matius and the rest of his guard." I quieted, remembering the broken, bloodied faces of his soldiers as I left the city. Only Merandil and Ilend had survived besides their captain. It had been a sore day for Kvatch's Watch. I lifted my eyes from where they had rested on the illustration, forcing a smile as I met Achille's gaze. "Anyway, I'll let you get back to your book," I said. "I'm sure Jauffre will have your head if you can't recite it from memory by the time he comes to have his report."
Achille gave an amused snort, but flipped the book back to its previous page.
"It was nice to meet you," he said politely but warmly. "I look forward to working with you in the future."
"The feeling's mutual," I answered with a bob of my head, and then I continued past him to take stock of the quality of the alchemy set.
I passed the remainder of the evening caring for my equipment, brewing poisons and potions to replace those lost at Kvatch, and otherwise preparing for whatever strange events my life could throw at me in the next few days. I succeeded in gaining the respect of several of the Blades by demonstrating my archery skills, although when I went to spar with them we had a good laugh at my expense. I had never claimed to be a swordsman, and I told them as much when Caroline went to help me up off the ground after Pelagius had felled and disarmed me in one clean stroke. It felt good to be building a rapport with them.
I didn't see Martin at all, however, not even at the evening meal. Afterwards, a little concerned, I set out to find him, visiting first his quarters in the Imperial Suite in the west wing and then the small, plain, one room chapel at the back of the fortress. Not sure where else to look, I returned to the library to do a final check on a potion I had left to cool. When I opened the door I was surprised to see him there, sitting in near darkness, his head bent over a book illuminated by the low light of a pair of candles.
"Martin?" I called gently as I entered, not wanting to startle him. He glanced up, his eyes focusing on me in that 'my mind has been absorbed in something else' way, and I immediately felt bad for bad for bothering him. "Sorry," I said, closing the door behind me. "I didn't want to startle you."
"No it's... it's fine." He sat back in his chair, staring down with a sombre expression at the dimly lit pages before him. I crossed over to him, plucking a candle from one of the tables between us as I did so. Placing it near him, I summoned a little magic and lit the wick, secretly proud of myself for being able to manipulate it so delicately.
"I didn't realize you could use magic," he said quietly, eyes on the candle flame. I smiled softly at him as I leaned against the table, the new candle adding just enough light to properly illuminate the page he'd been reading.
"'Can' is the key word," I replied cheekily. "A bit of flame or a touch of healing is within my grasp, but ask for anything extensive and I'm afraid I fall rather short. Most of what I know is just tricks I picked up to make my work easier and a little less dangerous. There's merit in knowing how close your own wounds."
"Ah. I take it you mean your work for the Fighters Guild."
"For the most part, yes." I straightened and pulled a chair out, sitting on the other side of the table's corner from him. "What about you?" I asked. "You worked some pretty impressive magic back at Weynon Priory, not to mention saving my life. You study with the Mages Guild?"
A shadow passed over Martin's face briefly as he rested his elbows on the table, clasping his hands together before turning his gaze to mine.
"I studied with the Guild for some time when I was young," he said, "but that was many years ago."
"So what happened?" I asked. "I'm assuming something happened. Most people don't go from being mages to priests of Akatosh on a whim."
He gave a small laugh.
"No, not on a whim. You are right." He fell quiet as his eyes lowered to the table before him. "When we were travelling from Weynon Priory you mentioned you had made mistakes," he said. "I have also made mistakes. I... know more than I want to about the seductive power of daedric magic. Let's just say that becoming a priest of Akatosh was a result of my search for atonement, and leave it at that."
I looked away, sobered by his confession. I, of all people, knew that who a person was and who a person had been could be two completely different things. I shouldn't have been surprised. There was more sadness, more wisdom, more knowledge in Martin's eyes than a simple priest's. Not that I knew many priests to be sure, but it only took a moment of sharing their gaze to know.
"So all this time you've been letting me walk around beside you, never letting me know what kind of person you are," I said, my voice low and serious. "A daedra worshipper. I can't believe this. I'm so unbelievably––!" I glanced at him. He was staring resolutely at the candle flame, looking as if he'd expected this sort of disapproval and disgust. I took a deep breath and finished my sentence. "––embarrassed." Martin blinked and frowned, looking up to see me with a teasing half grin on my face. "Oh, yes. You're the worst kind of person," I told him. "To let a woman run her mouth off for two days about all the things you already know... Dragonfires and Mehrunes Dagon and barriers between Tamriel and Oblivion... simply unthinkable. I daresay my pride will never recover."
He looked rather astonished for a moment, and then he shook his head with a small smile, recovering himself.
"My apologies, friend," he said. "I didn't realize it would cause you so much distress."
"We women have our delicate sensibilities," I explained, sitting straight and feigning haughtiness for a moment before collapsing with a grin into a more comfortable, elbows-on-the-table slouch. "In all seriousness though, Martin, and to change the subject... I came here looking for you. I was worried. You weren't at supper."
"I know. I had it brought to me in my quarters."
"Any reason why?"
"I was reading."
I sat back in my chair, the half smile back on my lips.
"So not only do you spurn my pride by allowing me to be the utter fool, but you snub me in front of your subordinates for a book? And left me alone with Jauffre, no less? How horrible."
Martin gave another small laugh, but it was a laugh that was tinged with sadness and only flashed in his eyes for a brief moment. I let my smile fade.
"The library here is better than any library I've had access to in some time," he said. "I wanted to see if I could find any information on the Oblivion gates opened at Kvatch. What I saw there… Everything I know about daedric magic says that such stable portals are impossible. Yet those gates to Oblivion existed. The old rules no longer apply. As you said, Kvatch is only the beginning of what Mehrunes Dagon will do. If the Amulet is truly the key to restoring the barriers between our world and Oblivion, we must waste no time in recovering it. And I can't sit idly by while I wait for it to happen. I must do something."
His eyes dropped to the open book before him, and I watched him in the flickering candlelight for a moment before speaking.
"You're very loyal to your people," I said, reflecting on my memories of his reluctance to leave those in need. "I didn't expect to find someone as level-headed and determined as you in the future emperor. I thought you would be spoiled, or, at best, whiny, to put it bluntly. I'm glad that you're not. It feels, well... It feels good to be going into this battle with you at my side. I know you'll do your best."
"I don't know what to say. Thank you."
I rose, giving him a soft smile.
"It's all true. Now, make sure you get some rest. You'll need your strength for the days to come, as will we all."
He said nothing as I turned, checked my potion, and made for the exit, but I felt his eyes upon me until I passed through the door.
I woke the next morning to the changing of the watch. Although it was dark in the barracks, my internal clock told me that day had already broken, and I berated myself for sleeping so late. Rising with the other Blades, I dressed, donned my armour, broke my fast, and made my way outside to greet the new day. I didn't see Martin anywhere, but I assumed that if he wasn't in his quarters he was in the library, and I didn't want to bother him so soon after last night.
I was just setting about searching for a way to send a letter to Modryn when Jauffre approached me, worry in his eyes. I turned to meet the grandmaster, hand on my hip.
"Something wrong, Jauffre?"
The old man's face was older this morning, and he nodded in reply.
"It has been over a week since the emperor's death, and yet Baurus has not returned to us or sent news," he said. "I'm beginning to worry for him. He would not take the emperor's death lightly, and I'm afraid that he is trying to hunt down the assassins himself, to atone for the emperor's death."
"He did seem quite upset about it. You really think he'd be so rash?" I asked.
"Baurus in one of the youngest Blades to ever serve in the emperor's personal guard, and I'm afraid sometimes his age shows," Jauffre explained. "I would ask one of my own to go search for him, but I need every hand here to ensure Martin's safety. I apologize for asking this of you so soon after Kvatch."
I shook my head in reply, brushing away his concern.
"I told you to treat me as one of your own, Jauffre, and I meant it. If you want me to go search for Baurus, I will. Besides, I owe him a debt of sorts. I would still be rotting in an Imperial Prison cell if it weren't for him and the others."
"Yes, and I meant to speak to you about that," he said. "But now is not the time." He gave a sigh. "You may find Baurus at Luther Broad's Boarding House in the Elven Gardens district of the Imperial City. The Blades often frequent there to exchange information in an inconspicuous manner." I nodded my understanding and began to pack up my things, slipping them over my shoulders and securing them properly. The grandmaster was quiet for a moment, and then suddenly spoke up. "If you find Baurus, give him my warm regards. Tell him he should not blame himself for the emperor's death. He did well to send you to me."
I smiled at him gratefully, heartened by his words, and secured the final strap on my quiver.
"I will. Have no fear of that. Say farewell to Martin for me – make sure he sleeps. I get the feeling he's one of those who stops whenever he has something on his mind."
A slight grin lifted the corner of Jauffre's lips, and he waved his hand in accord before turning away to attend to his other duties. I quickly went through my own mental checklist, going over the things I would need for my travel, and then set about the fortress to begin my preparations.