Chapter 48
Failures
Although Cevus' warning was dire, they were unable to set out for Elenglynn until the following morning. With Tari blind, she couldn't guide them through this part of the jungle, and even Pasare would find it nearly impossible to navigate the jungle in the middle of the night. What's more, Teo pointed out, they were all exhausted, and many of their wounded were in no shape to march just then. Telepe had privately agreed with Teo on that count, as his hip was still in a great deal of pain. Cevus was sorely disappointed, but Pasare had assured him that the rogue Nords were likely to be resting as well, even if they had managed to reach Elenglynn already. After all, night attacks were difficult at best, and dangerous at worst. Perhaps King Vrage might even send some of his forces after the renegades before Teo's century even set out, making their own arrival a moot point – it was possible that they were traveling to Elenglynn already, in fact.
Eventually, Cevus reluctantly conceded their points and agreed to wait until morning to set out. Even so, Telepe knew that Teo and Pasare were simply trying to reassure the scout, even though they had no proof of their claims, and when he bedded down for the evening with Tari curled up by his side, he had a great deal of difficulty sleeping with his stomach churning with worry throughout most of the night.
True to his word, Teo ordered his men to set off at first light, with Pasare guiding them through the jungle. It pained Telepe to so many of the men limping and staggering as they nursed their wounds, with many of them leaning on their fellow warriors for support as they trudged through the dense jungle. His own hip ached with every step, and he tried not to put too much weight on it. He deeply regretted not bringing Emero – he had wanted to avoid outrunning their escort, so he had left his horse with the rest of Vrage's army. Now, he wished that he had brought his mount so that he could ride ahead to Elenglynn before the renegade Nords reached the city. As it was, he could only hope that they could outpace the deserters on foot.
The day mercifully remained dry and cloudless, so there was plenty of light, though the rains from the previous few nights had soaked the ground and made it slick and muddy. Even so, all of them had become quite used to trekking through the muck, and considering the circumstances, they were setting a fairly swift pace. By mid-afternoon, Pasare spotted the high walls of Elenglynn through the trees.
To Telepe's dismay, there was already a flurry of activity outside the walls of the city. From where they stood, he could make out a small band of men gathered outside of the walls, screaming curses up at the elven warriors manning the battlements. Occasionally, he caught a glimpse of a bright flash, which he presumed was one of the Ayleid battlemages casting a spell at the attackers. As they approached, he felt his stomach sink as he recognized the telltale rough furs and heavy bronze weapons of Nordic warriors. It seemed that they were too late.
As Telepe watched and tried to formulate a plan on how to confront the Nords, he heard Teo bellow behind him, "Men! Form phalanx!" He turned to see the men immediately respond to Teo's order, arranging themselves into eight lines. The wounded formed up at the rear of the formation, standing as straight as they could while leaning heavily on their spears for balance. Telepe glanced over at Teo, who nodded to him.
"At your command, emissary," Teo announced.
Telepe swallowed and glanced furtively at the Nords assaulting the walls. "I'd like to avoid a fight if we could," he cautioned the centurion.
"As would I. Especially since if the Nords refuse to stand down, I doubt that we have the men necessary to win a battle against them," Teo agreed. "However, these men were also willing to disobey their king and attack a city on their own, for little more than glory and to sate their bloodlust. If you approach them without even a token force of warriors supporting you, I fear they shall disregard you at best and attempt to slay you at worst."
Telepe grimaced at that cheerful thought. "You're right, of course, which is why I didn't object," he agreed with a nervous chuckle. "I'd simply ask that you and your men do not engage these renegades unless absolutely necessary."
"As you say, emissary," Teo nodded firmly. "After you."
Telepe took a slow breath to steady his nerves, and then he stepped out from the treeline. As he approached the battle, the Nords continued to pelt the Ayleids with arrows, trying to drive them away from a small section of the wall where they were trying to place a ladder.
Over a hundred yards from the walls, a middle-aged woman was bent double, surrounded by four other warriors who were brandishing spears and axes and gazing around warily, as though expecting to be attacked from any direction. One of the men, a heavyset warrior with thick brown beard and braided hair, rested a hand on her back, apparently comforting her as she struggled to catch her breath.
"Swiftly now, Ilsa," the man grunted to her in a low, deep voice, eyeing the walls warily. "The elves have nearly recovered. They're climbing up the walls again."
"Just… just a moment more, Sigard," Ilsa gasped, sucking in a deep breath and waving him away. "My thu'um does not return at your command, but I've nearly caught my breath."
"Yes, well… we must fell that wall soon," Sigard said, wincing as he watched one of his men fall to the ground, screaming and clutching an arrowshaft lodged in his shoulder. "You've done well with the initial breach, but we must widen it. If you aim a bit lower, the wall-"
"Hold!" Telepe bellowed as he strode towards the small group, shouting over the din of the battle a short distance away. He knew that his voice lacked the deep gruffness of Morihaus' or the booming command of Pelinal's, but it was at least loud enough to attract the attention of the men surrounding Ilsa. Sigard scowled at Telepe, but then his eyes drifted to the century marching behind him and his eyes widened with delight.
"Wonderful!" he exclaimed, a broad grin splitting under his beard as he opened his arms wide in welcome. "I didn't realize that King Vrage would see what we were doing and think to send us reinforcements! Come! You can aid us by-!"
"Aid you?!" Telepe cried, his eyes narrowed with fury. Sigard's smile faltered as Telepe swept his arm towards Elenglynn. "You believe we would aid you in sacking a city we intended to make peace with?!"
Sigard seemed genuinely taken aback by Telepe's fierce response. "We… this is an elven kingdom, friend," he replied hesitantly. "Destroying these kingdoms is why we've marched from Skyrim."
"Did your king command you to attack this city?!" Telepe demanded.
"I… he… his command was unnecessary!" Sigard answered defiantly, folding his arms over his broad chest. "Narfinsel shall soon fall, but since our foes still lie to the south, it was prudent of us to march ahead and sack this kingdom before they could threaten our siege!"
"Was this your king's command?" Telepe repeated pointedly. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the Nords attacking the walls pausing to peer over at them, apparently wondering why Ilsa wasn't Shouting at the walls. Some began to pull back from their assault, while others continued to struggle to place the ladder on the walls as the Ayleids continued to rain arrows on them from above.
Sigard hesitated at Telepe's question and glanced at Ilsa, who shook her head slightly. The Nord then drew himself up to his full height and folded his arms over his thick chest. "Who are you, who claim to speak for my king?" he demanded.
"I am Telepe, the Paravant's emissary," Telepe snapped. "If you have not heard of me, know that I am one of her counselors, and privy to all of her strategies for this war. She had proposed – and King Vrage agreed – that we should approach Elenglynn with an offer of peace, to secure another ally for our war effort and to avoid unnecessary bloodshed. An offer that they shall now have far less reason to accept thanks to your rash attack!"
Some of the Nords looked away uncomfortably and began muttering uneasily to each other, but Sigard seemed to grow even more defiant. "An emissary?" he scoffed, glancing over his shoulder at his men. "Nothing more than a pompous fool who would rather talk than fight. You sip wine and gnaw grapes while we true warriors bathe in blood on your behalf. We didn't march all the way from Skyrim to talk! We came seeking glory and war!"
The Nords behind him let out a fierce cheer while Telepe stared at Sigard coldly. When their cheering died down, he let out a bitter chuckle and shook his head. He was almost amused that Sigard was accusing him of doing nothing more than talk when he had fought with the rebellion for the better part of a year, ever since the Blackwood. He had participated in a half dozen battles and many more skirmishes, and he had the wounds and scars to prove it, including the most recent one in his hip, which was still sending sharp pains up his side. He had likely seen more war since he had come to Cyrod than these Nords had seen in their entire lives. Not that it mattered at the moment – even if he made that claim, he was certain they would dismiss it. He decided to try a different tactic.
"You have disobeyed your king. Dishonored him, and yourselves," Telepe said, folding his hands behind his back. "King Vrage is liable to have you severely punished, if not killed outright, for your insubordination. If you stand down now, however, I shall argue on your behalf. There is no need for your men to shed any more blood this day."
Sigard rolled his eyes, then spat on the ground at Telepe's feet. "You know nothing of our ways," he snarled, stepping closer to Telepe. They were almost even in terms of height, though Sigard was likely twice as heavy. "We shed our blood gladly! Our king shall not punish us! He shall honor us for the glory we've won! In ages past, Ysgramor took Skyrim from the snow elves with five hundred men! Thus, three hundred is more than enough to fell one small city! They shall sing tales of us for years to come!"
"Yes. As a cautionary tale against arrogance and foolishness," Telepe replied coldly. The Nord's grin faded, and he snarled as Telepe sighed and murmured, "I'll ask you once more. Stand down."
The Nord glanced over his shoulder at his compatriots, then smirked and asked. "Or what? You shall stop us?" Before Telepe could respond, the burly man put his enormous hands on Telepe's chest and shoved him backwards.
Telepe stumbled and landed hard on his back, grunting as the wind was knocked out of him. The other Nords began roaring with laughter and jeering at him as he pushed himself up and dusted his hands off.
"Enough of this!" Sigard shouted, turning back to his men. "Return to the walls! Ilsa, are you ready?"
Telepe scowled as Teo stepped up next to him and put a hand on his shoulder. "What now? Do we attack?" the centurion whispered.
Telepe hesitated, biting the inside of his cheek. Even though these Nords had disobeyed their king, he feared that if he attacked them, it might infuriate Vrage and weaken their alliance with Skyrim. After all, they would – ironically – be fighting alongside Ayleids against their supposed allies. Though he didn't doubt that the Nedes would obey Teo's command, Telepe suspected that they would be reluctant to fight the Nords, their fellow men. It might even seem as though Telepe, with his elven blood, was trying to turn man against man on behalf of the mer defending the city. What's more, between their wounds, their smaller numbers, and the fact that the order would severely damage their morale, Telepe doubted that they could win a battle with the Nords anyways.
"We could challenge him to a duel," Telepe suggested in a low voice. "Do you believe you could best him?"
Teo paused and sized up the Nord for a moment, then reluctantly shook his head. "I'm trained to fight as part of a phalanx, not as a duelist," he admitted, holding up his right arm, which had a deep gash in it. "And I don't believe I could best him like this."
"Could you suggest a champion?" Telepe grimaced.
"None skilled enough to face him," Teo muttered. "I saw him fight at Sancre Tor. He slayed a half dozen elves personally. What about you?" he suggested with a sidelong glance
"No," Telepe sighed, wincing as he shifted his weight from his bad leg. He sighed softly to himself, folding his arms over his chest. "Give me a few moments and let me think of another way to settle this."
Teo's face was unreadable as he gazed at Telepe, and he suspected that the centurion was torn between disappointment that Telepe was not answering a challenge and gratitude that he was sparing his men a difficult battle. Sigard, however, snorted when he saw that Telepe wasn't rising to the bait.
"If you're too cowardly to face us, then begone, elf," he sneered, waving a hand at him dismissively. "Let us take this city in the name of Skyrim. Ilsa!" he added, turning back to the young woman. "Are you ready?"
"I… believe so," she breathed, exhaling as she straightened up. Her voice still sounded hoarse, but she nevertheless squared her shoulders and narrowed her eyes at the distant walls.
"Very good," Sigard nodded. He then smirked over at Telepe and added, "Come, show this elven coward the difference between sweet words and a true Voice."
Ilsa grinned as she began striding towards the walls, inhaling and exhaling deeply as she did. Sigard shouted at his men to disperse, and the warriors immediately parted along the walls, exposing a deep cracks running up one section of the marble. The Ayleids on the battlements likewise began shouting and scrambling away from the walls.
"Telepe!" Teo muttered. "If you're going to do something…!"
Telepe bit his cheek hard, his mind racing as Ilsa planted her feet and inhaled deeply. A thought suddenly struck him, and as she narrowed her eyes, Telepe began gathering magicka in the palm of his hand.
"FUS-!" Ilga began.
Before she could speak the rest of her Shout, Telepe brought his hand up and released a bolt of bright green magicka. It streaked through the air and struck Ilga in the back. A split-second later, a sea-green aura spread across her body. Ilga's voice died in her throat as she fiercely mouthed a couple of words. Then, a look of utter confusion spread across her face as no sound escaped her lips.
Sigard's eyes widened with shock, then narrowed with fury as he turned towards Telepe. "You!" he bellowed, pointing his mace at Telepe, who turned to him calmly. "You dare to interfere with our siege?!"
"I said that we would not fight you," Telepe pointed out calmly, a slight, smug smile spreading over his lips as he folded his arms over his chest. "I never said we would not stop you."
Sigard's face contorted with rage, and then he let out a furious battle-cry and sprinted towards Telepe, raising his mace over his head. Behind him, the Nedes lowered their spears, and Teo shouted at him to get back. Telepe, however, stood his ground and calmly gathered magicka in his palm again. When the Nord was less than twenty feet away, he raised his hand and released another aqua-colored bolt of energy.
The Nord leader's eyes widened with surprise, and he tried to leap out of the way, but the bolt collided with his shoulder. As the green light washed over him, his scream tapered off, and his legs stopped churning as his eyes glazed over. His mace slipped from his limp fingers as he came to a stop, staring blankly ahead. Telepe grinned to himself as he calmly walked over to the Nord's fallen weapon and picked it up, then tossed it casually to Teo, who snatched it out of the air.
"The rest of you, stand down!" Telepe shouted, narrowing his eyes at the other Nords, who were staring in shock at their glassy-eyed captain. "We have no wish to fight you, but we cannot let this siege continue!"
"You have no right to command us, elf!" one of the Nords shouted angrily. Cries of agreement filled the air, and the rest of the renegade army began turning towards him. Telepe's smile vanished, and he slowly began to back away, his right hand dropping to his sword. Behind him, he heard Teo shouting orders for his men to brace themselves for a fight.
"Perhaps he doesn't… but I do!" a voice roared from the treeline. The Nords stopped and turned to the right. As they did, gasps and cries of fear and horror erupted from them. Riding out of the forest atop a heavy roan horse, at the head of what seemed to be over a thousand Nordic warriors, was King Vrage. He wore his golden crown over his helmet to clearly denote his authority, and as he drew closer, Telepe could see that his grey eyes were burning with rage. Behind him rode two of his jarls, both of whom had their weapons drawn, and both of whom were directing glares at the renegade Nords before them.
"Your Majesty!" another of the Nords cried, just as their leader seemed to be shaking off Telepe's spell. "We came here to-"
"You came here to loot and pillage a city that I did not command you to attack!" Vrage barked, stopping his horse a few feet from Sigard, who was blinking rapidly, starting to shake off Telepe's calming spell.
"I… you… Your Majesty," Sigard muttered, groaning and wiping a hand over his face. He then looked up at the king, still seeming dazed. "We… we sought glory. We have the right-"
"Do you have the right to disobey your king?" Vrage asked in a low voice.
"We… we did not disobey-!" Sigard protested.
"Did I give you leave to abandon the siege of Narfinsel and attack Elenglynn?!" Vrage demanded.
"We were only-!" Sigard began.
"Answer the question!" Vrage commanded.
The other Nords flinched at the king's shout and looked away. Sigard stared at the ground sullenly for a few moments before muttering, "You… you did not."
"Worse, you dared attack our allies?! And an emissary, no less?!" Vrage bellowed.
Sigard snapped his head up, narrowing his eyes defiantly. "He's an elf!" he protested viciously. "Why would I obey the command of an elf?!"
Vrage suddenly drew his sword and pointed it between the eyes of the Nord captain. Sigard's voice died in his throat. "He is also a man," the king retorted in a low growl. "And even if he is only half a man, he is twice the man you are, traitor."
Telepe tilted his head slightly, unsure whether to feel grateful or slighted by Vrage's comment.
Sigard's eyes widened as he began to realize how dire his situation was. "My king… we did not betray you-!" he pleaded.
"Silence!" Vrage barked, and the man's jaw immediately snapped shut. The king sighed, then turned to Telepe and the others. "You have my thanks for preventing any further damage to Elenglynn," he added wearily. "Telepe… would you be so kind as to speak with these elves and try to salvage this situation?"
Telepe inclined his head, though he could feel his stomach churning with anxiety. "As you say, Your Majesty," he replied quietly. Vrage nodded gratefully and lowered his sword, then turned and ordered to his warriors to restrain the rogue Nords.
Telepe took a deep breath, then undid his sword and handed it to Pasare, who took it and clutched it to her chest, giving him an encouraging nod. He then turned and slowly approached the gates of Elenglynn with his hands raised, trying to appear as nonthreatening as possible. As he came within range of their archers, he saw the mer guarding the walls tense, but thankfully, they didn't loose their arrows at him yet.
"Mer of Elenglynn, I bring you greetings, and extend our profuse apologies!" he began, raising his voice so that he could be heard all along the walls. He then bowed his head contritely. "These treasonous dogs acted without their king's command and attacked you against his will! We had hoped to approach you first under the banner of peace, bringing gifts and an offer of friendship!"
"Did you now?" a heavy voice bellowed from the walls. Telepe looked slightly to his left and was surprised to see a noble figure clad in gleaming bronze armor, wrapped in a flowing red cape, and wearing a winged helmet on his brow – an Ayleid crown, Telepe realized. He was being addressed by the King of Elenglynn "You claim to bring an offer of peace, yet my scouts say that a rebel army is not far off. Are you not presently besieging the kingdoms of Narfinsel and Wendir?"
Telepe hesitated for half a moment, caught off-guard by the king's knowledge of their twin attacks on the northern cities. He quickly surmised that Elenglynn's scouts, near the borders of his lands, must have returned immediately when they had learned their neighbors were under attack. "We are only besieging those kingdoms in retaliation for their attack on us," Telepe explained. "Without provocation, they besieged the city of Sancre Tor. After we repelled them, we felt compelled to seek vengeance upon them for the lives lost during their attack. We have no such quarrel with you."
"Yet you saw fit to send an advance force to attack us without provocation," the King of Elenglynn retorted.
"As I stated, these men acted without their king's command," Telepe repeated. "And rest assured, they shall be punished harshly for their transgressions. Is that not so, Your Majesty?" he called out, glancing over his shoulder at Vrage.
"They shall," Vrage agreed coldly, glowering icily at the men, who withered under his glare.
The King of Elenglynn was silent for a few moments, considering Telepe's words. He then asked, "If you intended to approach us with an offer of friendship, why did you not send an emissary first to inform us of your intentions?"
Telepe's mind raced quickly, trying to come up with an excuse that would disguise the fact that they had hoped to negotiate from a position of strength, where they could cow Elenglynn into submission after two swift victories against their neighbors. "I had hoped to speak with you personally, but I had another task to attend to first," Telepe replied, weaving the truth in with his evasive answer. "Once that was completed, I intended to negotiate with you."
"And why did you not send another envoy in your place?" the king pointed out.
Telepe smiled faintly. "The Paravant wished for me to speak with you, as she typically sends me to act as her personal representative when she cannot come herself," he insisted. "She would not send another in my place for so important a task; anything less would have been an insult to you, Your Majesty. We also did not expect a band of villains to sneak away and attack you without orders," he added, pausing to shoot another glare over his shoulder at the captive Nords.
The king ran his hand over his chin, then leaned over to speak with a woman dressed in armor nearly as fine as his. Telepe held his breath as he watched the king shake his head and whisper furiously to her before finally turning back around with a chuckle.
"Intriguing," the king remarked. "Quite the fascinating tale you've woven."
"Yes… you have our deepest apologies," Telepe agreed, lowering his head once again. "If you would allow us to converse with you directly, we would be glad to offer-"
"No… we have no desire to accept anything you might offer," the king snarled, his smile fading immediately. "Do you think us foolish enough to be tricked by this ruse?"
Telepe rocked his head back slightly, as though he had been slapped. "Ruse?" he repeated, genuinely confused.
"Come now, do you not think this a bit too fortuitous?" the king pointed out, jerking his chin from Telepe to the Nords behind him. "We come under siege from a 'renegade' force of Nords, only for an emissary, and then their king, to force them to stand down? What sort of play are you putting on, 'envoy?'"
Telepe's mouth fell open, and he momentarily found himself at a loss for words. "I… we could not have planned this!" he insisted.
"Then how else do you explain the serendipitous timing of your king's arrival? Sheer coincidence? The intervention of the gods?" The king scoffed and shook his head as he affected a mocking tone. "I see. You presumed that once you quelled your little internal rebellion, we would happily accept our gracious saviors into our walls. We'd be so grateful for your intervention that we would bow to your every demand." The king spat over the edge of the walls, narrowing his eyes with fury. "How foolish do you think us?"
"I swear upon all the Divines, this was no ruse!" Telepe insisted. He hated that he was reduced to pleading, but he was at a loss about how else to assure the king that they weren't acting.
"Then your leaders are poor, if they cannot restrain even a handful of their men," the king replied coldly. "You ask us to ally with you, but these barbarians clearly cannot keep their dogs leashed. What's to stop them from attempting to slay us as soon as our backs are turned? What is our incentive for allying with you, if we'll be attacked regardless?"
"This shall not happen again!" Telepe protested.
"No. Because we will not allow it," the king replied coldly. "You've approached me under the banner of truce, emissary, so I'll allow you to return to your lines unmolested. Know, however, that we shall not willingly surrender these walls to you, whether you come with honeyed words or vulgar threats. Begone, before I let slip my control of my warriors."
Telepe took a half step forward, but stopped when he heard the creaking of several bowstrings being drawn taut. The bronze gleam of hundreds of arrowpoints in the afternoon sun convinced him to back away, keeping his hands raised to assure them that he posed no threat. When he was finally out of range of their archers, he turned around and trudged back to King Vrage, feeling as though his stomach was full of lead.
Vrage gave Telepe a sympathetic look as he approached, reaching out to grasp his shoulder. "I presume that if we desire control of this city, we must take it by force, then?" he asked in a low voice.
"So it would seem," Telepe murmured, unable to meet the king's eyes.
Vrage nodded grimly, then stepped past him to glare at the deserters arrayed before him. "Well, then there's nothing else to be done. If Elenglynn will not parley with us, then battle must be joined. And those of you who were so hungry for glory… rejoice, for now you shall have your chance to claim it!" His grey eyes burned as they raked over the renegades, who flinched under his glare. "Come now, rejoice! Those of you who dared participate in this mad scheme shall be the first to scale the walls! That's what you wished, is it not?!" His eyes then narrowed, and he added, "However… the weapons you carry are fit for noble warriors, not bandits like you. Warriors, disarm them!"
Telepe felt his mouth go dry as Vrage's warriors snatched the axes and swords that the renegade Nords were carrying and toss them into a pile in the wet earth. As they did, Sigard's eyes widened with fury.
"You are sending us to our deaths!" he protested sharply.
"Perhaps," Vrage replied coldly. "You all sought glory, and what better song could be sung than that of men who did not even need bronze to take a city? If you should happen to succeed, you shall be hailed as heroes, an example for all Nords to emulate! And if you should fall… well, perhaps Shor shall at least recognize your valor and invite you into the halls of Sovngarde upon your deaths. Provided he overlooks your treason and disrespect to your king."
Sigard gaped at Vrage, then blurted out, "You… you cannot do this!"
Vrage slowly turned towards the captain, his face so contorted with rage that Telepe could almost have mistook him for Pelinal. "I cannot?" he whispered. "Perhaps you believe so. Unfortunately, I am the High King of Skyrim. I can do what I please to those who betray my kingdom." He chuckled softly as he turned back to the renegades. "And in truth, I am being merciful. I am giving you a chance to survive, to redeem yourselves, and to earn the glory you were desperate enough for that you forgot your oaths to your king." He paused for a moment, then turned back to Sigard. "Well… except for one of you."
Without warning, Vrage suddenly drew his sword and swung it in a short arc in a single motion. The blade slashed the renegade commander across the neck, and the king stepped back as blood sprayed from the open gash in his throat. Sigard's eyes widened with shock and horror as he dropped to his knees, clutching his throat, gasping and gagging on his blood. Vrage watched him pitilessly as he wiped his sword off with a cloth that he pulled from his belt.
"As your men only followed your mad scheme, I shall grant them a chance at redemption," Vrage said coldly. "You, however, openly defied me, several times. You have no respect for your king or your homeland. I shall not suffer traitors. You do not even deserve the chance to feast in the halls of Sovngarde. Die like the dog you are, and let Sithis take you instead. Though I doubt even he truly desires a soul as vile as yours."
Sigard writhed on the ground, glaring up at the king as his movements slowed. As a final act of defiance, he managed to spit a bit of blood on the ground at Vrage's feet, and then at last he stopped moving. Vrage stared down at him silently for a moment, and then he turned to his remaining warriors.
"Throw his body into the jungle. The beasts can have it," Vrage said nonchalantly. "As for the rest of you, prepare to take the walls! Tongues… I'm afraid that we must destroy these defenses before the city is taken. Try to capture as many elves as you can – these people at least deserve to be ransomed rather than slain, if possible. It's not their fault that we must now turn our blades upon them."
"No… it isn't," Telepe murmured.
Vrage gave Telepe a quick, sidelong look, then turned back to his men and pulled his bronze war-horn from his belt. "On my signal!" he shouted, bringing the horn to his lips. He blew into it, and the remaining Nord rogues ran screaming at the walls, flinging themselves at the fallen ladders and trying to raise them once again as the Ayleid defenders pelted their defenseless forms with arrows. Vrage watched them silently for a few moments, and then he turned to Telepe.
"My apologies, Telepe," he said softly, reaching out and laying a strong hand on one of his slender shoulders. "The fault for this travesty lies with me. These were my warriors, and it was my failure to restrain them that led to this pointless battle. Know that the blood of all who die today, man and mer alike, is on my hands."
Telepe smiled wanly at Vrage and inclined his head. "Your honor and sense of responsibility do you credit, Your Majesty," he murmured. However, he then gently shook off the king's hand and stepped past him to watch one of the Nords scrambling desperately up the only ladder that they had managed to raise, only to be impaled by arrows from all sides. As the body fell to the ground, Telepe couldn't help but feel that, despite Vrage's consolation, he had been the one who had failed this day. His sole duty was to prevent bloodshed, and he had – once again – been unable to convince a city that avoiding a battle was in their best interest. The mingled screams of the Nords and the Ayleids sounded accusatory as they echoed in his ears.
A few days later, Telepe was sitting on the front steps of Elenglynn's palace, gloomily watching as the Ayleid captives were being shepherded in chains from the large cauldron of porridge bubbling in the center of the plaza back to their holding cells. It was a bitterly ironic scene, and one that he felt that most of the Nedes thought was poetic justice. He, however, could not help but continue to wonder whether these Ayleids might have instead been allowed to walk as freely on the streets as their former slaves now did, if only he had been able to convince them to stand down.
He had spent the last several days considering what course of action to recommend to Perrf about their captives. Vrage wanted to ransom them back to their enemies in exchange for food, weapons, and magical items. Telepe, however, feared that they would then be conscripted into Umaril's army. Tales of the rebels' unprovoked attack on their settlement would spread, bolstering their morale and further justifying their war. Elenglynn's warriors would hold an especial hatred for them, ensuring they would fight that much harder whenever they were sent into battle, and costing the rebels even more lives. Thus, he was instead considering allowing them to leave Cyrod for Valenwood or Malabal. Perhaps the Bosmer or the northern Altmer might accept the displaced mer as refugees. It was certainly kinder than slaughtering the lot of them, which he was certain Pelinal would advocate for.
Sighing, he held his hand out and half-heartedly gathered magicka into his palm. Right now, what he wanted more than anything was to simply vanish and not have to struggle with these dilemmas. Perhaps that desire to disappear would be the impetus he needed to learn the invisibility spell that Moralasil had taught him, he thought wryly. Exhaling slowly, he gathered as much magicka as he could and released it, but all he accomplished was creating a brief flare of light that vanished an instant later. Another failure. Not that he had expected anything else, considering all his other recent failures, he thought morosely.
…Enough. Stop brooding, Telepe mentally rebuked himself, smacking his cheeks as he did. Certainly, he hadn't had a diplomatic victory since Skyrim, and his recent failures were painful, but dwelling on them would not improve anything. Besides, the rebel army had still managed to win every battle that had been waged so far, so even if diplomacy had failed, it wasn't as though they had lost any momentum in the war. It was tragic that hundreds of warriors had their lives cut short, certainly, but they had chosen to fight, and they had given their lives gladly. All he could do now was try to prevent any further bloodshed.
A distant sound reached Telepe's ears, and he looked up from his position at the top of the steps to peer over the walls of Elenglynn. He could just barely make out several figures weaving their way through the jungle, slowly approaching the city. The guards on the walls tensed, and one started to call for reinforcements, but another ordered him to belay that request. A few minutes later, a Nedic army marched into the clearing in front of Elenglynn, led by Morihaus, clad in his pitch-black armor. Pelinal was by his side, his pristine armor stained with blood, and his mace smeared with the feathers and beads of high-ranking Ayleid warriors. Behind them walked Perrif, who had her hands folded in front of her and her eyes fixated on the ground. Even from this distance, Telepe noticed that she looked exhausted.
The warriors atop the walls hurried to open the gates for the approaching army, and several of the Nords peered out of the homes that they had seized from the Ayleids to watch the Paravant's arrival. Telepe slowly descended the steps, his arms folded over his chest, as the procession made its way towards the palace.
Telepe met Perrif, Pelinal, and Morihaus when they were halfway down the street, smiling bitterly as they approached him. Perrif gently nudged her way past the other two to meet him. Telepe inclined his head by way of greeting, which Perrif answered before casting a cool glance around the city.
"I presume that we were unable to negotiate an alliance with this kingdom," she remarked wearily.
"There were… complications," Telepe sighed, before lowering his gaze towards the palace steps. "I have no excuse."
Perrif gazed at him silently for a moment, then reached out and gently tilted his chin up. "What's done is done," she murmured, though she seemed as disheartened as he was. "At the very least, another kingdom is now under our control. I shall speak with you and Vrage about it later, when we can decide what is to be done with these captives." She paused for a moment, considering him, then added, "What of Tari?"
"She was able to successfully read the Elder Scroll," Telepe answered, somewhat relieved that he was able to present her with some good news for a change. "Her vision has yet to return, and she's currently training with Moralasil, if you wish to speak with her about her latest vision."
"Later," Perrif replied, flashing him a brief smile. "Well done seeing her safely to her destination. That, I believe, is far more important than any one city we capture or lose." She lowered her hands and looked over her shoulder, then turned back around and murmured, "For now, I shall seek out King Vrage and discuss our next actions."
"We've already dispatched falcons to Talwinque and Nonungalo," Telepe informed her. When Perrif regarded him with a look of mild surprise, he added, "You said you wished to speak with them as well once our campaigns with these three cities were finished, yes? They've already replied, and are sending representatives from their kingdoms here to speak with us directly."
"Is that so? Well done indeed," Perrif sighed, her smile broadening. "Hopefully, that's two less battles we must fight. This should give us some time to rest and recover."
"Quite," Telepe replied. He paused, however, noticing her distant look, and he hesitantly broached, "If I may, what of your battle with Wendir?"
Perrif's smile faded, and she looked away pensively. "We took the city, but we lost more men than we should have," she replied evasively. "Leave it at that, for now."
Telepe gave her a curious look, but didn't press her. "I see. In any case, I suppose we should both be pleased that we've taken the cities we set out to pacify. For now, you must be hungry," he added, smiling gently as he held his hand out towards the palace.
A relieved chuckle escaped Perrif's lips, and she nodded. "Quite," she replied, allowing Telepe to lead her up the steps of the palace.
The next two days passed by relatively peacefully, much to Telepe's surprise and relief. There were occasional raids by bands of Ayleids and Daedra, but none came closer than outlying farms and small holdings that weren't protected by Elenglynn's walls. Either Umaril was being particularly cautious now that they had taken three cities in a short time span, or he was only offering a token harassment while he consolidated his forces and prepared a new strategy.
Telepe, for his part, enjoyed the chance to rest and recover after spending several days traveling. The wound on his hip finally healed, leaving a bright red scar – the latest of almost a dozen that now marked his body, he noted – but he was much more troubled by the fact that Tari's vision was particularly slow to return. In the past, she had managed to slowly regain her sight over the course of a few weeks, but now, even several days later, her eyes were still unable to pierce the white veil that clouded them. He began to fear that she actually had been struck permanently blind, regardless of what the Scroll had told her during her last reading.
In the meantime, they had both focused on learning new spells. Tari had finally mastered balancing on the surface of water, so Moralasil began teaching her a spell that would allow her to breathe underwater – one of the most dangerous spells to fail at casting. He had started by wrapping a wet cloth around her nose and mouth and telling her to breathe while constantly casting magic to keep as much of the water out as possible. It was a difficult task, but as the technique to repel water from her lungs was similar to repelling it from her skin, she enjoyed quick success in the initial phases of her training.
As for Telepe, invisibility continued to elude him. He still couldn't even make a ball of light vanish, regardless of how much or little magicka he poured into the spell. While he'd struggled with mastering spells before, this was the first time he found himself getting truly frustrated as he experienced failure after failure.
As such, it was almost a relief when, on the horizon, the guards manning the gates of Elenglynn spotted an army marching towards them. Of course, the Nedic warriors were immediately on edge, as it was possible that Umaril had finally decided to march on the city and besiege it. Fortunately, it quickly became apparent that the Ayleids were flying a white banner of truce, and as they drew closer, one of the guards recognized the device on their shields as the sigil of the city of Nonungalo.
As chance would have it, Telepe and Perrif were sitting together on a bench near the front gates, finalizing plans to deport the Ayleids of Elenglynn to Valenwood. It was a bright, cloudless day, giving them a brief respite from the recent rainy weather, and they decided to take advantage of the clear skies to work outside under the sun when they could. Thus, when the announcement of Nonungalo's approach went up, they were among the first to hear it.
"Excellent!" Perrif exclaimed, pushing herself up and dusting off the rough robes she was wearing. She glanced at the front gates, then turned to Telepe with a smile. "Would you be so kind as to greet them for me and begin negotiations with them while I ready myself?"
Telepe felt his stomach turn slightly as he slowly rolled up the scroll in his hands. "Are… you certain?" he asked hesitantly.
Perrif's smile faltered, and she tilted her head at him curiously. "Why wouldn't I be? Shouldn't I be able to trust my emissary to greet our visitors and begin swaying them to our side?" she pointed out with a slight frown. "I need some time to prepare – I must change into my formal robes and ready refreshments for them. In the meantime, I have the utmost confidence in you." As she turned to walk back to the palace, she glanced over her shoulder and added softly, "Do you not?"
Telepe swallowed at her question as she turned back around and strode towards the palace. His own reaction had surprised him. What was wrong with him? Was he truly so shaken by his recent setbacks that he dreaded greeting their newest visitors? If so, then it was all the more important that he succeed now. Unlike the mer in Lipsand Tarn, Narfinsel, and Elenglynn, the Ayleids from Nonungalo were likely neutral at worst, and perhaps friendly at best. There was no reason he shouldn't be able to steer them into a positive relationship with the rebellion.
As the gates to the city began to swing open, Telepe took a deep breath to steady himself and calm his mind. He then glanced down and quickly readjusted his cloak and smoothed his tunic, before straightening his back and affecting a warm smile as the Ayleids marched into the city.
At the head of the procession was a short, middle-aged Ayleid man, a cloak of feathers wrapped around his shoulders over his deep red chiton, with strings of bright Welkynd beads in his braided hair. An ornate golden crown, etched with feather patterns, rested atop his head, and his bright blue eyes scanned the city with a critical eye before falling upon Telepe as he approached. He jerked his head imperiously as Telepe bowed courteously before him.
"Welcome to Elenglynn, Your Majesty. I am Telepe, and I have the honor of representing the Paravant and her rebellion," he said smoothly.
"A pleasure," the king replied in a clipped tone that suggested the greeting was anything but. As Telepe raised his head, the mer glanced around and added, "I trust that those fanatics from Talwinque have yet to arrive, then?"
"You are the first visitors we've had in several days," Telepe replied evenly, though privately, he was slightly surprised. Had Nonungalo and Talwinque been exchanging correspondence? He hadn't realized the two kingdoms were in direct contact with each other, though he supposed that it made sense that both were watching the rebellion's activities to their east very closely.
"Mm. I thought they'd be the more eager of the two of us to meet your queen," the king mused, before turning back to Telepe. "So. You had the gall to summon us."
Telepe was slightly taken aback by the king's hostile tone, but he was careful not to let it show on his face. "We wouldn't dream of 'summoning' a potential partner and ally," Telepe assured him easily. "We are, however, pleased that you accepted our invitation."
The king snorted, folding his arms over his chest. "Come now. It's not as though we had a choice, considering you and your savages have been tearing across the countryside like a plague. In truth, I was somewhat surprised you had the courtesy to send a message rather than simply besieging us."
Telepe felt his stomach beginning to churn again, and he struggled to keep his voice steady as he replied slowly, "The tragedy of the recent siege of Elenglynn was due to circumstances beyond our control-"
"Quite. And you seem to have capitalized on this 'tragedy' rather swiftly," the king replied sardonically. He glanced over his shoulder at the cages lining the streets, where the Ayleid captives were being held. "I suppose that it's only fitting that former slaves would wish to inflict the same humiliation upon their masters, though enslaving us Ayleids in turn hardly fosters friendly relations, does it?"
"We had no intention of fighting if it could be avoided-" Telepe began.
"No, you'd much rather that we simply submit to your rule without any struggle whatsoever," the king interrupted before Telepe could continue. He narrowed his bright blue eyes, then added coldly, "Now, why should we even consider hearing you out?"
Telepe felt heat rising to his face, and he struggled to control his tone as he replied, "We asked you here to offer you friendship, Your Majesty. We are approaching you with our hands open, not with our blades drawn. We would like to discuss trade and mutual protection, not war."
"'Protection,'" the Ayleid king scoffed, once again glancing at the cages holding the mer. "For our Nedic slaves, yes?"
"For all people in your domain, man and mer alike," Telepe replied firmly. "Race does not matter to the rebellion-"
"No. Whether or not we'll submit to your rule does," the king interrupted again, to Telepe's growing irritation. "I've also heard tell that you intend to demand that we free our slaves before you'll even consider proposing a treaty favorable to us, yes?"
"Mutual respect does demand recognition of the rights of all citizens within your kingdom," Telepe acknowledged slowly.
"Ah. Yet another indication that you would rather impose your laws upon us than reach an equitable solution that benefits both of us," the king sneered. "You and your people are quite arrogant, you know."
Telepe took a slow breath, considering how to counter the king's steadfast hostility. An idea began to form in his mind, and he began in a calm voice, "Your Majesty-"
"Your Majesty, please forgive my tardiness! It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance! Thank you for arriving so promptly," a voice announced behind Telepe, cutting him off before he could continue. He glanced over his shoulder to see Perrif approaching them with a warm smile, her hands folded placidly in front of her. "I trust that your journey was not too arduous?"
The king glanced past Telepe to fix his bright blue eyes on Perrif, and a slow sneer spread across his head as he jerked his head in greeting. "We managed to arrive without incident," he replied icily.
"Ah. Then I'm pleased to see that our men have indeed kept the roads safe and in excellent condition," Perrif retorted coolly, stopping a few feet from the Ayleid king.
The king raised an eyebrow at her before mockingly murmuring in a low voice, "You would boast of the state of your roads?"
"I would gladly boast of all of our successes," Perrif replied sincerely as she smiled warmly up at their visitors. "We should take pride in them. Our warriors are the finest in Cyrod. After all, Umaril has yet to win a true victory against us."
"Quite. And you've had no qualms using that strength to repress the settlements under your rule, I see," the king retorted sharply.
"Have we?" Perrif asked innocently, tilting her head slightly. "So far as I'm aware, none of our cities have even considered rising against us once liberated. This, in spite of the fact that we've been rather lenient with the kingdoms we've defeated."
"Lenient?!" Nonungalo's king cried incredulously, jabbing a finger at the elves behind her. "You call the imprisonment of thousands of elves lenient?!"
"Rather, yes," Perrif replied easily, sweeping her arm at the elves in the cages. "Look closely at them. Do you see any signs of abuse? Of wounds, beyond those sustained in battle? Of torture?" Her smile turned slightly cunning as she added, "Do you believe they would show us the same courtesy, the same mercy, were they to have triumphed over us?"
"A sign of weakness," the king retorted.
Telepe raised an eyebrow, folding his arms over his chest. "Yet apparently we're also mighty enough to be the harsh oppressors of those we've conquered," he pointed out. "Which is it?"
The king ignored him, focusing his attention on Perrif. "I trust you have a reason for asking me to come here, girl. My time is valuable, so be swift about it."
Perrif glanced at Telepe, then answered, "As my emissary has no doubt already informed you, our intention is to ensure there will be no hostilities between us, and hopefully to establish a mutually beneficial trading relationship."
"Yes, one which clearly favors you," the king snorted in reply.
Perrif held her hands out. "You are free to pursue trade with other kingdoms, if you so choose. However, you should note that many of your routes now run through our territory, and those in the south that do not will soon be under our control."
The king narrowed his eyes and folded his arms over his chest. "You dare threaten me?" he growled.
"I am simply informing you of the truth," Perrif replied coolly. "You may choose to reject our proposal on ideological grounds, and we cannot stop you. From a practical standpoint, however, it is in your interest to treat with us when we're approaching you as a friendly party. We have no desire for hostility, but if you do not wish to parley with us, then you shall find yourselves increasingly isolated as our campaign south continues. We've asked you to meet with us now to avoid that unfortunate eventuality."
The king drew himself up to his full height and glared down at Perrif, his folded arms trembling with anger. Perrif, however, held his gaze calmly, her hands folded placidly in front of her. After staring down at her for several long moments, however, the king suddenly began laughing.
"Well played. And here I thought that you would fold under pressure. Your emissary certainly did," he added, shooting Telepe a nasty glare.
"Wha-?!" Telepe protested, his eyes widening with outrage.
"Well met indeed, Al-Esh," the king continued in a gracious tone, once more ignoring Telepe. "I'm pleased to see that the rumors of your purported strength of will were not mere fabrications. I'd be happy to speak with you more in private."
"Very good," Perrif replied calmly. She paused to glance away from the king at Telepe, adding, "Would you be so kind as to wait for the delegation from Talwinque? If they received our missive at the same time as our friends here, they should be arriving shortly."
Telepe was unable to answer before Perrif turned and began leading the Ayleid king away. When the king's back was turned, however, she glanced over her shoulder and mouthed the words, "My apologies," before turning back around and leading the king back to the palace.
Telepe watched with his mouth slightly agape as Perrif escort the king towards the palace. Fury, frustration, and shock at being so abruptly dismissed warred for dominance inside of him. He stood stock-still until they disappeared into the building, whereupon he finally let out his breath in a long, slow hiss. Very well, he thought bitterly to himself, before inhaling sharply once again to clear his head. So Perrif was able to force this king on the defensive when you couldn't. You should be pleased that she has become such an effective diplomat. Now, when the mer from Telwinque arrive, take care not to fall into their pace. You're better than this.
Telepe spent the next several minutes mentally bracing himself for the delegates' arrival. He reminded himself of the strength of their army, the bounty of goods that they had to offer, and their numerous victories, both martial and peaceful. There was no reason that he should not be able to sway Telwinque to their cause, he sternly told himself.
Nearly an hour later, the gate guards once again blew a horn to announce the arrival of the elves from Telwinque. Telepe pushed himself up from the bench he had been sitting on and took another slow breath to steady himself before squaring his shoulders and facing the gate. He ignored the nausea eating away at the inside of his stomach as the mer swept into the city, led by a tall figure on a beautiful white horse.
Telepe was surprised to note that the leader of the procession seemed to be a priest. She was dressed in flowing white robes, with feathers braided into her golden hair and beads hanging off of her ears like jewels. She wore an amulet around her neck that had the symbol of Auriel carved into its face. Her bright blue eyes swept imperiously around the streets before falling languidly on Telepe, who bowed deferentially towards her.
"You there!" she addressed him in a cold, clipped tone. "You shall take me to the one they call the Paravant immediately. We have important business to discuss."
"I would be glad to take you to the palace, my lady, but I am afraid that the Paravant is presently occupied with other visitors," Telepe replied politely, raising his head to smile warmly up at her. "In the meantime, allow me to escort you."
The Ayleid exhaled sharply through her thin, hooked nose. "Tell her to conclude her business immediately if she wishes to speak with us," the priestess demanded shortly.
Telepe bit the inside of his cheek to keep his smile from faltering. "As I said, she is presently occupied, but I concur. If your business is so pressing, then we should begin negotiations immediately," Telepe replied smoothly. "I would be happy to open talks with you. We have-"
"And who are you?" the priestess demanded.
"My name is Telepe," he replied evenly, continuing to hold his smile. "I am the Paravant's emissary, and in her absence, I have been given leave to conduct diplomacy on her behalf."
"Have you?" the priestess asked, her tone thoroughly unimpressed as she swept past him. "Tell me, 'emissary…' can you speak with the gods?"
Telepe struggled to keep his smile from faltering. "I… have not-"
"Then why should I bother speaking with you?" the Ayleid asked coldly, pausing to look over her shoulder. She then sneered and added, "What use would a woman who can speak with the gods even have for an emissary who cannot?"
Telepe felt as though an icy dagger had been plunged into his chest. His voice died in his throat as a numb feeling of despair settled over him. His gaze drifted past the priestess to the palace behind her, where Perrif was still conducting negotiations with the King of Nonungalo. Far more effectively than he could.
As it should be, he thought sadly.
"I… shall guide you to the palace," he muttered dully to the priestess, unable to meet her gaze. "And I shall retrieve you when the Paravant has concluded her business."
"As you should have when I first asked," the Ayleid sniffed, impatiently waving her hand. Telepe didn't respond, instead silently stepping in front of her and motioning for her to follow. As he led the way to the palace, he began silently contemplating if Perrif even did require his help any longer… and if not, where did that leave him?