Chapter 9

The makeshift carrier I had built for the sword seemed light as a feather compared to my footsteps as I made my way to the Temple and the High Chapel where Almalexia waited. She cast her other-worldly gaze upon me and asked in that cool voice,

“Have you forged the blade of Nerevar? Does it burn with the flame of righteousness?”

It was in my mind that what it burned with was the essence of Dwemer alchemy, but I decided not to say so as I uncased the blade and showed it to the goddess. She levitated upward and spun about in her delight as she proclaimed,

“The blade is reforged! Our time has almost arrived. There is but one obstacle that stands in our way, though it pains me to believe it is so. Sotha Sil. I cannot count the times I have fought by the Magician's side. It was he who stood with me the day I fought in Mournhold and banished Mehrunes Dagon to the depths of Oblivion. It was Sotha Sil who was able to delve the mysteries of Kagrenac's tools, and raise me to my rightful station. Now, though, the Tinkerer has become unstable.”

I found it interesting that she admitted that her “divinity” was actually the result of Sotha Sil’s meddling with these “Tools”- whatever they were. And if the source of his power was the same as Almalexia’s, I was willing to believe that he had become unstable. Of even more significance for my immediate purposes was the fact that this was just the sort of information Helseth had asked me to uncover. Therefore, I pursued the issue, inquiring as to the goddess’ reasons for being concerned about Sotha Sil. Her voice became distant, as if she contemplated things only she could see or recall.

“Once, Sotha Sil was like we are, the Lord Vivec and I. He spent time among these mortals, instructing them, counseling them, protecting them from harm. He may have loved them more than any of us, though I know not why. It has been many years since any have seen the Sorcerer, though. Many more since he took initiates into his service. I believe he grew weary of mortal imperfections, and retired to his Clockwork City, where he reshapes life, and some say the very world, into an image he finds pleasing.”

After a pause, she continued,

“His lair is as puzzling as the mind of the Sorcerer himself. Ever-moving, ever-changing, its levers and gears responding to its master's will alone. It is here he performs his profane experiments, aided by his magic and tainted by his madness. I have suspected for some time that the Lord Sotha Sil had entered Sheogorath's realm. His visits have been more and more infrequent, and punctuated by violent fits of anger. He began to speak of the fall of the Tribunal and the return of the Old Gods. But Sotha Sil is not a Seer; he is a Maker. He shapes the Here and the Now, while only I have been privy to what is to come. I know this...he is no longer the man he once was.”

It was disconcerting to hear Almalexia speak at such length and so frankly, when her pronouncements were normally cryptic. In one way, it was as if I was hearing one side of an argument that had raged for many years; in another way, it was as if she felt compelled to unburden herself of all her fears and suspicions, but had found no one in whom to confide. And yet, even if her words were true, they still seemed carefully crafted to show her in the best light. For example, the phrasing about “violent fits of anger” was such that it could apply to either Sotha Sil or the goddess herself. And Galsa Andrano had told me that Almalexia had changed, had become angry and vengeful. Even as I contemplated the implications and undercurrents, Almalexia seemed to reach a decision. She straightened herself and brought her gaze back from whatever distant sights she had considered. Her voice harsh with emotion, she said,

“He is completely mad. It was his creations, these Fabricants, that attacked my city. This once great man is now a danger to Mournhold and to all of Morrowind. He must be stopped, Trey.”

She looked at me steadily and continued,

“I believe it is your calling to stop Sotha Sil's mad schemings. I do not know that he can be reasoned with, Trey, but it is possible. If he cannot be, you must end his life. Though the idea saddens me, it is best for Morrowind...and it is best for him, as well. You have the power to do this. The Trueflame can kill a god, if wielded by one of noble intent. Steel yourself, Trey, and do what must be done. I will send you to his Clockwork City now, if you are prepared. Good luck, Nerevarine.”

Sure it seems like she's offering Trey a choice, but obviously she isn't. Does Trey truely believe he can kill a god? I guess we'll have to see shortly. I'm sure we'll get a good idea on how Trey feels about his task quite soon.

Excellent start to this chapter, Trey!

Stall for time, Trey! Stall for time!

Hoo-ray, new chapter! Excellent as always.

oh dear oh dear....another maddie! this clockwork-city reminds me of that film....A clockwork Orange...I wonder if Sotha Sil is as creepy as that film!?

We´ll find out.....


S.G.M

Remember this part well from the Tribunal main quest, I'm really looking forward to next update Trey - think it will be a very good one! Start of chapter nine is, as all your updates, very nicely written and the description of Trey's thoughts and other characters etc. is wonderful - which I believe I've said at nearly every reply in your story! Keep it up Trey!

I was most assuredly not prepared to go to the Clockwork City or anywhere else- other than far away from Almalexia and Helseth, but that was not an option. I could, however, buy a little desperately-needed time. Therefore, I said,

“I will need to make some preparations.”

The goddess was clearly not used to someone who contradicted her wishes. Her annoyance was evident as she frowned at me and said,

“There is little time to waste. Make your preparations quickly.”

Not wishing to give her a chance to change her mind, I scuttled out of the High Chapel and back to the Palace basement. Once I reached my safe haven, I took several deep breaths in an attempt to calm my racing heart. Deep inside, I knew that I was close to the conclusion of the adventure that had begun when the first Dark Brotherhood assassin attacked me. It had seemed so simple- find the assassins, find the source of the attacks, and deal with it. Instead, every step I had taken had drawn me deeper into the mire. My search for personal revenge had been overwhelmed by the forces in control of Mournhold. I could have, perhaps, lived with the knowledge that Almalexia was dangerously unstable, but I could not ignore my part in feeding her power. Because of me, she had Barilzar’s ring; because of me, ash storms darkened the skies of the city. Ruefully, I wondered if I might not have been better served to simply deal with the assassination attempts piecemeal, for the rest of my life if necessary, instead of throwing myself into the mad maelstrom that was Mournhold. Unfortunately, regrets are only for those who can afford them- I had made my choices and I must live with them. The question that confronted me was what preparations to make before I faced Sotha Sil, ancient magician, mechanical genius, and deity. Almalexia claimed that Trueflame had the power to kill even a god, but I had to wonder. How likely was it that the goddess would so freely tell a mortal that he possessed the means to destroy her? In any event, the preparations I needed to make were more mental than physical. My armor and weapons were in good repair; I had what restorative potions I had been able to brew; and I quickly decided which of my few magic items would be of any use. Unfortunately, I had no reports of what might reside in the Clockwork City; therefore, it would be difficult to plan. The one thing I did know was that Sotha Sil was a great wizard- and I would have to depend mostly upon my innate resistance to magic as a defense against that. Still, it would be wise to create or obtain potions that reflected, absorbed, or protected against harmful magicka. That task was accomplished easily enough and then I waited a few hours- more for the sake of demonstrating my independence than because I needed the time, before returning to the Temple.

When I entered the High Chapel, Almalexia greeted me with a look in her eyes that was even stranger than usual and asked,

“Are you prepared now to stop Sotha Sil and take your place amongst the gods?”

I desperately wanted to respond that that would be “’Yes’ to the first and ‘No’ to the second,” but I had a feeling that the goddess had lost her sense of humor along with her humanity. And I was again struck by the ambiguity of her words- she had not asked if I wanted to “become” a god, but if I wanted to “take my place amongst” them. That struck me as being uncomfortably close to asking if I wanted to “meet my ancestors.” Of course, even if she did mean to imply that I could become a deity, my answer would have been negative- I had seen too clearly what power and immortality had done to one member of the Tribunal and I wanted no part of her madness. However she had achieved godhood, she had lost her soul. What I wanted was to be left alone, to be myself, to have a life untroubled by gods or monarchs. Of course, she could not grant me those wishes, even if she would, so I simply nodded to indicate my readiness to go to the Clockwork City. Almalexia touched something on her left hand with the fingers of her right and spoke words in a language I did not know. Then came the stomach-wrenching, twisting sensation of teleportation magic and I was…elsewhere.

The corridor to which the goddess had sent me was familiar and yet alien- patterned after the Dwemer works I had previously entered, but taken further. Like the Dwemer ruins, it was also in a state of disrepair, with tumbled stones and several inches of water covering the floor. Further along, roots had broken through the ceiling and hung down, questing for the floodwaters below. I was less than impressed. If Sotha Sil was such a genius at all things mechanical, it seemed that he could at least have kept the place from flooding. That first passage ended at a round metal door with a mechanical arm that reached to the roof. A few minutes’ searching revealed a lever, which I twisted and pushed inward. With a tortured groan, the door was pulled upward and latched to the roof with a loud clank. I muttered, “So much for a stealthy entrance,” and moved forward. However, I need not have worried about guards- or anyone else- hearing the noise. All that greeted me was the whir and click of gears and the swishing sound of two great pendulums that flashed back and forth across the corridor, barring easy progress. The pendulums were in the form of crescent-shaped blades, and they operated in such a way that avoiding one would almost certainly cause an intruder to be cut in half by the other. Impatience has killed many a thief, and I recognized the inherent danger of my own desire to be done with Mournhold and its gods. Therefore, I drew several calming breaths and relaxed as I considered the timing of the pendulums. Only when I was certain that the swings were regular did I make my move. After ensuring that my footing was solid, I dove past the blades and rolled to my feet on the other side of the trap. Safely past that first check, I took time to consider this peculiar place.

The feeling that struck me then and that stays with me still was one of overwhelming loneliness. Here was the culmination of the efforts of someone who wished to separate himself from humanity and who had the power to do so. In the Dwemer ruin of Bamz-Amschend, I had noted the lack of life or any interest in the living world. But the Clockwork City was worse. It did not feel like a place where anyone was intended to live or even work. It was a great machine, set in motion and then abandoned. If it was true that Sotha Sil was working on creating new worlds or new realities, perhaps he had succeeded and gone somewhere that I could not follow. Still, I had no choice but to try. Beyond the fact that I had given my word to Almalexia and Helseth, the mystery of this place troubled me. Some might argue that a promise given to an oath-breaker was not binding, but I felt differently. It was my promise that mattered, my word that was sacred. I would do what I had promised- and I would exact a price for my suffering when I could. I could only allow myself a few moments of contemplation- just because the place seemed empty did not mean it was free of dangers.

Having negotiated the first barrier, I did not relax my vigilance, even though most of what I saw was further ruin and neglect. A sudden movement ahead of me rewarded my caution, and I observed three of the fabricant creatures that had attacked the Plaza. These particular examples were the more agile type, the bipedal sort with a large spike or horn protruding from the “snout.” Their presence seemed to confirm the idea that Sotha Sil had been behind the invasion of the Plaza. Hiding as best I could in the brightly-lit hall, I conjured a magical bow and finished the creatures without taking any wounds. I knew that simply returning with word that I had found more fabricants would not be sufficient- I needed to confront Sotha Sil himself. And, if he proved to be sane and reasonable, I might discover more about Almalexia. I therefore continued my search, finding more fabricants and more pendulum traps. In one instance, the traps worked to my benefit- a couple of the mindless fabricants killed themselves trying to get to me. After much fruitless searching, I came to a different sort of door, one that seemed to delineate a different area of this peculiar maze. Although the architecture was different, the danger was not.

Uhhhh.......yeah of course there has to be a nice cliffie...right treydog? I´m so happy Trey managed to get past all the traps and fabricants.....I must confess I have no idea how they look like, but they do not sound like something you´d wanna meet on a dark evening in an alley....

So is it maybe Sotha Sil hiding behind this different door? I can´t wait to find out!


*waiting impatiently for the contination*

There was something more to the flow and poetic feel of this update. Like you've spent many a night going over and re-writing, if so, it was well worth the wait.

I don't know about this but that place you just described gives me the creeps. Something is wrong there, really wrong. So I'll be waiting for the next update then.

I love your interpretation of the Clockwork City, it's absolutely spot-on. I totally got a sense of isolation and solitude when I was playing there. Nothing but the endless whirring of gears; it's quite depressing.

I'm personally interested in seeing how Trey tackles the "extreme" traps that appear further on in the city...

I agree with the others that you have done a marvelous job of expressing the uniqueness, both physical and ethereal, of the Clockwork city. Somehow, I feel that even Trey will be surprised by what he finds at the end of this maze, and I'm really looking forward to seeing how you portray that event.

Where the previous parts of the Clockwork City had been flooded, this section was filled with sparks that cascaded from the ceiling at regular intervals. Whether that was intentional or the result of some device that had failed, I could not say. A superstitious part of me recalled that some creation stories claimed that Nirn had been born in fire and then quenched with water- perhaps these passages represented a journey to the beginning of all things. In any event, I at first tried to avoid the touch of the sparks, fearing that they might cause serious injury. Eventually, I had to pass through some of them in a narrow hall and was unharmed, so I stopped worrying about it. Still, there were numerous fabricants which would happily injure or kill me, so the rooms were not without danger. The walls were completely covered with drawings that consisted of straight lines and square shapes. If it was art or a language, I could not grasp the meaning. Perhaps the lines were plans or diagrams of some sort- or perhaps they were just the random scratchings of a mad god who believed he was creating the world anew.

There was little time to contemplate meanings, for the fabricants began to appear in groups and I was hard-pressed to stay out of their reach. I did not always succeed, for they moved with terrible speed and inflicted painful wounds with their “horns.” I had discovered quite early that levitation magic did not work, so I had to depend on my own speed and the accuracy of my arrows for protection. Although I carried Trueflame with me, I did not completely trust the blade. First, it was oddly curved, unlike the long sword with which I was familiar. Also, at least a part of it had been in Almalexia’s keeping for long years and I had no way of knowing what sort of baleful magicka she might have used upon it. And finally, it seemed remarkably foolish to try to slip quietly through this eldritch place while holding a flaming sword that was better than a town crier at announcing, “Here I am!” So the sword remained in its carrier, and I depended on a conjured bow and enchanted arrows for my extermination of the mechanical creatures. If I ever found Sotha Sil, perhaps I would have a chance to discover whether or not Trueflame really had the power to harm a god. Meanwhile, I doggedly searched hallways and domes, seeing no living thing, just more traps and fabricants, along with ever-turning gears and showers of sparks.

Occasionally, there was evidence that I was not the first to pass through the city. One chamber contained a massive central shaft of some unknown metal, which appeared to be powered by the molten stone into which it disappeared. This shaft drove great gears, but it was impossible to divine what the purpose of those gears was. At the head of a spiral stairway was a door that appeared to have been blasted from its hinges by some unknown force. The metal was scorched and buckled, and I suspected powerful magic had been involved. Beyond that short passage was a wide corridor patrolled by one of the scorpion-like fabricants and three of its bipedal brethren. Several tense moments of work with bow and arrows ended the threat. In the next room, I discovered a truly difficult obstacle. The chamber was circular, and ringed by a narrow gallery some fifteen feet above the floor. A vertical shaft or axle descended from the ceiling, and drove a second, horizontal shaft. At the end of that massive piece of metal were three great, saw-toothed wheels, which ran along the gallery. A set of steps provided access to the gallery, but the only exit was halfway around from the head of the steps. The velocity of the rolling blades was such that one would have to be endowed with super-human speed to reach the safety of the doorway ahead of them. Scattered and crushed bones littered the chamber and gave stark testimony to just how effective the trap was. If I were to guess, I would have had to conclude that Sotha Sil preferred not to have visitors. If levitation had been possible, it would have been a simple matter to avoid the trap and exit the dome. Barring that, I would have to find a more…creative method of escaping in one piece.

I had studied the alchemical properties of the fluids exuded by the fabricants when they were destroyed. Apparently, those fluids imbued them with some of their characteristics- a fact that I hoped to use to my own advantage. The fluid from the scorpion-style fabricants provided a brief boost to strength, which was of no use at present. On the other hand, the fluid from the agile fabricants provided a momentary burst of speed, exactly what I needed to dodge the deadly blades that rolled along the gallery. I secured all of my gear carefully, knowing that anything I dropped would be lost forever, then climbed the stairs to a point just below the top. Crouching down, I lined up half-a-dozen vials of the fabricant fluid on the top step and waited. Using my own pulse as a clock, I estimated the time it took the blades to make their circuit. When I was certain that I had an accurate count, I drank the potions one after another just as the trap passed over me. As soon as the head of the stairs was clear, I sprinted for the safety of the doorway. I could hear the rumble of the death machine growing louder, and resisted the fatal impulse to look behind me. Just as I felt sure that my heart would fail from the combination of fear and potions, I reached the safe haven and flung myself inside. The passing blades caught my heel and nearly dragged me to destruction, but I was able to hold onto the doorframe and pull free. Despite the noise and the odd vapors of that otherworldly place, I lay back against the curved side of the short passage and slept.

I remember being very worried about those sparks my first time... yes indeed. And I had such trouble with the traps....

Very nice update. I just can just feel the tension building.

Ya, that speed trap was always a bit of a toughie. Even if you had enough speed boosting potions, you had to time it right or else they would be wasted, or you would be dead. Excellent rendition of that experience Trey!

This is only a fraction of what's in store for him though...

I always liked to use jump spells, feather potions, and fortify strength potions to let me jump up to the door. But I have had to time it with fortify speed before. It's so tricky.

Hmm, these traps make me want Tribunal even more. I mean, actually having to worry about your environment is for me a much more interesting challenge than an endless horde of powerful creatures.

OHHH......phew! I´m so glad he made it! Now this frightens me even more to play tribunal......I just can´t se Serene managing all those thingies....

Incredibly vivid description of all the monstrosities....brrrrr awesome!

Now may I have some more, Sir?

I loved it Trey. Your conversation with Radac was humorous and your description of The Clockwork city so far is excellent . please continue (as if you need to be told that any more )

That was definitely one of the more difficult traps to evade; I'm glad that Trey's knowledge of alchemy was put to good use.

The sleep refreshed me, although it did nothing to reconcile me to the strangeness of the Clockwork City. The rumbling passage of the rolling trap reminded me to be cautious as I opened the next door. What I found was yet another domed chamber, but this one was different. Set in the center was a smaller dome, with conduits or tubes that snaked upward to the ceiling. It was also connected to the rear wall by a low metal corridor. The smaller dome was apparently accessed by a pair of sliding doors, but no amount of effort on my part could force them open. Just as I turned to search the room, a rumbling noise came from the overhead tubes, and something appeared to be traveling through one of them. The doors to the dome cycled open, and I started forward, only to find myself face to face with a fabricant. I had not conjured my magical bow, so I had to fumble Trueflame loose from my back while trying to dodge the bites and jabs of the mechanical beast. When the sword was free, I fought back and dispatched the creature. Meanwhile, the doors had closed again. I had seen a second set of doors at the rear of the chamber from whence the fabricant had emerged, so I knew that this was the way out. A quick search of the room revealed a pair of switches, which seemed to control the functioning of the small dome. What followed was a great deal of turning switches and an even greater amount of curses as fabricants continued to appear and exit the machine. Obviously, its purpose was to manufacture the mechanical guards. At last, fortune smiled upon me, and I was able to get through the inner doors and into the next room of the complex. The two hulking fabricants that greeted me proved that my triumph was a mixed blessing.

I fought my way through them, as well as several of their more agile brethren, but otherwise found only more stairs, more sparks, and more echoing emptiness. At last, I came to a doorway which gave access to still another dome. This chamber had no floor, only a pool of seething, molten rock. A platform stretched around perhaps a third of the circumference, but did not extend to the door on the opposite wall. In addition to the terrible odor of the place, there was a cacophony of sound- rather like a concerto for swamp creatures and the souls of the damned. The noise was almost enough to drive me from the room, but I finally covered my ears to diminish the sonic assault and looked for some means to cross. My eyes fell on a lever that sat at one end of the gallery, and I hastened to it. My efforts to move the lever were in vain, though- the steamy air of the chamber had rusted the mechanism shut. My first thought was a wish that I had some type of oil to penetrate the corrosion. That idea gave rise to another, a memory that I carried several vials of the fluid from the larger fabricants. While it would likely do nothing to ease the movement of the switch, that material would provide me a momentary burst of strength. Some three or four doses of the viscous liquid enhanced my muscles sufficiently to move the stuck lever and triggered a great mechanical creaking as a bridge unfolded and spanned the chamber. I did not hesitate, but left the terrible chorus of noises behind me and crept through the opposite door. I basked in the blessed silence, which was soon broken by the scrabble of fabricants rushing to attack me.

Although I was successful in defeating them, the constant attacks wore upon me and made it difficult to stay alert. While it is a matter of only a few words to describe my progress through the Clockwork City, the events themselves took many hours. I had brought along tools to repair my armor and potions to restore my health, but it was much harder to relieve the emotional strain. The inscription upon the next door I found did nothing to improve my mental state. In angular Aldmeris characters, the sign proclaimed the “Dome of the Imperfect.” For some reason, that sent a chill through me, as if someone had trodden upon my grave. I wondered what it meant, especially in Sotha Sil’s strange view of the world. Perhaps “imperfect” referred to all living things, creatures that aged and fell to disease and decay. Perhaps it was a storehouse for the creations Sotha Sil found lacking in some way. Or possibly… the best way to find out would be to open the door and find out for myself.

True to the inscription, the room was another dome. It was empty save for two great metallic statues that flanked the opposite door. At first, they appeared to be some sort of Dwemer centurions, but a closer look revealed that they were more refined. And the faces were definitely more Altmer than Dwemer, with high foreheads and narrow, beardless chins. How long they had stood in this place was impossible to say, but an arm had fallen from the statue on the left and lay upon the floor. It was another indication of the neglect and abandonment that permeated the Clockwork City. Moved by my boundless curiosity, I began to cross the floor to study the statues more closely. And as I did so, the right-hand statue groaned to life with a hiss of steam and fixed me with glowing red eyes.

My avid interest in the metal constructs had not diminished my alertness, so I was able to dodge the crackling ball of energy the centurion hurled at me. As was always true in a fight where I was over-matched, my first thought was to escape. The door through which I had entered was too small for the massive mechanical creation. Unfortunately, it had also locked behind me after I entered the dome. The crash of a metal fist striking the floor reminded me that I did not have time to fiddle with the lock, and I dove to the right and rolled to my feet. If I could not get through the door, perhaps I could still stay away from the machine. It quickly became clear that no one had maintained the device, for its movements were slow and accompanied by the creaking of tortured metal. On the other hand, the dents it made in the floor and walls, not to mention its pitiless red eyes, were fair warning that I could easily become a smear of Breton-flavored jelly if I wasn’t careful. Backing away, I shouted the invocation boghu tromhad, bringing to my hands the comforting presence of the magical bow. It seemed unlikely that iron or steel arrows would have much effect upon the magical machine, so I selected missiles enchanted with fire spells. I had some notion that the flames might ignite whatever lubricating fluid remained to the guardian, adding to the damage caused by the arrows themselves. To my dismay, the first few simply bounced off the head and torso, leaving little more than small pocks in the metal.

As I ducked the swipe of a huge fist, I tripped over something on the floor. Turning, I saw that the obstacle was the missing arm of the other centurion, the one which had not come to life- at least not yet. Inspiration came to me then- I realized that the centurion’s weakness was its joints, rather than the armored chest and head. At the same moment, I understood that the machine that sought to kill me was the “Imperfect” referred to in the inscription. It must have been Sotha Sil’s attempt to create a new form of life that was proof against the ills that assailed mortals. And it seemed equally probable that he had realized that it was a failure- thus the name. And that was all well and good, but did nothing to prevent the machine from trying to kill me. I therefore began to concentrate my arrows on one of the knee joints, all the while staying out of reach and evading the occasional shock spell. The effect of my change in tactics was not instantaneous, but I could see that the creature was being slowed by the arrows hammering at the joint. Better still, as I had hoped, occasional flames licked at the fluid leaking around the knee. At last, the right leg locked completely and the centurion sprawled full-length upon the floor. The shock of that fall knocked me from my feet as well, and I thought it must have been felt in Cyrodiil.

As the guardian glared at me with its red eyes and struggled to push up with its arms, I dispelled the magical bow and drew my longsword. Unconsciously mirroring the hallucination I had experienced in the throne room, I carefully moved behind the steaming, fallen giant. A quick leap carried me onto the centurion’s back and I gripped the sword with both hands, then plunged it straight into the metal body. The arms stiffened once more and then collapsed. The eyes grew dim and there was a final hiss of steam, a mechanical death-rattle, and the Imperfect was no more.

It is such an oppressive feeling within the Clockwork City, but perhaps Trey has finally reached the end of all that...

My thanks for another fine post.

I particularly enjoyed the depth you brought to both the imperfect and the fight with it. I never really thought about why it was called imperfect, but I think your description is quite compelling. As was your strategy in combat; once again emphasizing something the game itself lacked (locational damage), and doing it in a creative and exciting way.

I do worry a little about Trey; he seems to be suffering from an exhaustion that potions cannot heal. I hope he is able to overcome this during the remainder of his time in the clockwork city.

Bah! Trey shall overcome! Trey shall overcome all I say!

Hmm, Imperfect. I guess we can be happy that only one of the things was still functioning. Imagine two of them aiming for Trey.

Gamewise, I don't really miss locational damage myself. I can't aim properly with spells or bows and when I get up close and personal, I'm more trying to circle around the target than trying to hit them in the head. Storywise though, locational damage is the way to go.

Of that post, your thoughts about the Imperfect were amazing, I never thought about it that way before... I just killed it asap before it could kill me ...

oh and the last paragraph was brilliant, please, keep it up

Nicely detailed battle with the Imperfect Trey; a very compelling way to dispose of the mechanical giant.

Now all Trey has to do is step into the next room... This next update is going to be great!

A short installment this time- it is just that it has a natural stopping place. Enjoy.

With the titanic war machine out of the way, I could examine the door it had guarded. At first glance, it was no different than most of the other portals in the city, just a circle of metal decorated to look like a large gear. And then I saw the inscription: “Dome of Sotha Sil.” On the other side of this door, I would find the “god” of the Clockwork City, the architect of the horrible maze through which I had fought my way. I wondered what he would be like, this ancient wizard and inventor. Would he fly into a rage at my intrusion? Or would he instead be distant and absent-minded, lost in thoughts too deep and complex for mere mortals to grasp? The answers lay on the other side of that door, and I would have to pass through it to find them. But first I would prepare. I brought out those potions that would make me resistant to hostile magic and made sure that Trueflame would come free easily if I needed it. I still did not completely trust the ancient blade- I had not become comfortable with its odd shape. But I could not completely discount Almalexia’s statement that the sword was capable of killing even a god. With my preparations done, there could be no more delays. This was what I had come for- answers or combat, perhaps both. I opened the door and stepped into the Dome of Sotha Sil.

The inner sanctum of the most obscure member of the Tribunal was a huge dome, bare of any decoration, saving for the ubiquitous gears that appeared throughout his domain. They spun and clicked upon the curved roof, forever driving something beyond my comprehension. Perhaps they measured and regulated the very breathing of the universe; perhaps they kept time itself moving in an orderly fashion, one second following another into infinity. Or perhaps they did nothing at all, simply served as toys for the amusement of a god who had become obsessed with all things mechanical. As I scanned the dome, I noticed a massive tubular metal arch at the center of the room. Cables snaked downward from the arch and converged upon a slender figure who stood motionless on a raised platform. Apparently, this was by design- the cables were linked to attachment points on the armor that the figure wore. Despite the noise made by the cycling of the door, the person suspended from the cables did not move. I slowly edged closer, my heart pounding with anticipation and dread. I finally got close enough to see that I had found Sotha Sil and that he was quite dead.

Whoever or whatever had killed the master of the Clockwork City had been incredibly savage or frenzied- the corpse showed signs of violent magical attack, as well as gaping wounds from a blade. What was worse than the recent violence were the marks of what Sotha Sil had done to himself. His arms and legs were withered to the point of uselessness- if not for the cables attached to his metal vest and helm, he would have been unable to stand, let alone walk. It was clear that he had not left this spot for centuries, controlling everything in his realm with the power of his thoughts. He had turned himself into a creation of machinery and flesh, the obscene culmination of his work with the fabricants. I had wondered at the emptiness and neglect of the Clockwork City, had wondered if Sotha Sil had gone to a place where I could not follow. And now I knew that he had- despite his quest for immortality and perfection, he had passed through the gates of death. As I stood there, horrified by what Sotha Sil had become and what someone had done to him, two questions were foremost in my mind- who had murdered him- and where were they now? And then I heard the unmistakable sound of air displaced by teleportation magic behind me. I was no longer alone.

Great addition adn as you've said, a good stopping point. I especially liked your description of Sotha Sil, very detailed.


Now about the ending. All I can say is, get those potions out because I'm quite sure that this will not go smoothly.

Enter- our Lady of Madness! Seriously man your description of the Clockwork city has been really detailed and interesting. I remember playing Tribunal but I could never really get into it. I might have to go and play it now- you've made it far more interesting!

I figured you were going to do this whole part in one shot but ohwell, as you said, it's a natural stopping place. Great description of Sotha Sil, makes me want to pity the "god".

I can't wait to witness this showdown!

Wow, i always had a sence of sorrow for Sothas Sil, I mean he loved the people, and wanted to make life better (i'm assuming) and then this happens to him.... but the way you described it, i felt more sad about the fact. brilliant piece Trey, I love it

It seems you have done an excellent job of making us feel sad for Sotha Sil, and rightly so. Your description implies a very pitiful state even before his undesired demise. I'm glad that Trey prepared for the worst before entering the room; he's going to need it.

Even though I haven´t played Tribunal, I could easily see the scenery you described so vividly....now I didn´t expect Sotha Sil to be.....that!!! Brilliant work treydog.....as always. I´ll wait eagerly for the continuation


uhhh what a sight for Trey......brrrrrr

I turned at the sound, wondering what new peril confronted me. What I saw was perilous indeed, but far from new. The goddess Almalexia had teleported into the Dome of Sotha Sil and stood before me. It was Almalexia as I had never seen her before, wearing a Daedric mask that hid her features, but did nothing to conceal the madness in her eyes. The hilt of a sword stuck up over her shoulder, a hilt that looked disturbingly familiar- twin to the one that was strapped to my own back. For several long moments, she simply stared at me, breathing as if she had just run a great distance. At last, she shook her head and began to pace back and forth, casting piercing glances my way. Then she spoke and, as well as I can recall, these were her words:

“Nerevarine. Here it ends. This Clockwork City was to be your death. You were to be my greatest martyr!
The heroic Nerevarine, sacrificing all to protect Morrowind from the mad Sotha Sil. But you live! You live!”

Disbelief crept into her voice then, but she again shook her head, as if to send away an annoying thought.
Her eyes glowed with renewed madness and rage, and she continued:

“Fear not. I will tell the tale myself when this is done. I will tell my people how with your dying breath you proclaimed your devotion to me, the one true god. Your death will end this prophecy and unite my people again under one god, one faith, one rule by my divine law. The puppet king will lay down his arms and bow to my will. Those who do not yield will be destroyed.”

Her voice became shriller and more strident as she paced, driving her fist into the opposite palm to emphasize her words. With a visible effort, she regained control and spoke in a more conversational tone, relating fresh horrors as if describing the weather.

“The Mazed Band has allowed me to travel to this place. Here, I slew Sotha Sil. Here, I summoned the Fabricants to attack Mournhold. I will be the savior of my people! I alone will be their salvation! None may stand in my way. Not you, and certainly not Vivec. He is a poet, a fool. I will deal with him when I have finished with you. And Sotha Sil...he always thought himself our better, shunning us, locking himself in this hole. He spoke not a word as he died. Not a whisper. Even in death, he mocked me with his silence! But I think you will scream, mortal. For now, you face the one true god."

The last was an ear-piercing shriek of rage and she drew her hands back in preparation to casting a maleficent spell.

However, I had not been idle as she wove her plots and revealed the depths of her homicidal madness. Believing that I would be facing the great wizard, Sotha Sil, I had placed those potions that would protect me from hostile magic within easy reach. And as Almalexia paced and ranted, I was able to draw forth a few of those precious vials and ingest the contents. Thus it was that when her first wrathful spell washed over me, I was able to withstand its force. To be sure, I was hurt, but not unto death, as had clearly been her intent. Even as her magical fire licked around me, I downed the restorative I had palmed and recovered from the worst effects. The sight of me still standing, largely unhurt, seemed to push the goddess even further into unreasoning fury. With an inarticulate shriek, she ripped the sword from her back and rushed toward me.

Time seemed to slow, and I was able to take in every detail of that deadly blade, twin to the one Yagak had forged for me. The only difference was that my sword, Trueflame, burned with the yellow light of a thousand suns, while Almalexia’s sword burned the blue of a summer sky. This then, was Hopesfire, the ancient blade the goddess had carried before she had even become a goddess. But the history of the sword was of less significance than the fact that it was being swung at my head, and would be quite capable of finishing the job that Almalexia’s spell had started. Normally, when confronted with an opponent so obviously unhinged, I would have done my best to stay out of the way, letting her wear herself out. But, as I prepared to dodge aside, something peculiar happened.

I felt an alien presence, which seemed to coalesce from the very air around me and to enter my body, slipping it on like a cloak. For a moment, I watched from two sets of eyes- my own- and someone else’s. And I saw two scenes, overlaid one upon the other. I was simultaneously in the Dome of Sotha Sil and somewhere else- somewhere underground, with rough-hewn walls and the glow of molten rock making the shadows dance. In the Dome, I/we faced Almalexia; in the cavern, I/we faced not just the goddess, but two others, both golden-skinned and accoutered for battle. The three shouted, gestured, pleaded…. And then they drew weapons. Hopesfire burned in the Dome and in that place underground. Other weapons were wielded too- a short blade and a great hammer, which looked familiar, though I had never seen them before. Magicka crackled in that distant place, and I recognized that one of the slender figures in the vision was Sotha Sil, young and hale, with muscular limbs despite his dreamer’s face. And then, that place fell away, and I was back in the Dome, facing not three opponents, but one. I thought I saw a ghostly golden hand merge with my own pale flesh, and insistent muscles adjusted my grip on the hilt of Trueflame, taking a surer hold. And then I straightened, and raised my shield, and strode forward to meet Almalexia blade to blade.

An almost negligent twitch of Trueflame sent the goddess’ curved sword to one side, to crash into the metal floor in a shower of sparks. She hissed with rage as the shock went up her arms, but recovered quickly and drew back for another thunderous blow. But whoever controlled me did not wait. Like lightning, Trueflame lashed out- once, twice. At first, it seemed that the strokes had missed the goddess by a hair’s-breadth- but then, two wounds appeared along her ribs and began to bleed. It had been long years since Almalexia had felt the touch of a blade, and she recoiled, more from surprise than pain. Meanwhile, I returned to a guard position and watched her eyes to see when she would launch her next attack. Just as her eyelids flickered behind the mask, I raised my shield, not to block, but to smash into her face! As she reeled backward, Trueflame darted forward again, faster than my eye could follow. It found its mark in the goddess’ heart. She fell back, pulling the sword from my unresisting hands. As she collapsed, the madness left her eyes, to be replace by fear and…recognition? With her fall, that alien other who had inhabited me, guided me, slipped out again, swirling into the stale air of the Dome and away. And with the departure of that presence, I felt a tremendous weight leave my soul. I do not know whether it was the death of the mad goddess or something else, but the exhaustion that had plagued me since I came to Mournhold finally seemed to recede.

Even so, at first I simply stood there, empty-handed, waiting for the cataclysm that must surely follow the death of a deity. But there was nothing- nothing except the endless turning of the gears upon the ceiling. At last, I grew tired of waiting and drew out my amulet of Divine Intervention, planning to return to the Imperial Cult shrine in Mournhold. To my annoyance, the amulet refused to work. As I sent forth my magical senses, I could tell that no standard teleportation magic would work in this place. And yet, Almalexia had teleported me here, had teleported herself here not once, but twice. And then, with a guilty start, I recalled some of her words-

“The Mazed Band has allowed me to travel to this place.”

Yes, the Mazed Band, that I had obtained for Almalexia, that allowed her to travel to the Clockwork City, that allowed her to murder the helpless Sotha Sil. Having witnessed the madness of the goddess firsthand, seeing the marks of her fury upon the body of her one-time comrade, I understood that Sotha Sil had not just isolated himself in order to work on his machines. No- he had been hiding- and with good reason. So it was that I approached Almalexia’s body, and saw the Mazed Band upon her finger. I removed the ring and stared at her, thinking about the madness that seemed to inevitably follow power. She had once been a true leader and comfort to her people, a healer and protector. Let her be remembered so. I turned away from her, leaving Hopesfire and Trueflame burning together, votive candles of a martial cast to light her journey through eternity. And then I put on the Mazed Band and left that place of dead gods behind me for evermore.

A brilliant finish, and so very appropriate. The presence... very appropriate indeed. Bravo!

Bye bye Trueflame! You did your job.

What an excellent battle Trey, it seems as though Nerevar himself provided some assistance, but it was well worth it. I definitely like the recollected memory. Maybe now it'll add some incentive for him to continue on his journey of becoming the Nerevarine.

I wonder how his goodbye to Mournhold will go...

its a shame that Trey left behind the True Flame and the Hopesfire.. two brilliant blades, but i can understand why he did it. Very nice Trey, loved the update.

MM: I was thinking Sothas Sil was giving Trey a hand (you know, a revenge for his death thing goin' on), but it being the Nerevar makes more sense.

There's nothing I can add that hasn't been said already. So keep it up, ok?

Some very imaginative writing in this update. I was particularly intrigued by what I can only assume to be Nerevar's presence in this final battle. It is perhaps fitting, and perhaps necessary, that Trey had a bit of "outside" help in the defeat of a "god." I was also struck by Trey's abandonment of both Trueflame and Hopesfire; it seems they were too tainted by the souls of their owners and burdened with the past. Perhaps it is better that they be forgotten.

I do hope this doesn't mark the end of the adventures of Trey; he has long been one of my favorite characters, and the world of Elder Scrolls fanfics wouldn't be the same without him. Treydog, you once called me one of your "longest-suffering" fans. Truth be told, I have never suffered at all; I have enjoyed every single update, and am grateful that you put in the time to share your wonderful writing talents with us.

I can´t but join Planty´s comment on this magnificent update....I must admit I had some slight hope that Lexie wouldn´t be that mad...but she was!

I also second the wish for "more Trey" Also for me the story of Trey has been a sheer delight to read...and it has also been my greatest inspiration..so if it hadn´t been for Trey there hadn´t been no Serene!

Please Sir, could we have some more?

S.G.M.

When I put on Barilzar’s ring, it was without a thought as to where it might take me- I only hoped it would be somewhere away from the awful stillness of the Clockwork City. However, before I could even begin to probe the possibilities of the artifact, I felt myself being drawn into the void of teleportation magic. Someone clearly had a destination in mind for me, whether I willed it or not. Unfortunately, there was little I could do to prepare for any danger that might await me at the other end- I always required a few seconds to recover from the disorienting effects of teleportation. That period of helplessness would be quite sufficient for any hostile entity to kill me, if that was the intent. In reality, the location at which I arrived was not so deadly as I feared, even if it was not precisely comforting, either. When I regained my senses, I stood in the center of the High Chapel of Mournhold, in the spot from which Almalexia had last departed. Her guards made no move to accost me, only stared with impassive eyes and then turned their minds back to whatever thoughts occupied them. I was somehow able to avoid my usual talent for talking myself into trouble- the key was to say nothing. When no one stopped me, I walked slowly to the door and got out of there. I followed the same plan for leaving the Temple itself, and was congratulating myself on my success when I suddenly found myself unable to move. Apparently, I was not the only one so afflicted- everyone I could see from the Temple steps seemed frozen in mid-stride.

Then there came a shimmering in the air before me, and an ethereal figure appeared. The figure took the form of a woman, draped in a pale blue gown, and crowned with stars. Even with my limited interest in religion, I recognized her as the manifestation of Azura, goddess of dawn and dusk. She stared at me with bottomless eyes, seeming to read every bit of my soul as easily as I might peruse a broadsheet in the market. And then I heard a voice in my head, a voice that clearly came from the figure who stood before me.

“You have done well, mortal. The death of Almalexia is a boon for all of Morrowind, though it may take time for this to be understood. She would have betrayed the Dunmer as surely as she betrayed all those she loved. This was her curse, and this was her undoing.”

She paused, then gave a gentle smile as she seemed to find a source of guilt that lay close to the surface of my mind. In a reassuring tone, she added,

“Weep not for Sotha Sil. He shed his mortality long ago, and I am certain his death was no small relief to him. These gods lived with the burden of a power no mortal was meant to possess.”

Her voice became more forceful as she concluded,

“There is much for you still to do. Vivec lives, and he may yet have a part to play in your future. Continue on your chosen path. The skies of Mournhold are clear once again. Let these people suffer no longer. Now go, mortal. Embrace your destiny, and go with my blessing.”

With a wave of her hand, Azura was gone, and I was again able to move.
Yes, I was able to move, for all the good it might do me. I might go to the farthest reaches of mysterious Akavir and it would not matter. When I discovered that the Emperor had “plans for me,” I was annoyed. When I realized that Helseth was behind the attempts to kill me, I was outraged. But what was I to do with the knowledge that Azura had taken an interest in me? True to my stubborn nature, I determined that I would ignore the goddess and her charge to “embrace my destiny.” I did not even know what that admonition meant. But I did know that I had unfinished business in Mournhold, business that involved a murderous monarch. Therefore, I wrenched the Mazed Band from my finger and tossed it to a ragged Bosmer beggar who loitered nearby.

“Here you go, friend,” I said, “I hope it brings you better luck than it did me.”

I left him gaping like a hooked fish and made my way to the Royal Palace.

Helseth was in his usual place in the Throne Room, and he eyed me with his accustomed mixture of disdain, suspicion, and superiority. He let me stand before him for a while, until he realized that I had no intention of bending my knee to him. Tiring of the silence, he spoke in a bored tone,

“I have been hearing a great many stories about you, Trey. And about the goddess Almalexia. In fact, I’ve been hearing stories about a great many strange happenings in my city. I sent you to investigate the source of the attack on the Plaza. I assume the rumors I have heard relate to that. What have you learned?”

As much because I had to tell someone what had transpired in the Clockwork City as because I wanted to savor Helseth’s reaction, I told the truth, leaving nothing out. He disappointed me, though, showing no sign beyond a slight raising of his brow as I recounted the story of madness and murder. He paused for a time, as if marshalling his thoughts, then spoke quietly:

“The attacks were Almalexia's doing? And now you say that both she and Sotha Sil lie dead in the Clockwork City? She murdered Sotha Sil, and then tried to kill you as well. Astounding! I believe your tale, Trey, but do not expect my people to be so accepting of it. You will find it is not so easy to kill these gods in the hearts and minds of their followers. It will take time, but this will be a new era for Morrowind, and I will lead them into it. You have done well, my friend. You have my gratitude.”

Before I could draw breath to tell him what I thought of his gratitude, he gestured to one of his guards, who stepped forward bearing a bundle which he laid at my feet. When I examined it, it turned out to be a full set of Royal Guard armor. How like Helseth it was to give me such a useless gift, to try and make it seem that I had fought the goddess as a service to him! And how like him it was to try and take ownership of me, whom he had so recently tried to have murdered. I spoke none of those thoughts, simply gathered up the armor with a murmured thanks and departed for the Palace basement. Once there, I wasted no time in mixing some very special potions. The work was tedious and exacting, but I did not notice the passing of time. When I was satisfied with my work, it was late at night, and I was able to make a quiet visit to the now-empty Throne room. And then, I returned to my basement hideaway and gave myself up to healing sleep. I was able to rest without difficulty, knowing that another day or two at the most would see me finished with my long, dark sojourn in Mournhold.

Seems like Trey may have something up his sleeve... now I'm curious. (As if I wasn't fascinated enough already...)

Oh-my.god, what´s he up to now`? Making potions? I wonder who will have the perhaps doubtful luck to taste them? I´m glad Trey sees the end of his sojourn to Mournhold and we all know what awaits him when he returns to Vvardenfell, don´t we?

Oh my Trey..I wish you all the luck on Nirn

Trey's reaction to his meeting with Azura is perfect! Very like Trey to act that way. Now I'm eager to see how he finishes up his loose ends...

I must admit that I only recently read through Trey in Mournhold, and then in my foolishness read The Story of Trey afterwards. Stupid me to read the series backwards. Anyhow having read the two tales of Trey I have become completly engaged in the story line. I have to say that you are the best internet writer I have ever read. It is truley masterful how you have engaged me into this story, even though I have played Morrowind, it is just facinating how it seemed this was a completly different tale, mainly because of the character of Trey and how interesting you have made him.

My hats off to you sir!

Dang, How is it I always seem to miss these updates? Freind Trey, I'm too used to the once-a-week pattern But dont worry, your recent brash of post machining is most welcome.

I quote the Queen song "I want it all"....in which the lyrics is the title pretty much, followed by, "I want it now."

The king awoke in darkness, uncertain of what had disturbed his rest. He reached toward the lamp on the bedside table- or rather, he tried to do so. For some reason, his arm would not move. And when he tried to call out, he found that he could not speak, either. A whisper of sound came to his ears and a dark-clad figure moved into his field of vision.

I watched Helseth quietly for several minutes before I spoke.

“It was not easy to come up with the proper combination of ingredients, your majesty. It was a difficult matter, finding a poison that would paralyze the vocal cords and limbs, while leaving the victim free to breathe.”

His eyes darted from side to side and I anticipated the question that he was unable to ask.

“You wish to know how it was done? Very well, we have some time, and I am not a cruel man. In the throne room, I noticed that you have a habit of tipping your writing quill with your tongue. That is not a good idea for someone who has reason to fear poison.”

Seating myself in a chair beside the bed, I continued:

“Your staff is very careful to check all of your food- but they don’t bother with your ink. As I imagine you are aware, ink-making, alchemy, and poisons have many features in common. And that may be a fortunate thing for you. I say ‘may’ because you now have a choice.”

I removed a by-now familiar rolled parchment from my pocket and showed it to the king.

“Perhaps you recognize this? It is a writ for the murder of a certain Breton by the name of Trey. You will notice that I have added a line- the bit that says, ‘I hereby rescind this order.’ And now we arrive at your choice. I don’t wish for you to sign this paper- after all, how could you? No, what I desire is your agreement. If you give me that agreement, you will live. If not, you will die. I talked earlier about the difficulty involved in compounding the poison you ingested. I should probably point out that it will stop your heart and lungs eventually … unless you receive the antidote. Nod your head if you understand.”

When he gave a jerky nod, I continued.

“You sent the Dark Brotherhood to murder me because you believed I might be a threat to your control of Morrowind. You assumed that, because the Emperor had taken an interest in me, that I might be dangerous. And now you have discovered that you were right- I am a threat and I am dangerous. But the irony is this- if you had not sent your pet assassins after me, I would never have set foot in Mournhold. All I ever wanted was to be left alone! What I am now is what the Emperor and you have made me with your paranoia and your endless plotting!”

My voice was rising, and I took several breaths to calm myself.

“So. The agreement. I want you promise to leave me alone. And if I am ever so fortunate as to have a family, you will also leave them alone. I have already demonstrated that I can breach your defenses if I must. If another assassin comes after me, I will finish this. On the other hand, if you accept my terms, I will leave Mournhold and never return. If you agree to this bargain, I will give you the antidote. Do you agree?”

Helseth fixed me with a glare and considered my words for some time. Though I hated him, I had to grant that he did not lack courage. He had no way of knowing how long he had before the poison’s final effects took hold, and yet he waited as if he had all the time in the world. At last, he blinked his eyes and nodded once. I released the breath I had not realized I was holding and said,

“Very well. The antidote is in the ink I used to amend your writ of execution. I am afraid you will literally have to eat your words. However, I will tear it into small pieces. As I said, I am not a cruel man.”

And one other thing happened- the most important thing. After my last “interview” with Helseth, I went to Ebonheart and from there to Vivec. As I walked, I considered the perversity of love. Almalexia had loved being a goddess, had loved the power it gave her. At first, she had tried to serve her worshippers. But, as the power waned, she became more and more obsessed with her own mortality. Even so, the people of Mournhold loved her- or at least, their image of her. Sotha Sil loved the idea of perfection, and tried to make himself so. In the end, he lost all sense of what it meant to be alive. In that, at least, I agree with Azura- I think he welcomed death when it came. Barenziah loved her son, Helseth, and expressed that love by manipulating the Emperor into making him King of Morrowind. And she wanted him to be safe, so she filled his head with stories of plots and intrigues and knives in the dark. So well did he learn her lessons that he became paranoid and murderous, afraid of every shadow and willing to believe any story of a nefarious plot. And what of me? Who did I love? And who loved me? No one- save my poor, dead mother, lost to me all these years. In that fragile state of mind, I wandered back to Aurane Frernis’ Apothecary shop, hoping the sight of a Breton girl and the sound of her voice would cheer me. Let me be honest- I hoped that she would perhaps see me as more than an errand boy. But when I walked into the shop with a tentative smile and a friendly greeting, she just glanced at me coldly and said,
“I have no further tasks for you at this time…. What was your name again? The Roland’s Tears you brought me were quite sufficient.”

The smile died on my lips and I turned quickly to the door, sightlessly blundering into the passage beyond. I slammed into someone, who spoke sharply, saying,

“Watch where you’re going, you idiot! If you’ve spilled my paints, I’ll use you to mop them up!”

Recovering, I saw a woman with green eyes and red hair- red hair and a temper to match, if the look on her face was any indication. Still, there was a hint of a smile on her face, along with lines that said she laughed often- but there was sadness, too, hidden deep. And if you think that no one could have seen all that in a single look, I am sorry to have to disagree, for I was there and know what I saw. When I did not respond, she glanced at the closed door behind me and softened a bit. Again with that slight smile, she repeated,

“Oh, yes, you are an idiot. Aurane is shallow; all she will ever see in you is a poor Breton she can manipulate and then cast aside.”

Stung by the accuracy of her words, I bent to gather her scattered packages and mumbled, rather rudely,

“And who might you be and what do you see?”

With a laugh she said,

“Baria Portia Doyella at your service. And as to what I see, that is for me to know. Now good day.”

I groaned. An Imperial! Of course she would be an Imperial! Who else could be so arrogant, so rude, so blasted right about everything? And as I stood fuming, she took her packages from my unresisting hands and disappeared down the hall. But she had given me her name and it was not hard for a thief like me to find out where she lived in the St. Delyn canton. And I found reasons to visit the city and to go where I might see her- from a distance. And of course a great many other things happened, of which I have written elsewhere. And I still found excuses to look for her and, eventually, to speak with her.

Until this day, I have told no one but the king of the death of Almalexia, who called herself a goddess. Whether any in the Temple know or suspect that she is gone, I cannot say, although I imagine Fedris Hler knows exactly what passed. Obviously, the politics of the situation will ensure that the priests deny any rumors. As for Helseth, he is a Dunmer, a member of a race with long lives and long memories. Although there has been no formal acknowledgement of our agreement, I think we understand one another. At least, the Dark Brotherhood has not troubled me in all the long years since. I stay away from Mournhold and he stays away from Vvardenfell. And I am careful of what I eat and have friends who let me know of any strangers that come around. It is not the most restful way to live, but I like to imagine that the king loses the odd hour or so of sleep over me, as well. As to why I commit these volatile words to paper at last, it is because I have a son now, one who carries my name and may someday carry the burden of my deeds. He has a right to know.

As I close my journal at last, the woman who- beyond hope, beyond reason, beyond imagining- came to love me; the queen of my heart, calls me away from my writing and I have to ask her,

“So, sweet, do you still think I am an idiot?”

A smile lights her face and warms my heart as she says,

“Sometimes. But you can’t help it. You are a man, after all.”

Here Ends the Story of Trey in Mournhold

Nice dissolve...

Seriously, that was a great end, I think Helseth squirming in fear for the rest of his days is a far worse punishment than a mercy kill. Good job.

MORE!

An excellent denoument to this chapter of Trey's life. I definitely liked the addition of the present moment at the end. That was great.

Kudos to you!