I very much like the delays you are weaving into this recommendation quest for poor Gwen to deal with.
'Compared to the Tiber Septim Hotel, which offers similar rates, it is like the subterranean caves goblins must abide with.'
I found this passage very immersive as Gwen compared the two familiar inns to equally familiar goblin caves. This was written from the perspective of someone who is living in Cyrodiil.
I love how you worked with the editor's note. As I read the passage in question, the same thoughts occurred to me; however, since I travel with an elf myself, I knew exactly what Gwen meant. Then you cleared up the perfectly reasonable (from an Imperial's perspective) question brilliantly through the editor's note. Wonderfully done!
Full Version: The Famous Five
...but am instead running errands for beastfolk, albeit enlightened ones.
She isn't running errands for Kud-Ei yet!
I really enjoyed the editors note in the middle of post #46. After specifically mentioning Nerussa reading about Barenziah, Harald's remarks about the Mages Guild wanting to put out an edited version of Gwen's letters was just perfect.
Methinks Gwen's mention of re-reading The Black Arts on Trial is a bit of foreshadowing. Now we know her opinion of Necromancers. I expect the Cheydinhal recommendation will only reinforce her beliefs.
I loved Gwen's feelings for both the inns of Cheydhinhal. 40 septims is indeed insane for the Cheydihnal Bridge Inn. Her brief, but unpleasant, experience at the Newlands gave me a more than faint smile.
Establishing Falcar's temper was a good example of laying foundations for his future behaviour. Assuming the recommendation quest goes as it does in the game, now it will not seem so unexpected.
Finally Harald's second editorial note about brother and sister was again a welcome addition. I did assume that Gwen meant it the way Harald pointed out, but can see how someone else - especially someone looking for faults to poke in elves - could construe it as incestuous.
She isn't running errands for Kud-Ei yet!
I really enjoyed the editors note in the middle of post #46. After specifically mentioning Nerussa reading about Barenziah, Harald's remarks about the Mages Guild wanting to put out an edited version of Gwen's letters was just perfect.
Methinks Gwen's mention of re-reading The Black Arts on Trial is a bit of foreshadowing. Now we know her opinion of Necromancers. I expect the Cheydinhal recommendation will only reinforce her beliefs.
I loved Gwen's feelings for both the inns of Cheydhinhal. 40 septims is indeed insane for the Cheydihnal Bridge Inn. Her brief, but unpleasant, experience at the Newlands gave me a more than faint smile.
Establishing Falcar's temper was a good example of laying foundations for his future behaviour. Assuming the recommendation quest goes as it does in the game, now it will not seem so unexpected.
Finally Harald's second editorial note about brother and sister was again a welcome addition. I did assume that Gwen meant it the way Harald pointed out, but can see how someone else - especially someone looking for faults to poke in elves - could construe it as incestuous.
mALX - Wow, I don't know who this Rumple is, but I'm glad this gave you a chance to reminisce! Glad you're finding time to read this. I wondered if people would really find the incest bit funny - it seemed a bit predictable to me, but I'm glad I posted it cause it seems to have done the trick!
Acadian - Glad you're enjoying the delays. They are partly there for character development reasons, and partly to stretch the story over a realistic period of time. In-game, of course, you can complete quest-lines and rise to the head of factions in perhaps a month of game days. I think this is wildly unrealistic and always roleplayed a bit of a gap when playing Oblivion. The exception being the Main Quest - I think the constraints there (i.e. Tamriel is burning) make it difficult to roleplay someone who dallies around for weeks between quests.
SubRosa - Oh, Mara's mercy, don't get me started on Kud-Ei's errands! I think I started that quest with one of my earlier characters but ended up reloading an earlier save after so much frustration trying to complete it. Suffice to say, Gwen won't be going there for a long time.
Thanks for those observations! You are indeed right about the Black Arts section foreshadowing future events. It would be stupid to have her talk about the Necromancers' Cult without any direct experience, so having her read The Black Arts on Trial (something I actually did in-game) is a nice way of breaking it in. Falcar is also introduced at this point, as you say just to lay the foundations and give a bit mor drama to the recommendation quest.
Next: How will things continue in Cheydinhal? Could be a tough one....
Midnight.
Oh, no. What am I to do? The recommendation task I have received from Falcar….could he really be trying to kill me? Did he kill another associate?* No, the guild could not possibly allow a murderer to lead the chapter. It must be in Deetsan’s head….and yet I must be prepared for the possibility. Did Falcar not say something about ‘being prepared’ himself? I must be ready to react if there does prove to be a threat to my life. Deetsan’s spell will help, I hope. But why would Falcar put his own Associates in danger? What would he gain? There is no reason for it. I’m sure it must be paranoia from Deetsan. But that Argonian seemed perfectly sane otherwise…..
Why, oh why, did I leave Alinor? Was it only so I could end my life here? In a well in Cyrodiil, another forgotten Altmer who failed to make the step into maturity? No, Gwen. Calm down. Practice your spell. Let the magicka flow from your hand, gently altering the properties of objects….manipulate the flow with your mental focus. Good. The silver tankard seems lighter. Now, bring the water to your lips and put some in your mouth. Yes, I am doing it! I can breathe the water, if only for a short while. I do not even know how I am doing it. Deetsan just told me ‘believe, and rely on the magicka within, associate.’
I cannot possibly sleep. The well awaits. I will see if Deetsan’s fears were true! If I fail to emerge alive….forgive me, mother and father.
*Editor’s note: In fact, not only did Falcar almost certainly deliberately kill the unfortunate associate, but two further associates were reported as missing to the Council of Mages during the two years that the Altmer headed the Cheydinhal chapter of the Mages Guild, as official records attest to. It is clear that ‘recommendation’ tasks assigned to Mages Guild associates were often far from benign.
First Seed 29, 3E430 – Cheydinhal Mages Guild
4 P.M.
It is resolved. I live to cast another spell, obtain another recommendation, perform another deadly task. And Falcar has left, to an unknown location. Deetsan’s fears were correct, and more, and it is only thanks to her wise instruction that I live on. The other members of the guild have expressed their great relief that I am safe. Eilonwy and Orintur embraced me upon finding out that I was alive, and Trayvond offered words of comfort and a sweetroll, which I gratefully accepted. Many of the mages were unsure if I was unharmed as a result of having been gone so long.
Last night, having left the guild hall shortly after my last entry, I could not face the well immediately and walked around town for nearly three hours gathering my composure. As dawn approached, I finally worked up my courage, spoke a silent prayer and put the key to the lock on the well’s grate.
All that I could see inside was darkness. I recalled a silent incantation I had learned at a very young age to see in the dark. I then dropped my robe at the well entrance and very cautiously stepped in. All the while, I was rehearsing the procedure for the spell Deetsan had taught me, which enabled me to simultaenously breathe in water, and carry additional weight. I cast the spell and submerged. I am a poor swimmer, so I must have been fumbling around like a fool. It is difficult to recall one’s precise technique when one is paralysed by fear, however.
Then, I saw a body. This must have been the associate Deetsan and Falcar had told me about. The ring would not budge. I began to panic, and tried to cast the spell Deetsan had taught me. But to my horror, it failed. I tried again. Once more the water filled my lungs, and the ring held me in place with its magic. Desperately, I cast it a third time. Success! I breathed as naturally as though I was in the fresh air of the courtyard in the palace of Alinor, and slowly fumbled my way to the surface. I emerged into faint sunlight, silently thanking Azura and trembling, partly because of being wet and cold, and partly because of fear.
After this ordeal, I was so exhausted that I could not face returning to Falcar. After all, what if he had planned to kill me? Would he now try to attack me? Thoughts raced through my mind at the time, although I now know I am safe. I ended up eating a breakfast at the Cheydinhal Bridge Inn. The proprietor there stared at me as I gnawed uncertainly on a loaf of bread, allowing what had happened to sink in.
I returned to the guild hall at 10 A.M., feeling wary. Trayvond greeted me. He said that Falcar had left during the night, but he had no idea why or where he went. He suggested I talk to Deetsan. After speaking with her, it was clear that she had confronted him. She said that she told Falcar she would report him to the council, upon which he left in a blaze of curses and threats.
It would seem we have found the reason for the death of the other associate and also Falcar’s motives. Two black soul gems in his study desk prove that he practices the dark arts. I shudder as I ponder the thought that my soul might have occupied one of them. Deetsan has asked me to remain in Cheydinhal to give testimonial evidence to a member of the Council of Mages, who will arrive tomorrow. The soul gems and the Ring of Burden will form the other part of the evidence, as will the associate’s body, which will then be buried in the graveyard of the chapel of Arkay here.
I have learned that the life of an associate is neither pleasant nor safe. What will be next for me?
Acadian - Glad you're enjoying the delays. They are partly there for character development reasons, and partly to stretch the story over a realistic period of time. In-game, of course, you can complete quest-lines and rise to the head of factions in perhaps a month of game days. I think this is wildly unrealistic and always roleplayed a bit of a gap when playing Oblivion. The exception being the Main Quest - I think the constraints there (i.e. Tamriel is burning) make it difficult to roleplay someone who dallies around for weeks between quests.
SubRosa - Oh, Mara's mercy, don't get me started on Kud-Ei's errands! I think I started that quest with one of my earlier characters but ended up reloading an earlier save after so much frustration trying to complete it. Suffice to say, Gwen won't be going there for a long time.
Thanks for those observations! You are indeed right about the Black Arts section foreshadowing future events. It would be stupid to have her talk about the Necromancers' Cult without any direct experience, so having her read The Black Arts on Trial (something I actually did in-game) is a nice way of breaking it in. Falcar is also introduced at this point, as you say just to lay the foundations and give a bit mor drama to the recommendation quest.
Next: How will things continue in Cheydinhal? Could be a tough one....
Midnight.
Oh, no. What am I to do? The recommendation task I have received from Falcar….could he really be trying to kill me? Did he kill another associate?* No, the guild could not possibly allow a murderer to lead the chapter. It must be in Deetsan’s head….and yet I must be prepared for the possibility. Did Falcar not say something about ‘being prepared’ himself? I must be ready to react if there does prove to be a threat to my life. Deetsan’s spell will help, I hope. But why would Falcar put his own Associates in danger? What would he gain? There is no reason for it. I’m sure it must be paranoia from Deetsan. But that Argonian seemed perfectly sane otherwise…..
Why, oh why, did I leave Alinor? Was it only so I could end my life here? In a well in Cyrodiil, another forgotten Altmer who failed to make the step into maturity? No, Gwen. Calm down. Practice your spell. Let the magicka flow from your hand, gently altering the properties of objects….manipulate the flow with your mental focus. Good. The silver tankard seems lighter. Now, bring the water to your lips and put some in your mouth. Yes, I am doing it! I can breathe the water, if only for a short while. I do not even know how I am doing it. Deetsan just told me ‘believe, and rely on the magicka within, associate.’
I cannot possibly sleep. The well awaits. I will see if Deetsan’s fears were true! If I fail to emerge alive….forgive me, mother and father.
*Editor’s note: In fact, not only did Falcar almost certainly deliberately kill the unfortunate associate, but two further associates were reported as missing to the Council of Mages during the two years that the Altmer headed the Cheydinhal chapter of the Mages Guild, as official records attest to. It is clear that ‘recommendation’ tasks assigned to Mages Guild associates were often far from benign.
First Seed 29, 3E430 – Cheydinhal Mages Guild
4 P.M.
It is resolved. I live to cast another spell, obtain another recommendation, perform another deadly task. And Falcar has left, to an unknown location. Deetsan’s fears were correct, and more, and it is only thanks to her wise instruction that I live on. The other members of the guild have expressed their great relief that I am safe. Eilonwy and Orintur embraced me upon finding out that I was alive, and Trayvond offered words of comfort and a sweetroll, which I gratefully accepted. Many of the mages were unsure if I was unharmed as a result of having been gone so long.
Last night, having left the guild hall shortly after my last entry, I could not face the well immediately and walked around town for nearly three hours gathering my composure. As dawn approached, I finally worked up my courage, spoke a silent prayer and put the key to the lock on the well’s grate.
All that I could see inside was darkness. I recalled a silent incantation I had learned at a very young age to see in the dark. I then dropped my robe at the well entrance and very cautiously stepped in. All the while, I was rehearsing the procedure for the spell Deetsan had taught me, which enabled me to simultaenously breathe in water, and carry additional weight. I cast the spell and submerged. I am a poor swimmer, so I must have been fumbling around like a fool. It is difficult to recall one’s precise technique when one is paralysed by fear, however.
Then, I saw a body. This must have been the associate Deetsan and Falcar had told me about. The ring would not budge. I began to panic, and tried to cast the spell Deetsan had taught me. But to my horror, it failed. I tried again. Once more the water filled my lungs, and the ring held me in place with its magic. Desperately, I cast it a third time. Success! I breathed as naturally as though I was in the fresh air of the courtyard in the palace of Alinor, and slowly fumbled my way to the surface. I emerged into faint sunlight, silently thanking Azura and trembling, partly because of being wet and cold, and partly because of fear.
After this ordeal, I was so exhausted that I could not face returning to Falcar. After all, what if he had planned to kill me? Would he now try to attack me? Thoughts raced through my mind at the time, although I now know I am safe. I ended up eating a breakfast at the Cheydinhal Bridge Inn. The proprietor there stared at me as I gnawed uncertainly on a loaf of bread, allowing what had happened to sink in.
I returned to the guild hall at 10 A.M., feeling wary. Trayvond greeted me. He said that Falcar had left during the night, but he had no idea why or where he went. He suggested I talk to Deetsan. After speaking with her, it was clear that she had confronted him. She said that she told Falcar she would report him to the council, upon which he left in a blaze of curses and threats.
It would seem we have found the reason for the death of the other associate and also Falcar’s motives. Two black soul gems in his study desk prove that he practices the dark arts. I shudder as I ponder the thought that my soul might have occupied one of them. Deetsan has asked me to remain in Cheydinhal to give testimonial evidence to a member of the Council of Mages, who will arrive tomorrow. The soul gems and the Ring of Burden will form the other part of the evidence, as will the associate’s body, which will then be buried in the graveyard of the chapel of Arkay here.
I have learned that the life of an associate is neither pleasant nor safe. What will be next for me?
Gwen climbing out of the well and nervously going out for breakfast will stay with me. 
She writes that a Council member will take over as is appropriate, without expressing tears over the other associate’s fate. It seems very Gwen to report how she is carrying out her responsibilities, with some thoughts about the danger to herself. It must have been quite a shock to realize that she had been sent to her death by a fellow Altmer. She’s even too upset to report her cash flow situation.
I have learned that the life of an associate is neither pleasant nor safe. What will be next for me?
She is going forward anyway, not crying her way back home. Go Gwen!
She writes that a Council member will take over as is appropriate, without expressing tears over the other associate’s fate. It seems very Gwen to report how she is carrying out her responsibilities, with some thoughts about the danger to herself. It must have been quite a shock to realize that she had been sent to her death by a fellow Altmer. She’s even too upset to report her cash flow situation.I have learned that the life of an associate is neither pleasant nor safe. What will be next for me?
She is going forward anyway, not crying her way back home. Go Gwen!
This was well done and so very in keeping with Gwen and your style. She seemed to find it hard to believe that Falcar would mean her harm and the fact that the warning came from an Argonian perhaps carried less weight. Again, her subtle 'Altmerism' is perfectly done. I'm getting used to the Editor's Notes and actually quite enjoying them now - I was a bit neutral on them at first, but they surely do seem to fit right in to what you are trying to do.
All in all, Gwen's progress continues to be a pleasure to read!
All in all, Gwen's progress continues to be a pleasure to read!
Acadian - I'm glad you like the Editor's notes. They are a useful tool for letting me break into an aside without compromising the realism of the format, in other words having Gwen report things that would be impossible or highly improbable for her to know, or to actually report in a journal. They also let me explore Cyrodiil through a historian's eyes - watch for some interesting and humorous ones coming later!
Grits - To be honest, it is more of a shock to Gwen that the Guild would allow such a malefactor as Falcar to remain in charge of the Cheydinhal chapter as it is to know that Altmer are bad people. Her racial prejudice is a trait, but it's not absolute. She recognises Deetsan's ability and wisdom in the last episode, for instance, and previously showed knowledge of the dark arts in Alinor.
However, you are definitely spot-on when you notice the absence of cash-flow musings. Normally, this would be ticking over in her mind, but naturally this is not the case here (understandably!). And thanks for noticing too her determination to keep going. This is definitely one of her character traits, along with racial prejudice, fiscal prudence, high-mindedness and intolerance for less supmtuous surroundings. It will eventually see her through to the Arcane University, and not a moment too soon (Raminus be cursed for inflicting the ignominy of the reccomendations circuit on her!)
Next up: The Guild's representative arrives in Cheydinhal and interviews Gwen, who then plots her next move.
5 P.M.
The guild’s third-in-command, a Bosmer called Bothiel, who is assistant to Raminus Polus, arrived at the Cheydinhal Mages Guild hall at 12 P.M. to examine the evidence for necromancy. Upon arriving, she and Deetsan went to the basement for nearly two hours, no doubt proceeding to pore over the soul gems and the cursed ring, which claimed one life and so nearly claimed mine. After they had discussed the situation, Deetsan came out and asked me to go downstairs and give testimony to the guild regarding Falcar’s actions.
Bothiel then questioned me about the events of the 28th and 29th. She asked me what Falcar had said and done on the days in question, whether he had threatened anyone at the guild and so on - and then put the cursed items in front of me and asked me to confirm that I had discovered them in Falcar’s room. I did so, expressing my firm belief that Falcar was a necromancer, an offence in guild law since Hannibal Traven became Arch-Mage.
The civil authorities may not prosecute him, I added, but if the Guild shuns Falcar and his associates, we may be stronger for it. Bothiel reassured me that “no necromancer shall ever be tolerated in the Guild while I serve it, associate.”
Clearly, this woman was skilled in the arts of speechcraft. She had a friendly, authoritative manner, but her eyes remained fixed on mine throughout in a way that let me know she meant serious business. Before she had questioned me, she summarily tackled the thorny issue that still lay between myself and Arcane University, with a skill that was so consummate as to appear effortless. “My sincerest apologies for the misunderstanding with your acceptance letter, associate. I trust that you do not hold this against the Guild?”
Although I deeply resent this slight, I was so taken by the forwardness of the blue-robed Bosmer that I could but reply with a stuttered “No, Madam Wizard”. Whereas Raminus had tried to bat me off with excuses before, Bothiel was much more direct. And yet, at the same time, affable. As I was leaving, she said, “When you complete your recommendation tasks, do come and see me at the University. The orrery there is most spectacular. Every student of our magickal world should see it.”
Bothiel has just left after speaking to the other mages. Even the way she walks exudes authority. Oddly, for a Bosmer, she has adapted to civilised customs and her passion and zeal, whilst visible to all, is clearly under control.
10 P.M.
I have just been reminded about that drunk, Reynald. In the circumstances of the last few days I had (naturally) completely forgotten about his double. Trayvond brought it up this evening over a communal meal of venison, potatoes, and corn. I will look for him tomorrow. It will provide a diversion. In any case, I am not ready to undertake another one of these gods-forsaken recommendation quests yet.
Over dinner, which was cooked by Eilonwy, I got the chance to get to know the local mages better. Eilonwy and Orintur said they met for the first time here in Cheydinhal some twenty years ago. He had been a travelling apprentice studying at the Arcane University at the time, whilst Eilonwy had been an apprentice alchemist here at the guild hall.
His eyes sparkling with pride and delight, Orintur told me: “As soon as I set eyes on her, all thoughts of becoming a Master-Wizard in the Guild went out of the window. You know, I used to serve as High Chancellor Ocato’s apprentice, back when he was no politician, but a Wizard with great potential, tipped to become Arch-Mage one day. To think, had I stuck with him, I might have gained greatly from his patronage, maybe even rising to political power myself. But I would have been much less happy. I truly love Eilonwy; give me a happy life anyday over a rich or powerful one.”
A very admirable sentiment, I said, though of course being rich and powerful always helps one in the pursuit of happiness!
Grits - To be honest, it is more of a shock to Gwen that the Guild would allow such a malefactor as Falcar to remain in charge of the Cheydinhal chapter as it is to know that Altmer are bad people. Her racial prejudice is a trait, but it's not absolute. She recognises Deetsan's ability and wisdom in the last episode, for instance, and previously showed knowledge of the dark arts in Alinor.
However, you are definitely spot-on when you notice the absence of cash-flow musings. Normally, this would be ticking over in her mind, but naturally this is not the case here (understandably!). And thanks for noticing too her determination to keep going. This is definitely one of her character traits, along with racial prejudice, fiscal prudence, high-mindedness and intolerance for less supmtuous surroundings. It will eventually see her through to the Arcane University, and not a moment too soon (Raminus be cursed for inflicting the ignominy of the reccomendations circuit on her!)
Next up: The Guild's representative arrives in Cheydinhal and interviews Gwen, who then plots her next move.
5 P.M.
The guild’s third-in-command, a Bosmer called Bothiel, who is assistant to Raminus Polus, arrived at the Cheydinhal Mages Guild hall at 12 P.M. to examine the evidence for necromancy. Upon arriving, she and Deetsan went to the basement for nearly two hours, no doubt proceeding to pore over the soul gems and the cursed ring, which claimed one life and so nearly claimed mine. After they had discussed the situation, Deetsan came out and asked me to go downstairs and give testimony to the guild regarding Falcar’s actions.
Bothiel then questioned me about the events of the 28th and 29th. She asked me what Falcar had said and done on the days in question, whether he had threatened anyone at the guild and so on - and then put the cursed items in front of me and asked me to confirm that I had discovered them in Falcar’s room. I did so, expressing my firm belief that Falcar was a necromancer, an offence in guild law since Hannibal Traven became Arch-Mage.
The civil authorities may not prosecute him, I added, but if the Guild shuns Falcar and his associates, we may be stronger for it. Bothiel reassured me that “no necromancer shall ever be tolerated in the Guild while I serve it, associate.”
Clearly, this woman was skilled in the arts of speechcraft. She had a friendly, authoritative manner, but her eyes remained fixed on mine throughout in a way that let me know she meant serious business. Before she had questioned me, she summarily tackled the thorny issue that still lay between myself and Arcane University, with a skill that was so consummate as to appear effortless. “My sincerest apologies for the misunderstanding with your acceptance letter, associate. I trust that you do not hold this against the Guild?”
Although I deeply resent this slight, I was so taken by the forwardness of the blue-robed Bosmer that I could but reply with a stuttered “No, Madam Wizard”. Whereas Raminus had tried to bat me off with excuses before, Bothiel was much more direct. And yet, at the same time, affable. As I was leaving, she said, “When you complete your recommendation tasks, do come and see me at the University. The orrery there is most spectacular. Every student of our magickal world should see it.”
Bothiel has just left after speaking to the other mages. Even the way she walks exudes authority. Oddly, for a Bosmer, she has adapted to civilised customs and her passion and zeal, whilst visible to all, is clearly under control.
10 P.M.
I have just been reminded about that drunk, Reynald. In the circumstances of the last few days I had (naturally) completely forgotten about his double. Trayvond brought it up this evening over a communal meal of venison, potatoes, and corn. I will look for him tomorrow. It will provide a diversion. In any case, I am not ready to undertake another one of these gods-forsaken recommendation quests yet.
Over dinner, which was cooked by Eilonwy, I got the chance to get to know the local mages better. Eilonwy and Orintur said they met for the first time here in Cheydinhal some twenty years ago. He had been a travelling apprentice studying at the Arcane University at the time, whilst Eilonwy had been an apprentice alchemist here at the guild hall.
His eyes sparkling with pride and delight, Orintur told me: “As soon as I set eyes on her, all thoughts of becoming a Master-Wizard in the Guild went out of the window. You know, I used to serve as High Chancellor Ocato’s apprentice, back when he was no politician, but a Wizard with great potential, tipped to become Arch-Mage one day. To think, had I stuck with him, I might have gained greatly from his patronage, maybe even rising to political power myself. But I would have been much less happy. I truly love Eilonwy; give me a happy life anyday over a rich or powerful one.”
A very admirable sentiment, I said, though of course being rich and powerful always helps one in the pursuit of happiness!
I quite love the idea that you took the time to detail the inevitable investigation the guild would launch after an incident as major as the one involving Falcar. And Bothiel was a good choice.
'Oddly, for a Bosmer, she has adapted to civilised customs and her passion and zeal, whilst visible to all, is clearly under control.'
This was a relief. I was beginning to feel left out of Gwen's delightful opinions regarding other races! Those darn little Bosmer! At least this one kept her clothes on. And she didn't giggle, plant her hands on her hips defiantly, smile faintly or even bite her lower lip. Or any of that other typical Bosmeri behavior. She doesn't live in the trees or even carry a bow!
Ah, it looks like back to Reynald's mystery before leaving Cheydinahal.
I thoroughly enjoyed the time Gwen spent telling us about Orintur and Eilonwy.
'Oddly, for a Bosmer, she has adapted to civilised customs and her passion and zeal, whilst visible to all, is clearly under control.'
This was a relief. I was beginning to feel left out of Gwen's delightful opinions regarding other races! Those darn little Bosmer! At least this one kept her clothes on. And she didn't giggle, plant her hands on her hips defiantly, smile faintly or even bite her lower lip. Or any of that other typical Bosmeri behavior. She doesn't live in the trees or even carry a bow!
Ah, it looks like back to Reynald's mystery before leaving Cheydinahal.
I thoroughly enjoyed the time Gwen spent telling us about Orintur and Eilonwy.
A good depiction of Gwen's swirling thoughts at the beginning, as she wrestles with the question of who to trust, and who not to. Her decision to practice her spell to calm herself was excellent. By keeping her mind busy, and doing something she could influence, she regained her wits. Very realistic behavior, and very wise of her.
I wonder how many prospective students die every year trying to get into the Arcane University? Twenty, a hundred? I think you would be safer in the Arena, rather than the Mages Guild!
Bothiel coming from the IC to investigate was a good touch of reality. It is the kind of thing the game misses out on doing, because it is a game, and wants to get you to the next quest. I also loved seeing Gwen's Altmerness rising at the end of her meeting, as she noted how civilized Bothiel was, and her ability to keep her excitable Bosmer nature under control.
I wonder how many prospective students die every year trying to get into the Arcane University? Twenty, a hundred? I think you would be safer in the Arena, rather than the Mages Guild!
Bothiel coming from the IC to investigate was a good touch of reality. It is the kind of thing the game misses out on doing, because it is a game, and wants to get you to the next quest. I also loved seeing Gwen's Altmerness rising at the end of her meeting, as she noted how civilized Bothiel was, and her ability to keep her excitable Bosmer nature under control.
Despite her low rank in the Guild, Gwen shows some leadership here. After she answers Botheil’s questions, she offers her recommendation for how the Guild should handle Falcar. Then her assessment of Bothiel shows that she is already thinking like someone who has authority and subordinates. Her description of the Bosmer effusiveness as “passion and zeal” made me like her even more, and of course that whole statement made me chuckle. 
Acadian - Thanks! Gwen could never leave Bosmer females out of her catalogue of racial stereotypes. Who knows, she may later encounter giggling, faint-smiling, lower lip-biting, bow-toting, blonde or red-haired Bosmer. And the betting is that she'll probably say they don't look much like mages. 
SubRosa - Thanks for noticing the internal wrestling that went on during that episode. Very perceptive too about the spell-casting being a soothing distraction from fears and doubts. I imagine casting spells is to mages what using the rosary is to Catholics. It certainly worked here.
I felt there had to be a little pause after this quest. No way could a real person carry on with the recommendations as if nothing had happened. And the guild also needed to respond to the news as you say. The way I will describe things here is not strictly how I actually played them in-game, but they are close enough and tie up the loose ends nicely.
Grits - Good call on the leadership. I see Gwen's 'leadership' as being a product of her high opinion of herself. She sees herself largely as the equal of the more senior guild members and sees the recommendations as beneath her. She has little qualms about giving opinions to the actual Guild leadership, therefore.
Next up: With the Cheydinhal reccommendation behind her and with no appetite for further life-threatening tasks at this point, Gwen instead seeks out Reynald's impostor, with unexpected results.
First Seed 31, 3E430 – Cheydinhal
12 P.M.
No success finding Reynald’s doppelganger yet. My walk-search around town has yielded little, except some scuffs on my gold trimmed shoes.
5 P.M.
Reynald’s ‘double’ is actually his twin brother, named Guilbert, as I found out from a town guard. I have just met him. He is a terrible impostor, being totally sober (in spite of his surroundings). Azura have mercy, the poor fellow spends his days in the tavern known as the Newlands Lodge. I imagine I would be forced to take to drink just to find some escape from the intolerable conditions, not to mention the regulars.
Thanks to a tip-off from the guard, I made my way to the Newlands Lodge about two hours ago. Mercifully, it is at least quiet at this time of day, meaning I did not have to contend with the rabble of Orsimer I saw there the other day. The publican pointed me upstairs to Guilbert’s room. And, would you believe it, the Breton was the spitting image of his brother. He even wore the same style of outfit; green with blue trim and brown hose, though, unlike his brother’s, these were conspicuous for their lack of ale stains.
Not wanting to give the game away at first, I asked him what he was doing in Cheydinhal.
He replied, “Used to be Fighters Guild here in Cheydinhal, but the jobs are pretty scarce these days. Can’t even get a contract killing rats, cause any and all jobs go to the higher-ranking members. So, I quit. Been trying to set myself up as an independent, but the security’s terrible. I’ve had to sell my steel cuirass and warhammer just to keep up my tab here at the Lodge.”
I asked him if he had a brother. Yes, he said, but he had died when both of them were young.
“Guilbert,” I said, “your brother’s alive. He lives in Chorrol.”
At this, the expression on Guilbert’s face turned from one of unhappy apathy to one of excitement and wonder. His green eyes sparkled, and the tone of his voice picked up noticeably.
“He’s alive? Well, we have to go and see him at once! I’ll settle up here, and we can leave tomorrow morning for Chorrol, post-haste. I can’t believe it! I thought for certain he had perished. Thank you, stranger. What is your name?”
“Gwenyan.”
“Thank you, Gwenyan. Will you go with me to Chorrol?”
I had to think about this. Do I want to go back to Chorrol? Not really. Earana will be there, and the whole Fingers of the Mountain acrimony still hangs over the guild hall there. But, if I can survive the worst efforts of a dastardly necromancer like Falcar, then I am certain Earana would not succeed in harming me. Well, not in broad daylight, at least, with the guards watching…..
Therefore, I have decided to go with Guilbert. His brother did pay me in gold, after all. We leave early tomorrow. We will meet by the statue outside the Mages Guild.
Rain’s Hand 1, 3E430 – Roxey Inn
12 P.M.
Guilbert and I are just stopping here for a quick lunch before leaving for Chorrol. The weather is fine and the only notable incident so far has been the appearance of a wolf, which was swiftly dispatched by a passing legionary. On the road we talked about Guilbert’s family. Apparently, his mother was killed in an attack on their farm when Guilbert and Reynald were children, and he assumed Reynald had been killed too. Their father, he said, was a farmer and ran the family’s estate until he suddenly disappeared years ago.
Guilbert also asked me about my story: what was I doing in Cyrodiil? I told him the whole tale: promising mage student specialising in Restoration, unjustly turned away at the university, forced to do these recommendation quests, but frankly, at her wits’ end by this point with the feral Khajiit and rogue mages and death-trap wells and struggling bitterly to survive. Guilbert offered words of sympathy, saying that guild hierarchies cared little about the rank-and-file in the Fighters Guild as in the Mages Guild, and he knew the feeling.
Guilbert, it would seem, is a bit rusty with warhammers. He is using an old iron one, taken from the Fighters Guild as what Guilbert called ‘a farewell gift’.
When we met at the statue at about 8 A.M., he paused to give me a magnificent demonstration of his great skill. As it turned out, my mouth gaped open in laughter, rather than awe. Holding the hammer above his head, he swung it fiercely around his body in a circular motion……..and lost his grip on it, sending it flying across Cheydinhal’s cobble stones. A sheepish ‘sorry, guv’nor’ was his reply to the irate town guardsman he nearly pulverized in the process. Clearly, the lack of jobs in his guild has affected his technique adversely. I teased him about it all the way to Roxey!
Guilbert has just informed me that he has finished his plate of mashed potato and beef steak, and is getting strapped back into his iron cuirass. To Chorrol!
SubRosa - Thanks for noticing the internal wrestling that went on during that episode. Very perceptive too about the spell-casting being a soothing distraction from fears and doubts. I imagine casting spells is to mages what using the rosary is to Catholics. It certainly worked here.
I felt there had to be a little pause after this quest. No way could a real person carry on with the recommendations as if nothing had happened. And the guild also needed to respond to the news as you say. The way I will describe things here is not strictly how I actually played them in-game, but they are close enough and tie up the loose ends nicely.
Grits - Good call on the leadership. I see Gwen's 'leadership' as being a product of her high opinion of herself. She sees herself largely as the equal of the more senior guild members and sees the recommendations as beneath her. She has little qualms about giving opinions to the actual Guild leadership, therefore.
Next up: With the Cheydinhal reccommendation behind her and with no appetite for further life-threatening tasks at this point, Gwen instead seeks out Reynald's impostor, with unexpected results.
First Seed 31, 3E430 – Cheydinhal
12 P.M.
No success finding Reynald’s doppelganger yet. My walk-search around town has yielded little, except some scuffs on my gold trimmed shoes.
5 P.M.
Reynald’s ‘double’ is actually his twin brother, named Guilbert, as I found out from a town guard. I have just met him. He is a terrible impostor, being totally sober (in spite of his surroundings). Azura have mercy, the poor fellow spends his days in the tavern known as the Newlands Lodge. I imagine I would be forced to take to drink just to find some escape from the intolerable conditions, not to mention the regulars.
Thanks to a tip-off from the guard, I made my way to the Newlands Lodge about two hours ago. Mercifully, it is at least quiet at this time of day, meaning I did not have to contend with the rabble of Orsimer I saw there the other day. The publican pointed me upstairs to Guilbert’s room. And, would you believe it, the Breton was the spitting image of his brother. He even wore the same style of outfit; green with blue trim and brown hose, though, unlike his brother’s, these were conspicuous for their lack of ale stains.
Not wanting to give the game away at first, I asked him what he was doing in Cheydinhal.
He replied, “Used to be Fighters Guild here in Cheydinhal, but the jobs are pretty scarce these days. Can’t even get a contract killing rats, cause any and all jobs go to the higher-ranking members. So, I quit. Been trying to set myself up as an independent, but the security’s terrible. I’ve had to sell my steel cuirass and warhammer just to keep up my tab here at the Lodge.”
I asked him if he had a brother. Yes, he said, but he had died when both of them were young.
“Guilbert,” I said, “your brother’s alive. He lives in Chorrol.”
At this, the expression on Guilbert’s face turned from one of unhappy apathy to one of excitement and wonder. His green eyes sparkled, and the tone of his voice picked up noticeably.
“He’s alive? Well, we have to go and see him at once! I’ll settle up here, and we can leave tomorrow morning for Chorrol, post-haste. I can’t believe it! I thought for certain he had perished. Thank you, stranger. What is your name?”
“Gwenyan.”
“Thank you, Gwenyan. Will you go with me to Chorrol?”
I had to think about this. Do I want to go back to Chorrol? Not really. Earana will be there, and the whole Fingers of the Mountain acrimony still hangs over the guild hall there. But, if I can survive the worst efforts of a dastardly necromancer like Falcar, then I am certain Earana would not succeed in harming me. Well, not in broad daylight, at least, with the guards watching…..
Therefore, I have decided to go with Guilbert. His brother did pay me in gold, after all. We leave early tomorrow. We will meet by the statue outside the Mages Guild.
Rain’s Hand 1, 3E430 – Roxey Inn
12 P.M.
Guilbert and I are just stopping here for a quick lunch before leaving for Chorrol. The weather is fine and the only notable incident so far has been the appearance of a wolf, which was swiftly dispatched by a passing legionary. On the road we talked about Guilbert’s family. Apparently, his mother was killed in an attack on their farm when Guilbert and Reynald were children, and he assumed Reynald had been killed too. Their father, he said, was a farmer and ran the family’s estate until he suddenly disappeared years ago.
Guilbert also asked me about my story: what was I doing in Cyrodiil? I told him the whole tale: promising mage student specialising in Restoration, unjustly turned away at the university, forced to do these recommendation quests, but frankly, at her wits’ end by this point with the feral Khajiit and rogue mages and death-trap wells and struggling bitterly to survive. Guilbert offered words of sympathy, saying that guild hierarchies cared little about the rank-and-file in the Fighters Guild as in the Mages Guild, and he knew the feeling.
Guilbert, it would seem, is a bit rusty with warhammers. He is using an old iron one, taken from the Fighters Guild as what Guilbert called ‘a farewell gift’.
When we met at the statue at about 8 A.M., he paused to give me a magnificent demonstration of his great skill. As it turned out, my mouth gaped open in laughter, rather than awe. Holding the hammer above his head, he swung it fiercely around his body in a circular motion……..and lost his grip on it, sending it flying across Cheydinhal’s cobble stones. A sheepish ‘sorry, guv’nor’ was his reply to the irate town guardsman he nearly pulverized in the process. Clearly, the lack of jobs in his guild has affected his technique adversely. I teased him about it all the way to Roxey!
Guilbert has just informed me that he has finished his plate of mashed potato and beef steak, and is getting strapped back into his iron cuirass. To Chorrol!
Poor Guilbert, forced to stay in the Newlands while sober! I loved his remarks about there not even being jobs killing rats! 
Again, I loved Gwen's haughty attitude toward the orc rabble and intolerable conditions. Not to mention her obvious frustrations over the fetch and carry recommendation missions.
Again, I loved Gwen's haughty attitude toward the orc rabble and intolerable conditions. Not to mention her obvious frustrations over the fetch and carry recommendation missions.
Very enjoyable! You continue to maintain a nice mixture of Gwen writing her notes and inserting active dynamic moments. Very smooth and natural to read.
'but frankly, at her wits’ end by this point with the feral Khajiit and rogue mages and death-trap wells and struggling bitterly to survive. '
This is very Gwen!
I enjoyed that Gwen lingered long enough to share Guilbert's impressive warhammer demonstration with us. A delightful touch!
'Guilbert has just informed me that he has finished his plate of mashed potato and beef steak, and is getting strapped back into his iron cuirass. To Chorrol!'
I love the style you used to end this. Gwen was actively recording her notes when she was interrupted by Guilbert to continue their travels. Once again, a seamless blend of Gwen's journal and what is actively happening. As I mentioned above, that makes for a very interesting and unique dynamic in this story that you are very clearly adept with.
'but frankly, at her wits’ end by this point with the feral Khajiit and rogue mages and death-trap wells and struggling bitterly to survive. '
This is very Gwen!
I enjoyed that Gwen lingered long enough to share Guilbert's impressive warhammer demonstration with us. A delightful touch!
'Guilbert has just informed me that he has finished his plate of mashed potato and beef steak, and is getting strapped back into his iron cuirass. To Chorrol!'
I love the style you used to end this. Gwen was actively recording her notes when she was interrupted by Guilbert to continue their travels. Once again, a seamless blend of Gwen's journal and what is actively happening. As I mentioned above, that makes for a very interesting and unique dynamic in this story that you are very clearly adept with.
He is a terrible impostor, being totally sober (in spite of his surroundings).
I just love Gwen’s tone in this installment. It seems that Guilbert is enjoyable company. Her humorous retelling of the warhammer incident had an affectionate quality, no doubt influenced by the two of them sharing their histories while they were on the road.
The last lines were delightful and engaging. To Chorrol with Gulibert and Gwen!
I just love Gwen’s tone in this installment. It seems that Guilbert is enjoyable company. Her humorous retelling of the warhammer incident had an affectionate quality, no doubt influenced by the two of them sharing their histories while they were on the road. The last lines were delightful and engaging. To Chorrol with Gulibert and Gwen!
SubRosa - There are too many orcs frequenting the Newlands. Frankly, one orc is too many! Let's hope Guilbert's lot in life improves from here on.
Acadian - Thanks! I'm glad you like the diary format and the way I'm trying to mix action and reflection. One drawback is that compared to the other style of fanfics it can get very dull very easily: today Gwen did this, this, and this. So I have to try and visualise the scene as Gwen is writing. That's why it helps to have a time of day an to sometime update several times a day; it helps me to decide what events have happened thus far and therefore what Gwen knows at that point.
Also I have to take some liberties with realism; realistically a normal person may not remember, much less bother to record several lines of spoken dialogue in a diary, but I get around that by assuming that Gwen is a diary nut and is happy to spend hours writing in it per day, and that as an Altmer she has better-than-human memory.
Grits - Thanks. While the Jemane brothers are around, they will cerainly be entertaining, I hope. They will develop a rapport with Gwen and when they eventually leave she will miss them.
Midnight – The Oak and Crosier tavern, Chorrol
Reynald and Guilbert have been reunited. Guilbert could hardly contain his emotion as he rushed to greet his brother. Initially, Reynald apparently thought he was staring at his own reflection in the water, shouting at Guilbert to ‘get out of my head, water-man’. But, as I took Reynald through it step-by-step, the realisation seemed to shake the ale-induced haze from his memory and he recalled his brother. Much shaking of hands and embracing ensued. The Bretons are more rugged than mer in their greetings and displays of affection, but the sentiments are the same.
This display of familial love reminded me of my own family. I am an only child, but my cousins, Bronwyn and Caithalor, lived near to the royal court in Alinor and are to me just as a sister and a brother. Bronwyn is a promising alchemical student, deeply self-reflective, who has written a great treatise on master alchemists of the past and their secrets. Caithalor, on the other hand, shuns the arts magicka save for the school of Restoration, and is a captain in the Alinor city Guard. Two more different people you could not hope to meet, yet, like the contrast between Reynald’s drunkenness and Guilbert’s sobriety, nothing takes away from the ties that bind them together, not even years spent apart.
After they had shared stories of their lives since the fateful day they were separated on their family farm - Guilbert of his life in the Fighters Guild, and Reynald of his life as the Chorrol charity case – they turned to me and asked me if I would accompany them back to their farm, called Weatherleah. Guilbert said that it would probably be ‘one hell of a mess’ at this stage, but both brothers were agreed: they wanted to start a new life at their old home, and were willing to do whatever it took to rebuild.
I accepted their request. They may be vulgar and not much blessed by Julianos, but, truth be told, I actually like them. With his display of his prowess with warhammers, Guilbert made me laugh as hard as I have since I had met Robért on the White Rose – nearly a month ago – and we had played Colovian poker. He took my teasing in good grace, too, commenting that his compatriots in the Fighters Guild even had a drinking song for him. Apparently, it went something like this:
Journeyman Jemane,
his swing is rather lame.
Journeyman Jemane,
he can't dish out no pain.
He calls himself 'Wolfsbane',
But he's so very tame
Journeyman Jemane,
his swing is rather lame.
He fought the wolves of Kvatch,
But found himself outmatched;
He took on Skingrad’s bears,
But ran home jolly scared.
Between just me and you,
Anvil’s imps he slew;
But Journeyman Jemane,
His swing’s still rather lame.
His hammer’s heavy head,
May make you sigh with dread;
But watch him swing it round,
You’ll feel safe and sound.
Cos Journeyman Jemane,
He can’t dish out no pain;
Journeyman Jemane,
His swing’s so very lame.
Oh, how he makes me laugh! He may have a rather simple-looking face, but such self-deprecating humour betrays a small spark of intelligence and wit in Guilbert. His ability to laugh at his own failures would be alien to my parents and indeed myself, and has no doubt contributed to his general mediocrity, but it makes him endearing and charming.
Further, and despite his previously comical form with his hammer, he displayed genuine skill when we were threatened by a group of imps on the Red Ring Road. He swatted one away with a sideways sweep that betrayed a technique obviously well-honed from years of practice, whilst the others were taken down by a passing soldier of the Legion.
Indeed, travelling with him has made me feel safe for the first time since I arrived here. If we run into anything on the way to his farm, I am certain he will be fine, even if he has asked me to accompany them due to my restorative skills. Indeed, I feel that it is I who is in need of his help, rather than the contrary. I may be able to heal wounds and mend broken limbs, but I am helpless against a highwayman or bandit, whose weapons are of iron and steel, not of magicka.
Guilbert has almost been like a bodyguard on this short trip. Even Reynald is not so bad, when you get used to the smell. Azura’s mercy, did I really just write that? That shows how much I have condescended in this hostile environment. Perhaps my travels have been good for me in that way. After all, my parents did tell me that I would ‘grow up’ in Cyrodiil. Possibly they had meant that I would learn how to heal Superior wounds, rather than how to survive the company of Bretons, but nonetheless they were right: I am learning. Just as the proprietor of this tavern in which I am staying has proven that Khajiit may be civilised (although most are still clearly brutes), so I truly know that ignorance does not make one a bad person, as Guilbert’s example attests to.
The Jemanes are eager to proceed to Weatherleah, but they have no clue where it is, save that it is south of Chorrol. Small wonder, given that they have not seen it since their tender childhood years. We will therefore question the townspeople and Fighters Guild as to its whereabouts tomorrow, as well as preparing for the journey. Guilbert and Reynald will need weapons and armour of good quality. Guilbert’s ramshackle iron cuirass, which barely fits him, is simply no good. Reynald, meanwhile, does not look too well-protected in his linens, nor – and equally importantly – does he look (or smell) particularly attractive in them either.
I can spare the septims. I have 563 remaining, and in two weeks I can collect my next deposit – another 1,000 septims. If it means avoiding Surilies vintage and living in guild halls for the next 15 days, it will be a price worth paying for the Jemanes’ safety against anything we should meet.
By Azura, I must cease to write now. It is 2 A.M. – time to retire to the comfort of the nice big bed here in my room. Guilbert and Reynald are staying at Reynald’s home here in town; we will meet up tomorrow at lunchtime, in this tavern.
Acadian - Thanks! I'm glad you like the diary format and the way I'm trying to mix action and reflection. One drawback is that compared to the other style of fanfics it can get very dull very easily: today Gwen did this, this, and this. So I have to try and visualise the scene as Gwen is writing. That's why it helps to have a time of day an to sometime update several times a day; it helps me to decide what events have happened thus far and therefore what Gwen knows at that point.
Also I have to take some liberties with realism; realistically a normal person may not remember, much less bother to record several lines of spoken dialogue in a diary, but I get around that by assuming that Gwen is a diary nut and is happy to spend hours writing in it per day, and that as an Altmer she has better-than-human memory.
Grits - Thanks. While the Jemane brothers are around, they will cerainly be entertaining, I hope. They will develop a rapport with Gwen and when they eventually leave she will miss them.
Midnight – The Oak and Crosier tavern, Chorrol
Reynald and Guilbert have been reunited. Guilbert could hardly contain his emotion as he rushed to greet his brother. Initially, Reynald apparently thought he was staring at his own reflection in the water, shouting at Guilbert to ‘get out of my head, water-man’. But, as I took Reynald through it step-by-step, the realisation seemed to shake the ale-induced haze from his memory and he recalled his brother. Much shaking of hands and embracing ensued. The Bretons are more rugged than mer in their greetings and displays of affection, but the sentiments are the same.
This display of familial love reminded me of my own family. I am an only child, but my cousins, Bronwyn and Caithalor, lived near to the royal court in Alinor and are to me just as a sister and a brother. Bronwyn is a promising alchemical student, deeply self-reflective, who has written a great treatise on master alchemists of the past and their secrets. Caithalor, on the other hand, shuns the arts magicka save for the school of Restoration, and is a captain in the Alinor city Guard. Two more different people you could not hope to meet, yet, like the contrast between Reynald’s drunkenness and Guilbert’s sobriety, nothing takes away from the ties that bind them together, not even years spent apart.
After they had shared stories of their lives since the fateful day they were separated on their family farm - Guilbert of his life in the Fighters Guild, and Reynald of his life as the Chorrol charity case – they turned to me and asked me if I would accompany them back to their farm, called Weatherleah. Guilbert said that it would probably be ‘one hell of a mess’ at this stage, but both brothers were agreed: they wanted to start a new life at their old home, and were willing to do whatever it took to rebuild.
I accepted their request. They may be vulgar and not much blessed by Julianos, but, truth be told, I actually like them. With his display of his prowess with warhammers, Guilbert made me laugh as hard as I have since I had met Robért on the White Rose – nearly a month ago – and we had played Colovian poker. He took my teasing in good grace, too, commenting that his compatriots in the Fighters Guild even had a drinking song for him. Apparently, it went something like this:
Journeyman Jemane,
his swing is rather lame.
Journeyman Jemane,
he can't dish out no pain.
He calls himself 'Wolfsbane',
But he's so very tame
Journeyman Jemane,
his swing is rather lame.
He fought the wolves of Kvatch,
But found himself outmatched;
He took on Skingrad’s bears,
But ran home jolly scared.
Between just me and you,
Anvil’s imps he slew;
But Journeyman Jemane,
His swing’s still rather lame.
His hammer’s heavy head,
May make you sigh with dread;
But watch him swing it round,
You’ll feel safe and sound.
Cos Journeyman Jemane,
He can’t dish out no pain;
Journeyman Jemane,
His swing’s so very lame.
Oh, how he makes me laugh! He may have a rather simple-looking face, but such self-deprecating humour betrays a small spark of intelligence and wit in Guilbert. His ability to laugh at his own failures would be alien to my parents and indeed myself, and has no doubt contributed to his general mediocrity, but it makes him endearing and charming.
Further, and despite his previously comical form with his hammer, he displayed genuine skill when we were threatened by a group of imps on the Red Ring Road. He swatted one away with a sideways sweep that betrayed a technique obviously well-honed from years of practice, whilst the others were taken down by a passing soldier of the Legion.
Indeed, travelling with him has made me feel safe for the first time since I arrived here. If we run into anything on the way to his farm, I am certain he will be fine, even if he has asked me to accompany them due to my restorative skills. Indeed, I feel that it is I who is in need of his help, rather than the contrary. I may be able to heal wounds and mend broken limbs, but I am helpless against a highwayman or bandit, whose weapons are of iron and steel, not of magicka.
Guilbert has almost been like a bodyguard on this short trip. Even Reynald is not so bad, when you get used to the smell. Azura’s mercy, did I really just write that? That shows how much I have condescended in this hostile environment. Perhaps my travels have been good for me in that way. After all, my parents did tell me that I would ‘grow up’ in Cyrodiil. Possibly they had meant that I would learn how to heal Superior wounds, rather than how to survive the company of Bretons, but nonetheless they were right: I am learning. Just as the proprietor of this tavern in which I am staying has proven that Khajiit may be civilised (although most are still clearly brutes), so I truly know that ignorance does not make one a bad person, as Guilbert’s example attests to.
The Jemanes are eager to proceed to Weatherleah, but they have no clue where it is, save that it is south of Chorrol. Small wonder, given that they have not seen it since their tender childhood years. We will therefore question the townspeople and Fighters Guild as to its whereabouts tomorrow, as well as preparing for the journey. Guilbert and Reynald will need weapons and armour of good quality. Guilbert’s ramshackle iron cuirass, which barely fits him, is simply no good. Reynald, meanwhile, does not look too well-protected in his linens, nor – and equally importantly – does he look (or smell) particularly attractive in them either.
I can spare the septims. I have 563 remaining, and in two weeks I can collect my next deposit – another 1,000 septims. If it means avoiding Surilies vintage and living in guild halls for the next 15 days, it will be a price worth paying for the Jemanes’ safety against anything we should meet.
By Azura, I must cease to write now. It is 2 A.M. – time to retire to the comfort of the nice big bed here in my room. Guilbert and Reynald are staying at Reynald’s home here in town; we will meet up tomorrow at lunchtime, in this tavern.
This was a fascinating growth spurt on Gwen's part! She is very much Gwen throughout, but the obvious importance that family plays for her shines through. As does her evolving acceptance of the lesser races. I don't see it as a conscious effort on her part, but she is indeed learning what she will need to lead a culturally diverse guild of mages from the Arch Mage's tower. I love how, in her journal, she even questions her own changing attitudes.
I'm actually not worried about her attitude toward Argonians. I mean Teekeus is Teekeus, but Gwen has already met Deetsan. Once she meets Kud-Ei and Tar-Meena, I expect she will quickly and fully see the beauty of those fortunate enough to be blessed with tails.
I think you are doing a superb job showing us the evolution of a future Arch Mage.
I'm actually not worried about her attitude toward Argonians. I mean Teekeus is Teekeus, but Gwen has already met Deetsan. Once she meets Kud-Ei and Tar-Meena, I expect she will quickly and fully see the beauty of those fortunate enough to be blessed with tails.
I think you are doing a superb job showing us the evolution of a future Arch Mage.
Gwen’s willing to sacrifice her own luxury and comfort for two weeks to outfit the Jemanes is so endearing. She makes some unflattering but no doubt true observations about the Breton brothers, but that doesn’t seem to diminish the value she sees in them. I really like that about her.
Thanks for your kind praise, Acadian, but I feel I'm going to have to be Harald Steel-Quill for a second here and clarify:
Growth with provisos and caveats, I might add. Remember, as she says, most Khajiit are still clearly brutes. It'll be a long time before anything approaching a theory of racial equality forms in this Altmer's mind.
Also, we should be wary of reading this history 'backwards' here. Gwenyan has no ambitions of being Arch-Mage at his point; she just wants to get the education she needs to go back home and get a good position in Alinor. So leading a cohort of multiracial, multicultural mages is not on her mind at present.
Edit: having read your comments again, I believe you understood that written above. Nonetheless, I'll leave thge comment up for other readers.
Growth with provisos and caveats, I might add. Remember, as she says, most Khajiit are still clearly brutes. It'll be a long time before anything approaching a theory of racial equality forms in this Altmer's mind.
Also, we should be wary of reading this history 'backwards' here. Gwenyan has no ambitions of being Arch-Mage at his point; she just wants to get the education she needs to go back home and get a good position in Alinor. So leading a cohort of multiracial, multicultural mages is not on her mind at present.
Edit: having read your comments again, I believe you understood that written above. Nonetheless, I'll leave thge comment up for other readers.
You make Guilbert really come alive in Gwenyan's telling of the tale. Including his hidden ability with the warhammer. Gwenyan shows quite a bit of generosity too, in buying them both new armor. While her Altmer superiority is still in full-force, we can see her learning to adapt to 'roughing it' with the lesser species.
The "diary" style of your writing keeps the story moving at perfect pace - enhanced by your ability to sum up quickly both characters and storylines into visual imagery !! Awesome Write !!!
Acadian - Thanks for your perceptive remarks. This entry was indeed a 'growth' moment for Gwen. She can't believe she is actually buddying up with a rogue like Reynald, but needs must! She's still no Khajiit-lover, though. As for Argonians, I suspect she respects them more than Khajiit due to their greater ability in magic. But I haven't totally decided how I'm going to write the Bravil reccommendation yet!
Grits - I think this is a giant leap of imagination from Gwen, so I'm sure she's glad you find it endearing! Thanks for your continued feedback.
SubRosa - Thanks. Guilbert's song was quite fun to write, I even have a tune for it, shame I'm too technologically backward to know how to record or upload it! I'm glad you like Guilbert's role in the story, I think it's a lot more fun to travel with someone than without.
mALX - Glad you continue to enjoy it. Thanks for your kind comments. I should point out, I love Maxical's adventures (or should that be misadventures). I'm working through them now. The pranks she pulled when she was at the university - hilarious! - have given me a little idea for something in the future, when Gwen finally reaches the university, involving Robért Permane, a full-of-himself Mage Scholar, a telekinesis spell, and a chamberpot.
NB: I've added a couple of extra stanzas to Guilbert Jemane's drinking song above. I'm thinking about expanding it a bit more and making it into a serious epic, like the medieval romantic ones. Give me some thoughts on it.
Next up: Time to begin preparations to go to Weatherleah, with amusing results.
Rain’s Hand 2, 3E430 – Chorrol
11 A.M.
The month of Rain’s Hand is living up to its name. My hair is full of water as I write this. I really ought to have worn my robe today, instead of my velvet ballgown. This has clung to my skin, attracting much attention from the menfolk of the town. It also drew some mocking words from the smith here, who nigh-on laughed me out of her store, but has nonetheless agreed to fit Reynald and Guilbert for a new suit of chainmail armour each. I must admit this was not what I had envisaged. Evidently, Chorrol’s smith does not import elven steel from Firsthold, but there was really no need for the Redguard to snigger at my suggestion as though I had asked for her to make a boar sprout wings and fly.
She said I might find some if I hunted around in Cyrodilic Ayleid ruins long enough, “but then again, from the looks of you, you’d probably sleepwalk into a trap. Typical mage, with your fancy ballgowns and total lack of common sense. No, what you need is solid Colovian mail for your friends. That’ll keep them safe, and I can actually sell you some of that. Anything else you need?”
I told her that Guilbert used a warhammer, and Reynald a shortsword.
Suddenly, her eyebrows raised, she said:
“Reynald? Reynald Jemane? Alright, I’ll sell you a weapon for him, but don’t come crying to me when he wounds himself with it, or breaks it, or blunts it, or tries to modify it to store ale in and breaks the pommel in the process. No returns, you hear?”
I agreed. I then asked her if she knew anything about the location of Weatherleah.
“Ask Sabine Laul at the Fighters Guild. She knows the area well.”
Thanking her semi-sincerely for her help, I agreed to return later with Reynald and Guilbert to pick the goods up. In the meantime, she gave me a receipt:
“From Fire and Steel, where the service is always friendly. If it isn’t, well, who cares, we’re the only weapons dealer in Chorrol! Hahahaha – Rasheda”
2 Chainmail cuirasses
2 sets of chainmail greaves
2 pairs of leather boots
Fine steel warhammer
Fine steel shortsword
Total: 395 septims
Signed: Rasheda
Payment received Rain’s Hand 2, 3E430
Both the weapons are of high quality steel. The whole package deal cost about 400 septims. The weapons gleam beautifully, but I get the impression the smith knew their real value to be somewhat lower. Still, I am satisfied. They will help keep the brothers safe, and I have enough septims to tide me over until the next deposit comes through. Maybe it is an extravagance to spend hundreds of septims on ensuring the safety of men I have barely met. But Guilbert is the closest thing I have to a friend in Cyrodiil. If it is an extravagance, then it is worth it. What good are fine meals and clothes if my friends are torn apart by bandits or beasts?
Reynald and Guilbert have no idea about this, incidentally. They are due here in about half an hour. The surprise they will have!
11 P.M. – Chorrol Mages Guild Hall
Reynald and Guilbert looked like authentic Cyrodilic knights in their new equipment! Rasheda fitted their armour at no extra charge, and even showed Reynald how best to use his weapon and avoid cutting himself.
Reynald did not stop playing with the shortsword for twenty minutes. He was as a child in a baker’s shop, excitedly eyeing up sweetrolls and getting his fingers all over them and the shop owner irritated. Indeed, Rasheda’s expression rapidly changed from one of humour to one of indignation as Reynald chipped her wooden cupboard while attacking a weapons-testing dummy in the corner of the shop.
Guilbert’s reaction was rather more grown-up, but equally excited. He delighted in his new warhammer. “They won’t be calling me ‘Journeyman Jemane’ when they see me march into Cheydinhal with this colossus”, he beamed. Trying out his new hammer, he gave another demonstration of his skill, Rasheda having been forewarned to give him wide berth and having stepped back.
No laughter resulted on this occasion. Far from flying out of his hands, the weapon danced finely with his body in a nimble yet strong display of prowess. Guilbert commented how much better the hammer felt than the old iron one he had used on the road to Chorrol – the balance of the weapon was much finer, he said. I am not familiar with the arts of melee combat, but I have just observed directly how important a soldier’s equipment is. Guilbert was so pleased with his weapon that he described it as the best he had ever used.
Thanking me, he said: “You are a true friend, Gwen. We have only known each other for days, yet you have given me my professional pride back with this gesture. I promise, I’ll make it up to you one day. We may have been poor farmers at Weatherleah, but my father was rich. He became a treasure hunter in later life, you see. If any of our wealth is still buried under the wreckage and cobwebs that no doubt exist at the estate now, we will surely use it to compensate you for this generosity.”
I replied that I was happy to do it for him. What is 400 septims to a daughter of Alinor courtiers like myself? I have seen much that is good in Guilbert, who is an honest and decent man. And his brother, perhaps, means well, despite his shiftlessness and drunkenness.
Weatherleah is located south of Chorrol, approximately four hours’ walk away, nearly half the way to Kvatch. The three of us have agreed to leave for there in two days’ time, after I have had some rest here in Chorrol. Guilbert and I went to the Fighters Guild hall to ask the aforementioned Sabine Laul, the resident blacksmith. Whoever heard of a female Breton blacksmith? Despite her unkemptness, she was friendly and helpful.
I am staying here at the guild hall tonight, while Guilbert and Reynald have retired to Reynald’s house. I offered to pay for their stay at the Oak and Crosier, but Reynald insisted on returning to his house, where great quantities of ale and his favourite book, The Lusty Argonian Maid, reside.
Despite my attempts to convince him that the Crosier was a fine place with an entirely civilised Khajiit proprietor, Reynald would not budge. “Really, Gwynne (sic), thanks for the offer, but you can’t down a flagon and sit in your undergarments in that posh nosh. Guilbert and I have some male bonding to do, anyhow.” What he meant by that comment, I dread to contemplate. There are some things that not even a questioning, thinking Altmer should ponder.
Surprisingly, though I had feared another encounter with Earana upon my return to town, she has been nowhere to be found. According to the mages here, Earana has not been seen for days. It seems that some time after I left Chorrol on the 23rd of First Seed, she entered the guild hall and confronted Teekeeus. None of the mages know what was said between them, for the silver-haired witch met the Argonian in his private quarters, where the Argonian has a soundproof door. However, Angalmo saw her storm out and leave for the Grey Mare. She has not been heard from since. What has happened to her is apparently a mystery, and Teekeeus will not tell any of the mages even the slightest thing about their meeting.
At any rate, what do I care what has happened to her? I am simply relieved she is no longer in town and will not be a threat to me. Not even being forced to share with Contumelorius tonight can dent my sense of contentment, despite his snoring being clearly audible over my quill’s scribbles here in the basement of the guild hall. Athragar has promised to lend me his single for tomorrow, thank Azura.
It is now 1 A.M. – another long night of writing. I have been physically exhausted since 9 P.M., yet an urge to write has kept me awake and alert, until now. Must retire, hope the sheets aren’t too badly soiled.
Grits - I think this is a giant leap of imagination from Gwen, so I'm sure she's glad you find it endearing! Thanks for your continued feedback.
SubRosa - Thanks. Guilbert's song was quite fun to write, I even have a tune for it, shame I'm too technologically backward to know how to record or upload it! I'm glad you like Guilbert's role in the story, I think it's a lot more fun to travel with someone than without.
mALX - Glad you continue to enjoy it. Thanks for your kind comments. I should point out, I love Maxical's adventures (or should that be misadventures). I'm working through them now. The pranks she pulled when she was at the university - hilarious! - have given me a little idea for something in the future, when Gwen finally reaches the university, involving Robért Permane, a full-of-himself Mage Scholar, a telekinesis spell, and a chamberpot.
NB: I've added a couple of extra stanzas to Guilbert Jemane's drinking song above. I'm thinking about expanding it a bit more and making it into a serious epic, like the medieval romantic ones. Give me some thoughts on it.
Next up: Time to begin preparations to go to Weatherleah, with amusing results.
Rain’s Hand 2, 3E430 – Chorrol
11 A.M.
The month of Rain’s Hand is living up to its name. My hair is full of water as I write this. I really ought to have worn my robe today, instead of my velvet ballgown. This has clung to my skin, attracting much attention from the menfolk of the town. It also drew some mocking words from the smith here, who nigh-on laughed me out of her store, but has nonetheless agreed to fit Reynald and Guilbert for a new suit of chainmail armour each. I must admit this was not what I had envisaged. Evidently, Chorrol’s smith does not import elven steel from Firsthold, but there was really no need for the Redguard to snigger at my suggestion as though I had asked for her to make a boar sprout wings and fly.
She said I might find some if I hunted around in Cyrodilic Ayleid ruins long enough, “but then again, from the looks of you, you’d probably sleepwalk into a trap. Typical mage, with your fancy ballgowns and total lack of common sense. No, what you need is solid Colovian mail for your friends. That’ll keep them safe, and I can actually sell you some of that. Anything else you need?”
I told her that Guilbert used a warhammer, and Reynald a shortsword.
Suddenly, her eyebrows raised, she said:
“Reynald? Reynald Jemane? Alright, I’ll sell you a weapon for him, but don’t come crying to me when he wounds himself with it, or breaks it, or blunts it, or tries to modify it to store ale in and breaks the pommel in the process. No returns, you hear?”
I agreed. I then asked her if she knew anything about the location of Weatherleah.
“Ask Sabine Laul at the Fighters Guild. She knows the area well.”
Thanking her semi-sincerely for her help, I agreed to return later with Reynald and Guilbert to pick the goods up. In the meantime, she gave me a receipt:
“From Fire and Steel, where the service is always friendly. If it isn’t, well, who cares, we’re the only weapons dealer in Chorrol! Hahahaha – Rasheda”
2 Chainmail cuirasses
2 sets of chainmail greaves
2 pairs of leather boots
Fine steel warhammer
Fine steel shortsword
Total: 395 septims
Signed: Rasheda
Payment received Rain’s Hand 2, 3E430
Both the weapons are of high quality steel. The whole package deal cost about 400 septims. The weapons gleam beautifully, but I get the impression the smith knew their real value to be somewhat lower. Still, I am satisfied. They will help keep the brothers safe, and I have enough septims to tide me over until the next deposit comes through. Maybe it is an extravagance to spend hundreds of septims on ensuring the safety of men I have barely met. But Guilbert is the closest thing I have to a friend in Cyrodiil. If it is an extravagance, then it is worth it. What good are fine meals and clothes if my friends are torn apart by bandits or beasts?
Reynald and Guilbert have no idea about this, incidentally. They are due here in about half an hour. The surprise they will have!
11 P.M. – Chorrol Mages Guild Hall
Reynald and Guilbert looked like authentic Cyrodilic knights in their new equipment! Rasheda fitted their armour at no extra charge, and even showed Reynald how best to use his weapon and avoid cutting himself.
Reynald did not stop playing with the shortsword for twenty minutes. He was as a child in a baker’s shop, excitedly eyeing up sweetrolls and getting his fingers all over them and the shop owner irritated. Indeed, Rasheda’s expression rapidly changed from one of humour to one of indignation as Reynald chipped her wooden cupboard while attacking a weapons-testing dummy in the corner of the shop.
Guilbert’s reaction was rather more grown-up, but equally excited. He delighted in his new warhammer. “They won’t be calling me ‘Journeyman Jemane’ when they see me march into Cheydinhal with this colossus”, he beamed. Trying out his new hammer, he gave another demonstration of his skill, Rasheda having been forewarned to give him wide berth and having stepped back.
No laughter resulted on this occasion. Far from flying out of his hands, the weapon danced finely with his body in a nimble yet strong display of prowess. Guilbert commented how much better the hammer felt than the old iron one he had used on the road to Chorrol – the balance of the weapon was much finer, he said. I am not familiar with the arts of melee combat, but I have just observed directly how important a soldier’s equipment is. Guilbert was so pleased with his weapon that he described it as the best he had ever used.
Thanking me, he said: “You are a true friend, Gwen. We have only known each other for days, yet you have given me my professional pride back with this gesture. I promise, I’ll make it up to you one day. We may have been poor farmers at Weatherleah, but my father was rich. He became a treasure hunter in later life, you see. If any of our wealth is still buried under the wreckage and cobwebs that no doubt exist at the estate now, we will surely use it to compensate you for this generosity.”
I replied that I was happy to do it for him. What is 400 septims to a daughter of Alinor courtiers like myself? I have seen much that is good in Guilbert, who is an honest and decent man. And his brother, perhaps, means well, despite his shiftlessness and drunkenness.
Weatherleah is located south of Chorrol, approximately four hours’ walk away, nearly half the way to Kvatch. The three of us have agreed to leave for there in two days’ time, after I have had some rest here in Chorrol. Guilbert and I went to the Fighters Guild hall to ask the aforementioned Sabine Laul, the resident blacksmith. Whoever heard of a female Breton blacksmith? Despite her unkemptness, she was friendly and helpful.
I am staying here at the guild hall tonight, while Guilbert and Reynald have retired to Reynald’s house. I offered to pay for their stay at the Oak and Crosier, but Reynald insisted on returning to his house, where great quantities of ale and his favourite book, The Lusty Argonian Maid, reside.
Despite my attempts to convince him that the Crosier was a fine place with an entirely civilised Khajiit proprietor, Reynald would not budge. “Really, Gwynne (sic), thanks for the offer, but you can’t down a flagon and sit in your undergarments in that posh nosh. Guilbert and I have some male bonding to do, anyhow.” What he meant by that comment, I dread to contemplate. There are some things that not even a questioning, thinking Altmer should ponder.
Surprisingly, though I had feared another encounter with Earana upon my return to town, she has been nowhere to be found. According to the mages here, Earana has not been seen for days. It seems that some time after I left Chorrol on the 23rd of First Seed, she entered the guild hall and confronted Teekeeus. None of the mages know what was said between them, for the silver-haired witch met the Argonian in his private quarters, where the Argonian has a soundproof door. However, Angalmo saw her storm out and leave for the Grey Mare. She has not been heard from since. What has happened to her is apparently a mystery, and Teekeeus will not tell any of the mages even the slightest thing about their meeting.
At any rate, what do I care what has happened to her? I am simply relieved she is no longer in town and will not be a threat to me. Not even being forced to share with Contumelorius tonight can dent my sense of contentment, despite his snoring being clearly audible over my quill’s scribbles here in the basement of the guild hall. Athragar has promised to lend me his single for tomorrow, thank Azura.
It is now 1 A.M. – another long night of writing. I have been physically exhausted since 9 P.M., yet an urge to write has kept me awake and alert, until now. Must retire, hope the sheets aren’t too badly soiled.
A delightfully entertaining layover in Chorrol! There were numerous times here where Gwen was quite - dare I say it - sweet. Despite her protestations to the contrary, at the moment, 400 septims is a rather significant chunk of change for her budget. I think her exposure to the Jemanes is a good thing as she sees a bit of Imperial life with steel and without magic.
Like Gwen, I'm relieved to see Earana gone, at least for the moment.
Like Gwen, I'm relieved to see Earana gone, at least for the moment.
Their preparations were very entertaining. The image of Gwen in a soaking, skin-tight velvet ball gown talking to Rasheda and Sabine Laul of all people was particularly funny. Though perhaps she toweled off before she went to the Fighters Guild. Rasheda’s attitude was hilarious, but I also enjoyed her professionalism as she outfitted the brothers. What a relief that Guilbert showed some skill with his new warhammer.
It is now 1 A.M. – another long night of writing. I have been physically exhausted since 9 P.M., yet an urge to write has kept me awake and alert, until now. Must retire, hope the sheets aren’t too badly soiled.
I’m sure many of us can relate to this, except for the part about the soiled sheets, hopefully.
It is now 1 A.M. – another long night of writing. I have been physically exhausted since 9 P.M., yet an urge to write has kept me awake and alert, until now. Must retire, hope the sheets aren’t too badly soiled.
I’m sure many of us can relate to this, except for the part about the soiled sheets, hopefully.
Acadian - Indeed, you might say Guilbert has metaphorically taken his warhammer to Gwen's piggy bank! Ah well, thirteen days left now before that fat deposit comes in again!
I've a feeling this won't be the last we see of Earana. She'll be back!
Grits - Did they have towels in the Third Era? I don't think they would have helped the ballgown situation, to be honest. Nothing to do but endure the stares until she can change!
Sheets are always fresh in Ceidwad's house! However, it's known that medieval beds were not always the most hygenic, even in the aristocracy (I base Cyrodiil on medieval Europe; I find it's pretty similar in many ways). Maybe the Mages Guild ought to look into hygeine solutions like using frost spells to kill vermin, like Jerric!
Next up: Gwen has a day off and shares in a game of Colovian poker, and Harald Steel-Quill tells us an interesting historical anecdote about Pelagius the Mad. Note that this will be my last update for some time. I'm starting a new job soon, and I want that to go well, so I may not update for a few weeks. I'm sure you're all sad about this.
Rain’s Hand 3, 3E430 – Chorrol Mages Guild
2 P.M.
It has been a day of leisure thus far. As a result of retiring late last night, I did not rise until 10 A.M. For the first time in about two weeks, I have bathed, and, by Azura, was it ever needed. It had been on my mind to bathe for some days, but the combination of the rain and soiled bedsheets here were the last straw, and left me feeling like one of Namira’s wretched creatures. Guild halls are one of the few public places in Cyrodiil where one can bathe, as inns and the like generally lack the coin to install such facilities. I was able to get into the hall’s baths this morning, unbeknownst to the other mages and to avoid any prying eyes.
My robe and red velvet ballgown are being washed at present, so I have slipped into an outfit from the common wardrobes of the hall. There has not been a female resident here for some time, so, at present, I look rather ridiculous, wearing a black & burgundy fur coat fit for a male Altmer. It at least fits me in my dimensions, if not my shape. The alternative of wearing one of Athragar’s spare outfits or wearing Contumelorius’ reserve quilted doublet would have made me appear even more of a laughing stock.
News has appeared in today’s local newspaper, the Black Horse Courier, of the confirmation of the divorce of Crown Prince Geldall Septim from his estranged wife, Martina Septim (née Montevillius). By all reports in Alinor, the Septim heir had tired of her incessant nagging and ageing face long ago, but had stuck with the charade of a marriage to appease his father, and plans to wed a minor nobleman’s daughter from Skingrad. Septim is 53; his prospective bride is 28. Cyrodiil’s nobility privately mutters its disapproval; the Emperor is said to be furious with his son in private. They are likely no different, though. Imperials have never been as good as Altmer at forming stable, lasting pairs, due to their shorter lives and ill-considered matches.
Over lunch, the hall’s members enthusiastically discussed the possible consequences of this development, and what it might mean for the Guild and Chorrol. Angalmo, gobbling down mouthfuls of bread with ham and cheese, argued that it would mean greater royal favour for the city, as a city of Colovia, and the Mages Guild. One might think that, given that Geldall is Prince of Nibenea, the other half of Cyrodiil, and a swing in favour might now occur to the Prince of Colovia (Emnan Septim, Uriel’s second-born) and thus the region of Colovia too.
Frankly, I think this wishful, at best. Everyone knows that the princedom of Nibenea is far more important to the Septims than that of Colovia, containing as it does key strategic cities like Leyawiin and Cheydinhal - bastions against Morrowind and the hordes of beastfolk from Black Marsh.*
This having been said, it would indeed be good news for the Guild were Emnan and Colovia to rise to favour, as he is a scholar-mage, educated at the Arcane University, unlike his elder brother, who, as is the Cyrodilic custom for firstborn sons, has taken the knightly path.
*Editor’s Note: The elven magister is quite right. In the past, Princes of Nibenea were known to get away with far more than an unwise divorce, such was the importance of these cities’ loyalty to the Emperor and the wealth of the Princes who acted as their champions in the royal family. Although the Emperor directly ruled and controlled the Imperial City, he traditionally delegated power in other parts of Cyrodiil and Tamriel to his trusted friends and sons, who gained a measure of political power and an income in return for swearing allegiance to him. The cities of Nibenea (Cheydinhal, Bruma, Bravil and Leyawiin) and Colovia (Chorrol, Skingrad and Anvil) in turn expected their Prince to represent their interests in Cyrodilic politics. The Emperor generally remained more powerful than the Princes, with control over the legions and royal treasury. At various times, Nibenean and Colovian Princes plotted or attempted rebellion, but competition between the two regions, together with the Emperor’s control of the legions and the loyalty of certain Cyrodilic cities, like Bravil and Skingrad, to the Emperor, always resulted in such rebellions failing, sometimes spectacularly. Nonetheless, the Princes retained political power and the Emperor could not afford to alienate them, as the threat of rebellion and unrest could destablilise the province, leaving other provinces of Tamriel to think of making mischief of their own. This meant that they were able to get away with a lot.
It is said that, whilst King of Solitude and Prince of Nibenea, Thoriz Pelagius Septim, later Pelagius Septim III – the infamous Pelagius the Mad of which much of interest has been written – out of some demented insanity ordered his emissaries to interrupt a session in the Elder Council Chambers in a most inappropriate manner. Wearing only their feather-adorned hats and loincloths, the emissaries are said to have snuck into the chambers from a secret basement passageway, introduced themselves to all present and, half-naked, shaken hands with over two dozen Elder Councillors, including the High Chancellor Gaius Silventius, before all had finally been restrained by the Palace Guard. Whilst uncertain, this story, if true, would have been a breathtaking public outrage. This story was reported by at least two separate near-contemporaries, though critics suggest that the passageway never existed, or cannot be proved to have existed, as there is no trace of it in the current Chambers. The story, according to this view, is one of many stories about Pelagius which are exaggerated or apocryphal. Tsathenes’ summary, The Madness of Pelagius, mentions other tales such as this and is worth reading for further insight into the mad emperor’s life. Nonetheless, if true, Pelagius did not seem to suffer any consequence from his uncle, Emperor Cephorus, nor did he suffer any consequences for his other reported misdemeanours, of which some surely must contain some real historical truth.
11 P.M.
The guild hall met in the library this evening for merriment, wine, and Colovian poker. Contumelorius Florius refused to take part, as the devout Imperial considers gambling dishonesty, and a sin against Zenithar. It is his loss. Much entertainment ensued. Although I fell out of the game early, having little resources to commit to sport, and Angalmo displayed a passive caution throughout, Athragar, Teekeeus and Alberic Litte faced up to each other, with a most exhilarating climax. After Alberic had finally been knocked out, grumbling about the ‘Akatosh-forsaken hands’ he kept being dealt, the Argonian and the Bosmer were pitted against each other in a colossal hand which would decide who won the pot of 250 septims.
Athragar led the way with some audacious optimism and bluffing, backed up with a Fortify Speechcraft effect which I could detect, but which the others apparently did not. Initially, it seemed to work. Somehow, he appeared to have convinced Teekeeus that he would have a royal house. Indeed, in his hand Athragar had the Empr. Uriel Septim VII of diamonds and the Prince Geldall Septim of diamonds, along with an eight of rubies and a four of diamonds. The Prince Ebel Septim of diamonds, meanwhile, lay on the table.
When the Prince Emnan Septim of diamonds was turned over, Athragar began to raise the stakes, placing his septims – 125 of them – entirely into the pot. However, unbeknownst to Athragar, Teekeeus was fully in control. He had the missing Emprs. Caula Voria of diamonds in his hand, and calmly matched Athragar’s bet, safe with a solid hand of Ebel of sapphires, Ebel of emeralds, Ebel of rubies, and Emprs. of diamonds. His combined four-card trick was superior to Athragar’s incomplete royal house.
When the snap turned over, as the final card, the six of sapphires, not even Athragar’s Fortify Speechcraft enchantment could save him. He began to bluster, saying that the cards had been unfairly dealt and that Alberic, the dealer, was taking revenge for an earlier hand, when Athragar had taken 50 septims from the Breton and then, to add insult to financial injury, taken the last sweetroll from the silver bowl on the table.
Then resignation took over his face as the cards were revealed and it became clear that Teekeeus had been stringing him along. The Argonian summarily gathered up the gold and left Athragar to wallow in defeat. Angalmo fetched him some wine for his sorrows, as I heard Athragar complaining that his wife would kill him for spending his entire monthly stipend from the University in one evening.
To add to this, he will have an entirely unsympathetic ear in Contumelorius’ when he gets down to the basement. Not that I sympathise much with him. It surely requires some stupendous act of stupidity to stake all on the outside possibility of a royal house. I can only assume that some combination of the wine and the little mer’s love of competition caused this idiocy, since Athragar is an intelligent and respected member of the guild here and is by all accounts an accomplished teacher and destruction artist.
It was most hilarious tonight! It reminded me of Robért again, and the time we spent together on the White Rose. I wonder how he is getting on at the University? He must be learning a great deal from the tutors there. As content as I am at present, I long to be there. Associate life is not what I was made for. I must redouble my efforts. I have decided. Once I accompany Guilbert and Reynald back to Weatherleah, I must head for Skingrad, to acquire a recommendation from the hall there.
I've a feeling this won't be the last we see of Earana. She'll be back!
Grits - Did they have towels in the Third Era? I don't think they would have helped the ballgown situation, to be honest. Nothing to do but endure the stares until she can change!
Sheets are always fresh in Ceidwad's house! However, it's known that medieval beds were not always the most hygenic, even in the aristocracy (I base Cyrodiil on medieval Europe; I find it's pretty similar in many ways). Maybe the Mages Guild ought to look into hygeine solutions like using frost spells to kill vermin, like Jerric!
Next up: Gwen has a day off and shares in a game of Colovian poker, and Harald Steel-Quill tells us an interesting historical anecdote about Pelagius the Mad. Note that this will be my last update for some time. I'm starting a new job soon, and I want that to go well, so I may not update for a few weeks. I'm sure you're all sad about this.
Rain’s Hand 3, 3E430 – Chorrol Mages Guild
2 P.M.
It has been a day of leisure thus far. As a result of retiring late last night, I did not rise until 10 A.M. For the first time in about two weeks, I have bathed, and, by Azura, was it ever needed. It had been on my mind to bathe for some days, but the combination of the rain and soiled bedsheets here were the last straw, and left me feeling like one of Namira’s wretched creatures. Guild halls are one of the few public places in Cyrodiil where one can bathe, as inns and the like generally lack the coin to install such facilities. I was able to get into the hall’s baths this morning, unbeknownst to the other mages and to avoid any prying eyes.
My robe and red velvet ballgown are being washed at present, so I have slipped into an outfit from the common wardrobes of the hall. There has not been a female resident here for some time, so, at present, I look rather ridiculous, wearing a black & burgundy fur coat fit for a male Altmer. It at least fits me in my dimensions, if not my shape. The alternative of wearing one of Athragar’s spare outfits or wearing Contumelorius’ reserve quilted doublet would have made me appear even more of a laughing stock.
News has appeared in today’s local newspaper, the Black Horse Courier, of the confirmation of the divorce of Crown Prince Geldall Septim from his estranged wife, Martina Septim (née Montevillius). By all reports in Alinor, the Septim heir had tired of her incessant nagging and ageing face long ago, but had stuck with the charade of a marriage to appease his father, and plans to wed a minor nobleman’s daughter from Skingrad. Septim is 53; his prospective bride is 28. Cyrodiil’s nobility privately mutters its disapproval; the Emperor is said to be furious with his son in private. They are likely no different, though. Imperials have never been as good as Altmer at forming stable, lasting pairs, due to their shorter lives and ill-considered matches.
Over lunch, the hall’s members enthusiastically discussed the possible consequences of this development, and what it might mean for the Guild and Chorrol. Angalmo, gobbling down mouthfuls of bread with ham and cheese, argued that it would mean greater royal favour for the city, as a city of Colovia, and the Mages Guild. One might think that, given that Geldall is Prince of Nibenea, the other half of Cyrodiil, and a swing in favour might now occur to the Prince of Colovia (Emnan Septim, Uriel’s second-born) and thus the region of Colovia too.
Frankly, I think this wishful, at best. Everyone knows that the princedom of Nibenea is far more important to the Septims than that of Colovia, containing as it does key strategic cities like Leyawiin and Cheydinhal - bastions against Morrowind and the hordes of beastfolk from Black Marsh.*
This having been said, it would indeed be good news for the Guild were Emnan and Colovia to rise to favour, as he is a scholar-mage, educated at the Arcane University, unlike his elder brother, who, as is the Cyrodilic custom for firstborn sons, has taken the knightly path.
*Editor’s Note: The elven magister is quite right. In the past, Princes of Nibenea were known to get away with far more than an unwise divorce, such was the importance of these cities’ loyalty to the Emperor and the wealth of the Princes who acted as their champions in the royal family. Although the Emperor directly ruled and controlled the Imperial City, he traditionally delegated power in other parts of Cyrodiil and Tamriel to his trusted friends and sons, who gained a measure of political power and an income in return for swearing allegiance to him. The cities of Nibenea (Cheydinhal, Bruma, Bravil and Leyawiin) and Colovia (Chorrol, Skingrad and Anvil) in turn expected their Prince to represent their interests in Cyrodilic politics. The Emperor generally remained more powerful than the Princes, with control over the legions and royal treasury. At various times, Nibenean and Colovian Princes plotted or attempted rebellion, but competition between the two regions, together with the Emperor’s control of the legions and the loyalty of certain Cyrodilic cities, like Bravil and Skingrad, to the Emperor, always resulted in such rebellions failing, sometimes spectacularly. Nonetheless, the Princes retained political power and the Emperor could not afford to alienate them, as the threat of rebellion and unrest could destablilise the province, leaving other provinces of Tamriel to think of making mischief of their own. This meant that they were able to get away with a lot.
It is said that, whilst King of Solitude and Prince of Nibenea, Thoriz Pelagius Septim, later Pelagius Septim III – the infamous Pelagius the Mad of which much of interest has been written – out of some demented insanity ordered his emissaries to interrupt a session in the Elder Council Chambers in a most inappropriate manner. Wearing only their feather-adorned hats and loincloths, the emissaries are said to have snuck into the chambers from a secret basement passageway, introduced themselves to all present and, half-naked, shaken hands with over two dozen Elder Councillors, including the High Chancellor Gaius Silventius, before all had finally been restrained by the Palace Guard. Whilst uncertain, this story, if true, would have been a breathtaking public outrage. This story was reported by at least two separate near-contemporaries, though critics suggest that the passageway never existed, or cannot be proved to have existed, as there is no trace of it in the current Chambers. The story, according to this view, is one of many stories about Pelagius which are exaggerated or apocryphal. Tsathenes’ summary, The Madness of Pelagius, mentions other tales such as this and is worth reading for further insight into the mad emperor’s life. Nonetheless, if true, Pelagius did not seem to suffer any consequence from his uncle, Emperor Cephorus, nor did he suffer any consequences for his other reported misdemeanours, of which some surely must contain some real historical truth.
11 P.M.
The guild hall met in the library this evening for merriment, wine, and Colovian poker. Contumelorius Florius refused to take part, as the devout Imperial considers gambling dishonesty, and a sin against Zenithar. It is his loss. Much entertainment ensued. Although I fell out of the game early, having little resources to commit to sport, and Angalmo displayed a passive caution throughout, Athragar, Teekeeus and Alberic Litte faced up to each other, with a most exhilarating climax. After Alberic had finally been knocked out, grumbling about the ‘Akatosh-forsaken hands’ he kept being dealt, the Argonian and the Bosmer were pitted against each other in a colossal hand which would decide who won the pot of 250 septims.
Athragar led the way with some audacious optimism and bluffing, backed up with a Fortify Speechcraft effect which I could detect, but which the others apparently did not. Initially, it seemed to work. Somehow, he appeared to have convinced Teekeeus that he would have a royal house. Indeed, in his hand Athragar had the Empr. Uriel Septim VII of diamonds and the Prince Geldall Septim of diamonds, along with an eight of rubies and a four of diamonds. The Prince Ebel Septim of diamonds, meanwhile, lay on the table.
When the Prince Emnan Septim of diamonds was turned over, Athragar began to raise the stakes, placing his septims – 125 of them – entirely into the pot. However, unbeknownst to Athragar, Teekeeus was fully in control. He had the missing Emprs. Caula Voria of diamonds in his hand, and calmly matched Athragar’s bet, safe with a solid hand of Ebel of sapphires, Ebel of emeralds, Ebel of rubies, and Emprs. of diamonds. His combined four-card trick was superior to Athragar’s incomplete royal house.
When the snap turned over, as the final card, the six of sapphires, not even Athragar’s Fortify Speechcraft enchantment could save him. He began to bluster, saying that the cards had been unfairly dealt and that Alberic, the dealer, was taking revenge for an earlier hand, when Athragar had taken 50 septims from the Breton and then, to add insult to financial injury, taken the last sweetroll from the silver bowl on the table.
Then resignation took over his face as the cards were revealed and it became clear that Teekeeus had been stringing him along. The Argonian summarily gathered up the gold and left Athragar to wallow in defeat. Angalmo fetched him some wine for his sorrows, as I heard Athragar complaining that his wife would kill him for spending his entire monthly stipend from the University in one evening.
To add to this, he will have an entirely unsympathetic ear in Contumelorius’ when he gets down to the basement. Not that I sympathise much with him. It surely requires some stupendous act of stupidity to stake all on the outside possibility of a royal house. I can only assume that some combination of the wine and the little mer’s love of competition caused this idiocy, since Athragar is an intelligent and respected member of the guild here and is by all accounts an accomplished teacher and destruction artist.
It was most hilarious tonight! It reminded me of Robért again, and the time we spent together on the White Rose. I wonder how he is getting on at the University? He must be learning a great deal from the tutors there. As content as I am at present, I long to be there. Associate life is not what I was made for. I must redouble my efforts. I have decided. Once I accompany Guilbert and Reynald back to Weatherleah, I must head for Skingrad, to acquire a recommendation from the hall there.
This was an enjoyable and relaxing interlude that I thoroughly enjoyed.
'Imperials have never been as good as Altmer at forming stable, lasting pairs, due to their shorter lives and ill-considered matches.'
I love this. It is so. . . Gwen!
Your deck of TES cards was perfect! Very recognizable, yet very TES as well.
'It was most hilarious tonight! It reminded me of Robért again, and the time we spent together on the White Rose. I wonder how he is getting on at the University? He must be learning a great deal from the tutors there. As content as I am at present, I long to be there. Associate life is not what I was made for. I must redouble my efforts. I have decided. Once I accompany Guilbert and Reynald back to Weatherleah, I must head for Skingrad, to acquire a recommendation from the hall there.'
A delightful summary that includes aspects of where Gwen has been, her aspirations and her immediate plans.
'Imperials have never been as good as Altmer at forming stable, lasting pairs, due to their shorter lives and ill-considered matches.'
I love this. It is so. . . Gwen!
Your deck of TES cards was perfect! Very recognizable, yet very TES as well.
'It was most hilarious tonight! It reminded me of Robért again, and the time we spent together on the White Rose. I wonder how he is getting on at the University? He must be learning a great deal from the tutors there. As content as I am at present, I long to be there. Associate life is not what I was made for. I must redouble my efforts. I have decided. Once I accompany Guilbert and Reynald back to Weatherleah, I must head for Skingrad, to acquire a recommendation from the hall there.'
A delightful summary that includes aspects of where Gwen has been, her aspirations and her immediate plans.
The bathing situation and borrowing clothes while her gown is laundered reminded me just how uncomfortable traveling is in Gwen’s Tamriel, compared to the comforts of her home. I enjoy those details. What a lively evening in the library, it seems that Athragar got what he deserved!
Good luck with the new job.
Good luck with the new job.
Your depiction of Reynald had me in hysterics!
I had read about "The Mad Pelagius's" nude pranks before, great to see the lore showing here !!!
WOO HOO! The Skingrad Mages guild, huh? Let's hope Gwen doesn't have to spend the night, ROFL !!!
Another Great Write - I am finally caught up again, and loving this story !!!
I had read about "The Mad Pelagius's" nude pranks before, great to see the lore showing here !!!
WOO HOO! The Skingrad Mages guild, huh? Let's hope Gwen doesn't have to spend the night, ROFL !!!
Another Great Write - I am finally caught up again, and loving this story !!!
Poor Gwen, soaked in her gown and then forced into Mr. Contemptable's soiled sheets!
You have us an excellent description of the Septim sons. I am not used to them still being alive! Your description of them also gave us a wonderful look at Imperial geography, with the discussion of Nibenean vs. Colovian.
You have us an excellent description of the Septim sons. I am not used to them still being alive!
Your description of them also gave us a wonderful look at Imperial geography, with the discussion of Nibenean vs. Colovian.
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