Chapter 53: Renovations
"Elani and I have taken to managing almost all of the Quarter business with Olaf's help. Ulfric has appointed Olaf as the new steward of the Gray Quarter. Constance is excelling under Ser Dana's tutelage and learning to handle Nord court-level politics."
"Not something I was able to teach her," admitted Elani. "For all my decades here, I rarely dealt with that level of government."
"That's great," said Curtis. "How about Gil?"
"Since Revyn isn't leaving his house, Gil has been actively delivering his messages and acting as his Mouth," said Ambarys.
"Gulakhan training, good practice," said Severus. "I think, with his close friendship with Olaf and the special tutelage they both are getting from Nicky Sr. in international trade, he'll be a formidable power once he goes home to take control of his family's foreign trade office. There will be so many unhappy Hlaalu."
They were in Ambarys's private quarters having drinks after dinner. Ambarys, Elani, Severus, Jalen, Elden, and himself. Revyn's three apprentices, Olaf, Constance, and Gilavin, would come after they finished reporting to Revyn next door.
"The ones suffering will be the Hlaalu who continue to see the Sadras as usurpers," said Elani. "Gilavin has made an exceptional impression with Count Indarys of Cheydinhal because of that Kynesgrove incident. The Count has since made personal efforts to establish closer personal relations with Gilavin's father, Khan Venros."
"Indarys can afford to be sanguine about it," said Severus. "His clan left the homeland to establish in Imperial Cheydinhal as part of Hlaalu's long-term plan to increase favorable trade conditions. When the core Hlaalu clans of Lake Hlaalu and Narsis lost everything to the Sadras, those that survived the turnover had their vacation lands and estates around Cheydinhal to relocate to. To say all of Hlaalu lost everything to Sadras is an exaggeration. The other Hlaalu clans, like Ra'athim, retain their lands and towns."
"Sadras, or at least Clan Dareano, would likely look favorably on them if they consider switching houses from Hlaalu back to Mora," commented Curtis. "'Course, everybody else would probably diss them as 'fairweather friends.'"
"That would be slander," said Severus. "They had every right to join another House when the original House Mora dissolved. Infighting." He sighed and shook his head slowly. "All the heirs battling over wealth and control. I was the youngest son of a junior line. No chance to compete. I left and took up mercenary work. Eventually, got in enough with the Indorils that one of them offered to adopt me. Their primary devotion was to Azura, so I learned to worship her. House Mora wasn't as devoted to the three Princes as the other Houses and Clans. In retrospect, we were spiritually more like the Ayleids, accepting of both Divine and Daedric forces."
Curtis chuckled. Ambarys also. Elani shook her head and smiled.
"Still are," she said. "Revyn and his wife, they do seem to collect gods."
"Dropped, bagged, and tagged," said Curtis.
X—X—X—X—X—X—X
One month, helping to lay siege to a city of undead; the next month, trying to explain to a client that installing a toilet was not as easy as placing a metal bucket under a wooden box with a hole cut in. And that putting all the pipes in the walls meant serious stonework and extending remodeling time and costs from months to possibly years.
Not to mention all the little "since you have this wall open, can't you just…" side requests (or "side quests" in gamer-speak). Most of were declines. The only remodeling work done was to the kitchen and for the cooks Lady Caitlin had recruited from Winterhold, who were used to using the most "modern" design, cooking tools, and running water. The notable improvement of food quality and variety muted some of the jarl's grumblings.
Lady Caitlin Sinclair dreamed of a luxury bathroom similar to the one she'd seen in Thane Faro's home of Vlindrel Hall and the smaller, but no less elegant, one in Sadri's home in Windhelm. Revyn Sadri had introduced them, and Curtis immediately saw the opportunity to access Nchuand-Zel and its army of construction robots.
The easiest and simplest plumbing system that the current inhabitants of Markarth would understand and be able to maintain would be a gravity-fed one since the underground river emerged at the top of the mountain the city was built into. Create and set up massive tanks to collect part of the flow and run pipes to select bedrooms, the kitchen, and group shower and laundry rooms for servants and soldiers. Lady Caitlin had been determined on that part, seeing how happy Revyn's people were in the Gray Quarters when provided that.
Curtis also provided to the lady plans and written arguments for future wastewater treatment ponds. As he'd expected, the need for that was casually dismissed by the jarl as unnecessary. Just dump it in the river and let it be carried away. It was destined to be one of those hindsight problems for future generations.
"Finally," grumbled Agrund when Curtis arrived back in Markarth. "Now we can drain all the water and clear the tanks."
By that he meant the giant sewage treatment tanks that had clogged up over the centuries and created the backflow that flooded Nchuand-Zel.
Agrund Ychonard, a former citizen of Nchuand-Zel, arrived three months ago with Gourd Djuhretz, Amgar Manzcharm, and Balvus Antan to begin this project. Truthfully, the three Dwemer had no practical experience retro-plumbing an aging building. They were advanced-theory physicists who could hotwire a particle accelerator or figure out the programming and construction of cell phones and orbital satellites. Residential plumbing was not something they'd ever had to deal with. The three Dwemer relied heavily on the knowledge and experiences dredged from Curtis during dream time.
Despite Jarl Igmund's uncooperative attitude, time was not wasted. Curtis had sent advanced engineering, crafting, and construction students from Winterhold Community College to assist as part of their graduation tests. The jarl's blacksmith, Moth gra-Bagol, recruited workers in Markarth. The Dwemer used those months for preparation — organizing and training the workforce, explaining concepts, making practical models to demonstrate the ideas, fabricating tools and parts, and more training on how to use the tools.
By the time Curtis returned to Markarth, most of the planning had been done. What was needed was for Curtis to get Jarl Igmund's to understand the scope of the work, the time it would take, the inconveniences he would have to put up with if he insisted on holding court in the same building, and approval of the new layout of his suite. That last was a pain. It wasn't as simple as moving the bucket and privacy screen to a different spot if he didn't like the room design. Lady Caitlin was much more flexible and happy to have a toilet, shower, and bathtub in her suite. But Igmund wanted to flex his authority and gripe about the changes.
Curtis didn't immediately harangue Jarl Igmund for permission to begin renovations. Instead, he regaled the Jarl and his court with the news of Alduin attacking Whiterun to provoke the Dragonborn and how the Dragonborn was fully revealed to be the half-Dunmer, Helsette Faro Felix. That sly, tricky wench! Who could've imagined she'd created the lie that the Dragonborn was her illegitimate Nord half-sister? A lie perpetuated by her equally boldly deceptive husband. With Whiterun in flames, Lady Helsette — hero thane of the Reach, Hjaalmarch, Haafingar, and Whiterun — went to the grand porch of Dragonsreach and thundered a challenge no Dragon could ignore or deny. The strength of her Thu'um reached Morrowind and the red Dragon that was second to Alduin. Eager to test her strength, it came fast over the Velothi Mountains to dive, screaming its answer, upon Whiterun. In the height of battle madness, it followed her deeper into Whiterun's porch and was thus trapped!
For it had forgotten, in the heat of battle, how Dragonsreach had gotten its name. Jarl Olaf One-Eye had high and mighty ambitions. And no matter his methods, he knew limiting the battlefield was the surest way to defeat a Dragon. Hunting creatures of flight required flawless concealment to ambush. By battle or by trickery, it didn't matter. He proved a Dragon could be captured and contained.
Jarl Igmund had been in Whiterun for the Moot and had attended the celebrations held in the great porch at the top of Dragonsreach. He recalled seeing there chains, each link as thick as a man's body, rising from floor to ceiling. And in the shadows above, the curve of a yoke that could pin down a mammoth or a Dragon.
The Dragonborn gave her captive a choice — either carry her safely to Alduin's ancient temple city of Skuldafn high in the Velothi Mountains or stay bound in Dragonsreach, never to fly again, dying in madness and despair.
The Dragon acknowledged her victory. Going mad and eventually becoming Whiterun's second Dragon skull to hang in the throne room was too humiliating a death. It consented.
She said her goodbyes to Jarl Balgruuf, leaving him to pass her love to her husband and newborn babe.
But Revyn Sadri was not a man to weep and fall into helpless despair as his wife went to meet her Doom. He was no warrior, that is true. The Dragonborn did not choose a warrior to marry and stand beside her in battle. She was the daughter of Legion officers and knew the value of a competent camp commander of supplies, communication, and transport logistics. Now he called forth the reserves he had so carefully cultivated. Answering his call was a small army of dark elves he'd been training in the Gray Quarter and his wife's wizards in Winterhold. He went to his liege, King Ulfric, and boldly demanded the Stormblades also go to Skuldafn to protect his wife.
And to get this army to Skuldafn, he produced an ancient magic stone he'd acquired. A stone that could reactivate the legendary transport platform that once existed in Windhelm. It was Candlehearth Hall, the largest and oldest inn in Windhelm. Its famous ever-burning candle was proof that power still flowed to that site. He traded his store for Candlehearth and destroyed the inn so the dark elves could build a proper stage for the transportation magic.
The magic for teleportation had been lost to the world since the Second Era. A few Telvanni wizards still had the knowledge of that forbidden art. So did the long dead. The Dragonborn's mate could talk to both. Ask any hagraven in The Reach, ask Reach King Madanach, ask the Emperor of Cyrodiil — they will say the same. Though he professed to know nothing of the great magics, he was a skilled summoner of spirits, and the spirits he invoked used the magic stone to open the way from Windhelm to Skuldafn.
Curtis had been among the first ones to step through that gate. He and the Dragonborn's brother, himself an archimage of awesome skill, made repairs to the Skuldafn gate so that it became strong enough to bring the eager army of Stormblades and Dunmer.
Glorious battle with Alduin's undead army! Mighty Dragons falling from the skies from wizards' bolts and warriors' arrows! The fiery road to Sovngarde's Gate!
The Gate to Sovngarde and the Dragonborn jumping into it for the Final Battle with Alduin, Son of Akatosh, Bane of Kings, Word Eater, Dragon of the End Times!
The discovery of the Crown of Queen Freydis; and Ulfric's promise of future reunification of Skyrim under that crown!
This tale he told almost every other day, including the sad part that the Dragonborn had yet to return. And that Revyn had the bitter duty of destroying the key to the Sovngarde to prevent anyone — including his wife — from using that gate again. After that, he isolated himself in his home in apparent mourning. Whether he would ever visit The Reach again was unknown.
Curtis had copies of the two dozen pen-and-ink sketches Aicantar had made of places in Skuldafn, including Sovngarde's gate with its two Dragons. Pictures worth a thousand words, right? He was happy to gift them to the jarl.
With Igmund distracted by his envy of being so distant from such world-shaking events, Curtis rammed through all the plans and got approval to begin work.
His Dwemer were relieved and thankful that Curtis was back. The Dwemer had found it incredibly stressful to band their ears flat so the tips didn't lump their hoods up in that tell-tale shape. That was sufficient to superficially pass as stocky humans. However, they had to be careful at night because their eyes reflected light like cats and other night-hunting animals. Calcelmo's assistance in mediating between them and the Nords and others was invaluable. But leaving it all to Curtis to be the frontman made them much happier, allowing them to concentrate on what was important.
One such duty was taking Jarl Igmund, Lady Caitlin, and their guards on a walk through the upper levels of Nchuand-Zel.
The Jarl had never come down here before. He wasn't sure if his father ever had either. The Falmer and the machines kept everyone but Dwemer-mad scholars, their hirelings out, and treasure-mad adventurers.
He took them through the armory and the control districts, ending at the quarters area where lunch had been provided by the Dwemer in one of the smaller dining areas.
"How is it we are able to walk unchallenged by the machines?" asked Lady Caitlin.
Curtis held up an amulet. "Agrund made this. It sends signals to the machines that I'm authorized to be here, are so are the people with me, which is why don't go too far from me."
"How many can he make?" asked the jarl.
His first gut response was that access should remain limited, but he choked down that retort. Igmund was the kind that needed to reach that conclusion on his own, or he would constantly be trying to undermine the restriction.
"I think he can make more if needed. But probably not right away. It's not good to have too many ignorant people wandering around a construction zone, you understand? The robots won't attack, but they also won't help either if someone has or causes an accident that endangers them or others. And I won't have Agrund blamed if someone dies or construction is delayed because of deaths caused by—"
"I understand," interrupted Igmund. "I don't mean right now but in the future."
"My jarl is right," said Lady Caitlin. "It's long past time the throne of Markarth should be knowledgeable about their city. Mage Calcelmo kept its secrets well from the Thalmor when they were here. If they had learned of it, who knows what they could have done. I shudder to think of the mischief and evil they would have used this city's secrets for. How they wouldn't have hesitated to sacrifice Markarth to plunder Dwemer magic and weapons." Igmund looked at her, a disturbed expression on his face. "It's time we learn what we have here. We cannot defend what we do not comprehend," she said fiercely. "I can clearly see this place, like all Dwemer ruins, is too dangerous to be taken lightly. I would not let idiots loose in here any more than I would let children play in the armory."
"Well, if you trust Calcelmo's judgment, I can get him some extra security badges," conceded Curtis. "He and Faleen can be in charge of who gets them. And when we're finished, I mean, when me and my group are done with our projects here, he'll also have a better understanding of the machine systems. He's done a great job on his own, as anyone could ever expect when studying a subject with so few reliable references. Then he can, in turn, start teaching your people on what's down here. So if you're thinking of turning this place into a future fortress against the Dominion's second try and conquering the world and exterminating all the 'lesser races,' which we all know is likely, then you'll have some extra space to maneuver."
"Quite," said Lady Caitlin. "Lord Revyn spoke quite frankly to me about how important The Reach is to Skyrim, Hammerfell, and High Rock should the Dominion try again. I was appalled and embarrassed at how Justiciar Ondolemar used our land and the battles between Nords and Reachmen to smuggle in so many Dominion troops and commit so many atrocities." She took Igmund's hand and held it tightly while looking into his eyes.
"Going on that tour, leaving The Reach again, and then seeing my home from so far away, seeing it through the eyes of others, I was so embarrassed by my short-sighted ignorance. But I was so proud of how strong we continued to struggle when it would have been so much easier to just give up. While we fought, it made it so much harder for the Dominion to trick us. And while I was in Windhelm, I heard much of the Ebonheart Pact, how the Nords, Dunmer, and Argonians held hands to drive out the Akaviri Snow Demons. We Nords and Reachmen also need to hold hands to drive out the Dominion. For the sake of our children — like the Dragonborn and her mate — we have to set the foundation for the future."
Igmund smiled tentatively and patted her shoulder. Curtis thought his actions lukewarm and recalled that this was not a love match on Igmund's part. The man was infatuated with the Breton Restorations student at Winterhold currently dating Aicantar. Not wanting to come in second to a mer, Igmund had resigned himself to marry the adoring Caitlin. Curtis found her an intelligent woman and warrior. He internally cringed at watching her resort to girlish tones and submissive posturing to coax Igmund along. He thought he'd throw in a little treat to help.
"Well, you won't have to worry about Ondolemar," said Curtis. "Me and my buddies left him to rot in an unnamed tomb in the Rift."
"I hope you made that piss-faced elf suffer," said Igmund.
"Enough," Curtis replied, shrugging. "We sent him off to Mephala. I'm sure she'll take her own sweet time sucking his soul dry for a few centuries."
Igmund nodded and looked around. His gaze fastened on the sapling surrounded by magic lights. No mushrooms had been allowed to share its stone-walled patch of earth. Instead, hardy shade-loving perennials with sweet-smelling flowers flourished.
"What is that tree?" he asked, using that excuse to extract his hand from Caitlin's to point at the tree.
"That is a gift from Kyne," Caitlin answered, smiling sweetly still. "Lord Revyn took me to the holy sanctuary of the Eldergleam. I was praying for our future in The Reach, that we may someday see true peace among all who live in our land, and that she grant us strength to hope and persevere. A sapling sprouted, and Revyn told me it was Kyne's blessing and answer to my prayer. Our own Gildergreen such as Whiterun has."
"Why plant it down here? Should it not be in the center of our city, for all to see, like in Whiterun then?"
"I didn't feel it was safe to plant it in the open heart of our city yet," she answered. "It's too strong a symbol of the Nords, and we haven't yet fully reconciled with the Forsworn. I would rather keep it down here, a secret strength, like Nchuand-Zel."
"There had actually been a Gildergreen tree here planted by the Dwemer," said Curtis, breaking the mood. "Sadly, it had died of neglect in the dark centuries after the Dwemer disappeared. This area, as you can see is a dining hall and gathering place for community events. The Gildergreen, like its parent, the Eldergleam, can flourish in caves. Things grow well in its presence, its roots clean the water, and its leaves filter the air." He stood up. "Well, there's not much else to show right now, unless you want to see some of the living quarters layouts. Though, truth be told, its not much different than what you'd see in the older part of the palace or any of the original Dwemer-built structures, like the Silver-Blood Inn. Dwemer weren't much for topside nature. If you Nords and Reachmen need to live down here in case of emergency, I would imagine having something like the Gildergreen flourishing down here would be good for your spirits."
"The Gildergreen and gardens," said Caitlin decisively. "Growing our own food would also be something. I would enjoy designing some food gardens."
"Yeah. Something other than mushrooms," Curtis mumbled.