Chapter 16: The Synod

AN: Welcome back to The Old Kingdom and Alterim. God, I'm so tired rn. This act is almost over and then Serana will return in the first or second chapter of act 4. We're not far, I promise! Thank you for your patience.

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Stesha had explained everything he heard at the Order of the Black Worm's meeting to Savoss, Tolfdir, and Gwendal. The headmasters had locked Sergius and Mirabelle in containment cells in the Arch Mage's quarters when the two returned to the school. However, to their collective frustration, the necromancers refused to spill any of Mannimarco's secrets.

Savoss' snake tongue slicked against his lips. "So, they wish to stop some imaginary sickness. No doubt a farce. Mannimarco has never cared about the wellbeing of others."

Stesha moved aside some of the books lying on the table. Inkwells and quills resting precariously on edges with unrolled rolls of parchments. He thought back to the Elder Scroll of Virus that Jarl Balgruuf and Farengar had brought up and Seracles' words in his dreams regarding a plague. It all has to be some weird coincidence.

Savoss snapped his nails in front of Stesha's face. "Anything else, my boy?"

"They intend to meet next at the Winter Hold Conclave in order to select a weapon that can break the College's forcefield," Stesha clarified. "I say I wear their robes and sneak into their meeting and find out what weapon they plan to use. Gwendal will wait outside in case anything goes wrong."

"Excellent, Stesha. You have been most helpful." Tolfdir patted him on the back. "Please shower and rest up first however, you can go tomorrow. By then the Synod will have arrived home. In the meantime, we'll see if we can pry anything out of these two traitors." His smile turned into a scowl at Mirabelle and Sergius.

"You're all fools." Mirabelle shook her head. "Mannimarco is trying to save Skyrim. He's discovered something no one else has!"

Save Skyrim, the words reverberated in Stesha's head as he glanced onto the black and white tiles making up the flooring.

Stesha headed out with Gwendal, pacing down the fine marble hallways toward the dormitories. Several portraits hanging on the walls discussing with each other as sets of knight armor stood on display over mannequins.

"Mannimarco… that was the elf riding the flying snake," Gwendal said in shock. "I never would've imagined it. I thought the Champion of Cyrodiil killed him."

"Same here," Stesha countered as they passed by Atmah, Takes-In-Light, Elvali Veren, Girduin, and Hafnar Ice-Fist.

Try and call me a coward now, you damn fools. Stesha clenched his fists so hard his knuckles turned white, and he shook with barely restrained rage. I'll prove you all wrong. Charlamagne himself will take notice.

"Say, Stesha, have you ever taken one of those ancestry tests?" Gwendal scratched his bleached blond curls.

"Yeah actually," Stesha recollected vaguely, calming himself down. "I remember it saying I had some Ayleid in me and that Laloriaran Dynar was one of my ancestors. Why?"

"I wanted to take one, but they're so expensive," Gwendal sighed as they arrived to their room. "Though I'm sure I also have Ayleid in me. Near every Breton does."

Stesha took a deep breath, doing his best to quell his anger from before. "Listen, tomorrow, if you hear the sound of a fireball from inside the Synod base, that's your que to save me. Just don't kill anyone, okay?"

"I can't promise you that. I'll save you but I'll raze that whole place to ashes if it's your life or theirs. Most people in this world deserve to die, Stesha." Gwendal's face twisted into a solid frown. "Most people aren't evil, but they are apathetic bystanders. And that makes them just as evil as the tyrants who lord over us. – If you are neutral in situations of injustice, you have chosen the side of the oppressor."

Stesha's face broke into a bemused smile. "Philosophical Gwendal, now, are we?"

Gwendal grinned. "Shut up." He punched Stesha in the back.

Stesha took a detour and gave Urag his book then returned to the bathrooms, attached at the far end of the dorms. Dwemer surfaced with gold sinks and a wide, oblong bath that stretched across the washroom. Fumes pouring out of pipes of dwarven make. Stesha was grateful that Dwemer tech had been reverse engineered to give Tamriel such luxurious restrooms and infrastructure. Supposedly, Charlamagne Guice was to thank for that technological revolution. He took off his clothes and stepped into the massive bathtub, the size of a small swimming pool. – The massive pipes shot multicolored streams into the tub, filling it up with foam, rising to the top. Stesha sunk in and relaxed, his back muscles crackling pleasurably against the rim of the stone ledge.

He rubbed the soap suds over his body and hair, massaging his scalp before sinking back into the pool. His eyelids nodded a few times as he became entranced by the heat of the water. A flute played calming music out of Wayside Inn; wind swept out the leaves of Wind Keep. The rolling hills and plains playing playfully in the distance. It was nice to take a reprieve…

Stesha woke up some time later, having fallen asleep in the warmness. He washed off under the indoor waterfall and stood up, drying himself and putting on his laundered college robes. He stared at the mirrors for a few seconds, observing the braces over his buckteeth. His lengthy black hair reaching his trapezius and the frail, wobbly kneed nature of his body. He got out and went to bed in his dorm after that. Gwendal was already snoozing by the time he came back. The clock on the wall ticking back and forth ever so slightly.

Thankfully no dreams of Seracles haunted him that night.

I wonder if I should tell someone about my dreams, Stesha thought as he ambled toward the Synod Conclave the next morning. He wore plain black mage robes exactly like what the Synod adorned. If they become a recurring thing, I will, he decided.

He carved his way through the igloos of the metropolis, observing the crystalline make of the Ice-Palace where the High King resided and walking past the College's Consul Office towards a farmhouse of identical make. The Synod Conclave was a shabby wooden house with nothing of note or any memorabilia denoting it as such. Even the Consul Office had a banner.

It's definitely a front.

A few guards sauntered past him. Unlike the Knights of High Rock, the turban wearing askaris of Hammerfell, and the red-skirt, galea adorned legionnaires of Cyrodiil, the Skyrim guards wore fur pelts as shoulder-pads over garbs of fine chainmail made of mithril and had bear-claw bracers. Helmets where the visor showed the face beneath the nose-guard. Massive, round shields with wooden axes dangling near their kilts, and boots that left a mark in the snow. The Norsemen unlike their counterparts in the other human provinces, had large beards and braided hair with the sides and back of their heads shaved. True vikings.

Stesha opened the front door of the conclave. The make was ligneous with tables and beanbag chairs. A fireplace with a stove in the center, bear skin rugs lain on the ground. Several members of the Synod stood around, looking at him with wide eyes. Stesha noted that they had traded out their necromancer uniforms for plain mage robes identical to his.

Stesha cleared his throat and did his best to act natural. "I'm the transfer from High Rock, Matthew Motre. I was asked to uh… check on this branch."

"Oh, yes of course," laughed the Breton woman among them awkwardly. "I am Yvonne Bienne, foremost authority on enchantments. This is our First Adjunct Oronrel Charmaine, The Caller." She gestured to a lanky High Elf.

He must be related to Ancano, they have the same last name. Maybe cousins or something.

"I am Paratus Decimius, researcher." A half Redguard, half Imperial man shook his hand.

"Lydette Viliane, researcher," said another Breton woman.

"Loremaster Alexine LeBlanc." Bowed a Breton man.

"Attendant Gavros Plinius." An Imperial handed him a piece of paper. Squared ridges and fine print. "Please indicate which conclave you're from."

Stesha scanned the parchment, overwhelmed by the choices.

Winter Hold Conclave – The Caller.

Bruma Conclave – The Teller.

Mir Corrup Conclave – The Teacher.

Sancre Tor Conclave – The Booster.

Sutch Conclave (Liar's Retreat) – The Liar.

Leyawiin Conclave – The Timer.

Bravil Conclave – The Tamer.

Cheydinhal Conclave – The Player.

Chorrol Conclave – The Layer.

Skingrad Conclave – The Whistler.

Kvatch Conclave – The Intelligencer.

Anvil Conclave – The Lover.

The Imperial City Conclave (The Arcane University) – The Master.

Stirk Conclave – The Shooter.

Drakelowe Conclave –The Manipulator.

Jehanna Conclave – The Getter.

Arch Magistrate's Office (Skywatch).

A bead of sweat rolled down Stesha's temple. "The Jehanna one obviously. It's the only one in High Rock." Then he stepped closer and whispered in Gavros' ear, but loud enough for everyone to hear, "hail Mannimarco."

They all nodded at each other. "Welcome to the Order of the Black Worm, initiate," welcomed Oronrel. "Please follow us downstairs as we discuss our plans."

Stesha followed the group of them around the wooden railing and filed down the steps. The basement held more beanbag chairs and some orbs and enchantment tables next to desks with mortars and pestles. Shelves full of dusty books that seemed as if they hadn't been touched in a century or more. A gloomy, clandestine ambience to it all only illuminated by candles on small plates in the corners of the suite. - Paratus laid back in one of the beanbags and so did Stesha, the plushie softness of it enveloping him. The rest of the Synod took seats around as well. Yvonne pulled out a map and laid it over the center table, using small flags to pinpoint locations.

"I say we search for the Dragon Priest masks, their power could help us break into the College and it would please Lord Mannimarco immensely." She crossed her arms beneath her chest, drawing her hood over her light brown lochs.

"No, no, we should try and retrieve the Lord's Mail," Alexine disagreed. "Searching for all the dragon priest masks will take too long."

Paratus shook his head at both of them. "No, you fools. There is but one object capable of bringing down a barrier such as the one the College has put up. The Staff of Magnus in Labyrinthian."

"Aaah, yes," Gavros conjectured. "With a staff like that we could easily render the college defenseless and take their resources. Our inside man will only be a further aid to us once it's down."

"The question is what should we do with the mages once inside?" Paratus grinned evilly.

"Kill them of course. No one should stand in the way of the Great Lord Mannimarco's return!" Yvonne chanted. "Savoss and Tolfdir are the only two mages in Skyrim powerful enough to stand up to him, they should be dealt with swiftly."

I need to get the staff before they do! Stesha stood up and flames roared from his hands.

He set the building ablaze, the wood rippling up in a blaze of glory as the fire raced across the linings of the house. Stesha ran toward the stairs as bolts of electricity shot past him, singeing his robes, and frying his whip marks. He fell over, unable to move on. He looked up and there was Gwendal in the nick of time, just as planned. The blond shot several lightning bolts at the Synod; he electrocuted Yvonne without mercy and turned Oronrel into a pile of ash. Paratus lay unconscious on the floor. Stesha nabbed the Imperial-Redguard, and they crawled out of the burning building, busting open the door and coughing loudly as they fell onto the snow of Winter Hold's streets. The conclave erupting into a blaze of heat, crumbling in on itself. Wooden poles and stilts falling over and the roof crashing down with a loud rumble.

Several guards and Clever Men rushed over, blasting water magic to cool down the edifice. Smoke billowing out of the destroyed conclave causing everyone to cough violently. Stesha staggered up, dragging Paratus away with Gwendal. They managed to duck the guardsmen and made it back to the College. The orb recognized their handprint signature and gave them entry to the schoolgrounds. The impromptu trio stumbled into the Arch Mage's office, throwing Paratus ahead and breathing hard. Stesha put his hands on his knees, panting breathlessly. His esophagus felt like it had been roasted on a stove.

Savoss bound Paratus' hands and threw him into the cell with Mirabelle and Sergius. "What did you learn?" A column light shined off his golden scales.

Stesha reoriented himself. "They're after the Staff of Magnus in Labyrinthian. They wanna use it to break the wards around the college. Also, their insider is still lurking around here somewhere."

"What about everything else?" Tolfdir groomed his beard, chewing on a lemon drop.

"I burned everything else," Stesha said with an air of finality.

"He burned everything else," squawked Chino the parrot.

"We'll head to Labyrinthian and get the staff before the Order, then come back and use it to end Mannimarco." Gwendal stood up, stretching his back. "But for now, we're gonna get some rest and get an early start for tomorrow."

Savoss Arran slithered over and clasped both boys' shoulders. "You two have progressed so far and accomplished so much. By my authority as Arch Mage, I shall immediately be ordering your records cleaned. You'll be free to return to High Rock without persecution."

"Thank you, sir!" Gwendal's face split into an ear-to-ear beam. He hugged the old Tsaesci and so did Stesha.

Headmaster Thimble-Moore smiled broadly at the group of them as he adjusted his glasses.

Stesha and Gwendal laid low for a while after that, procuring some skooma and sleeping away in their bunks to spell away the night terrors.

"Think you're a hero now? Huh?" Seracles growled at him from within his dream. "You might be saving this college but you're walking right into my trap. Never forget, I'm the real hero here. I am doing what must be done."

Courtlend Osmond Jade, Stesha thought of his father's name for some reason.

The next morning, Stesha and Gwendal spooned their porridge in the cafeteria as Onmund, Brelyna, and Ancano approached them. The white surface gleamed underneath the dwarven lights placed in the ceiling, lighting up the eating area.

Ah shit, here we go again.

Onmund rubbed the back of his black curls and looked down awkwardly. "We wanted to apologize for calling you a coward. We've heard from the professors that you two have been a big help in stopping the snake-rider."

Stesha and Gwendal looked at each other. "Uhh… thank you," offered Gwendal.

"Is it really true?!" Ancano's phizog molded into a worried v. "Has the King of Worms really come back? You saw him with your own eyes!?"

"Ancano, now's not the time for such questions." Brelyna signaled outside with her thumb before putting on a kindly expression. "Will you join us in a snowball fight outside?"

"Sure, why not?" Gwendal began to stand but Stesha pulled him down. "What?" He asked, looking at his friend.

"You guys go ahead. I need to ask Gwendal something before I forget." Stesha ate another bite of his oatmeal.

"Sure thing, see you outside then!" Onmund hopped away with the others.

Stesha took another bite of his cereal as Gwendal backed into the chair. "So, what is it?"

"You killed those Synod without mercy." Stesha swallowed the last piece of porridge in his bowl. "Why? What's wrong with you? You kill like it means nothing. Where on Nirn did you learn to be so cruel, Gwendal?"

"Oh, don't be a cliché, Stesha. You KNOW it was kill or be killed. It's us or them. It always is in this world. I just realized that sooner than you did." Gwendal stared intensely at Stesha with his green emeralds. "Don't act like you care. You only pretend like you do, but deep inside, you couldn't give a shit what happened to those Synod. After all, it took you this long to protest, after the fact you're safe and sound."

He's right. I don't care. Stesha's stare bored into his empty bowl with bits of oats sticking off it. I still refuse to kill anyone though… at least directly…

They stood up and followed out into the courtyard.

A light snow had fallen over the tiles and the Dwemer network of pipes pumped fumes, giving it a warm, airy feeling. J'zargo, Borvir, and Rundi the ginger twins were throwing snowballs back and forth at each other. Ancano joined in, scooping up a mound of snow and tossing it at the pair. Stesha and Gwendal took cover behind a pillar and threw their own back at them.

One hit Ancano to which the elf cried, "my father will hear about this!"

J'zargo zoomed through, hailing several balls of ice in every direction. One splattered against Stesha's blue robes and another landed on Gwendal's head. The Professor of Restoration, Colette Marence, a half Breton, half Nord woman jostled out of the building, shaking her finger at Professor J'zargo.

"Professor J'zargo! Why are you behaving so foolishly! It is our job as role models to not partake in such hooligan like activities!"

J'zargo's whiskers flopped down and he trembled until a snowball hit Colette and knocked her over into the snow. Borvir had shot it. Stesha laughed out loud, clenching his vacuumed abdomen. It was a strange feeling; he hadn't laughed like that in a long time.

Him and Gwendal decided to slip away then, making their way out of Winter Hold and toward the underground Blackreach train station.

Labyrinthian and the Staff of Magnus was next…

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AN: Review!