Chapter LVII -- Corprus Disease
31 Second Seed (Day 290) "Please! I don't wish to catch whatever you have," the Grand Spymaster warned.
Over several previous days and ever since getting infected with corprus, Joan of Arkay has heard the fears of those she's conversed with over and over. And she doesn't blame them for worrying. Though she was not entirely sick, she still had most her health and faculties for instance, her skin had taken a hideous hue. Gone were her tanned-but-also-rosy cheeks, her face had gained a pallor!
Annoyingly, nearly everyone she'd come into contact with after the demise of Dagoth Gareth had to make mention of this. "Please! Stay away!" they'd often blurt as she walked into shops, while renting rooms, and so on. "Don't you think it's time to visit a shrine?" asked one of her very own guildmates just last night, as if praying at an altar would even help (she'd already tried). Everyone was taking obvious, wide berths around Joan Marie of Cheydinhal as she walked by as of late. She'd begun to fear she would never get used to their reluctance to engage, assuming her disease is permanent.
And now she'd received the very same complaint from Caius himself. "You stay at that side of the room, please," he requested, eyes bulging a bit.
"Caius," Joan began, reigning her temper. "I cannot say 'twas
my desire to be defiled by corprus," she said with a grimace. "However, was it not thy very self, under the supposed authority of our sovereign Empire, who guided me toward this path of infirmity?" -- Filled then with an increasing amount of ire, she did not wait for his response. -- "Aye, this was so! You thereby have
not any right to complain about my ... condition, Caius Cosades!"
Caius Cosades sighed. "Are you here to discuss your orders, Joan of Arkay?" he asked with his usual nonchalance, apparently not keen to apologize. "Or is there something else you want?"
...
Really? Really.
"Sir, I am unclean!" Joan shouted, throwing her hands above her head (not unlike the gesture she'd made during her army invasion dream). "I have sickness! By which, I mean to say, any further questing on my part
must be set aside, until this illness of mine is resolved." It's as though the man doesn't get it! Even though he'd literally just warned her to 'stay on that side of the room'. "Shrines are of no resolve, nor are potions of disease-curing. Should I make my return to Cyrodiil where I'll then have access to precious Altars of the Nine?" she scoffed. "My being has become decimated during every coming moment due to miniscule, but constant, degrades of my condition!
These concerns need addressing before I shalt regain that eagerness to forge head-on."
After hearing this fantastic discourse, Caius blandly stated, "You have corprus disease." And Joan fought the urge to pummel the man.
The Grand Spymaster's mind has gone entirely insipid on account of all the skooma he uses! she rationalized.
But then, Caius continued. "It's a rare disease that usually drives the victims mad."
"Finally being honest, are we?... And what is it that we should--"
"I don't know much about it," he interrupted. "But I'll check with my informants. Maybe one of them can see how to cure it."
"Caius. An informant of yours might hitherto know of a cure? --
Which is being mentioned only NOW?"
But as always when it came to conversations with her overseer, the subject abruptly changed. "In the meantime, we can discuss your orders."
"My orders. Right. Always my orders."
Joan's superior ignored her scoffing. "With Dagoth Gares dead, the Sixth House shrine is no longer a threat," he seemed to decide. He then moved on to the subject of her rank within the Blades, changing topics yet again. "I'm promoting you to 'Traveler'. Due to the progress you've made, I'd say you're ready." The man actually smiled.
So she'd just gone from Finder to Traveler, information which doesn't exactly wow the Breton at the moment.
"I'm very worried that you have corprus," his rambling brain finally returned to the actual concern on her mind. "But I have some good news in that department."
"Have you, eh? So we're not here to further discuss my rank, or my orders?"
"Sarcasm, hmph. Aren't we a wheelbarrow of jokes today, hmm?"
"Place thyself into my very shoes," Joan stated, trying to be patient. "Receiving warnings by the moment as you amble into shops, from thy guildmates, from strangers passing by. How should it be that I respond to superficial things such as ranks? How should I accept thy orders as my condition, it obviously suffers?"
"You have a point," the man conceded. "Except you're not wearing shoes."
Caius clarified that he had canvassed his informants for possible treatments (information Joan of Arkay definitely would've appreciated ten minutes ago!), and apparently there was a cure. "I learned from Fast Eddie that your best chance of getting cured is Divayth Fyr, a Telvanni wizard who runs what is known as the 'Corprusarium'."
"Fast Eddie? Sounds the name of an underground cornerclub gambler."
"Not a gambler," Caius corrected. "He's a sorcerer, here in Balmora. His real name is Edd Theman. And he's your best chance to learn how to get the cure from the Corprusarium."
The temptation to sprinkle her response at that point with contrariness was overwhelming. -- "Oh,
the cure it is now? Well please, by all means." -- While these words themselves weren't exactly brimming with angst, it's the
way she said them, which might catch the ears of an eavesdropper. Joan Marie of Arkay, "pissed the [censored] off" in our terms!
As always, a journey would be involved, well three journeys. First trek would be to Balmora's west side, where she'd later spend hours trying to suss the location of Fast Eddie's home, for his place was not so easy to find. From Edd, she'd eventually learn she would need to travel to Tel Fyr, an island located far to the east of the mainland. Reaching such a remote place would normally require days, maybe over a week. Thankfully, Joan realized she could avoid most physical travel altogether. She could teleport from the Guild of Mages right here in Balmora, straight to the Guild of Mages in Sadrith Mora.
For the third and final journey she could hopefully pay a gondolier, further continuing to Tel Fyr in relaxed style, assuming gondolas or some other water-bound transportation could be commissioned. Travelling by boat would be the most desirable option; the region around Sadirth Mora was surrounded by dozens of islands, Fast Eddie informed. A boat captain or a gondolier could hopefully guide her straight to the proper one.
No boat? Joan could water-walk instead. She could simply walk over the sea's warm waves, thirty seconds per successful cast of the spell in her book, until she managed to find the proper island. The downside of this final option was that most islands in the eastern sea were unmarked. She'd literally need to guess which one, unless somebody in Sadirth Mora could mark the location on her map.
Caius surprised yet her again, giving his star Traveller a thousand drakes for eradicating Dagoth Gares, former high priest of Illunibi Cave. He also handed her a Dwemer artifact. "This should be used as a gift, to placate Divayth Fyr" he suggested, though this suggestion sounded more like an order to Joan. Caius also donated a couple levitation potions to the crusader. "I hear you'll need them in Telvanni towers," he said.
"Need them in Telvanni towers?"
"Aye. Telvanni wizards don't use stairs," he said with a wink.
"Many thanks, sire."
By then of course, Levitation already been inscribed into her book as a castable spell for over a month. (Which means she was already wondering to whom she could sell these redundant potions to!)
"Well get moving," Caius advised, not that Joan had an impetus not to. "Get that corprus cured..."
"I shall."
"...then hurry back. I think I know how to get the lost prophecies Nibani Maesa asked for," he finished.
Though Joan agreed to continue Caius's cause, she was by now less-than-enthused about the whole matter. Sixth House, Nerevarine, Red Volcano, Dagoth Ur, bah! -- Assuming she'd get this diseased cured she was planning on taking a long break from Caius Cosades, and from all the vague orders supposedly being handed down from Emperor Septim himself.
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Map detail of eastern seaTel Fyr approach (...
not easy to find without GPS compass....)
You have arrived at your destinationWater-walkingRobed at sundownRun! Run! ... Run!Levitatingnotes: "Sarcasm, hmph. Aren't we a wheelbarrow of jokes today, hmm?" -- Pretty sure I got this line from Big Bang Theory, It's got Sheldon written all over, ya know?