A/N: Thanks to Ozymandeos and CampsMcCamper for your reviews since the last chapter! I should put up a 'warning' for this chapter - this is pretty much the point where my version of Tribunal starts to differ from the game's version. Some major changes, some minor. But I hope everyone will stick around with the story regardless! And feedback is great, since I haven't really taken game events into my own hands before I'd like to know if I'm doing an okay job.
Chapter 4: A Rock and a Hard Place
"Don't be ridiculous," Llovesi said, laughing shakily. She went to Julan's side and took the rolled parchment from his hands, reading it quickly.
"There could be hundreds of people in Mournhold with 'H' as an initial. Not just in Mournhold, but in the whole of Almalexia."
"Yes," Julan said, "but he did say 'my liege'. We both heard him."
"Fine," Llovesi said, dropping the parchment and staring at Julan. "But it doesn't make any sense. Why would King Helseth want to kill me?"
"Maybe he sees you as a political opponent? You are the Nerevarine after all. You know what they say about Helseth and his political opponents..."
Llovesi gave Julan a pointed look. "No, I don't. I've kept my political focus close to Vvardenfell and you know that. He's only been King for a few months, hasn't he? I remember his coronation... and they're saying things about him already?"
Julan shifted uncomfortably. "It's not what I know so much... haven't you ever read A Game at Dinner? Could've sworn I'd lent it to you when it came out. It was one of my mother's fav–"
He stopped abruptly.
"Yes," Llovesi said gently. "Never mind all this Helseth business. Let's remember what we came for. And now we have avenged your mother, I think we should leave."
She picked the scroll up again.
"If Helseth has a problem with me then we can deal with it through Duke Vedam Dren. I'm sure he'd be interested to see this contract, whatever he thinks of me. But for now, I don't care."
She took her amulet of Almsivi Intervention and threw it over both their necks.
"Let's go home."
They appeared into warm twilight in front of the Temple of Mournhold. Llovesi tucked the amulet back into her cuirass and looked up at the building behind them.
It looked as if someone had placed an elegantly curved shell in the midst of a pleasant green courtyard. An incredibly large shell, with two spires rising up to the heavens, whose twilight colouring cast pink-purple hues onto its white surface.
Llovesi and Julan started walking down the flight of steps towards the Royal Palace, which was just as striking in its difference–tall and imposing as well, yet angular, sculpted, green. A form of unyielding stone compared to the subtle, almost organic nature of the Temple.
Does Almalexia hide in that Temple? Llovesi thought as they walked through the gates to the Palace Courtyard. Does she hide away from the world like Vivec in his Palace?
They entered the Reception Hall, and were glad to see Effe-Tei was still there, sitting on a wooden bench reading.
"You're definitely not interested in confronting... him at all then?" Julan whispered as they crossed the hall.
Llovesi hesitated. "I know it's his fault your mother died. But he didn't order her death, he ordered mine. We've dealt with those directly responsible. We can take care of any political issues when we're back in Vvardenfell. Let's go home and live our lives. The last thing Mashti told me was that, when I made you happy, she was happy. We'll go and make each other happy, Julan. Ah, Effe-Tei. Good evening sera, we're looking for transportation back to Vvardenfell."
The Argonian looked up from his book and licked his lips.
"I'm afraid I can't do that," he whispered.
Llovesi frowned. "What do you mean, you 'can't do that'? If it's too late then I suppose we can come back in the morn–"
"No, you don't understand. I'm sorry." He raised his voice suddenly. "Guards! Guards!"
There was a thundering of metal boots on stone, and suddenly someone grabbed Llovesi roughly from behind.
"You have violated the law, Llovesi, and are under arrest."
Llovesi heart jumped into her mouth, and she twisted violently, but her captor's steely grasp dug into her arms with no release.
"On what grounds?" she snarled. "You do not know who you're dealing with! Release me at once!"
By her side Julan was also caught by a guard, and was struggling and swearing.
"I'm afraid not. We have orders to take you and your accomplice directly to Captain Tienius Delitian. Should you resist arrest, we have orders to kill you on the spot. What'll it be?"
They were marched through the Palace, their arms twisted painfully behind their backs. Llovesi blinked back furious tears. If this was some ploy of Helseth's to humiliate her because his assassins had failed... Well, perhaps she would change her mind about confronting him. King of Morrowind be damned.
Finally, the guard in front opened a door and pushed them inside. It slammed behind them. Llovesi rubbed her arms and glanced at the room around them. It looked like the mess hall of the guards' quarters. At least, it smelt like one. There were overflowing chests, shelves piled high with papers, benches with faded cushions. A pot of something unidentifiable bubbled over the fire. And, sitting at the long table in the middle of the room, casually buttering a slice of bread, was an Imperial man with neat brown hair, dressed in the Royal Guard armour.
He glanced up at their arrival, but didn't have a chance to move before Llovesi had run over to the table and slammed her fists upon it.
"What is the meaning of this?" she shouted. "We've committed no crime! Tell me what is going on!"
Tienius Delitian looked at her hands as if they were sullying his table, and carefully laid his bread and knife down.
"Sit," he said.
"I–"
"Sit. And your husband too. Julan, isn't it?"
How does he know that? Llovesi sat down cautiously opposite him, Julan pulling out the chair next to her.
"Llovesi Kaushibael, you are under arrest for conspiracy to kill the king."
Llovesi mouth nearly hit the table. Then shock was replaced with boiling anger.
"That's not true! He's the one that trying to kill me! That's why you've dragged me here, isn't it? Because your assassins failed!"
She threw the contract onto the table. Tienius Delitian gave it a cursory glance, then took it and ripped it slowly into little pieces. He spoke as he was doing so:
"I won't pretend I don't know about this. Of course, I'll deny it publicly. All I'll say publicly is that you were seen heading into the sewers to employ the services of the Dark Brotherhood–there are witnesses–and I'll assure you that we have a number of documents proving your intent."
"What about me?" Julan growled. "I'm a witness to the fact you tried to have her killed! Your hired thugs killed my mother instead!"
Delitian glanced at him. "You're her husband. You're bound to support her. The death of your mother is... regrettable, but I am not at a liberty to discuss the King's intentions at this stage. All that remains now is the matter of your sentence. Conspiracy to kill the King is treason, and punishable by death." He drummed his fingers lightly on the table. "Unless..."
"Unless what?" Llovesi snapped.
"Unless you were willing to perform a few services for our King. To prove your loyalty. Then I'm sure we'd find out that this has all just been a misunderstanding."
"I'm not some errand-girl to be bossed around," Llovesi said. "I would have thought I'd earned some respect by now."
"Perhaps on Vvardenfell. But all you are in my eyes, at the moment, is an unrepentant criminal. Let me make this simple for you. You refuse, you walk out of here, and there is a bounty on your head. You may be able to take down a gang of unprepared assassins but you will be no match for King Helseth's personal guard, I assure you. Or, you can prove your worth to the King, and earn your freedom. In time."
He sat back in his chair and laced his fingers over his breastplate, apparently satisfied.
Llovesi balled her hands into fists. He had her between a rock and a hard place. The goal had never been her death, had it? Helseth had just manipulated her into coming to Mournhold–but what for? Or maybe he just wanted to humiliate her because she had continued to survive.
"If I say yes–if–what would you have me do?"
"You can start by talking to the people of Mournhold. There are rumours among the people about King Llethan's death. Rumours that Athyn Llethan did not die a natural death. There's no truth to them, of course. Speak to the people about King Llethan's death, and find the source of these rumours."
"You want me to be your spy? Because I'm not one of your hired thugs and people will trust me?" Llovesi crossed her arms. "If I'm going to betray people's confidences, I want to know the truth. Did Athyn Llethan die a natural death?"
Tienius Delitian stared at her.
"That's a silly question. I don't like silly questions. There is absolutely no evidence to suggest that Athyn Llethan died anything but a natural death. I assure you. Absolutely no evidence. Now, will you do this?"
"Doesn't seem like I have a choice. If I don't, you'll kill us... If I do..."
If I do, maybe I find out a bit more about this Helseth who apparently wanted me dead. This Helseth who killed my mother-in-law.
"Fine," she said, "I'll do it."
"Good. Report to me when you've learned the source of the rumours about King Llethan's death. Oh and, Llovesi," he added as they stood to go. "The guards have your description. Try to leave the city, you or Julan, even to go into outer Almalexia just for a bit, and our deal will be forgotten. Have a pleasant evening."
All the guest houses and hostels in Godsreach were full, apparently with vacationers visiting the city, but they managed to find a room in the Winged Guar. Llovesi stood by the window, breathing in the night air, but she still felt trapped. Julan held her from behind, bringing a little comfort. It was amazing how she could have ever found this city beautiful. Sure, it was cleaner than Vvardenfell, the buildings more ornate, and it seemed all the citizens wandered around in the most fashionable cuts and colours of clothing, but it was to be their prison.
She sighed, and shut the window, but the scent of the flowers lingered on.
The next day, Llovesi had made up her mind. She was heading straight to a bookstore. If there was one thing she'd learnt from her early days in the Blades, it was the value of researching your enemies. If you can't beat them, join them; if you're forced to join them, learn about them.
They wandered though Plaza Brindisi Dorom in the early hours of the morning. People were just beginning to stir and coming to enjoy the park. Llovesi felt removed from them. They had chosen to be here after all, to sit in the shade of the trees, to listen to the fountain. They joined the crowd of early shoppers heading into the Great Bazaar. The store holders in the covered market were already hawking their wares.
"Fresh fruit, straight from the orchards!"
"Spices, jewels, come and sample the treasures of Mournhold."
"A dress for you, muthsera?"
"New swords, new shields for the adventurers, repairs done too!"
There's always a strange contrast, Llovesi though, as they dodged an enthusiastic seller, between all this colour and excitement, and the piety of the temple. Same in Vivec.
Because all round the stalls the High Ordinators were keeping a stiff eye on proceedings. The Royal Guards patrolled too, although more than a few looks of animosity crossed between them and the Ordinators.
They passed a small outdoor theatre where a richly dressed actor was regaling the crowd with stories of Mournhold's glorious past.
"Mournhold, City of Light! City of Magic!"
One of the people in the crowd around the theatre gave them directions to a bookseller's.
"Sanaso Sarothran, sera, you won't find better in the whole of Almalexia!"
They followed the directions, and soon they were entering another green marble building, cool and airy on the inside, despite the shelves upon shelves of old books. A Dunmer man was leaning on the counter reading.
"Ser Sarothran?" Llovesi asked, confused, as Julan turned to examine the books on the shelves. She was sure Sanaso was a woman's name.
"She had to step out; I'm watching the shop. The name's Bedal Alen, sera. How may I be of assistance?" He spoke in that melodic way that all mainland Dunmer seemed to have, barely a hint of a rasp in their voices so far from the ash of Vvardenfell.
"We're tourists here, looking to learn more about the history of Mournhold, its Royal family–anything you have really."
"Hmm, let me see," Bedal rolled up his robe sleeves and headed to a nearby shelf.
"Well, many would argue that to truly get a hold on our new King A Game at Dinner is essential. I never understood how it got published when it appeared a few months ago, but it appears the King and the Queen Mother actually started the publication process themselves. A short biography on Helseth, and you should also have the Biography of Queen Barenziah–"
"Not The Real Barenziah?" Julan asked, eyeing the volumes Bedal was pulling from the shelves.
"Ah," the man said, carefully placing the pile of books on the counter. "Of course officially the sale of that book is only on agreement of the Temple. Unofficially..."
He reached below the counter.
"I do happen to have the uncensored set. I can't sell them to you, but I'm happy to let you borrow them for a while. If you have any questions, I've heard the author actually spends his time around the Royal Court. Apparently he has managed to cultivate a friendship with the Queen Mother. Now, have On Mournhold, a short touristic guide to the city, and The History of Almalexia, which is far more in depth."
He set the books with the others on the counter.
"Does three hundred and fifty septims seem fair?"
Llovesi counted out the money and hoisted the books into her arms.
"Don't worry," she said catching Bedal's eye. "These muscles were made for carrying large amounts of books."
"You're not just tourists, are you?" he asked, his eyes drifting to her scars.
"Not exactly. Many thanks for your help, sera."
Plaza Brindisi Dorom was slowly filling up with young families and raucous teenagers, so Llovesi and Julan found a shady spot in the relative quiet of the Temple gardens.
A Game at Dinner was a short story bound into a handsome leather cover. Llovesi read it through a couple of times, then snapped it shut. So Helseth was a poisoner. Perhaps. Even if the book's story wasn't true, he still seemed eager to cultivate that reputation. A man who could teach Molag Bal how to scheme... And now, just a few short months after the book was published, Prince Helseth of Wayrest was King Helseth of Morrowind.
She turned to the biography, while Julan read The Real Barenziah with round eyes.
"She was incredible! All the things she's done... "
"Maybe not counting her son," Llovesi said, opening On Mournhold.
Julan's face darkened. "You can say that again."
They hadn't properly discussed Mashti's death. In many ways, they didn't need words to express the feelings that went between them. And it had only been a few days, too soon to attempt to come to terms with it, especially given the new and sudden developments in the situation. Llovesi was now nearly sure that Mashti's murder had been an accident, it could have been anyone near to her, killed to incite her into coming to the city. It could have been Julan. She pushed the hideous thought from her mind. Accident, contrived coincidence, whatever it was, Heselth would answer for this callous manipulation, and she would find out why he really wanted her in the city.
A polite cough interrupted them. An old Dunmer, dressed in dirt and grass-stained clothes with his white hair swept back from his face, gestured politely to the bush behind Llovesi with his shears.
"If you'd be so kind muthsera, just need to do my pruning."
"Of course," Llovesi swept the books into her arms and stepped out of the way. "So, you're the gardener here?"
"Aye, that I am." The man set to snipping leaves off the bush. "Planted most of this meself. All the trees and plants, tended lawns and paths, are hymns of praise to Almalexia's name. It's humble work, sera, but I'm very proud of it."
"You should be." Llovesi glanced around the gardens, all carefully mowed lawns, green trees, arranged flowers and pruned shrubs. Then it occurred to her that such a labour of love must have taken quite some time to perfect, and he must have seen many changes...
"Have you worked here long?"
"Aye, must be nigh on fifty years now, and my wife keeps the Temple clean. The name's Ayvyn Varis, though most folks call me Gee-Pop and her Granny. And where do you hail from sera?"
"Vvardenfell. I'm here with my husband. Llovesi, and Julan." She nodded at Julan, still engrossed in his book. "We're here on holiday."
"Oh, I see. Yes, you have a touch of the old 'Vvardenfell rasp' as we call it. Still that's right nice. You picked a good time to come. Well, for the weather at least."
"Oh?" Llovesi leant inwards. Gee-Pop had stopped his pruning, a vaguely clouded look covering his face. Perhaps he would have the answers she needed. "Why is that? What's wrong? I've heard rumours. Is it... King Llethan's death?"
Gee-Pop glanced from side to side, then nodded almost imperceptibly. "He was old. But not that old. I'm far older, and it'd take me than a stiff breeze to knock me down. Maybe he just died, like they said. But maybe someone helped him along. And it's right worrying to me, so it is. May his spirit rest among his ancestors. Of course, he was King in name only. You know we Dunmer do not, and never have, submitted to kings like the Westerners, no matter what the Empire says."
"So do people really think he was, well, murdered?" Llovesi asked, raising her eyebrows as high as possible.
Gee-Pop checked the area around them again, then reached into his pocket and pulled out a grubby piece of paper from his pocket.
"Found this when I was sweeping the steps yesterday, look."
It was a broadside sheet, and printed in bold letters across the top were the words 'The Common Tongue'. Then in smaller letters 'Issue no. 2', and a subtitle: "A poet can have no higher purpose than to tell the truth about the human condition. - Lord Vivec". But the headline of the main story jumped out at Llovesi: 'Mysteries of the West'.
"It says in that article," Gee-Pop said, "that Helseth poisoned hundreds of people when he was in the West, so why not here? I'm sure they'd be inclined to agree over at Llethan Manor. And to tell you the truth, it's got us all worried. We don't have Kings, so a puppet one is just fine. But this Helseth, he seems ambitious. He's got ideas like, and if he's not afraid to bump off others to get his own way... we're headed for change. Not sure if for the best."
He glanced around again, then stowed his shears in his pocket.
"I've said too much. Helseth is King. Long live the King. If you'll excuse me, sera. Have a pleasant stay." He nodded to her and Julan, who'd put his book down and was standing up, then hurried away in the opposite direction.
Llovesi looked back at the paper's headline article.
"I have a little list. They never would be missed..."
Julan came to read over her shoulder.
"Appearing at the top–three names–Anhar, Khajiit male, Martyrius Arruntius, Imperial male, Jusole Asciele, Breton male. What do these three names have in common? All three at one time or another represented an inconvenience to a Western noble prince named Helseth."
There followed a description of what had happened to each man. Every time, it was noted, the coroner had ruled a natural death.
"Some have quietly suggested that Prince Helseth was the most accomplished and subtle poisoner in the West. But The Common Tongue has never seen a scrap of evidence that would prove such an indictment. (Admittedly, the absence of such proof could count as qualifying towards the titles of a 'most accomplished and subtle poisoner'.)
"And further, The Common Tongue does not wish to suggest that King Helseth is a poisoner, or that the recent death of King Athyn Llethan's was a poisoning, and not a natural death. The Common Tongue has never seen a single scrap of evidence that would prove such an indictment. And the Imperial coroners have ruled that Aythn Llethan died a natural death."
"Son of a scamp," Julan whispered. "He did it! He killed his great-uncle so he could be King!"
"Something doesn't add up though," Llovesi said, glancing at her copy of A Game at Dinner. "He must know he has this reputation. So, why send me to find out about these rumours?""
"Delitian wanted the source. Looks like you're holding it in your hands."
Llovesi folded The Common Tongue away. "And that's all he'll get. I won't give him the satisfaction of knowing that poor old man's name as well."
A few more unanswered questions niggled in the back of Llovesi's mind. Why does Helseth even care about these rumours?
And why does he want me to find them out?