Chapter 20
Favor
Telepe watched from the entrance of a secluded glade just outside of Nenalata as the rising sun peeked through the dense trees. The golden morning light illuminated the warriors that Perrif had selected to travel across Cyrod to secure Sancre Tor. One hundred men and women – ninety infantry and ten scouts – were gathered in the clearing in a loose square formation. The Paravant wandered between the rows, speaking softly to each warrior in turn, offering quiet words of encouragement or thanks for their service. Some Telepe recognized on sight – Plontinu, Pasare, and a few others who had taken part in the battle in the undercity of Morahame – while others were unfamiliar to him, but had apparently impressed their centurions enough to earn a recommendation to join the expedition.
Footsteps rustled through the underbrush behind him, and Telepe warily glanced over his shoulder. His hand dropped to his new sword, momentarily worried that the guards had failed to detect an unwanted intruder, but he relaxed when he saw Prince Dynar approaching him, dressed in a loose green chiton and wearing a shortsword on his hip. The Ayleid greeted him with a friendly nod as he came to stand beside Telepe, folding his arms over his chest.
"These are the Paravant's best?" Dynar asked conversationally.
"Indeed. Do you have any thoughts on our choices?" Telepe asked, glancing at the prince out of the corner of his eye while keeping most of his attention on the assembled army.
"I'm not in a position to judge," Dynar admitted. "You're far more familiar with these men than I. Do you believe they'll succeed?"
"It doesn't matter if I do or not. We must succeed, or we die," Telepe replied grimly.
"That's… certainly one way to put it," Dynar chuckled mirthlessly. After a moment of silence, a genuinely amused smile crossed his face, and he added, "They don't seem pleased."
"Can you blame them?" Telepe pointed out, smirking. "Awoken before dawn, told to remain silent and follow their centurions, and ordered to leave their arms behind, all without any explanation? I'd be irritated too."
The warriors were all dressed only in loose chitons, and all were virtually unarmed, though some had at least opted to bring a belt knife. For the sake of security, they had not yet been informed of Morihaus' scheme to take Sancre Tor. There were rumors in the streets of Atatar that something was happening, but hopefully any spies in the city would be unable to learn anything useful, other than the fact that it involved the Paravant's best warriors. That alone might arouse suspicion, but the full extent of their plans would hopefully remain an enigma to their enemies.
"They'll know what we're doing soon enough," Telepe remarked. He shot the prince a sidelong glance and added, "I presume that your men are bringing our warriors' new arms along? It'd be a waste not to take advantage of your father's generous aid, after he opened the armory to them."
"Indeed. Though that's not all the aid he's chosen to offer," Dynar added. When Telepe turned to give him a curious look, he explained, "My father has decided that ten of his elite warriors shall accompany you on this journey. Myself included."
Telepe's eyes widened slightly. "I don't believe that's wise-" he began to protest.
"This journey shall be much easier with Ayleid assistance," Dynar explained calmly, folding his hands behind his back. "I shall serve as my father's representative abroad, to aid you in convincing the other Ayleid leaders about the benefits of joining this alliance. Hopefully, when they see that fellow Ayleids are benefitting from the Paravant's rebellion, other kingdoms shall be more amenable to joining, rather than fighting."
"Your father is allowing his heir to join us?" Telepe asked skeptically. "Does he not realize how dangerous this expedition is? How small our chance of success is?"
"A king is always in grave danger. What's more, with a counterattack from Umaril Many-Feathers possible, there's no guarantee I'd be any safer remaining in Nenalata," Prince Dynar countered. Then he smiled slightly. "Besides, I insisted. It took three days for me to persuade him. And the Paravant also agreed to allow me to accompany you." His smile faded, and he narrowed his eyes. "So please do not attempt to deny me. I should not have to convince you as well."
Telepe chuckled and held up his hand. "Please, my friend, I would not dare refuse the company of a prince. If you wish to join us in this madness… well, I'm certain Sheogorath is cackling with joy right now, watching yet another fool leap off the cliff with us."
Dynar blinked at his response, then burst out laughing. "Well, now all we can do is pray that what awaits us at the bottom of the cliff is water, rather than rocks," he remarked.
"Mm. That's a cheery image. Let's not pursue this metaphor further, shall we?" Telepe suggested, earning another laugh from the Ayleid prince.
Perrif finally stepped away from the last woman in line and looked to the south as deep rumbling and creaking noises echoed through the trees, which quickly became louder as something drew near. Telepe and Dynar both turned to see five covered wagons trundling down the narrow path into the glade, each pulled by four horses. Telepe noticed that the wagons were driven by particularly noble-looking Ayleids, whom he suspected were the elite warriors Dynar had mentioned. As the wagons slowed to a halt, ten servants – eight human and two elven – climbed out of the vehicles, carrying bundles of rough brown cloth. Telepe glanced over at the prince, who winked at him conspiratorially.
"We've provided everything we'll need, as promised," Dynar murmured.
"I'm certain you all are wondering what this plan entails," the Paravant announced, striding to the front of the century, and raising her voice so that her warriors could hear her. "Much of this journey shall involve you all posing as slaves. Your Ayleid 'captors' are taking you north, to sell you in distant kingdoms. While you are traveling, you shall wear the robes we are providing you," she added, motioning to the servants handing out the rough-spun garments. "Wear your arms and armor beneath them, for if our ruse fails and you are attacked, you shall need to fight at a moment's notice.
"Once you arrive at Sancre Tor, your commanders shall confer with each other and determine how to capture the city. While we have considered multiple possibilities, it shall fall to them to decide which is the most prudent at the time. The final decision shall be made by Centurion Edanu, the commander of this century." Perrif held her hand out to a portly, middle-aged Nedic man with a balding head of black hair and sharp grey eyes standing near the front of the formation, who nodded brusquely at the assembled warriors. Perrif, meanwhile, paused to pin Pelinal with her bright blue gaze, and then she caught Telepe's eye as well. Telepe responded with a slight nod of acknowledgement, whereupon her mouth twitched in a quick smile before she turned back to her warriors.
"The hopes of the rebellion rest on your shoulders. That is a heavy burden to bear, but you are the strongest, bravest warriors in our retinue. I am certain you can bear it. Trust in your arms, and trust in each other… and may the Divines smile on us all!"
The warriors responded with a short cheer, and then the centurions commanding the subdivisions of the army began herding the men towards their assigned wagons. Each wagon carried enough supplies to keep the men fed for weeks, which Telepe hoped would be enough, as Morihaus figured that it would take them over a month to reach Sancre Tor.
Telepe had initially been stunned by the man-bull's estimate. When he had pointed out that it had only taken him a couple weeks to travel the same distance, Morihaus had explained that a lone rider on horseback could travel much more swiftly than a wagon train. The man-bull had also assured him that the travel time was still quite short, since they were using horses to pull the wagons instead of oxen.
Telepe spotted Emero hitched to one of the wagons, which relieved him, as he had been worried that he would have to leave his loyal steed behind. Naturally, the horse was not pleased to be bound to the wagon, and he was snorting disdainfully at being treated like a pack horse. Nevertheless, despite his complaints, the horse waited obediently as the humans crowded around him.
"Such a menial station does not befit this noble beast," a voice growled a short distance away. Telepe glanced to his right and noticed that Pelinal was gazing at his own ivory stallion, which was pulling another of the wagons. "Would that I could ride it…."
"It would draw too much suspicion, uncle," another voice rumbled. Morihaus stepped out from behind one of the wagons, having accompanied them into the glade. "This is the only way we could provide you and the others with mounts if necessity demands them. A slave does not ride a horse."
"I should not be disguised as a slave," Pelinal spat. When Morihaus continued to gaze levelly at him, he sighed and grumbled, "I understand the necessity of it, of course. But this skulking about is unworthy of both myself and this fine steed."
"'I shall never accept any gift presented to me by an elf, least of all this wretched horse!'" Telepe muttered to Dynar, mocking Pelinal's initial complaint about Nenalata's king gifting him his horse. The prince snickered, covering his mouth as the white-haired knight's head snapped towards them and he glared furiously at the pair.
"Come now, I'm certain this journey won't be that horrible," Huna piped up from behind Pelinal. His young, handsome face bore a warm smile as he nudged the knight with his shoulder. "At least we can walk together."
"…A fair point, beautiful," Pelinal reluctantly admitted, reaching down to run his hand fondly through Huna's dark curls.
"Though… are you certain that I am finally ready to accompany you?" Huna added softly.
Pelinal hesitated for a moment, then exhaled and inclined his head. "I fear you would carve a swath through Cyrod yourself if I dared leave you behind," Pelinal admitted. "I shall continue to train you… but yes, my dear. I am proud to finally call you a true hoplite."
Huna's face broke into a wide grin, and he threw his arms around Pelinal, who laughed in delighted surprise and happily returned the embrace. Morihaus watched the pair with his arms folded over his chest, snorting through his golden nose-ring.
"It does ease my worries that you shall have another who cares for you watching over you in my stead, uncle," Morihaus remarked.
"Well, if we see to our task properly, you won't face any danger," a voice piped up from behind Telepe, startling him. He swung around to see Pasare and Tari standing behind him, the former smirking smugly. "It's our duty as scouts to guide you safely through the wilds, after all, and we intend to ensure he doesn't require protection, Huna."
"No… I suppose if I trust anyone to sense danger before it can threaten these others, it would be you, Pasare," Morihaus agreed softly.
Pasare's smile faded slightly at the sincere praise, and she looked away with an embarrassed cough. "You honor me, General."
"Which reminds me – I have not yet properly thanked you for saving me in Morahame," Morihaus added. "I had meant to do so earlier, but as I've been preoccupied preparing this expedition…."
"No thanks are necessary," Pasare insisted, growing increasingly flustered.
"I insist," Morihaus stated firmly. "Please, lend me your hand."
Pasare opened her mouth, then closed it and reluctantly held out her palm. The winged minotaur reached into a small pouch on his belt and withdrew a small, glimmering object, which he gently placed in the center of Pasare's hand. Telepe and the others leaned in to get a better look. She was holding a golden ring, capped with a small dove carved out of ebony. Pasare's eyes widened as she lifted the ring up to the early morning light to inspect it.
"This… this is beautiful," she murmured.
"That sigil was carved from my own Ebony Mail – the piece that was broken off when you warned me of that archer in Morahame, in fact," Morihaus explained. He instinctively ran his large hand over his black breastplate, which Telepe noticed had since been repaired. In a softer voice, Morihaus added, "By saving the son of Kyne, you have earned the goddess' favor, Pasare. Your line shall be a blessed one."
Pasare looked away sheepishly. "It… it truly was no trouble, General," she stammered. "Any of the other warriors would have done the same."
"Yet they were not there to act. You were, and thus, you receive your reward," Morihaus snorted. "I am certain you shall also play a vital role in the campaign to come."
"I… I shall try," Pasare swallowed.
"Do not think this is a burden upon you alone," Perrif chimed in as she approached the group from behind Morihaus. "The strength of everyone in this expedition is required if it is to succeed. Trust in your comrades as much as yourself."
"Ah… yes, my lady," Pasare said quickly, though Telepe noticed that she seemed slightly relieved.
"Telepe," Perrif added turning to him. "I have spoken with Pelinal, and I wish to relay this to you as well. While Edanu is the commander of this expedition, I have instructed him to consult Pelinal in matters of war, and you in matters of diplomacy." She stepped a little closer and put her hands on his shoulders. "I know it will be difficult for you two to work together. Pelinal has agreed to defer to you when treating with non-hostile Ayleids. If a battle is inevitable, please do not attempt to hinder him. I shall not be there to protect you, and even my command not to harm you may not fully restrain him."
A shiver ran down Telepe's spine, and he inclined his head. "Very well. If the Ayleids draw blades and refuse to listen to reason, I shall not stand in his way."
Perrif hesitated at his pronouncement, seeming to want to say more, but then she sighed and squeezed his shoulders. "Very good," she said with a nod. "I do not wish to leave Cyrod in ashes, so I am depending on you to provide a measure of temperance to this expedition. If a non-violent option to resolving a conflict is available, please pursue it without hesitation."
"I shall. And I shall endeavor to contact the Nords as soon as possible," Telepe added.
Perrif smiled warmly at him as she released his shoulders. "You have my gratitude," she murmured. "Hopefully, we shall see each other again shortly, but if not, I can rest easy knowing that the northern campaign is in good hands. May the Divines watch over you."
Telepe frowned, wondering what she meant, but she had already turned to speak with someone else. He turned to Tari, who was hovering by his elbow, already dressed in her drab brown robes. "That was strange," he remarked. "She'll see us shortly?"
"She was likely just anticipating a swift victory in the south," Tari shrugged. "If so, our armies shall indeed see each other again shortly."
"Perhaps…." Telepe murmured, then shook his head. "I'm surprised she didn't have words for you."
"She did. She spoke to me before I approached you," Tari chuckled.
"Indeed? And what did she say?" Telepe asked conversationally.
"That I should keep a close eye on the troublesome ones in this campaign. Someone has to, after all," Tari replied cheekily.
Telepe scowled down at her as she beamed up at him, her eyes twinkling mischievously. Sighing, he wrapped the rough brown robe around his body, shaking his head. "I think she assigned that task to the wrong person, then," he teased her in return. "Come. We should prepare to depart."
The wagons were on the road before the sun had fully risen into the sky, and for the rest of the day, everyone tried to settle into their new roles. Twenty warriors were assigned to each wagon, which they walked beside on the muddy path, rather than riding in them. The humans wore bronze cuffs and chains around their wrists, though they remained unlocked, so that they could be easily removed at a moment's notice if the caravan was attacked. They did not carry their spears, but were encouraged to wear their secondary weapons under their robes. Their shortswords, axes, and maces did have faint outlines, but it was difficult to notice unless they were closely inspected.
Meanwhile, the ten Ayleid warriors that the King of Nenalata had assigned acted as "guards" for the caravan. One drove each wagon, while another walked alongside the slaves, carrying a spear and herding them along the path. Telepe quickly noticed that although the humans understood the need for the deception, none were pleased with once again assuming a position of subservience to the Ayleids, even if it was a ruse. Tension between the two races hung thick in the air, and despite the elves' insistence that they were just playing a role, the humans refused to travel unarmed.
Early into the journey Prince Dynar suggested that Telepe ride with him in one of the wagons, much to his chagrin. At first, he had protested, insisting that he should walk with the other "slaves." Dynar, however, had pointed out that while half-elves in Cyrod were rare, they were not unheard of, and some did enjoy elevated positions over full humans. If an Ayleid party saw an elf-blooded slave, they might grow suspicious. Furthermore, his negotiating abilities were too valuable for him not to be in an elevated position. If they needed to parlay with an Ayleid party on the road, it would be unseemly for a slave to approach his Ayleid betters and request an audience. He needed to be seen as a trusted servant rather than a slave, which meant riding with the prince, instead of walking alongside the wagons with the other humans.
Reluctantly, Telepe had agreed and climbed onto the carriage beside Dynar. Although he was certain that the warriors saw the logic behind the prince's arguments, Telepe could nevertheless feel them glaring at him when his back was turned to them. It was several hours into the first day before he finally felt comfortable sitting beside Dynar. Even then, he still felt the simmering resentment of the other humans, and he couldn't help but feel as though they were muttering under their breath about him. It was a relief when the sun began to set and the centurion announced that they would make camp, and he could finally step off the cart and rejoin his companions.
As he joined Tari and Pasare at their little campfire, Telepe noticed that most of the human warriors remained near their wagons, eating with the men they had been walking beside throughout the day. Apparently, the division of men had not been random. The men had been assigned to wagons based on whom they had served with throughout the battles in the Blackwood, and they already considered each other companions, if not friends.
While accepting a bowl of soup from Tari, Telepe looked over his shoulder and noticed that the Ayleids were likewise huddled around their own campfire, well away from the humans. He also spotted Pelinal sitting alone with Huna, the pair speaking in low voices to each other over their personal fire. The clear divisions between the men worried him. Would they start to hold more loyalty to their small groups than to the century as a whole? If they had to fight together, would they be as cohesive as they had been while part of the Paravant's army, especially without Morihaus' guidance?
Telepe shook his head, pushing those thoughts out of his mind. It was only the first day, he reminded himself. Besides, if he wanted to make inroads, he could be the first to do so, to visit the other fires. Yet, he also felt more comfortable among his friends, and had little desire to speak with the others just yet, so he was hardly in a position to be judging the others for not trying to integrate with the other groups.
As he was mulling this over, he noticed another figure approaching them from his left, and he smiled warmly as Prince Dynar stepped into the light of their fire. Tari immediately handed him a bowl of soup, and the prince chuckled as he settled onto the log beside Pasare. He was soon eating together with them and chatting easily as the fire crackled merrily in the growing darkness.
The days slowly began to settle into a reliable – if monotonous – routine as the century gradually made their way north along the Niben River. Edanu always roused the group before dawn to break down the camp and ensure that the humans once again assumed their disguises, donning their robes and re-chaining their wrists. Once the camp had been packed, they ate breakfast on the move, usually some sort of simple meal of bread and fruit or cheese, enough to keep them sated through the morning. They would stop around noon to rest and have another meal, typically more bread and salted meat. After an hour or so, they would resume travel throughout the afternoon, until Edanu called a halt before the sun had begun to set on the horizon. The wagon train would then make camp off the road, deep enough into the jungle that they would not be disturbed. Edanu always ensured that their tents were pitched and their fires were started before the sun set. The evening was the only time they had to truly rest and relax from the day's travel, though they still remained alert and wary of approaching Ayleid patrols. They were then ordered to bed after only a few hours, as Edanu wanted to ensure they were not too tired for the next day's march.
As they traveled further north, the jungle became less swampy, and more forested. Trees became taller and more numerous, and while rain still fell frequently, the ground was no longer completely saturated with water. There were fewer puddles to wade through, and the roads appeared to be in better condition. Insects were still a constant annoyance, but Telepe found himself swatting at mosquitos less often – though he admitted to himself that it may have been his imagination. He also spotted fewer reptiles and amphibians, and instead noticed more mammals lurking in the depths of the jungle. He fell asleep to the incessant hollering of monkeys, and he once spied a large yellow cat prowling through the underbrush, eyeing the party as they trundled down the road.
During the journey, they occasionally passed Ayleid city-states – solitary, isolated kingdoms that were only barely visible through the brush. Like Morahame, they were situated deep in the jungle, off the main road, but still near enough to the road and the river to conduct trade. Telepe had asked Dynar why the kingdoms insisted on staying off the main highway rather than allowing themselves to serve as trading hubs that sat in the middle of the road. Dynar had replied that it was more a matter of defense – it would be too easy for an attacking army to march down the highway and attack a neighbor with impunity if they did not have the jungle protecting them. It was, after all, more difficult for an army to travel down smaller side roads to attack a city-state. The jungle would naturally disperse a large army, which left them open to the kingdoms' scouts, who knew the area better than the attackers and would hunt down individuals who got lost in the unfamiliar terrain. Thus, it was more prudent to bury one's kingdom deep in the jungle and only use the highway for legitimate trade, rather than attempting to dominate the route by building a city in the middle of it.
The first stage of their journey took them past three cities, which Dynar pointed out as they passed by. The first was Mackamentain, though that city was located so deep in the forest that Telepe didn't even know they had passed it until Dynar mentioned it, in a tone that suggested that even he only had a vague idea of where the city was. Days later, he mentioned two more nearby kingdoms as they rode by a fork in the road. One small branch led north, and the other south, while the main highway continued to the west. Dynar explained that the northern path led to the city of Nornal, while the southern led to Culotte.
The latter Telepe recognized as a city they had passed during their voyage down the Niben River, one which had denied them the right to dock. He wondered aloud if Culotte would be hostile to them, since they had closed their gates to them earlier, but Dynar assured him that the city was neutral at worst… at least last that he had heard. He still advised against checking to see if they could trade for supplies or to rest, however, as he doubted the kingdom would be willing to accommodate a large wagon train of slaves if they didn't intend to sell. It was another grim reminder that they could expect little help once they left the Blackwood. They were truly on their own.
A couple days after they passed Culotte and Nornal, Prince Dynar let out a long, slow sigh. Telepe, who had been tallying their supplies on a scroll, glanced up to give the prince a curious look.
"Forgive me," Dynar said, shaking his head as he shifted his grip on the horses' reins. "I've just been pondering. I realized that I'm torn between excitement and… a sense of loss."
"What? Why?" Telepe asked, lowering the scroll and frowning deeply.
"Because once we come to this turn, we'll have officially left the Nibenay Basin behind," Dynar replied.
The prince motioned to the road before them, and Telepe followed his gaze to a fork ahead of them. The main highway split off in two directions, one leading to the northeast, and the other to the west. The western road led to a long marble bridge in the distance, beside which lay a shining port city, which Telepe recognized as the kingdom of Vanua.
The northern road, however, was completely unfamiliar to him. His spine tingled as he felt a thrill of anticipation run through him, suddenly realizing what Dynar had meant about being excited. The prince's melancholy was also understandable, as this must have been the very edge of what he considered familiar territory. Telepe, however, had been away from his own homeland for several months now, and he had little attachment to the savage Nibenay Basin. He could honestly say that he was looking forward to this new adventure.
"We'll be following the highway for quite a while," Dynar announced, snapping Telepe out of his thoughts. "There are only a few cities on this side of Lake Rumare, and we won't encounter the nearest one for at least a few days."
"Ah, excellent. More camping," Telepe remarked drily, rolling up the scroll with a sigh. "I was hoping we'd get to enjoy more stale bread and hard cheese. You never fail to live up to my expectations, Your Highness."
Dynar chuckled drily as he nudged the horses along the wide road, which Telepe noticed was mercifully dry, a welcome change from the perpetually muddy roads of the Blackwood. "We'll likely at least be able to enjoy more pleasant evenings than we did in the Blackwood. It's not as though there aren't places for us to rest," the prince pointed out. He nodded to a domed structure in the distance, which took Telepe a moment to recognize as a magicka well. "And we'll likely be able to trade with other travelers if we need more supplies. This is the busiest road in Cyrod, after all."
As the prince spoke, a wagon carrying barrels of fruit rumbled by them in the opposite direction, and in the distance, he could make out a small group of Ayleids chatting amiably with each other as they journeyed north. That alone was more traffic than Telepe was used to seeing in a day. Of course, the roads leading through the southern Niben were not unused, and as they had made their way through the jungle, they did occasionally pass a trader or traveler. However, their encounters were usually sporadic, and it was rare for them to meet more than a dozen people in a day.
"The problem is going to be finding cover when we do camp," Dynar added, glancing to their right.
"It's not as though there aren't trees where we can find shelter," Telepe pointed out, following the prince's gaze towards the jungle. The prince did have a point, however – the tall palm trees did seem less clustered, and while the underbrush had not been cleared away, it somehow appeared tamer.
"That's not what I'm worried about," Dynar replied, shaking his head. "It's the patrols that concern me."
Telepe grimaced, and he felt his stomach sink. He remembered the last time he and Tari had tried to camp along the road in this part of Cyrod, when he had been accosted by a patrol from Sard. Only Dynar's timely intervention had saved him from a potential life of enslavement. They could expect no such fortune this time. Though he doubted that a routine patrol would attempt to capture a wagon train of over a hundred slaves, if a kingdom decided to send an army their way….
"Should we consider doubling the guard shifts?" Telepe suggested as Dynar guided the horses along the northern path.
"Possibly. More eyes wouldn't hurt, and it's unlikely that a patrol would be able to escape the notice of eight watchmen," Dynar admitted. "Perhaps we should suggest it to Edanu when we make camp tonight."
"And here I was pleased that we were finally leaving the swamp. Of course, now we have something else to be concerned about," Telepe sighed.
Dynar chuckled grimly. "Every region of Cyrod has its own dangers," he shrugged. "And its own wonders as well. Once we clear that treeline, you should see the Temple of Ancestors to your left," he added, nodding to the dense layer of palm trees blocking their vision to the north.
"Indeed? It'll be good to see it again," Telepe admitted, surprised at the sense of nostalgia that washed over him. "Though I wonder if I'll be as impressed this time, now that I've seen it once before."
"I believe you shall," Dynar confirmed. "I've visited the White-Gold City a few times, yet no matter how many times I've viewed it, the tower always steals my breath. I can still scarcely believe we could craft such a wonderous structure."
"It is a remarkable achievement," Telepe agreed. "The only other great tower that I've seen was when I joined my king on a journey to a coastal kingdom, near the island of Balfiera. While we were visiting, I could just make out the Adamantine Tower in the distance." He smiled slightly and added, "Whatever else your people have done, to construct a tower to rival a structure supposedly built by the Divines… that is worthy of respect."
"Indeed. Now if only we could end the in-fighting, the worship of evil Daedric Princes… and slavery," he added, casting a wary eye at a human male eavesdropping on their conversation. "Then perhaps our civilization would be truly praise-worthy."
"In time," Telepe said evenly.
"In time," Dynar agreed. Then, a moment later, he added brightly, "There it is!"
The trees quickly began to thin, and soon Telepe could make out the blue waters of Lake Rumare through the gaps in the trees, accompanied by flashes of a slender ivory structure in the distance. Then, abruptly, the treeline disappeared, and the century was given an unobstructed view of the White-Gold City in the distance. What they saw, however, made Dynar suddenly bring the wagon to a halt as they all stared in shocked disbelief.
Though the tower was as imposing and remarkable as ever, what drew the eye of everyone in the caravan was what loomed in the sky above it. Hovering directly over the round white spire of the Temple of the Ancestors was an enormous, radiant ball of light. The interior was pure white, while the nebulous edges shimmered with rainbow colors that slowly cycled through the spectrum. It was as though someone had plucked a star from the heavens and set it in place over the Temple to serve as a celestial crown jewel.
"What in Oblivion is that?" Telepe asked breathlessly, unable to tear his eyes away from the pulsing orb.
Dynar slowly shook his head, his mouth agape. "That… it cannot be," he whispered.
Telepe cast him a sidelong glance, narrowing his eyes suspiciously. "Do you know what that is?" he asked slowly.
Before the prince could answer, Pelinal came to a halt beside their cart, his robed arms folded over his eyes narrowed with fury. "So, Umaril… already you run to the arms of your luminous harlot."
Dynar turned to Pelinal, his eyes wide with both anger and fear. "You mean to say that this is the Lady's…?" he asked slowly.
"Yes," Pelinal growled, scowling up at the prince.
"What?" Telepe pressed.
Dynar turned back to Telepe, letting out a long, slow sigh. "Let me explain. Though we are allied with the rebellion, Nenalata does not worship the Divines, Telepe," Dynar explained in a low voice as Pelinal moved past them. "Rather, we are devout followers of one of the Daedric Princes – Meridia, the Lady of Light and Life."
"…Indeed? Does Perrif know?" Telepe asked, his tone more curious than accusatory.
"If she does, clearly it does not matter to her," Dynar replied. "In any case, from time to time, the priests in my father's service have performed rituals venerating Meridia, and on very rare occasions, she chose to grace us by manifesting on Nirn. Each time she did so, she appeared as a brilliant orb of light… much like the one hovering above the Temple of the Ancestors now," he added, motioning to the prismatic star floating in the air over the tower.
Telepe's eyes widened, his mouth falling open slightly. "So… the Ayleids of the White-Gold City have summoned Meridia to Nirn?!" he asked breathlessly. "Does she serve them, then?!"
"No! No," Dynar hissed, motioning for him to lower his voice. "First, no Daedric Prince would ever serve a mortal. At best, they may be willing to form a pact with a loyal devotee to aid them with a task, or reward them for their service. However, even then, the mortal is always subservient to the will of the Prince. Second, no, the Lady of Light has not truly manifested on Nirn. In fact, that is not even a true avatar. Unlike some other Princes – Mehrunes Dagon, for instance – Meridia is not usually the sort to directly involve herself in the affairs of mortals. She works through intermediaries and sends servants to Nirn to do her bidding. She considers herself above the petty struggles of mortal kingdoms."
"Then what is that?" Telepe asked, motioning to the glowing orb above the tower.
"While that is not a true manifestation, it is a mark of Meridia's favor," Pelinal growled. Telepe jumped, then realized the knight must have walked back around the wagon and caught the end of their conversation. "I suspect that Umaril has forged a pact with Meridia, and that is a physical symbol of their agreement… and a warning to those that would defy her."
"Truly? But you said she considers herself above mortal affairs," Telepe said, turning back to Dynar with a frown.
"We Ayleids have always had a special relationship with Meridia," Dynar murmured, looking down at the cart. "We worship light above all other elements, and Meridia is the physical representation of that light. What's more, unlike Magnus or one of the other deities associated with light and magic, she communicates with us, answers our prayers, bestows favors upon us. We are her favored children… and I suspect that the Paravant's rebellion has proven worrisome enough that she is willing to intervene on behalf of the Ayleids that would stand against the rebellion."
Telepe noticed that the prince's bronze skin had turned pale, and he looked like he was about to be sick. It was little wonder why, though. If Umaril had Meridia's favor, then Dynar was taking up arms against his own goddess. It was one thing to war with his own people, but to stand against the very being he worshipped….
Telepe exhaled slowly and put his hand on the prince's shoulder to steady him. He had never been particularly religious, only paying half-hearted respects to the gods when ceremonies demanded it. However, he still felt that he could empathize with Dynar. While he cared little for the gods, whenever he thought of being exiled from his homeland, he was overwhelmed with dread and fear. Dynar, meanwhile, seemed on the verge of panic – his eyes were wide and staring blankly at the tower, and his shoulders heaved with every breath. Still, Telepe knew there was nothing he could say that would comfort his friend.
"You there!" a voice called out along the path ahead of them. Telepe tore his eyes away from the elven prince to see a small patrol of about ten Ayleid guards on horseback approaching them. Telepe let out a soft hiss of annoyance as the Ayleid at the head of the formation added, "Hold, so that we may speak with you!"
"Your Highness!" Telepe murmured, tightening his grip on the prince's shoulder to get his attention. Dynar looked up, but his gaze was unfocused, and he seemed to be in a state of shock – Telepe briefly wondered if the prince was even fully aware of where he was. He was in no condition to speak with the guards bearing down on him, he bitterly realized.
The guard captain trotted up to the wagon and brought his horse to a halt, frowning deeply as he scrutinized Dynar. "A word, sir," the captain demanded, directing his command to the prince.
"Forgive me, my lord," Telepe piped up, jumping off the wagon to walk around and address the captain himself. "Our master is feeling unwell – the journey has been hard on him, I'm afraid."
"You dare speak on his behalf?" the captain scoffed. "You're a rather bold slave, assuming you may address your betters."
"I do speak for him. He is my half-brother, and he has given me leave to speak in his stead," Telepe replied quickly. To emphasize his status, he held up his wrists, showing that his arms were unbound. "As I said, he's suffering from a disease he contracted in the Blackwood."
"The Blackwood?" the captain repeated with a frown. "You've come from the south?"
"We have, yes," Telepe confirmed. When the captain's scowl deepened, he wondered if he had made a mistake by mentioning that, though there was little chance they could disguise where they had come from anyways – their wagons still stank of the swamp, and the nearest road led south anyways, so the captain could easily deduce their origin. It wouldn't do them any favors to lie where they didn't need to, he decided.
"And your destination?" the captain snarled after a moment's consideration.
"We intend to tour the northern slave markets," Telepe replied calmly. "We believe some of our… stock shall fetch a fair price in the northern kingdoms. We hear tell that the farms are always in need of more hands to bring in the harvest, after all, and though it's late in the season, perhaps the farms with smaller yields shall be more willing to consider our offer."
Out of the corner of his eye, Telepe noticed Pelinal sidling around the edge of the cart towards the Ayleid patrol. His eyes widened with horror, and when he caught the knight's eye, he shook his head slightly. The knight paused, though the glare he sent Telepe sent a shiver down his back. Under his robes, Pelinal remained fully armed, with only his hands and head remaining unarmored. Telepe had little doubt that Pelinal could easily slaughter the small patrol, but Telepe still wanted to negotiate their way out of this situation. They were on an open road in broad daylight, and if Pelinal attacked this patrol, they'd be hounded by Ayleid warriors for the rest of the journey. Arriving at Sancre Tor unharmed would be impossible.
The Ayleid captain noticed Telepe looking past him, and he shot a glance over his shoulder at Pelinal. Thankfully, the knight began walking back around the other side of the wagon, though he continued to glower furiously at Telepe. Huna, sensing the danger, hurried forward to usher Pelinal away before the knight could change his mind about backing off, much to Telepe's relief. The captain frowned as he watched the interaction, then turned his gaze back to Telepe, a suspicious look in his eyes.
"You came from the south?" the captain repeated, his eyes narrowing suspiciously. "I hear there's some sort of trouble down there. Some sort of slave rebellion?"
"Perhaps," Telepe shrugged indifferently, keeping his tone carefully neutral. "Fortunately, we haven't encountered any troubles in our journey, save for a goblin attempting to steal one of our slaves four nights ago."
"Fortunate for you indeed," the captain agreed absently. "Nevertheless, it would be wise of us to… inspect your wagons. After all, if you happen to be smuggling any illicit cargo – including wanted slaves – then it's our duty to ensure that the roads remain protected."
As the captain said this, he could practically feel Pelinal's burning gaze from the other side of the wagon, and a few of the other slaves nervously glanced in their direction. Telepe mentally swore to himself. It was obvious that the captain didn't particularly care about whether they were part of the rebellion or not – he intended to make off with as many slaves as possible. Whatever kingdom he was associated with would pay handsomely for stolen slaves, after all. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed some of the rebels' hands disappear inside of their robes, preparing for a fight. Telepe only saw one way to end this peacefully.
Before the captain could move past him, Telepe reached out and put a hand on the man's knee, leaning up as he did. To an outside observer, it would appear that he was just trying to speak confidentially to the elf, and he suspected that the captain thought the same. From the way he was standing, none of the captain's patrol would notice the way his hand briefly glowed a stark green before he began speaking in a low voice in the captain's ear.
"You don't need to search our wagons. These are not the slaves you're looking for," Telepe assured the captain quietly.
The captain frowned, but tilted his head, seeming confused. "Indeed?" he asked hesitantly.
"There's nothing to be gained here. Allow us to continue on our way," Telepe pressed.
The captain opened his mouth, then thought better of it and closed it with a shrug. "Very well. Carry on!" the elf replied. He then nudged his horse past Telepe, clicking his tongue as he did.
His patrol gave their leader confused looks, but the captain had already ridden his horse past the caravan, the matter seemingly forgotten altogether. They shot a final, wistful look at the wagon train, then reluctantly followed their captain. Apparently, seizing merchant goods was common for them, Telepe reasoned, and they were surprised that their leader was letting them go without taking anything.
Telepe watched the patrol warily until they were over a hundred yards away, and then he let out a long, slow breath. He leaned against the wagon to steady himself, his heart hammering, as a few of the humans and one of Dynar's Ayleids approached him, gazing at him in wonder.
"Incredible," Huna murmured. "I know that you're said to be clever with your words, but I was certain he would not leave without attacking. How did you convince him?"
"Magic," Pasare piped up from behind Telepe, startling him. She leaned against the wagon beside him, folding her cuffed arms over her chest. Then she added in a curious tone, "Though that did not seem like the same spell you used when we were traveling to Nenalata. The other Ayleid seemed… far more dazed. That captain still appeared to be lucid. Was it because he had a stronger will?"
"Partially. But I also used a variation of that spell, one that is more subtle than what you saw me cast before," Telepe explained. "The first spell you saw has a much stronger effect on the mind, rendering one completely docile. The spell you just saw me cast merely makes the target more willing to accept suggestions."
"Indeed?" Pasare asked, tilting her head at him with a sly grin. "Is that what you've been using to conduct negotiations, then?"
"No!" Telepe snapped. Pasare seemed surprised by his outburst, and he quickly explained, "Forgive me, but I'm a bit insulted that you would suggest that. That spell has been outlawed for use in negotiations, for obvious reasons. What's more, most diplomats have strong enough wills to resist that spell, even if they're unaware it's been cast upon them. Truthfully, I was uncertain it would even work. However, if I had cast the calming spell upon him, his warriors would have immediately become suspicious and attacked us. The subtler charm spell is not as effective, but also does not have as obvious an effect on someone, so it was my only option to convince him to leave us be."
"And it's fortunate for us that it was effective," the Ayleid who had approached them remarked. "That was swift thinking."
"Thank you," Telepe said modestly. However, his thanks seemed to go unheard as the Ayleid gave Prince Dynar – who was still staring silently at the orb above the Temple of the Ancestors – a worried look. "We… should continue on our way, however, before we attract the attention of another patrol," Telepe added with a frown.
"Agreed," the Ayleid murmured, still staring at the prince. As the others dispersed and started to resume their journey, Telepe approached the mer and spoke in a low voice to him.
"Should we be concerned about him?" Telepe asked.
"We… should remain aware of his state of mind," the Ayleid replied softly. "I believe that the sight of Meridia's favor has shaken our prince. However, now is not the time to speak of it with him." The elf began to walk away, but then paused and glanced over his shoulder to add, "His Highness seems to trust you. Perhaps later this evening you should consider speaking with him."
"I should?" Telepe asked, his frown deepening. "I'm happy to, of course, but why not you, or one of your other kin?"
The Ayleid gave Telepe as slight, almost envious smile. "We are his subjects, emissary. That does not mean that we are his friends." The elf turned and walked back to his own wagon, leaving Telepe staring after him in stunned silence.
The wagons managed to travel a few more miles up the road before the sun began to dip too low on the horizon for Edanu's liking, whereupon he ordered the caravan to make camp for the night. While there were small inns and rest houses along the highway, Edanu once again ordered them to camp in the jungle, away from the prying eyes of the patrol. Of course, it wasn't as though the inns would have accepted any of the "slaves" anyways, Telepe realized. Perhaps they might have prepared a few beds for the Ayleids, but the humans would have been forced to camp outside regardless.
After they had eaten, Dynar excused himself from the group's small campfire and wandered back into the jungle, in the direction of the main road. Telepe hesitated to go after him, wondering if he should give Dynar some time to himself, but when he had noticed the encouraging looks that Tari and Pasare gave him, he pushed himself up and followed the prince through the brush.
Near the edge of the treeline, Telepe spotted Dynar leaning against a tree, his arms folded over his chest as he stared blankly at the distant Temple of the Ancestors. The glowing orb above the tower shone clearly against the deep violet sky, its rainbow colors gently pulsing in the soft darkness.
Dynar glanced over his shoulder when he heard Telepe approaching, though when he realized who it was, he turned his attention back to the distant city. "If the others are concerned, rest assured that I shall not let the patrols spot me," he said, unprompted. "You needn't retrieve me."
"I don't intend to," Telepe assured him as he walked over to another tree and took a seat against its roots, draping one arm over his propped knee. "You don't need someone watching over you. However, you do seem as though you could use someone who will listen."
Dynar glanced at him again, then shook his head. "I don't," he insisted.
"If that were the case, you would have retired for the night," Telepe pointed out. "You wouldn't be staring at… that."
Dynar sighed, lowering his head slightly, though he didn't tear his eyes away from the glowing orb in the distance. "You wouldn't understand."
"Probably," Telepe agreed, which drew a look of surprise from Dynar. "But I would like to try. Indulge me?"
Dynar hesitated, grimacing to himself. When he seemed to be struggling to find the right words, Telepe asked, "You mentioned that you're rather devoted to Meridia?"
"Very," Dynar replied finally, exhaling slowly as he did. "The Paravant believes wholeheartedly in her Divines, yes?" When Telepe nodded, Dynar turned towards the spire. "I believe that I worship Meridia almost as fervently as she does her gods."
"Why?" Telepe asked, careful to keep his tone politely curious rather than accusatory. "What was the start of your devotion to her?"
"She is the goddess I have worshipped for my entire life. And it wouldn't be untrue of me to claim that I owe my life to her," Dynar explained. "Do you recall the Narfinsel Schism? When King Glinferen led a purge of the Ayleids who refused to worship the Daedra?"
"I do," Telepe nodded.
"Meridia is the one that saved us," Dynar replied. "Or, rather, it is our devotion to Meridia that saved us. The kingdoms along the Niben River were the focus of that purge, and many of Nenalata's closest allies were expelled or slaughtered over the course of the war. The Kingdom of Wendelbek in particular was once one of our staunchest allies, and it was left in utter ruins for its worship of the Divines. In truth, we feared that King Glinferen would seize the opportunity to attack us as well, considering our close ties to the Barsaebic Ayleids. However, thanks to our devotion to Meridia, Glinferen realized that attacking us would likely incur her wrath, and he was not willing to anger a deity that was beloved by all the Ayleids in Cyrod. Thus, we were spared, even as he slaughtered our allies."
"The Barsaebic Ayleids didn't mind that you worshipped a Daedric Prince?" Telepe asked.
"Well… for one, we were one of their few allies, so they had little choice but to tolerate our choice of deity," Dynar pointed out with a wry smile. "Even so… no, they never objected. Meridia is special, even to Ayleids that worship the Divines. She is the Prince of Light and Life, the personification of the purest forms of magic and living energy, and nearly universally seen as one of the few 'good' Daedra, even by the Barsaebics. What's more, much as the Chimer to the east see Azura as 'their' Daedric Prince, Meridia can be considered the 'Prince of the Ayleids,' so to speak. Nearly every Ayleid holds her in high regard, even if they don't directly worship her."
Telepe nodded slowly, looking back towards the light hovering over the tower. "And since she has shown favor to Umaril and his allies, you now feel as though on the wrong side of this war?"
"I don't know. But I'm in a difficult position, Telepe," Dynar sighed. "Meridia has clearly indicated whom she believes is in the right. And if Umaril unites the other Ayleids under his banner in Meridia's name…." He shook his head, gripping his bicep tightly as he stared down at the ground. "It's one thing to fight against the injustices of the vilest kingdoms in Cyrod, against cities that have committed horrendous atrocities in the name of unquestionably evil Daedric Princes. It's another to know that the goddess I personally venerate has made it clear that she believes I am in the wrong, and has essentially branded me a traitor to my entire race. How am I supposed to reconcile that?!"
Telepe gazed at the prince silently for several long seconds, trying to formulate a response. When the silence lingering between them began to grow uncomfortable, he softly asked, "Set aside Meridia for a moment. If she had not given a sign of her favor to Umaril, would you feel that fighting with us was wrong?"
"I…." Dynar hesitated, considering the question for several long moments. "No… no, I don't believe I would," he admitted.
"Why?" Telepe pressed. "Simply because we offered you an alliance when no one else would?"
"Partially. You do have our gratitude for aiding our kingdom," Dynar conceded. "But that is not the only reason."
"And did you feel remorse fighting against your kin?" Telepe continued. "When we fought against Atatar, or Morahame?"
"No," Dynar confirmed, in a much firmer tone. "They felt no kinship with Nenalata, nor we with them."
"What about freeing slaves? Do you feel that's wrong?" Telepe pressed.
Dynar hesitated again, once again seeming uncomfortable. "It… will be difficult to adjust to the idea of humans standing on equal ground with us," the prince admitted. When Telepe continued to gaze at him levelly, however, he added, "Yet… no, I do not believe it was the wrong decision."
"Then you have your own reasons to aid this rebellion?" Telepe asked. "Reasons that go beyond the dogma that your goddess has dictated?"
"I… I do," Dynar agreed, grimacing. "Yet Meridia-!"
Telepe held up a hand, smiling gently. "I'm certain that if the Paravant was here, she would assure you that she would not ask you to fight against your beliefs. If you feel you cannot raise your blade against your goddess, then do not do so. If you would like to return to a state of neutrality, I am certain that bot the Paravant and Meridia would understand, and neither would condemn your decision."
"No… no, I gave my word," Dynar protested, though his voice was slightly strangled. "I will not forsake my oath to aid you. Even so, I… cannot fight Meridia." When Telepe opened his mouth, it was Dynar's turn to hold up a hand to forestall him. "Telepe… thank you for your concern," he added in a calmer tone. "But this is not something that I can resolve in a single conversation. You have given me much to consider, and your advice is sound, but I must find my own solution."
"…Do you believe you shall find it before the next battle? Even if our opponent is one of Meridia's own?" Telepe asked softly.
Dynar looked towards the White-Gold City again, folding his arms over his chest. "We… shall see," he replied. He glanced back and added, "For now, it's late. Please, return to the camp and rest. I shall do the same shortly."
Telepe hesitated, but then reluctantly nodded and turned around to begin his walk back into the jungle. He looked over his shoulder once to see Dynar still staring silently at the Temple of the Ancestors, which made his stomach clench with concern. If what Dynar said was true, Meridia bestowing her favor on Umaril was going to be a diplomatic nightmare, he thought sullenly. If it was enough to shake what had until now been a strong alliance between them, how much more difficult would it be to convince other Ayleid kingdoms to join their rebellion? Could they trust that the Ayleids wouldn't turn on the rebellion if Meridia ordered them to? Even Dynar… his friend. Could they trust him? He swallowed hard as that question wormed its way into his mind. He turned back around and stumbled back through the dark jungle, leaving Dynar to his thoughts, while struggling to ignore his own.