Ok, so for the unavoidable introduction babble, as most of you know I was rather pleased with Morrowind. I thought it was far better then the dribble I wrote prior to that, and most people seemed to agree with me. After I finished Morrowind I already had an idea for a sequel, I actually wrote the very first chapter of said sequel while I was posting up parts of Morrowind. Unfortunately though, after that first chapter I kind of lost interest. I didn’t think the ideas I had back then were enough to weave an entire story together, and I was probably right.

But as these things have a habit of developing themselves, over the past months I kept thinking back to the sequel, and kept adding ideas to the pile I already had. Now it’s done. I once again enjoyed writing this, and I hope you’ll have similar fun reading it.

As I’ve explained in the past, I’m not very good at making up things like titles, Akatosh knows it took me about as long to come up with the various titles of the chapters as it did to write the entire thing, so I’ve named the story “Cyrodiil” (catchy wot? )

Before I end my babbling and get on with posting the story, I once again would like to thank Treydog for agreeing to help with my story as editor, and for fixing the many, many, many grammatical and spelling errors, and placing every comma, semicolon and whatchamacallit in the correct place. And thanks to everyone who ever read Morrowind, and commented. I really enjoy the comments.


Now, while you don’t have to have read Morrowind, I believe in order to get the most out of Cyrodiil, it would be recommended.


So, enough babbling and on to Cyrodiil.

Chapter 1. The end? Or the beginning?


Cyrodiil, the Imperial City, Elder Council chambers.

Varvur walked into the council chambers, just one step ahead of Martin, Jauffre and Baurus. He spotted Chancellor Ocato and walked right up to him. He was about to speak, but the chancellor cut him off; “I’ve been expecting you; the full council has already considered the matter of Martin’s claim to the throne in detail.”

With that said, Ocato walked up to Martin Septim, knelt down and spoke “Martin Septim, on behalf of the Elder Council I accept your claim to the Imperial throne.“

Varvur smiled at hearing those words, but his smile quickly faded when a messenger barged into the council chambers.

“Chancellor Ocato, Chancellor Ocato, the city is under attack! Oblivion gates have opened and Daedra are inside the walls. The guard is overwhelmed.”

Ocato responded calmly; “Courage soldier, we have an emperor again. Your highness, what are your orders? Shall the guards fall back to the palace?”

“No! If we let ourselves get besieged in the palace we are doomed; we must get to the Temple of the One Immediately.”

“As you command, Emperor. Guards, form up and protect the emperor. To the Temple of the One.”

As the chancellor was speaking, Varvur noticed two figures entering the council chambers, both dressed in full Daedric armor. Not just figures, two Daedra! Without thinking Varvur drew his blade and rushed towards the two Daedra. The moment his blade met that of the first Daedra, he knew he was in for a tough fight. Fortunately the two were vastly outnumbered. Jauffre, Baurus, Martin, Ocato and the guards present were soon joined against the two intruders and together, it took them but a few moments to dispose of them.

The situation must be terrible, Varvur found himself thinking, if Daedra had been able to slip into the palace proper. He moved in front of Martin and, after looking for reassurance, started moving toward the door.

Outside, in the Green Emperor way, he immediately saw they were in trouble again. In front of them, three Daedra were running toward them, and to the left, another four were coming at them. Seven Daedra against eight of them- it would be a close call. He didn’t stop to consider it though, and rushed directly toward the three Daedra who were coming at them from the front. Out of the corner of his eye he saw two of the guards stationed at the entrance to the palace following him.

Two of the Daedra came at Varvur, while the guards took on the third. Varvur was hard pressed; just when he’d defended against one blow, the second Daedra would strike. It left no time to attack himself. All he could hope for was to keep the two busy long enough for the two guards to take care of their opponent and come to his aid. The alternative was not something Varvur wanted to consider. But from what he could tell, that single Daedra was giving the two guards a hard time.

All of a sudden one of the Daedra he was fighting came at Varvur at an odd angle, leaving itself exposed but also forcing Varvur to drop his blade low to defend against the strike. He knew at once he’d been tricked when he saw the second Daedra come in with a high strike. Was this then how he would meet his end? Having come so far but still coming up short in the end. He closed his eyes, waiting for the inevitable blow that would end his life, but after some seconds, it hadn’t come.

He opened his eyes again, and saw the Daedra who had minutes ago been ready to deliver a deathly blow to him, now frozen with a number of arrows protruding from his neck area. Varvur spun around lightning fast and delivered a crippling blow to the leg of his other opponent. Behind the body of the first Daedra, he saw a number of Imperial legionnaires running toward him. They were shooting arrows as they came and Varvur saw the Daedra facing the two guards had also been disposed of by well-timed missiles.

He quickly ran back up the stairs and towards Martin and his group. They were doing well too; two Daedra had already been defeated with a third staggering. Baurus and Chancellor Ocato were battling the fourth. Varvur wanted to smile, but then he saw Baurus suddenly stumble over the foot of a fallen legionnaire, and drop to his knees. Ocato moved in front of him but was thrown back by a shockwave emanating from what must have been a spell.

As fast as Varvur could, he ran up to Baurus and, just as the Daedra was readying his warhammer to deliver a deathly blow to Baurus, Varvur used all of the might he had to force his blade into the Daedra’s stomach. The warhammer fell, and so did the Daedra, shattering Varvur’s blade in the process.

Looking over, Varvur saw Martin and Jauffre and the newly arrived troops had gotten rid of the last of the Daedra and all was quiet again, for now anyway.

Varvur looked down at Baurus, who appeared still to be in shock, and offered him a hand to help him up. “Thank you Varvur, you saved my life, yet again.”

“Don’t mention it Baurus. I didn’t save you from Raven Camoran only to see you die at the hands of some generic Daedra here.” They exchanged a meaningful smile. It was a moment they would likely carry with them for the rest of their lives.

Varvur looked around for a new weapon. The dead legionnaire had carried a blade, a standard imperial broadsword, but for now it would have to do. He saw the commander of the men who had arrived in time to turn the fight walk up to Martin, bow and speak;

“The palace is cut off, sire. We are the last to make it through from the Legion compound. My men and I are at your disposal. What are your orders?”

“I need to get to the Temple of the One; it’s our only chance to stop Mehrunes Dagon.”

“Yes sir! Let’s move out!”

Varvur again took the lead. He wanted to make sure nothing unexpected would come before them. They ran a short way and entered the temple district.

Looking left, Varvur saw two Daedra but also saw there were several legionnaires already battling them. The Legion commander sent two of his men to help them and Varvur knew it would be enough. He looked to the right and saw another few Daedra running at them. One of them was a Xivilai, an even more dangerous opponent than the more common Daedra. He did not hesitate, but ran straight for the blue-skinned Xivilai. Chancellor Ocato and Jauffre were there fighting next to him. He was thankful for that, because one blow from the Xivilai told him he might not have made it on his own, not after the fights he’d already been in that day.

The three of them together were able to defeat the Xivilai swiftly, and after regrouping with Martin, Baurus and the rest of the men, they were once again ready to move on.

Nothing had prepared Varvur for what he saw as he rounded the last curve; for there in front of him, next to the entrance to the Temple of the One, towered Mehrunes Dagon himself, a giant with a wicked Daedric battleaxe in one hand and a vicious claw-like weapon in another. As he came into view, Varvur saw him pick up one of the Imperial guards that was fighting him, and tear him apart with his two free hands. Fire, blood, and intestines fell all around them and Varvur turned to Martin just as the new Emperor started to speak;

“We’re too late. Mehrunes Dagon is here. Lighting the dragonfires will no longer save us; the barriers that protected us from Oblivion are gone.”

Hearing that from someone he had hoped would be able to protect them all from the Daedra prince was a blow to Varvur. He responded, “Can we cast him back into Oblivion?”

“I don’t see how. Mortal weapons may hurt him but now that he is physically here in Tamriel, they have no power to actually destroy him.”

“What about the Amulet of Kings?”

Martin seemed to ponder that for a moment, “Wait… yes, the amulet was given to mortals by Akatosh, and it contains his divine power. But how to use this power against Dagon? The amulet was not intended as a weapon.”

He considered the question with the lightning-fast intellect Varvur had come to know, then spoke decisively,

“I have an idea, one last hope. I must reach the dragon fires in the Temple of the One.”

“But you said it was no use.”

Martin looked reassuringly at Varvur and responded, “You’ll just have to trust me. I now know what I was born to do. I need your help; I just have to get past Mehrunes Dagon.”

“I’ll get you to the Temple.”

“Then I’ll do the rest. Lead on my friend.”


Varvur motioned to the others to advance and while they were obviously all deathly afraid of this giant god in front of them, they moved anyway. To Mehrunes it must have seemed like a pack of ants coming after him, but ants with very sharp weapons anyway. And while none of them was even able to slightly hurt the Daedric God, they did what Varvur had intended for them to do; they distracted the Daedra long enough so that Varvur and Martin could sneak past the god and into the temple.

As soon as they entered the temple, Martin’s face grew serene, and he walked to the far side of the room with Varvur following. Martin turned to Varvur and spoke;

“I do what I must do; I cannot stay to rebuild Tamriel; that task falls to others.
Farewell- you’ve been a good friend in the short time that I’ve known you.
But now I must go; the Dragon waits.”

After that Martin ran to the center of the room and stood within the very center of the Temple. Varvur ran after him but before he was able to come too close and ask Martin what he meant, a rumbling froze him in place. He looked up just in time to see Mehrunes Dagon destroy most of the ceiling of the temple and step inside.

Varvur looked back at Martin, thinking he had to be frozen in fear as well, but instead he saw hisfriend, his Emperor rip the amulet from around his neck, and smash it on the floor. The moment the amulet was shattered, bright white light begun to emanate from Martin’s very core. The light kept on getting brighter until Varvur was forced to cover his eyes. Then came an explosion that seemed to sear through his hands and eyelids, and the white light turned to orange and was gone.

Varvur uncovered his eyes and saw that where Martin had stood a giant dragon now roared defiance at Mehrunes. Akatosh! Akatosh the dragon god must have somehow come to defend Tamriel against the evil Daedric god Mehrunes Dagon. Praise be Azura.

Mehrunes did not appear to be intimidated; he swung his battle axe and delivered a mighty blow to the dragon’s side. He followed that with a blow from his claw. Akatosh roared his defiance again, and beat massive wings to rise up and strike at Mehrunes. Landing back on his feet, the dragon clamped his powerful jaw to bite upon Mehrunes’ throat. It would have been a death-blow against any mortal opponent, and must have hurt even the Daedra prince, for Mehrunes slumped over.

Akatosh roared again, and this time unleashed a rain of fire onto Mehrunes. Everywhere it touched him, bright white light began to shine from the body of Mehrunes. And his voice cried out. “No! No! Thwarted again!” His hideous face suddenly turned to look directly at Varvur. “You, foolish mortal, you dared interfere with the plans of Mehrunes Dagon?”

“I might be banished back into Oblivion once more, but I shall not leave alone.”

With that Varvur felt a huge, scaly hand wrap itself around him, crushing him. He cried out in agony but there was no one there to help him. Then all around him the world turned dark.






Baurus entered the Temple of the One just as the hand of Mehrunes Dagon was closing over Varvur. Light was pouring through Mehrunes entire body now and just as he prepared to rush to Varvur, to perhaps cut him free , Mehrunes let out one last cry and vanished, along with Varvur.

Baurus looked up with tears in his eyes, and saw Akatosh come back down to the ground. For a moment he thought he saw pity in the god’s eyes, and then Akatosh raised his head, as if to roar at the sky, but then he closed them again, lowered his head a bit and stopped moving.

Where the living Dragon had stood just moments before, there was now a marble statue claws and wings spread wide, looking up at the sky.

Baurus couldn’t admire the beauty of it, though, all he could think about was what he’d seen just moments ago- the hand of Mehrunes closing around Varvur’s body, and then both of them disappearing.

He dropped his blade and shield, sank onto his knees and wailed at the sky.

Yay! This was good, I'll have to go and read Morrowind again to remember details though...

You certainly don't mess around in getting the reader hooked, I want to know more now. What's happened to Varvur, how central is this to the plot, what will Baurus do... Excellent stuff.

I like how you start at the end of the game, rather than the beginning. A very good touch, and I was literally filled with joy by it. I'm not sure why, but I was. *shrug*

The one thing I didn't like was the dialogue at the beginning. Rather than cope what had been said straight from the game, I would have liked to see your own creations. You could have said the same things, but it wouldn't have had to sound so...boring and robotic. I didn't like the game dialogue because I was looking for more of a panicked and fast-paced speech. Mehruhnes Dagon, a Daedric god, had just entered Tamriel with a full army of monsters at his side. I high doubt anyone would have been able to stay as calm as Ocato.



Meh, I rather like it when thoughts are italicized, but that's just a personal preference of mine. I thought I'd tell you anyway just to give you another perspective.



This seems a bit odd to me. Since it's an all-out invasion, even if they had cleared their section of the city, wouldn't they have heard the screams and roars coming from the other districts, or at least the ones beside them?





This is something I see from writers a lot, and I always find it very important. When in speech, when we are addressing someone by name there is usually a slight pause before that person's name. So, in the above sentences there should be commas; a comma before "Varvur" in the first, and and a comma before "Baurus" in the second. And that takes care of the slight pause. Do you know what I mean?

I personally thought your battlescenes were fairly weak. You didn't do a whole lot of detail in the scenes, and mostly you said stuff like "They defeated the "etc, etc" and moved on." I don't like that, because I can't picture in my head what's going on. I can't picture the spilled blood, the torn limbs, the screams of agony, etc. You know? And you didn't describe the Xivilai at all, other than saying that they were blue. The Xivilai are indeed much different than the normal Dremoras, so it would have been better if you had explained why.

All of that said, it was a wonderful first chapter. I love the twist at the end, and I simply can't wait for the next installment.

I'm sorry if you find my critique harsh or nitpicky, I apologize. It's just that while I enjoy a good read, I'll always do my best to try and help the author get even better as well.

No worries, I really like getting criticism, both positive and negative. I can always learn something new right?

So thanks, and keep up the comments if you will!

Chapter 2. Aftermath.

Walking through the aisles of wounded made Filben feel very sad. Such suffering, such a heavy price paid to bring back peace to the Empire and close the doors to Oblivion. And now the Empire would have to rebuild itself, restore order, and try to endure- all without an Emperor. A groan from one of the beds caused her to kneel down and cast another healing spell. She was reaching the end of her endurance, but how could she sleep knowing so many brave men and women were suffering, or even dying?

Filben often thought back to the day when she came to Cyrodiil. Nearly three years ago now, she came here from Valenwood. A typical Bosmer, she had been a master at the longbow nearly as soon as she could walk. But to Filben it simply wasn’t enough, where many Bosmer find they have a knack for the more stealthy professions, Filben knew at a very early age that she wanted to use her time on Nirn to heal and help those less fortunate then she.

With the help of a local Mages Guild Wizard, she was teleported to the Imperial City and presented to Raminus Polus. He must have seen something special in her, because he accepted her into the guild at face value. She thought to herself that it surely had nothing to do with her exterior; she wasn’t tall, or muscular, but then no Bosmer was. Her sign surely had helped, the Ritual both helped restore her and turn the undead; for a mage that was always helpful. And like any healer she had spent many years training her will, and trying her best to develop a helpful bedside manner.

A new noise ended her day-dreaming. Two voices down the hall were loudly arguing. What a thing to do; a sickbay in the middle of the night was no place for a loud argument such as that. Walking briskly towards the sound of the voices, Filben found the voices were coming from two people, a Redguard with some nasty looking cuts over his face and body, and an Altmer towering over him, trying to keep him in bed.

“Gentlemen! Please lower your voices; this is a sickbay, and people are trying to rest.”

Two sets of eyes turned towards her, and Filben was shocked to see the Altmer who was standing with his back to her was none other then Chancellor Ocato.

“I agree, and I’ve been trying to explain it to Baurus here. A sickbay is a place of rest, Baurus, and you need to get some rest. I understand you’re concerned for Varvur, but you can’t help him if you’re exhausted now can you?”

“But Chancellor, how can I rest knowing Mehrunes Dagon has him, knowing what he must be doing to him?”

Filben could see the pain in Baurus’ eyes; she tried to think of something comforting to say, but in the end realized all she could say was the truth; “Ser Baurus, you look exhausted. I understand you’ve been up for more than a day now, and it’s the middle of the night. What good will you do Varvur if you die of exhaustion? Besides, even if we allowed you to get up now, where would you go? Who would you see? Who could help you get to Oblivion now?”

Seeing Baurus had no reply to that, Filben walked up to him and gently pressed him down into the bed, and covered him with a blanket. “Trust me Baurus, in the morning you’ll be in much better shape. And you will need all your strength to do something as monumental as traveling into Oblivion itself.”

Filben saw Ocato smile at her, and gesture for her to follow him. “It would be wise to give him some sleeping potion, or at least something that will help him calm down. Knowing Baurus I would not be surprised to see him try and sneak out of here in an hour or two.”

“It shall be as you say Chancellor. Ah, and Chancellor, my apologies for just now, I should not have spoken to you in such a manner, asking you to be quiet I mean.”

“Nonsense, you were right. Tell me young lady, what is your name?”

“Filben, Chancellor, recently promoted Journeyman in the Mages guild.”

“Filben, I shall have to remember that name. Good night Filben.”

“Good night Chancellor.”

Journeyman indeed. Oh Filben was a Journeyman, but it hadn’t been exactly conventional. She had done all the recommendation quests save the one from Cheydinhal as she had heard the ranking member there was none too pleasant, so she wanted to save it for last, when the Oblivion crisis erupted. All conventions were thrown out of the window at that point, and Filben was made apprentice and stationed at Skingrad to assist the rest of the mages there. For her work there she was promoted once again to Journeyman and was presented a choice of staves. After some consideration she chose one with a powerful shock damage spell on it because while skilled in the arts of healing and even subversive magic, destructive magic had always been her worst side.





During the next week Filben cared for the wounded in the sickbay, and thanks to the efforts of all the healers doing their best, most of those injured had recovered by then, or enough so at least to allow them to go home. One day though, one of the apprentices came by to escort her to Raminus Polus.

When she entered the Arch-Mage’s lobby she was startled for a moment to see Chancellor Ocato there, speaking to Raminus. While it was true the Chancellor was technically a Master-Wizard in the guild, he was rarely seen at the university, spending most of his time at the palace ruling, as best he could, the Empire.

“Ah Filben. Thank you for coming. We were just speaking about you actually.” While Raminus said it in a pleasant voice, Filben wasn’t too assured. Had her speaking out against the Chancellor cost her her place in the mages guild? She certainly hoped not.

“Master-Wizard Polus, you asked to see me?”

“Yes, I have a small errand to run. As you know all the counts and countesses are in the city, including Count Hassildor. I understand you got to know him a bit during your time in Skingrad?”

“Yes Master-Wizard, I did.”

“Good. I would like you to go to him and ask him to meet me here tonight. There are some matters I wish to discuss with him.”

“As you wish, Master-Wizard. Was there anything else?”

“Now that you mention it, be here first thing in the morning. I believe the Arch-Mage will have a few things to discuss with you.”

“Yes Master-Wizard.”

That was it then; the Arch-Mage wanted to personally scold her for speaking against the Chancellor, and then personally expel her. So much for her days in the Mages guild. She worried about this the entire way to the hotel of Count Hassildor, and obviously it must have still shown when she delivered the message from Raminus, because the count stopped her before she left and asked her what was wrong.

Surprisingly he laughed after she was done telling him. “You shouldn’t worry so much, Filben; I’m sure things will be fine.”

“I’m not, Janus.” Even after calling him that for months now, it still felt strange. During her time in Skingrad she had had to visit the castle often, and while she was at first shocked to see a Vampire rule an Imperial city, she soon found out why. Janus had one of the most flexible minds she had ever met, and they soon became close friends. Janus had insisted she call him by his first name, and after he nagged her about it for weeks, she had agreed. As close as they were, Filben never allowed herself to forget he was a Count though. “I’m not at all sure Janus, but I’ll try to face my expulsion with dignity.”

The two of them talked for over an hour, but even after Filben was lying in bed that night, she couldn’t help but dread the next morning.

Hmm, an interesting start, especially with the Nerevarine's kidnap by Mehrunes Dagon (I take it Varvur is the Nerevarine-I've yet to read Morrowind). I wander what horrific tortures the Big D will inflict on him. They will be horrific, right? Only you can't really have a character being kidnapped by a daedric prince without horrific tortures. It's just not the done thing!

Sorry, I'm going off on a tangent here...

Anyway, writing wise I have to say it could do with improvement. The entire thing seems to suffer from Show-not-tell syndrome. One example would be: “I’m not, Janus.” Even after calling him that for months now, it still felt strange. During her time in Skingrad she had had to visit the castle often, and while she was at first shocked to see a Vampire rule an Imperial city, she soon found out why. Janus had one of the most flexible minds she had ever met, and they soon became close friends. Janus had insisted she call him by his first name, and after he nagged her about it for weeks, she had agreed. As close as they were, Filben never allowed herself to forget he was a Count though. “I’m not at all sure Janus, but I’ll try to face my expulsion with dignity.”

This entire bit is just too big for being in the middle of dialogue, and really breaks up the flow.

And also: Journeyman indeed. Oh Filben was a Journeyman, but it hadn’t been exactly conventional. She had done all the recommendation quests save the one from Cheydinhal as she had heard the ranking member there was none too pleasant, so she wanted to save it for last, when the Oblivion crisis erupted. All conventions were thrown out of the window at that point, and Filben was made apprentice and stationed at Skingrad to assist the rest of the mages there. For her work there she was promoted once again to Journeyman and was presented a choice of staves. After some consideration she chose one with a powerful shock damage spell on it because while skilled in the arts of healing and even subversive magic, destructive magic had always been her worst side.

It's a info dump. And info dumps are very rarely a good thing.

Work on it, Alexander. The only way to get better is to practice, and you're shaping up to be damn good. Keep it up.

Actually, Relien Geles is the Nerevarine. Varvur started off as bodyguard to him. But I wouldn't want to say too much about the other story lest I spoil it.

And please, keep up with the comments.

I see.

I still want hellish torment, you understand. Not just horrific any more, hellish!

I like the second part, and unlike Beanie (sorry but I couldn't resist) I think the wandering paragraphs work. Certainly they could have greater urgency and have more show less tell but equally its part of how you write. Morrowind was similar, it takes a couple of parts to get into but in general it flows quite smoothly and is readable. As far as the infodump went, to be honest it is a bit but I didn't pick up on it while I was reading so, for me, it worked. I knew what you wanted to convey and didn't see the infodump. Of course avoiding them is best but disgusing them essentially boils down to the same thing.

So in short, it could be more direct and immediate but its not. And that works, in my opinion at least. It makes your style more resemblent of epic fantasy than other genres. I would say there is a balance though and I would also say that you're at the extreme of what works, but it works.

I did have a point.... Honest.

Fair enough Olen-each to their own and all that. Just don't call me Beanie, only Minque can do that (and only because she's a moderator).

Second chapter was very nice. I know the theme of the chapter was Filben fearing that she would be scolded for speaking out against Ocato, but I couldn't help but feel it was somewhat forced, and that it's obvious that she WON'T be scolded. Meh, but that's just me being nitpicky.

Nice job.

When she entered the lobby, fortunately all she saw was Raminus. Perhaps Janus had changed his and the Arch-Mage’s mind about expelling her. She certainly hoped so. Her hopes were soon crushed though, “Filben, thank you for coming. The Arch-Mage is expecting us in his chambers; please follow me.”

Resigned to her fate, Filben walked behind Raminus as they entered the Arch-Mage’s chambers. She had only seen the Arch-Mage once, a kind looking old Breton who had personally welcomed her to Cyrodiil.

She had seen the others in the room far more often though; Caranya, a female Altmer, Irlav Jarol, an Imperial male, Tar-Meena, an Argonian female and the one who had provided Filben with her staff; together with Raminus and the Arch-Mage, the five of them formed the Council of Mages, the highest ruling body in the Cyrodiil chapter of the Mages guild.

“Welcome Filben.” She just didn’t understand this pleasant tone, and now the Arch-Mage was also smiling at her; surely they wouldn’t enjoy expelling her? Or could Janus have been right in saying she surely wouldn’t be expelled?

“Filben, Count Hassildor tells me you’re worried we might expel you, is that so?”

No one lies to the Arch-Mage, so obviously she replied truthfully “Yes Arch-Mage, I was wrong in speaking so to the Chancellor in sickbay that day, and I will understand if I am expelled for that.”

“Well that’s funny, because Raminus tells me the Chancellor came here in person yesterday to speak on your behalf. Apparently he has been as impressed with your work as Count Hassildor, and the Skingrad chapter members.”

“He, he came to speak for me? Not against me?”

“Indeed. After having spoken about it with the rest of the Council, and in light of your accomplishments, we see no other choice but to promote you to Magician- with all the benefits and responsibilities that go alongside it.” The Archmage was smiling through all this, and so were most of the others. Filben could have hugged them if not for the fact that they would likely consider it beneath their stature.

“Now then, with that out of the way, there are pressing matters. Filben, please stay a while longer; I have an assignment for you as well. One that might make you wish I had not promoted you just now.”

“Rumors have been floating to the surface for a while now that an organized group of Necromancers has started to show itself. Reports are increasing and Tar-Meena here, while retrieving the wood required for your staff, found the guardians of the Wellspring cave slaughtered and the necromancers who did the deed still present. Unfortunately none could be captured for information, but if they were able to best the two guardians the organization is powerful indeed.”

“After this event we sent a Mages guild member to infiltrate the organization. Unfortunately we haven’t heard from him for some few days now, and to be honest, I’m worried harm might have come to him. The last communication from him was when he was holed up in an Ayleid ruin along with a number of Necromancers. The name of the ruin is Nenyond Twyll. Filben, I want you to travel there and see if you can find him and bring him back. Or if you can’t find him, find out what happened to him. I shall mark the location on your map and provide you with a code which you can use to recognize him.”

Turning to the rest of the council, the Arch-Mage continued, “While she is doing that, I have a different task for the rest of you. I want you to each travel to a city or series of cities and convey the news that a band of Necromancers is active. I do not wish to use magical means of communications, because there is always a chance of them listening in. Caranya, I want you to travel to Bruma, and then on to Chorrol. Tar-Meena, you will visit the southern cities Bravil and Leyawiin. Irlav, you will travel west, first to Skingrad, then Kvatch and then on to Anvil. And Raminus, travel to Cheydinhal and while you’re there, please promote Deetsan to Wizard and confirm her as the new head of that chapter.”

“Irlav, while you’re in Kvatch, speak with Falcar. He’s a competent administrator and I’m sure he’s doing his best to complete his voluntary mission of building a new Mages guild chapter there, but let him know I would value more frequent updates. Now I want all of you to return post haste after you’ve informed the various cities. Once our informant returns we will have much to discuss.”

It was Caranya who spoke next, “Arch-Mage, might it be wise for Filben to know the name of the Informant rather than just a code?”

“You may be right Caranya. His name is Mucianus Allias.
Leave as soon as you can. That will be all.”


As soon as she could for Filben was immediately. She was so happy for being named Magician. Janus was right; she always thought too negatively about events, and this time not only had she not been expelled, she had been promoted, even skipped two ranks. She was so pleased, that she nearly didn’t see the man in a black robe as she rode across the old bridge on her black horse. Her horse just barely missed him but he had to jump to miss the horse. How odd though, she thought. She hadn’t seen him come from down the road, so he must have come from under the bridge. What could he be doing under an old bridge dressed as he was?

She got down from her horse to see if the man was alright, but as he raised his face to look at her, she noticed what she had often seen caring for the ill ; insanity. The man was clearly not sane and he proved it when without warning, he drew a dagger and came at her. Filben barely had time to think before he was on her, but casting a quick invisibility spell gave her the edge. Almost as an afterthought she cast a silence spell. An invisibility spell was effective until one acted, but never disguised the sound one makes while moving around. The spell combination gave her enough time to walk around the man and take up the staff she always carried on her back.

Dispelling the spells she called to the man, “I wish you no harm, but am a member of the Mages guild and will defend myself if forced to. Drop your dagger.”

He would not listen to reason, though, and came after her again even before she had finished speaking. With a heavy heart she lowered her staff and cast the shock spell on the man. He was killed almost instantly, but not before having time to quietly babble about some revenge he would be unable to take now.

Filben was torn; on one hand she did not want to leave a dead body out here without proper burial rites; on the other hand she had an important mission. In the end she chose to continue on her way and sent word through magical means to the Imperial City, informing them of the corpse.












Not long after Filben had left, a tall woman in a black robe similar to that of the dead man stumbled across the corpse. She was supposed to find her latest orders underneath the old bridge south of the Imperial City. But the last orders had said nothing about finding a corpse so close to it, and while the Silencer was a Nord, she was not dumb. By the look of the clothes and the enchantment on the knife lying beside the dead Breton, this was obviously a member of the Dark Brotherhood.

What was he doing there? She didn’t know. Looking underneath the bridge she did find her new orders; to kill a known psychotic called Shaleez in flooded mine. You didn’t have to be a scholar to sense something was odd here. Rather than pursue her next target, she thought it best to return first to her Speaker, Lucien Lachance, and ask if the dead body should be seen as a change in plans.

Good update, the plot is already thinkening well. So much going on, I like it.

More Please?

Before I post the next part which is the start of a new chapter, I feel I should appologize. I wrote two chapters from different perspectives, quite a while apart, but after reading them back I found the events not only to be taking place at the exact same time, but also at almost exactly the same places.

keeping the two chapters as they were, one after the other, simply didn't feel right as you might read about some things in one chapter that were meant in a different chapter, so instead I decided to mix the two chapters into two new chapters to make it more chronologically sound.

My appologies if this harms the flow of the chapters.
--------------------------------------------------------

Chapter 3. Moving forward.

The weeks after the incident in the temple of the one were chaos. Throughout Cyrodiil, people grieved for Martin Septim. Just as they had a new emperor, fate reared its ugly head and tore him away from them again. But everyone was at least as sorry to lose Varvur Sarethi. While he had only been in Cyrodiil for two years, his actions had made him famous and beloved by everyone. The Hero of Kvatch, savior of Bruma, and Champion of Cyrodiil.

Chancellor Ocato had made an official statement the day after the catastrophic events in the Imperial City, proclaiming before everyone who had gathered that Varvur would henceforth be known as the Champion of Cyrodiil.

But even in the midst of their grief, the business of securing the Empire had to take precedence. Nobles from every town in Cyrodiil were arriving at the Imperial City, for there was to be a meeting of the Elder Council tonight inside the palace. Baurus had been assigned to the count and countess of Anvil to make sure no harm befell them in the chaotic Imperial city.

Baurus found it very hard to do his job properly; many times during the days of meetings he found his mind wandering, away from the count and countess and to Varvur. Knowing he might still be alive and in the grasp of someone as awful as Mehrunes Dagon made Baurus despair. It was only on the insistence of Jauffre that he’d even agreed to serve as guard to the count and countess. Jauffre probably assumed it would take his mind off of other things, but Baurus didn’t think anything could take his mind off of the loss of Martin, his Emperor; and of Varvur, his friend.

He’d gone to see Chancellor Ocato several times now, begging him to allow Baurus to seek out someone, anyone, who might know of a way to either teleport into Oblivion, or teleport someone out of it, but either Ocato didn’t know of such a way, not now with the gates to Oblivion being shut by Martin, or he simply wasn’t telling. He’d also pleaded with Jauffre, even begged at one time, to send out any and every Blade operative in search for answers, but of course Jauffre judged them more needed in the Imperial city and the rest of Cyrodiil than on what he must consider a wild goose chase.

“Baurus.” Startled from his thoughts, Baurus looked up to see both count and countess looking at him in a questioning manner.

“I’m sorry my lord, my lady, what was the question?”

“My husband and I think it’s time to go to the Imperial Council chambers; the meeting will surely start soon.” Almost as an afterthought she added; “Are you feeling alright, Baurus?”

“Yes, my lady. My apologies for being distracted, and you’re right of course; please follow me.”

Baurus led them through the city to the Green Emperor Way, and into the palace. They were questioned several times by patrolling guards. After the attacks, patrols had been increased dramatically; in fact, all security had been greatly increased. Baurus stopped at the entrance to the Imperial Council chambers. Looking inside he spotted Grandmaster Jauffre, Chancellor Ocato, and at least half a dozen counts and countesses already inside. Stepping aside, he allowed Count and Countess Umbranox to enter the chambers. Baurus took position next to the only door leading in, safe in the knowledge that anyone that wanted to disturb the meeting would have to go through all the Imperial guards stationed at the doors, several other Blades acting as bodyguards and himself.

“You soldier, you’re Baurus aren’t you?” Turning around, Baurus saw Count Caro of Leyawiin and his wife looking at him.

“Yes, my lord; that I am.”

“They say you were close to Varvur and actually saw him crushed by Mehrunes Dagon.”

“Yes, my lord, I was and I did.”
“I’m sorry for your loss Baurus. He was a brave man.”

“Hah!”

Startled by the sudden outburst, both the Count and Baurus looked at the source, and, as she saw their faces turn toward her, with much insolence the Countess continued;

“’Man’ indeed. He was no man, he was but a Mer, and a Dunmer at that. Running headlong into the enemy is all they’re good for isn’t it? Perhaps had it not been for him, we might still have an emperor rather than a marble statue.”

It took all of Baurus’ self control not to strike down the Countess where she stood. He was about to say something, but was saved by Count Caro who responded first.

“Enough! I forbid you to speak of the Champion of Cyrodiil thus. Go on inside Alessia; I’ll be along shortly.” His look showed that he was very angry with his wife, and she chose to take the safe route and did as he said. Turning back to Baurus, the Count spoke,

“My sincere apologies, Baurus. Unfortunately Alessia has never had a very worldly view; lately though, it only seems to have gotten worse. She should never have been allowed to say what she said.”

“I understand Count Caro, and she’s not the only one with such views.”

The Count nodded at that and proceeded inside; the doors closed after him indicating the meeting was starting. Baurus looked down, and saw his hands were bloody; he’d pressed his fingers so hard into his palms that the nails had penetrated his flesh.

I first thought the man in the black robe was a necromancer, seemed more likely to be that then a dark brotherhood member.

Oh....just noticed this! But then again I've been working almost 24/7 the last week! And now I'm off to work again, but I'll read this story, hopefully coming weekend!

Countess Arriana Valga was seated comfortably in her chair in the Elder Council Chambers. It was where she belonged. As she often told people, some are born to lead, and some are born to follow. She was born to lead. She grew up on a small farm outside Chorrol, but even in her early years she knew she was destined for greatness. She went to the mass in the Chapel of Stendarr every Sundas and prayed to the god of mercy to grant her the opportunity to bestow her wisdom and blessings upon those less fortunate than she. Her prayers were answered one day when the Count of Chorrol, obviously inspired by a divine voice, spotted her in the Chapel and started paying court to her.

Even after she became Countess, and now ruling Countess, she prided herself on never missing a sermon. It was quite a responsibility, ruling an entire city and looking out for the people in it, and doing her best to care for the rest of Cyrodiil as well, but if there was one woman up to the task, it was she.

She was aroused from her thoughts when she noticed that around her the voices had grown quiet. “Countess Valga.” Using her excellent memory to think back to what had been said just before the silence started, the Countess was quickly able to regain her composure.

“Chancellor Ocato, you ask what we should do about Morrowind. I say this- nothing. It has nothing to do with how powerful their mages are or how mighty their new Ghostfence is or how this or how that. The people rebelled against their own king, and now they would choose no ruler to replace the king. Lady Barenziah doesn’t even wish to be named Queen. I mean they are obviously a backward people as it is apparent the Divines have considered them unworthy of order through righteous rule. So I say let them be, and smother in their own ignorance. The Divines will punish them as they see fit.”

Arriana was pleased with herself; she ignored the stares of some of the other counts and countesses. Some people might have thought them stares of pity, but not Arriana. She knew them for what they were; stares of envy. She had known them all her life. People had always been envious of her because she was better than them, she knew the will of the Divines and acted accordingly; and others, even if they knew the will of the Divines, never had the courage nor patience to live their lives accordingly.

The vote on the matter went as planned; only the Count of Cheydinhal voted in favor of immediate action against what he called the “usurpers alliance”; the other Counts and Countesses voted to leave the province alone for now and deal with it when the time was right.

Next on the agenda was another small matter. Who would be charged to rebuild Kvatch? None of the other Counts and Countesses was really looking forward to receiving this job, so when Janus Hassildor proposed his seneschal, Mercator Hosidus, for the job, no one objected.

Now it would be time for Arriana’s proposition. She had petitioned Chancellor Ocato to be allowed to enter her own proposal to the Elder Council, and naturally he had allowed it. How could he not allow the most able ruler in all of Cyrodiil to bring to the table a proposal, especially one of such obvious wisdom and merit?

Standing up out of her seat, she began the speech she had been practicing for many days.

“My fellow Counts and Countesses, in the name of the Divines I thank you for being allowed to speak to you.” She ignored the sighs, “What I have to say will be the first step in healing this Empire, and restoring it to its rightful greatness.”

“For years now, in every province there has been resistance. Not just during the recent crisis but even before it. Small and larger rebellions, briberies, extortion, killings, and much more I won’t even name. I believe the reason for this is simple. The Divines are mad at us for disturbing the natural order of things. The Empire was founded by Imperials and expanded outward from Cyrodiil. To reclaim our former greatness, we need to go back to our roots; we need to start all over again.”

“What I propose is simple; we should recall all of our Legions, nor just the ones we have already recalled, but all of them, along with any and all other officials proven to be loyal to the empire. Recall them all back to Cyrodiil, and keep them here for at least ten years. During those years we will train them and train them and train them again to make sure both our armies and officials are competent, loyal and all serve their rightful rulers; the Divines. We’ll weed out all of the non-believers and those not qualified.”

“After ten years without our steady hand, and wise words to lead, and guide them, the other provinces will be in chaos and ready to take us back whatever the cost. This time, we will be able to name any terms we choose and need not make any concessions like the Septim line has done in the past.”

“This is my proposal.”

Arriana stood erect, awaiting the inevitable standing ovation one always gets when one speaks words as wise as any god. Instead, other than an exalted and admiring look from her daughter, most other Counts and Countesses looked at her in disbelief. Not liking the stares, she decided to sit down. It was Count Hassildor who reacted first.

“Countess Valga, while none can ignore the obvious benefits in the short term for the province of Cyrodiil, I fear in the long run it would not have the desired effect you think it may have.”

The insolence of that man. “Ah, is that so Count Hassildor? And why is that?”

“After ten years of being without the Empire, I believe it would prove disastrous for us to move back into those provinces. I believe we would not be hailed as saviors, but denounced as conquerors, and once again would need to pay the price of a conqueror. And need I remind you; this time we have no Tiber Septim to lead us, nor any Emperor for that matter. No, I fear your logic is flawed, Countess Valga.”

Arriana could feel herself turning red with anger. How dare he; who was he to ignore words spoken from divine inspiration? She struggled hard to get her temper back under control; she mustn’t forget; he simply didn’t know any better. She should only pity those with less good sense, not scorn them.

“Regardless, Chancellor Ocato, I would like to put this proposition to a vote. I’m confident others will have a better grasp of what needs to be done than Count Hassildor.”

To her utter disbelief, the vote came back against her. One vote in favor, six against and one abstention. The abstention had come from Countess Carvain of Bruma. What a pitiful creature she had become. Ever since the Oblivion crisis she had become the most unsure ruler of them all, perhaps in the history of Cyrodiil. A moment of embarrassment had occurred after the vote; right after Chancellor Ocato had announced the results, her daughter, Countess Caro, had jumped up and loudly exclaimed;

“Chancellor Ocato, perchance you did not hear my voice. I voted in favor of this proposal.” The Chancellor did not even dignify this with a response; instead it was Count Umbranox of Anvil who replied, in that know-it-all voice of his;

“Alessia, while every Count and Countess is welcome during these proceedings, only a city’s ruling Count or Countess has a vote in these matters. So while you’re welcome to argue on behalf of your mother, you cannot cast a vote in favor, or a vote permanent. This was made law by Uriel I, in year 55 of this Era.”

Alessia sat down with her face red from embarrassment, and Arriana wondered once again what she had done to deserve a daughter like that. Surely it was a test from the gods. But that her proposal was denied was an even bigger matter than that of a less then intelligent daughter. She could not understand it; after she had explained her plan to him, the snake-man had assured her the other Counts and Countesses would likewise see the wisdom and divine inspiration in her words. No, something was wrong here. Someone had polluted the minds of the other Counts against her words. Someone was influencing the Council, obviously to further some diabolical plot to further disrupt the empire. But whoever it was, Arriana was up to the challenge; she would make sure the Empire prospered, no matter what.

Chapter 4. Plans are made.

Baurus was standing next to the door when it opened. The meeting had ended and it was time to take the Counts and Countesses back to the Tiber Septim hotel. At the sight of the doors opening, all the guards and Blades sprang to attention. First ones out of the chambers were Count and Countess Umbranox. They swept past Baurus and left him little choice but to follow rather than lead.

“I cannot believe her; how can someone who rules be so dense?” Baurus didn’t know what had gotten the Countess this upset, but decided it wouldn’t do to ask questions.

“Don’t forget love, the only reason for her being ruling Countess is the untimely passing of her husband the count. She’s simply not used to dealing with such pressure and she might see this as the most logical short term solution to the problem.”

“Surely you don’t agree with her Corvus? Recalling the remaining legions from all the provinces would send the empire into greater chaos then it is in now.”

“Of course I don’t agree with her Millona, but I’m just saying that, to someone not used to thinking long term, this might be a very natural reaction.”

“Hmpf. Sure, very natural, and then after five years or so, when she feels safe enough again, then what, we simply march the legions back into the other provinces and think we can go on the way we always have? No, in five years time those provinces would have tasted independence again, and never want to go back to the old ways where they are merely part of the Empire.”

“Well, regardless of what Countess Valga wants, she doesn’t have nearly enough votes in the Elder Council to get this passed.”

“You’re right Corvus, and she isn’t likely to get enough votes anytime soon.”

The conversation carried them all the way to the Tiber Septim hotel. As she put her hand on the door, Countess Millona Umbranox turned around and looked at Baurus.

“Baurus, Ocato asked to see you in the Elder Council chambers just as soon as you’d seen us safely back to the hotel. I think we can take it from here, so you’d better head back.”

“Yes, my lady; if there’s anything you need from me, one of the guards stationed in the hotel can come get me.”

Bowing, Baurus turned around and walked back to the palace. While he was hoping Ocato wanted to see him about something related to gaining entry into Oblivion, he assumed it was something altogether different.




As he entered the Elder Council chambers, the first thing he noticed was that Ocato wasn’t alone. Jauffre and Captain Steffan were there as well, but so was Count Hassildor from Skingrad. What was he doing here? “Come in Baurus” said Ocato, “and please take a seat.”

“Good, now that we’re all here, Janus, please tell Baurus and the others what you told me last night.”

“Thank you Ocato,” Baurus found the voice very eerie, “Ocato here came to me last night and told me your dilemma. Getting into Oblivion or taking someone out of it is not an easy thing to do. Daedric prices have been summoned in the past, but very few times have mortals entered Oblivion and returned from it alive. I believe the last one to do so was Varvur. But do not despair, for I may have the answer to your problems.”

“As you know, I’m a Vampire. Most people are unaware of that, but the Blades information service is good enough to know that detail. I’ve been a Vampire for many years now; in my early days, right after I’d been turned, I had a close friend, another Vampire. He was a great story teller, and something he’d learned from the Vampire who turned him, he told me. Apparently this Vampire Ancient who turned my friend was a master thief, both in life and in undeath. His most entertaining stories were about robbing a Daedric prince himself; Mehrunes Dagon.”

Baurus felt numb; could this be true? Could he finally have found someone who knew a way into Oblivion, even if he did not have a name? He couldn’t help but feel hesitant to embrace the feeling though and asked; “Count Hassildor, I mean no disrespect, but how can we be certain this is true? How can we be certain the Ancient wasn’t just bragging?”

“A good question, young Baurus.” Baurus wondered if he should feel insulted at that, but then considered that, by Janus Hassildor’s standards, most everyone would likely be considered young. “The Ancient told my friend how he’d found his way into Oblivion one day, well after his own turning, and learned that he was in the realm of Mehrunes Dagon himself. He made his way into the throne room, and there found and stole Mehrunes Razor. After he got back Nirn, he sold this legendary blade to a Dunmer, and not just any Dunmer, but a Telvanni mage-lord called Neloth.”

“It is commonly known that Neloth at one time got hold of Mehrunes Razor, and that it was stolen from him by a number of acrobats and delivered into the hands of former mage-lord, and later Archmagister, Gothren. After that, the blade’s whereabouts are no longer known. Now what is not commonly known, and how I know the tale of my friend is true, is how mage-lord Neloth got hold of the blade. The Ancient told of how he sold it to him, and during my travels I once had the pleasure of meeting Divayth Fyr, arguably the most famous Dunmer, and certainly one of the oldest still living. He told me the other side of the tale, of how mage-lord Neloth sometimes dealt with Vampires if he thought it could further his career, and during one of these dealings, he bought the Razor from an Ancient and used it in his battle against rival mage-lord Gothren.”

“While I agree that if the story had only come from my friend, it might have sounded dubious, together with the story of Fyr, it becomes very plausible- wouldn’t you say young Baurus?”

“Yes, yes Count Hassildor, I would say it would become very plausible.”

“Do you know the name of this Ancient, Janus?” Ocato asked,

“Unfortunately no; my friend has always had a most thorough practice of telling great stories, and not naming names. But then, in his line of work I would guess that is a natural reflex. And I fear I never thought to ask Divayth Fyr about it.”

“His ‘line of work’?” Ocato asked.
“Ah yes, I suppose I hadn’t mentioned this yet. He was, and is, an executioner for the Dark Brotherhood. And please don’t ask me how I became involved with a Vampire who is an executioner for the Dark Brotherhood. I wouldn’t be willing to answer such questions anyway.” At that, the Count showed a very toothy grin.

“Do you know where to find him, Janus?”

“Now that, I do not. Suffice to say, as Count of a city, one has very few dealings with the Dark Brotherhood, if one is lucky, that is. One thing I can say is that he is not in Skingrad or else I would have known. Where he is, I have no idea.”

Baurus looked questioningly at Grandmaster Jauffre and, after seeing him nod, spoke;

“During Varvur’s initial journey into Cyrodiil, he encountered a speaker for the Dark Brotherhood; Lucien Lachance. It took us a while, but we managed to locate his hideout. If anyone knows where your friend is hiding, he would. What’s your friend’s name?”

The Count of Skingrad smiled again and said, “Vicente Valtieri.”

Can´t wait for the next chapter, you must write something about the orcs in Cheydinhal.

This is excellent, everything morrowind was and more. There is such a web of characters and plots all fitted together which gives it a nice sense of depth.

the snake-man had assured her - I sense there is an awful lot in that line, I sense plot and cunning afoot and want to know more.

If I were to offer a criticism, and doing so is very much for its own sake as its certainly not an issue, it would be that at times I feel that things are shown in a rather black and white manner with some definatly being right and others wrong. This is arguably part of the overall style though and is also arguably nessesary to make the plot easier to cope with.

On that note I like the use of poeple from the game, it lends the work (and to an extent the game) a greater depth. It also makes it far easier to keep tabs on the characters.

I'm halfway through chapter three and I'm loving it. Really, really good stuff, and unfortunately I can't find anything to pick at.

Back in her chambers at the All-Saints Inn Countess Arriana angrily threw her outer robe on her seat and walked into the room of Verata-Ves. Dressed as always in his plain robe befitting his status of messenger of the gods he looked up as she entered.
“Verata-Ves, you told me the others would see the obvious logic of my words, but they voted against me. How do you explain this when you claim to be a messenger to the gods?”

“My dear Countesss, I do more than claim; I am. Don’t you remember?”

Arriana hesitated, for she did remember. During her last silent prayer in the Chapel of Stendarr, she had heard the voice clearly, coming from the stained-glass picture of Stendarr himself. It had bathed her in light and confirmed what she had always known- , that she was destined to be a tool for the gods. Then it had told her it would send a representative of the Divines to counsel her, and behold, behind her Verata-Ves had appeared, come down from the Divines’ plane to assist her. At first she had wondered at the odd choice of a messenger; a Tsaesci from Akavir, but she quickly forgot her wonderment because as everyone knows, the Divines work in mysterious ways.

“Of course, forgive me Verata-Ves; it’s just that I don’t understand why they voted against me. I believe it could be the work of someone trying to bring ruin to the Empire.”

“A mossst well thought out theory, Countesss. I had thought the sssame.”

“What will we do, Verata-Ves? The well-being of the Empire stands or falls with this. We must think of some way to remove this influence from the Elder Council.”

“I agree Countesss; pleassse, tell me all that wasss sssaid.”

After listening to Valga’s recounting of the meeting, her advisor remained quiet for a while. Arriana likewise considered her next course. It was Verata-Ves who spoke first, though.

“It ssseemsss to me Countesss, that your daughter’sss wordsss were inssspired by the Divinesss to aid you. Through her, they tried to sssteer the counsssil into doing the right thing. Unfortunately, Corvusss, who isss obviousssly an agent for thisss diabolical influenssse, interfered.”

“Yes, you know I was just telling myself that, Verata-Ves.”

“Yesss, I think the Divinesss were giving you a message; they wisssh for your daughter to ssspeak for Leyawiin.”

“I agree Verata-Ves. We need to come up with a way to make her ruling Countess of Leyawiin. If the Divines wish for Marius Caro to die to make place for my daughter, then who are we to protest? We are but tools for their will. But how can we go about it?”

“Perhapsss we can go further Countesss. I’ve been thinking, and there might be a way to sssolve two problemsss at the sssame time. Consssider thisss- if you hire a band of mersssenariesss to do the deed, no one will sssussspect you were behind it, and whatever force is influensssing the Elder Counsssil and turning them againssst you will be none the wissser. And if you hire Argoniansss to do it, your cassse for recalling the Legionsss becomesss ssstronger. But I feel assshamed; sssurely in time you would have thought of the sssame thing, Countesss.”

“Ah, of course I would have, Verata-Ves, but it’s good of you to get things moving along. Now, how can we come up with a way to get Marius Caro away from Leyawiin? Obviously we can’t have it done there.”

Arriana thought about this for a moment, and then smiled. Of course, the solution was simple, and Verata-Ves was wrong- she would solve three problems at once, not two.







Two days later, Count Regulus Terentius opened the wooden gate leading into Reedstand cave. He felt soaked to the bone. Traveling in this nightly rain should be forbidden, it would likely ruin his clothes. But considering his thoughts, he decided he was being silly. A message of this importance from a close friend would be reason enough to traverse any weather. Trying to wipe the rain from his face he followed the only servant he had brought as they headed a small distance into the cave. There was very little light, so Regulus was glad he had thought to bring a servant skilled in the arts of fire magic.

Not far from the gate he found Marius sitting down; he too had brought a single servant with him. “Marius!” As his name was called Marius got up and warmly shook the hand of Regulus.

“Marius, what awful weather you choose for such a meeting.” Regulus didn’t understand the look of confusion on Marius’ face, so he added: “I’m sorry; do you enjoy this weather, Marius?”

“No, no, it’s not that, but the other. I choose for the meeting? But you asked me to come here.”

“What are you babbling about, Marius? I received your messenger only this afternoon; he carried the message with your own seal.”

“Could I see it, Regulus?”

Regulus showed him the message, which was short and to the point;

Regulus,

I’ve stumbled across information regarding a plot against your life. Meet me tonight at Reedstand cave. Trust no one.

Your friend,
Marius.

“Regulus, I did not write this. Nor did I ask anyone to write this for me. My wife gave me a letter she got from one of your messengers asking me to come here to discuss ‘a matter of life and death’”

“I sent you no letter, Marius. Nor any messenger.”

Marius’s look said it all, as he came to the same conclusion as Regulus. They had been betrayed. Drawing his sword he saw Marius do the same. Looking around to make sure everything was clear, the four of them quickly headed back to the entrance. Even before they got there they saw lights shine outside. Opening the gate, Regulus and the others came to a halt just outside the cave.

In front of them they saw a large band of Argonians, all on horseback. Looking at the horses with an admiring eye, Regulus noted they were of prime stock, though he thought it unlikely he would be able to steal one during the struggle that would be unavoidable. Nor would such a feat do much good, if only for the specialized Argonian saddles. Considering their numbers, there were clearly far too many for Regulus and Marius to beat, even with the servants to bolster their numbers. But no one had ever had reason to call Regulus a coward. He boldly strode forward and spoke to what appeared to be the lead Argonian.

“I am Regulus Terentius, Count of Bravil and this is my land. Identify yourself and state your business here.”

A laugh came from the ranks of the Argonians and the leader spoke, “This one has courage- admirable. Greetings. What I am called is of no importance. We come to end your lives. Lay down your weapons and we promise to make it swift and painless.”

Regulus looked over at Marius who nodded in confidence. The servant Regulus had brought with him was still young, and was shaking both from the cold rain and from fear. Regulus whispered to him, “Be brave now, Melkior. It will soon be over.”

Turning back towards the Argonians, Regulus cried out his defiance; “Prepare to die, scum!”

Count Regulus Terentius, Count Marius Caro and their two servants bravely charged the band of Argonian mercenaries.

Chapter 5. opportunity?

Ocato couldn’t believe it. Two counts dead in a single day. He had a thousand questions and very few answers. What were the two of them doing in that cave? If they were meeting, why were they meeting? By all appearances, a large band of Argonians had done the deed, but what could a band, any band, of Argonians gain from the deaths of two counts? Nothing. At least nothing that Ocato could see right now. So they had to have been working for someone, but for whom? Who could gain from their deaths?

Had it just been Leyawiin it might be a different matter, but Bravil made it puzzling.

“Jauffre?”

“Yes, Chancellor.”

“What can you tell me about Gellius Terentius? I know what kind of Countess Alessia will be in Leyawiin, but what can we expect from Gellius?”

“Not much I’m afraid, Chancellor. He’s a typical spoiled nobleman’s son. He’s addicted to gambling, drinking and we understand he’s addicted to Skooma as well.”

“So what you’re saying is he’ll be a leech on our treasure chests until the day he overdoses?”

“I’m afraid so yes, Chancellor; he’s nothing like the son of the Cheydinhal count. When he becomes count some day, you’ll be certain to have a strong and just ruler in place.”

“Jauffre, do you think someone could control Gellius? I mean force him into doing their bidding?”

“Hm, perhaps, if someone approaches him with enough power, I think it would be near impossible for him to stand against such a person.”

“Thank you Jauffre. I need some time to think this over; would you please leave me?”

Ocato stared unseeing at the wall as his thoughts continued along their reluctant course.
No, it couldn’t be, could it? Could Countess Valga be behind this heinous slaying? With the death of Count Caro, Lady Caro, daughter of Countess Valga, would become the next ruling Countess. And someone like the Countess was surely ruthless and strong enough to blackmail young Gellius into voting her way. Was she so determined to pass her proposal as to kill off those voting against her? Ocato shuddered. With Gellius and Countess Caro voting her way, Countess Valga still only had three votes. There had to be more going on and Ocato was determined to find out what before the next meeting took place in two days time.

Opening the door to find Jauffre standing guard in the corridor Ocato asked, “Jauffre, please send word to Anvil, and ask Count Umbranox if he can come into the city very early. I’d like to speak with him privately.”

Ocato reasoned there would be none better at political maneuvering then someone who had headed the Thieves Guild for so many years. It was moments like these where he was eternally grateful for Jauffre’s intelligence, and his discretion.

Very late the next evening Chancellor Ocato met with Count Umbranox. It was their second time that day and Count Umbranox had spent most of his day meeting all the other counts separately.

“I believe we may have a problem, Chancellor. I believe you’re right in your assumption. Count Gellius and Countess Caro will vote with Countess Valga, but to my astonishment, so will Count Indarys. I have no idea what Countess Valga told him, or threatened him with, but he made it clear enough that he will vote her way as well. That gives her four votes. Countess Carvain is yet undecided, as always lately.”

“Yes, ever since the Daedra attacked Bruma and she caught a glimpse of that siege crawler she has been terribly insecure about everything. I think nowadays she must spend an hour deciding on whether to wear a blue or a red corsage.”

“And in this matter she is not very different. I believe I’ve managed to convince her to vote with us, but I just can’t be sure. Janus of course will vote for us. I don’t think there’s anything anyone could say to force Janus to do anything he doesn’t want to.”

“So that gives Countess Valga four definite votes, it gives us three votes and Bruma yet undecided. It’s a very close call, Corvus.”

“I agree Chancellor, but unless we can come up with a few more Counts that agree with our way of thinking between now and the Council meeting tomorrow morning, I don’t think we stand much of a chance.”

“It’s a shame the late Count Goldwine of Kvatch is no longer with us; he would surely have voted with us. And obviously the steward that rules now, what’s his name, Hosidus, is not allowed to vote instead of a Count.”

“Hm, he’s no count no, however, Chancellor, I believe you’ve just given me an idea. May I have use of the Imperial Library for the rest of the day? I’d like to study some old records if I may.”

“Of course, Corvus; the place is yours.”

“Thank you, Chancellor; I’ll see you tonight after I’m done if that’s acceptable.”

The meeting that night did not last long, but when Ocato went to bed afterwards, it was with a smile on his face.

With cold sweat on his face, Ocato startled awake that night. He was breathing heavily and had to take a moment to get his breathing under control again. He had had the most awful nightmare. He couldn’t remember all of it, but he could remember a single shape- a tall, wide creature with burning eyes and long pointed claws. Spread out behind it were two large white wings, and the being’s skin was white as snow. It was truly the stuff of legends.

A noise just outside his chamber doors disturbed his ponderings. “Evangeline,” Ocato called. There was no reply.

Getting up out of bed, Ocato pulled on his robe and headed for the door. Preparing a spell that would incinerate any attackers he might encounter, he opened the door, only to find there were no attackers, merely an old Imperial guarding his inner chamber. Evangeline was not at her usual place behind the desk. From the looks of the old soldier he’d had a little too much to drink. Not only was he wearing antiquated armor rather than the regulation armor and slowly swaying on his feet, he was also quietly singing what appeared to Ocato were very old drinking songs. He likely hadn’t even registered the door opening and Ocato standing there looking at him.

“What is the meaning of this, soldier?” To Ocato’s surprise the guard didn’t even try to straighten up at the sound of his voice.

“Ah Chancellor, I’m sorry if I woke you, I was merely trying to keep myself awake. At my age it becomes a problem, you know.”

The insolence of the man. “Soldier, do you realize you’re out of uniform? How could your sergeant allow you to come up like this?”

“Ah begging your pardon, Chancellor, my sergeant doesn’t really know I’m here. I traded shifts with someone else; I was the sober one of the two of us.”

Ocato merely shook his head in wonder. If this was what the Legions had become, the empire was indeed in for a very challenging time. “Why don’t you come with me soldier; we’ll go find your sergeant and get this sorted out.”

“Yes sir, Chancellor, sir.”

Walking through the palace corridors with the old soldier in tow, the first thing Ocato noticed was how quiet it was. No sounds reached his ears, no cling of armor, no sound of iron or steel boots hitting the floor. There were no Ancestor Moth priests either, which by itself was disturbing as they prided themselves on being ever vigilant in guarding the Elder Scrolls. He was about to ask the old soldier about it as they were passing through a door to the guard level, when Ocato found one of the doors to be stuck. It appeared as if someone or something was blocking it. The other door did open normally though, and looking at the back of the blocked door Ocato saw Evangeline standing there, with one hand on the door as if wanting to open it, but she seemed to be frozen in place. Ocato didn’t even see her chest moving to breathe in and out. “Evangeline,.” he called to her. He got no reply.

Slowly touching her skin, he discovered that it felt as cold as ice. Still though, it did not appear to Ocato as if she was dead. Turning to the old soldier he asked if he knew what was wrong, but the look of puzzlement said it all. Ocato thought the best thing to do now was find the other guards and ask them what had happened.

Running towards the guard room, Ocato slowly became aware of an ever increasing sound, which seemed to be coming from somewhere beneath them. Unfortunately, as he entered the guard room Ocato saw they would not be of any help either. Each one of them was frozen in place just like Evangeline was. Walking back outside he saw the old soldier was keeping close. He likely was more scared of all this than the chancellor, Ocato figured.

The sound he had been hearing seemed to be coming from a lower level. Rushing further along the corridors towards the sound, Ocato came to door leading to the ground level of the palace, the level where the Elder Council chamber was located. By his estimate the sound seemed to be coming from within the Council chambers. Opening the door to the ground level with the old soldier laboring to keep up, Ocato first noticed two guards standing to either side of the door. Both were wearing the same antiquated armor the old soldier was wearing, and both looked very much alive and unfrozen. They didn’t even recognize Ocato as he passed between them and to Ocato it looked like both were somehow strangely less then solid.

Walking on and opening the doors to the Council Chambers he stood still in shock. It looked as if a party was going on. Everywhere he looked people were drinking, and laughing and having a blast. Strangely enough, he did not recognize any of the people inside at first glance. What really caught his attention though was the Imperial throne, which Ocato had moved into the basement for the time being. It was back in its original place, looking as if it had never left, and on it someone was seated. Walking inside the chambers to catch a better look, Ocato felt as if his jaw had just dropped. Seated upon the throne was Tiber Septim himself. And surrounding him on all sides, the four legendary Blades; Rielus, Casnar, Valdemar and Alain.

“This has to be a dream.” Ocato told himself out loud.

“A dream? Yes, well sort of anyway. A memory would be better suited.” Ocato heard the old soldier as he came to stand next to him. Ocato now realized the soldier had never really been drunk.

“Look at him Chancellor, look at the emperor. He’s so filled with pride and confidence. This is when he celebrated the creation of the Empire. Just a week ago he finally beat the Aldmeri dominion, and now feels he’s unstoppable. He’s already plotting what would be his greatest crime against the Empire- killing those neutral royal families just so they cannot oppose his claims in the future. How I wish I could take him apart and give him a piece of my mind. Alas, what has gone before cannot be changed; only the future may be influenced lest Akatosh gets cross with one.”

While the old soldier was speaking, Ocato quickly realized he was much more than an Imperial guard. He suspected he knew who it was, but it was one thing to look at Tiber Septim sitting on his throne, and quite another to have him stand next to you. And both at once? It was much too late for such a complicated thought.

Turning to Ocato, the soldier spoke again; “You must be wondering why I brought you, Chancellor. I have a confession to make. During my days I was not entirely faithful to my wife. There was a Breton servant at the court whom I could not resist. I fathered a son with her, and sent her to live in High Rock for fear of embarrassing my wife. The line from that son has been going strong throughout the ages, and is unbroken to this day. Yes Ocato, there is a single Septim left alive. He is of Imperial and Breton descent and is destined to rule the Empire as the next Septim.”

Ocato’s mind was reeling from the implications, a lost heir, another lost heir aside from Martin? Could the Empire really be that lucky?

“What does he look like, Emperor Septim? And where will I be able to find him?”

“Please, call me Wulf. I haven’t been Emperor around these parts in many centuries. And as to how he looks, look around Chancellor; an image of him is inside these very chambers.”

Looking around Ocato saw many of the partying guests, but they all looked very much like the Emperor on the throne and like the guards, they were all somehow transparent. All but one. Ocato mused as his eyes were drawn to someone. A bumbling Jester, complete with silly hat with bells on it, and trying to juggle, cats? Like Tiber, Wulf and himself, the Jester was the only one in the room who looked normal.

“A Jester?” he asked Wulf.

“Why not; it seemed like a good disguise at the time. Had the Mythic Dawn found out about him, they surely would have killed him as well, so I had no choice but to hide him, in a disguise and well away from the grasp of the assassins. One thing to remember Chancellor; in naming him, he will know himself. Don’t worry if it doesn’t make sense, it will when the time comes.”

“And where did you hide him, Wulf?”

“Safest place in the Empire, Chancellor; outside of it. I hid him in the one place I knew the assassins would not look, I hid him in Morrowind.”

I need more... more... This is really great and very exiting to read.

Chapter 6. If at first you don’t succeed.

Arriana was very pleased with herself; so far her plans had been successful. Two counts opposed to her divinely-inspired plan had been replaced with a Count and Countess who would vote in favor of it. And just this morning, while at her room in the All Saints Inn, she had had a meeting with Andel Indarys, Count of Cheydinhal. Even as he was raving and shouting at her, she was able to keep her cool. She had known long before the meeting that no matter what he said or threatened her with, afterwards he would vote her way no matter what she proposed. It was awful, but sometimes someone didn’t know what was good for them. Luckily for them, Arriana was there to guide those lost sheep back to the flock.

There was one more stumbling block, Narina Carvain, Countess of Bruma. They had met last night after Count Indarys had left, and had talked through most of the evening. No matter what she said though, Arriana had not been able to break through Narina’s indecision. She had nothing against Countess Carvain personally, for like herself she had always been a devout follower of the Divines and they had enjoyed many inspiring conversations about their faith in the past. Since the Bruma siege though, Narina had changed a lot. It seemed to Arriana as if she couldn’t even decide about what to eat anymore, let alone how to vote during council sessions.

While someone like that usually could be persuaded by Arriana’s divinely-inspired presence, it became harder when two people were telling her two different things. Apparently Corvus Umbranox had also had a meeting with Narina, even before Arriana spoke to her, and he had talked so convincingly as to make it impossible for Narina to do the right thing. Yes, the more Arriana thought about it, the more obvious it became to her that Corvus was, if not the evil force influencing the Elder Council himself, then surely he was a high ranking agent for it. How else could he explain his long absence from Anvil? But he had made one mistake; he should have kept his hidden agenda hidden. By exposing it to Arriana he had let her know upon whom she should focus her next actions. Surely he never suspected Arriana was working for the Divines themselves.

Putting on her coat, she again wished Verata-Ves could be there with her, but he had been right in saying it would be better to minimize the chance of his being seen. Anyone working for the other side would know Arriana for what she was if she saw a messenger of the Divines alongside her.

Walking outside towards the palace, she was surrounded by a number of Chorrol guards. She trusted them more then any others and had respectfully refused a Blades escort, knowing her own guards would be more than up to the task. Walking past the common people in the street, she often muttered a blessing or two to the ones most unfortunate. Some beggars and handicapped asked her for money, but Arriana knew money would not solve their problems. Surely they had insulted the Divines in some way, and unless they would repent their sins, they would remain in their current station for the rest of their lives.

As Arriana entered the Elder Council Chambers she found the others were already seated. Her musings had made her tardy. She quickly sat down and waited for Chancellor Ocato to start the meeting.

“Welcome all. As I’m sure you are all aware, two of our fellow Council members have been brutally slaughtered this past week. I will spare you the details as I’m sure most of you have heard them already. The preliminary investigation by the Blades points to a large band of Argonians who did the deed. Several corpses of Argonians were found near the bodies, and from what I understand from Countess Caro, one of them was captured alive but died during the questioning. Countess, would you explain to the others what you told me?”

Arriana didn’t have to listen to her daughter to know what she would say. The Divines had made it clear lying was forbidden, but not of course when you’re serving a greater purpose. She had gone over the story with her daughter and the young Count Gellius Terentius. It told of how one Argonian was wounded in the fight and left for dead by its comrades, how under torture it had confessed to being part of a plot to disrupt the Empire and so on and so forth. Arriana had had to make sure Gellius was so scared of her he would be too afraid to use any skooma that day. And Arriana noted that while sober, he was surprisingly coherent. She would have to remember that.

Once Alessia was done, Arriana rose from her seat to address the Council; “Council members, I am shocked and outraged at what has happened. This was a vile attempt to undermine the rightful rule of the Empire, a vile underhanded attack straight into the heart of the Council. We need to make sure whomever did this is punished severely for it.”

“My heart goes out to Count Terentius; your father was a brave and noble man. I also must express my sympathy for Countess Caro. Your husband was a close friend of my late husband, and perhaps it is a comfort, that they are finally together again.”

“Through all this though, I would be remiss if I did not once again mention my proposal from the last meeting. Had we started withdrawing Imperial Legions back into Cyrodiil then, this tragedy might not have happened. But alas, what is done is done, and not even Akatosh can reverse these tragic events. I implore you though, not to make the same mistake twice. Let us once again put this matter to a vote and, with the help of the Divines, I hope we will choose more wisely than before.”

Looking at Chancellor Ocato while she said the last words, she slowly sat down. Arriana knew the Chancellor had to put this to a vote. He had no choice.

“Well then, as you request Countess, I hereby put to the vote the proposal of the Countess from last time. That is- withdrawing all Imperial Legions to Cyrodiil, and keeping them here for a duration of at least ten years during which time we will improve them and after which we will send them out into the other provinces once again. I shall ask for your votes in person.”

“Countess Caro, how do you vote?” “In favor.”

“Count Terentius, how do you vote?” “In favor.”

“Countess Carvain, how do you vote?” “I’m, I’m so sorry, but I really don’t know yet, perhaps if I give it some more thought, yes, yes some more thought. For now I abstain. I’m so sorry, but I’m just not sure.”

“So the count is two in favor, and one abstention. Countess Umbranox?” “I vote against.”

“Count Indarys?” A silence ensued. Arriana looked at the Count of Cheydinhal pointedly, and after some further silence he grudgingly proclaimed, “In favor, damn it all; I vote in favor.”

“Count Hassildor?” “I vote against.”

“And finally my own vote, against.”

Arriana had trouble not jumping up in joy. Truthfully, she had never expected Countess Carvain to vote with her; it would have been a bonus, but was not required. Even without her, she had four votes, which beat the three votes against. The will of the Divines had been served. Now she listened intently to Chancellor Ocato, he had no choice but to announce the vote had gone in her favor.

“So, all the votes have been cast. Since Countess Arriana has submitted the proposal, she automatically votes in favor of it bring the total to four votes in favor, three against and one abstention. With that the proposal has...”

“A moment if you will, Chancellor.”

Arriana turned to look at Count Umbranox. Even though not a ruling Count, he was always there during the meetings, advising his wife and often raising issues himself. Why would he interrupt the Chancellor, Arriana asked herself.

“You have something to add to the voting, Count Umbranox?” Ocato inquired.

“I’m sorry, I mean no disrespect to the Chancellor, but I fear your count is not entirely accurate.”

“Ah, and how is that Corvus?”

“Even when not technically a Count of the city, when one rules a city, one holds that city’s vote in the Elder Council. So it was written by Emperor Uriel VI in year 315 of the Third Era, two years before his unfortunate accident. It was written after a series of illnesses had claimed the lives of three of the Counts of Cyrodiil, and someone raised the point of needing a quorum for the Elder Council to be able to put a proposal to a vote. The Emperor countered with this piece of law and appointed several Seneschals in charge of the ruler-less cities. Since the Seneschals were completely in the employ of the Emperor when they ruled those cities, their respective votes reverted to the Emperor and could be cast as he saw fit.”

“I remember reading about that once, Corvus, but what is the relevance here?”

Arriana had already made the connection, and she cast a look of pure hatred towards Count Umbranox. For him to try and influence the head of the Elder Council in such a manner with everyone looking on was truly evil.

“The relevance is simple Chancellor,” Corvus continued, “at the last meeting we all agreed to appoint a temporary ruler over Kvatch. It just so happened he used to be a Seneschal and is, I believe, still in the employ of Count Hassildor. Therefore the law of Emperor Uriel VI applies and Count Hassildor has the right of two votes.”

“I see.” Turning towards Count Hassildor, Ocato asked him, “Count Hassildor, for the record, do you wish to cast your second vote differently from the first?”

“I do not,” came the sure reply.

“I see. Then with that vote, the voting has tied. Four votes in favor, four against and one abstention. Countess Carvain, do you perchance wish to change your vote to either in favor or against?”

Every eye in the room turned to look at Countess Carvain, who looked as if she would just as soon become invisible. She managed to mumble in a stuttering voice that she would prefer to abstain from voting.

Looking back to the Chancellor, Arriana caught a glimpse of something she did not understand. It looked as if the Chancellor had just winked at Count Corvus. And was that a sly smile on Corvus’ face? This was not right, not right at all.

“Then unfortunately this motion is once again off the table. Perhaps we can continue discussing it during a future meeting. Now then, there is something else I would like to discuss, not so much a proposal as more of a story.”

With that, Arriana saw the Chancellor take out an old iron coin and hold it up. He continued; “Last night I had the most amazing dream. It started like this.”

Ocato proceeded to tell the story of his dream to the Elder Council. Arriana was suspicious from the start- the Chancellor meeting Talos? In the flesh, so to speak. Ridiculous. She herself had served the Divines more loyally then anyone ever had, and all she had heard was their voice. No, the idea of the Divines showing themselves to the Chancellor was ridiculous.

“And so when I woke, naturally I thought the dream just that, a dream, perhaps even wishful thinking, but when looked at the table next to my bed, I found the iron coin I had received during the dream. Thus I know it was no mere dream.”

“As Chancellor and head of this Council, I’m sending Jauffre, Grandmaster of the Blades, along with several assorted men, to travel to Mournhold and seek an audience with the Lady Barenziah. If anyone knows where this mysterious Jester can be found, it will be Lady Barenziah.”

“And when they return, we shall once again have an Emperor.”

It finally dawned on Arriana. How could she have been so blind? Ocato himself had been converted by the evil powers working against the Empire; he was now an enemy to the Empire just as much as Corvus Umbranox. But thank the Divines, Arriana was there to stop their diabolical plot.

After a hard ride back to Chorrol, Arriana was now deep in conversation with her advisor. She had told Verata-Ves what had happened and naturally he was as shocked as she was. She sensed he was also impressed with her conclusions regarding Chancellor Ocato. Sensing she was one step ahead of him, she continued, “I believe we can solve this problem the same way we did the last. I we can find out what route the caravan will take as they return here with the false heir, no doubt some Daedra or other Demon. We could have the mercenary Argonians waylay them and end the travesty before it begins. After that, we’ll need but a single vote from one of the other Counts or Countesses cast differently the next time, and the Divines will be served.”

“A mossst exsssellent conclusssion Countesss. But who can we convinssse of the righteousssnesss of your caussse? Sssurely not Countesss Umbranox, nor Count Hasssildor, who isss a creature of the darknesss himssself. Who indeed?”

As if the gods had planned it so, at that moment a servant entered and whispered into Arriana’s ear. “Countess Carvain, here? Show her in.”

“Sssshould I leave, Countesss?”

“No, stay; I’m sure the Countess Carvain would love to meet you.”

Countess Carvain entered, not with the two burly Nords walking beside her as was usual, but alone. That was a good sign, Arriana thought; surely she would not have left the guards behind unless she felt safe in Chorrol.

“Welcome Narina, to Chorrol. What brings you here?”

“I, I wanted to come and see.” Narina stopped in mid-sentence; she had just spotted Verata-Ves. “By the Nine, the auguries were true then. A Tsaesci has descended from the heavens to advise you, Countess Valga.”

Arriana beamed, “Please, call me Arriana.”

“I, I am unworthy Countess Valga; thank you for seeing me.” Walking up to Verata-Ves Narina bowed from the waist and spoke, “Honor to you, and may your eggs be plentiful.” Verata-Ves bowed back and Narina spoke again, “I’ve so wanted to meet a true Tsaesci one day. Thank you Countess Valga, for this great honor you do me.”

“It is nothing, but please tell me Narina, what brings you here?”

“I, I have a confession to make, Countess Valga. I have voted against you twice now, but both times my mind did something different than my heart wanted to. I, I feel your proposal is the only way to move the Empire out of this crisis, but I don’t know, I just feel so scared of Count Umbranox. He tried to convince me that voting in favor of your proposal would be very dangerous for me. I, I think he was threatening me. I just don’t know, Countess Valga. I feel so weak, so powerless.”

“I understand Narina, Count Umbranox can be a very intimidating man. What can we do to reassure you?”

Verata-Ves was the one who replied though, “Ah, Countesss Valga, if I may, I may have a sssolution to thisss problem. Asss you know, during the firssst Era, sssome of my misssguided countrymen ssstaged an invasssion of Sssyrodiil. They were driven back by the Imperialsss, obviousssly becaussse the Divinesss were not with them. An artifact was left behind though, in the care of ssslave warriorsss, closssely resssembling Imperialsss. It was sssaid, the wielder of the Draconian Madssstone would be protected by the godsss themssselvesss. Perhapsss thisss would make Countesss Carvain feel sssafe?”

“An excellent suggestion, Verata-Ves. Well Narina, there you have it; retrieve this Madstone and you’ll be safe from Corvus Umbranox and whomever else might wish you harm.”

“B- but I can’t send one of my men there. What if someone attacks me while I have men looking for the stone? I, I could die.”

“You’re right of course, Narina, but I can’t send my men either, I am a target as it is. No, who can we send that is expendable? Ah, I know, Farwil Indarys, a Knight of the Thorn, always looking for a quest to help mankind.” Sending him would be the perfect choice Arriana mused. It would both strengthen her hold on the Count of Cheydinhal and win over Narina with no extra effort on her part. “Verata-Ves, where can we find this Draconian Madstone of yours?”
“It isss located in Pale Passs. And if the Countesss permitsss, I ssshall sssend word to the Argoniansss to get ready to kill the falssse heir.”

Oooh lots of updates. Awsome as ever. I like the plot, theres an awful lot going on there. And its quite tense but with politics, another sort of thing I like - this really is very good.

If I were to make a criticism it would be that occasionally your word choice seems a little odd, I can't remember many examples (so it can't be so bad). One was in Ocato's dream they were having a 'blast' which seemed a little out of place.

But having said that the feeling that things are about to go wild is getting really strong, I like it.

Chapter 7 Dealings with the Brotherhood.

The way through Fort Farragut had been strenuous to say the least. At each turn and every intersection, Baurus was assaulted by undead, Daedra and even a small band of Marauders that had somehow survived in this relic of a time past. Despite all of that though, Baurus finally felt sure again, sure in the knowledge that he had a goal now, a link, a possibility for saving Varvur. If the chance was slim, it was still better than sitting in the Imperial city guarding noblemen and noblewomen.

Up ahead Baurus saw a very solid-looking gate. Upon approaching it, he could not detect any opening mechanism on his side. Fortunately he didn’t have to ponder this dilemma for very long, because as soon as he came close, the gate opened by itself.

“Welcome young Blade. It isn’t often I get to play host for anyone, considering the remote location and my occupation. I don’t get too many visitors, as you’ll likely understand.”

A mocking laugh followed the jovial statement, and Baurus looked around, trying to see the person who had spoken. But such was the size of the ancient fort that he couldn’t even make out which direction the sound had come from

“Please, young master Baurus, don’t be afraid. Please come inside before more undead show up. Once they come to this gate, the sound they make always keeps one up at night.”

Baurus reckoned he didn’t have a choice. Lucien, and by now he had little doubt that that it was Lucien Lachance whose mocking voice echoed in the darkness, was the one he needed to see. If that meant walking into the unknown to receive the information he was looking for, then so be it. That didn’t mean he had to be careless though, he reminded himself with a smile.

Edging his way forward, he found himself in the living quarters of Lucien Lachance. Behind him the gate boomed shut. “Just a precaution, you understand, don’t you Master Baurus?”

“Yes, I guess I do.”

Looking around, Baurus didn’t think the home looked like what he would have expected. To be sure, it was located inside a dark and damp fort that would have been unremarkable 500 years ago, but the living quarters themselves looked very normal. There were no stacks of poisoned daggers, no shackles or piles of rope, no recently-deceased bodies lying around. No, if it hadn’t been for the remote location and his knowledge of the occupation of this Lucien Lachance, Baurus would have thought him to be a normal, everyday person- just one who preferred to live in isolation.

Hearing a sound behind him, Baurus turned and found himself face to face with the man himself.

“Lucien Lachance at your service, Master Baurus.”

Baurus caught himself looking over the master assassin, and saw a regular Imperial, no bigger than one you’d meet at random somewhere. He was clothed in a hooded black robe, but most telling were his eyes. He had that look Baurus knew so well, the look that said he’d killed many men, and would do so again should the need arise. And perhaps he even enjoyed what he did.

“How do you know my name, Lucien?”

“It’s our business to know, Master Baurus. If knowledge is power, then the lack of knowledge, especially in my line of work, means you don’t survive very long. I’ve known you were on your way here since you left the Imperial City. In fact, I’ve known for a long time now that the Blades knew my hiding place. But why go through the bother of finding new accommodations when the Emperor’s Guard has no interest in ‘bringing me to justice’.”

“How do you know what our plans are?”

“Oh come, Master Baurus; you don’t seriously believe the Blades is the only organization in the empire we haven’t infiltrated do you? I believe you’re smarter than that.”

“But how did you know I was coming here? Maybe five people knew I was coming here, grandmaster Jauffre, Captain Steffan, Chancellor Ocato and his bodyguard and Janus Hassildor. Surely you don’t expect me to believe one of them is a spy for the Dark Brotherhood?”

The silence that followed was telling; obviously Lucien did know more, much more, than Baurus believed possible, but he was just as sure that he’d never get him to talk. It was funny; ever since coming through the gate Lucien had been nothing but civil, going so far as to address him as ‘Master’, yet despite that, Baurus couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt this powerless. So he gave up that fruitless line of thought and returned to the purpose of his visit.

“Perhaps it’s best if we just leave that be, Lucien. I didn’t come here to find a traitor; I’ll let Grandmaster Jauffre worry about such things.”

“A wise choice. Now, I believe you came here for some information regarding one of our operatives. Please, ask your question and I will see if I can answer it.”

“You’re right, Vicente Valtieri. Does the name sound familiar?” Baurus thought he’d caught a glimpse of something other than confidence in Lucien’s eyes as he said the name. With such a stone cold killer though, one could never be certain.

“Well now, the name does have a certain ring to it. But before I reply, what is it you want with Vicente that you can’t have from me?”

Baurus pondered the question. He could try and come up with a story now, or he could try and find an easy way to get the answer he was looking for, but if Lucien thought he was being fooled, or at least someone was trying to fool him who knew what might happen.

“I’m told you once met Varvur Sarethi personally, Lucien.”

“Yes Master Baurus, I did once have the pleasure of meeting with young Varvur; I even traveled with him, if for a short period of time. Last I heard, though, the Champion of Cyrodiil died defending the Imperial City.”

“Yes, that’s what most people believe, but it’s not entirely accurate.” Baurus suddenly felt relieved; if Lucien didn’t know the real events from that day in the Temple of the One, he might not be as knowledgeable as he’d just tried to get Baurus to assume. ”What really happened is unfortunately at least as serious as what you’ve heard.” Baurus then quickly filled Lucien in on the events that had transpired.

While he was speaking, he finally saw some more emotion on the face of the assassin, perhaps even go a hint of sympathy.

“I am so sorry to hear that, I truly am. Yes, I know Vicente, or rather I knew Vicente.”

“Why, what happened to him?”

“Surely you understand, Master Baurus, in an organization like ours, secrecy, discretion and trust are the things that keep us alive. From time to time, though, we find not all of our- ah, call them employees- are as trustworthy as others. Unfortunately but a few days ago, there was a cleansing, our version of taking out the trash if you will. A young apprentice of mine who is showing uncanny potential took care of the deed. I’m sorry to say Vicente Valtieri was one of the employees that was, ah, cleansed.”

Baurus was speechless. Was this it then, an internal power struggle among a bunch of hired killers would turn his search for Varvur into a dead end?

“So that’s it, he was killed and now there’s no chance of finding a way to get Varvur out of Oblivion?”

“Now wait just a moment, not so hasty, let me think here for a second.” Lucien paced up and down the length of his table a few times, then stopped. “There might just be a way out of this. Tell me, Master Baurus, how do you feel about Necromancy?”

“Necromancy? What are you suggesting?”

“During my travels I meet an assortment of people with professions and gifts that are somewhat unusual. One person I met not too long ago was able to communicate with the recently deceased. Since meeting him I’ve had some dealings with him, and I’m sure that if the price is right, he’ll be able to help us with our little problem.”

Baurus thought this over. While Necromancy wasn’t technically against the law in Cyrodiil, the practice was frowned upon by many and those who performed such feats were shunned by most people. But he did not have to think very long. At this point, Baurus might have sold his soul to get the answers he needed, so if necromancy was the key, then so be it.

“I’m not a rich man, Lucien. I likely can’t meet the price for such a thing.”

“No, no, you misunderstand. I’ll provide the money. Call me soft, but I rather liked Varvur, even admired him for what he did. I’m not sure if I would be as certain and confident charging into an Oblivion gate as I witnessed him doing during the battle for Bruma. I did what I could there, a poisoned knife or arrow thrown or fired on occasion, so long as I was not seen of course, but little enough other than that. No, paying for this is not a problem; I owe Varvur that much for threatening to have him kidnapped the first time I met him.”

Baurus found himself confused; he had never expected to hear such a thing from a cold- blooded assassin like Lucien. But then perhaps he wasn’t entirely as cold-blooded as he let people think.

“Thank you Lucien. How do we proceed?”

“Let me handle all the details. Please, find yourself a room at Cheydinhal for the night and meet me tomorrow night at the East gate. I’ll be there at eleven in the evening, with my associate.”

Alex....really...Do I need to comment? Because you already know what I think of this..or no???
Ok then I'll just say..you did it again! You're so good at this you know! I love the way you make the known characters alive..oh aye...

Brilliant my friend....brilliant

Baurus found himself looking at the gate. Two guards were standing in front of it with torches but other then that everything was dark. Looking around, he hoped Lucien and his Necromancer friend would arrive soon, at least before some patrolling guard mistook Baurus for a criminal and shot him before he could even explain who he was

“There you are.”

Baurus spun around, wondering how Lucien had been able to sneak up on him, a feat no one managed since he completed his Blades training. Baurus barely suppressed a shiver.

“Come now, swiftly Baurus, before someone sees us. It does not do to be seen at night.”

Lucien led Baurus to the back of what appeared to be a long abandoned house. They entered it through a small gate in the well that appeared to be in good repair, despite the apparent rust. Crawling through the passageway into an underground hideout, Baurus saw the inside of it was not as shabby as he had expected. Standing up, he found himself looking up at a tall Altmer who loomed over him in the semi-darkness. The Altmer, like Lucien, wore a black hooded robe, but where Lucien’s had no markings, this one’s robe had a red skull and two hands on the front of it.

“Master Baurus, allow me to introduce my associate; Tarenen. Tarenen, take it away.”

A hollow voice issued from the Altmer; “Death. It’s such a beautiful thing; the body dies, releasing the spirit to live on for ever, just so long as no soultrap spell is being used eh, hahaha.”
The Altmer began to walk around the room standing still occasionally, at times touching a certain object, or a part of the wall.

“I sense much violence has gone on here, many lives taken in a short amount of time. Violent deaths are good for the ceremony; spirits often tend to remain at the scene, confused as to how and why they were released from their fragile flesh.””

“His name was Vicente Valtieri you said, Lucien? I sense him, vaguely, but I sense him. Though not here.” Tarenen turned around until he was looking straight at Baurus, who felt a sudden chill. Then when the Necromancer started towards him, Baurus had trouble not drawing his sword. But luckily Tarenen walked right past him and toward what appeared to be a corridor leading farther downward into the sanctuary.

“Come, come, it’s this way.”

Leading them down several slopes, Tarenen finally stopped in front of the last room in the corridor. One of the doors was open and looking inside, Baurus saw a room where the most striking item was a stone slab. It would not have looked out of place in a graveyard. He assumed this was the room the vampire Valtieri used to call his own.

“Yes, I sense his spirit here; it’s very strong, I won’t be able to control it for long before it might try to take control over me. Please, Lucien, Baurus, step inside and close the door. It’s time to begin our ritual.”

Baurus didn’t know where all the candles came from, but he and Lucien must have lit nearly a hundred over the course of the next hour. Tarenen would instruct them to put each one in a certain place, hesitate, then either have them move it a centimeter or two or give them another one. When he wasn’t giving them directions, he was quietly chanting. Baurus couldn’t really make out the words, but somehow he didn’t think that was a bad thing.

When the last candle was set, at least Baurus assumed it was the last candle, since Tarenen did not hand them another, Baurus looked at the necromancer. He was standing with his back to the room, looking at the slab of stone.

Suddenly Tarenen started talking, but to Baurus, it seemed the voice had a different ring to it than before; “Luuuciiiiennnn, mistaken, MISTAKEN! No traitor here, MISTAKEN!”

Baurus thought Lucien had a look about him as if he’d just heard a ghost, but then he probably had. He was quick to recover though. “Vicente, what happened, happened, please believe that I had a good reason to do what I did. But for now, we need your help with something.”

Again that voice from beyond the grave; “Why help you? MISTAKEN!” Baurus had always been quick on his feet, so before Lucien could reply he interjected, “Vicente, an old friend of yours says hello, Janus Hassildor.”

“Janus? Yes I knew him, many years ago.” Tarenen now turned around to look at Baurus, or rather the body that was usually the Altmer. It was a creepy sight, for the eyes had rolled back into the skull, yet Baurus somehow knew whatever possessed Tarenen could see him clearly.

“You’re not Janus, where is he?”

“Janus could not come, Vicente; he could not leave Skingrad, but he begs your help in an urgent matter. Will you give it?”

Whatever was inside Tarenen seemed to think that over for a moment, “ASK! And I shall answer.”

Baurus looked at Lucien, who nodded for him to continue; “You told your friend Janus of how the Ancient who turned you told stories about robbing Daedra princes in their own realm. What is the name of the Ancient and where can I find him?”

“Ancient, yes, an Ancient turned me, brought me into the dark side. I was out hunting guars one day, and forgot about the time. In the dark, I suddenly saw two white dots coming straight for me, and I felt pain. Then, when I woke up, I was inside a Dwemer structure and saw a man looking out into the sky through a Dwemer telescope. He explained things to me, and I was his from that time forward. His name was Raxle Berne, and the place was Galom Daeus.”

During all this, Baurus noticed the spirit had talked much more coherently then before; perhaps telling the story reminded him more of his humanity, or Vampirity. So Raxle Berne was the Ancient whom he had to find.

“Thank you Vicente. Lucien, thank you for your help; I’m going to leave right away.”

“Of course, Master Baurus, that’s probably for the best. I believe Vicente and I have some things left to ah, discuss.”

Baurus noticed that as he said that, Lucien seemed to loosen his muscles and his hand appeared to be closing onto some hidden weapon or other.

Just as he went through the door though, Lucien spoke one last time; “Ah, Master Baurus, good luck. I sincerely hope you find Varvur and bring him back.”

Baurus nodded once, then walked out the door, closing it after him. From inside he heard a sudden boom, likely a spell had gone off,. followed by cursing and shouting from two people.

Baurus never looked back, He was already thinking about the next place he had to go; Morrowind.

Chapter 8.

Tired and angry, Filben rounded a corner in the lower section of Nenyond Twyll. Up ahead yet another Necromancer was waiting for her. Her battle through the Ayleid ruin had been a hard one. Necromancers had accosted her even as she was nearing the ruin. Filben had considered heading back and reporting this strong resistance to the Arch-Mage first, but had decided it would be better to first see if she could find the informant no matter how many Necromancers she might come across. Besides, what if the man was in trouble?

So her fight through the ruin had commenced. Necromancers seemed to be waiting for her around every turn, even appearing from secret passageways at times, but somehow Filben had been able to either kill them, or send them running, but now yet another Necromancer waited. Sighing at the inevitable, Filben proceeded towards her. The surprise was great when rather then finding some nasty spell flying her way, the Necromancer instead spoke; “I’m afraid you’re late to the party. The guest of honor has already left.”

“What do you mean?”

“We found out who the traitor was, and I do hate to disappoint you, but Mucianus is in no condition to be leading. He’s a Worm Thrall now, and shall be quite content here.”

“How did you find out it was him?”

“That is of no concern to you, but I shall tell the master you were here looking for him. Perhaps I’ll bring him your head as an offering.”

And with that, the Necromancer fired a fireball at Filben. Filben was only narrowly able to dodge it, but shot back a shock spell from her staff which killed the Necromancer.

“I’ll never know what your name was, but in death you provided a service to the Mages guild.” Filben said aloud. Walking on past the body, she found two hidden levers that each opened a door leading into the room where Filben found the late Mucianus, now a Worm Thrall just as the Necromancer had told her. Feeling it was the right thing to do, Filben ended the existence of the Thrall, hopefully allowing Mucianus to rest easy.

So there was a traitor within the Mages guild? The Necromancer had indeed provided them with a service, if Mucianus had only been turned earlier that very day, then the traitor or traitors had to have found out about his identity after the meeting in the Arch-Mage’s chambers. It would seriously narrow the list of people it could be.

Good, all the more chance to flush them out soon.

Spending the night at the Faregyl inn seemed a better idea then traveling back in the darkness. She had already passed the inn on her way to Nenyond Twyll, and it seemed like a cozy place.


During the night she woke with a fright. Looking around the room, she thought she could sense someone else’s breathing. “Hello, is someone there?” She called out to the darkness, and the darkness replied.

“Hello Filben, I hope I did not give you too much of a scare.”

“Who are you? And what do you want from me?”

“Want from you? Nothing. The question is, what do you want from me?”

Thoroughly puzzled now, Filben waited for the man’s voice to continue. “The other day you killed a man in a black robe at the old bridge. In doing so, it seems you have done the Dark Brotherhood a service. We do not like being in someone’s debt, so we offer you our services on one job of your choosing. Regardless of the size of the job, we’ll be there. But afterwards be assured we are even, and will never see each other again, unless of course fate brings us together and it is my knife sliding into your back during the night.”

“You are the famed Listener?” Filben spoke.

“No, I speak for the Listener. Call me Lucien. Now, when you decide what you want us to do, leave a message at the statue of the lucky old lady in Bravil. Make sure it is addressed to Mathieu Bellamont. That name is the codeword. Repeat it please.”

“Mathieu Bellamont.”

“Good, now that that’s settled nighty-night little Bosmer. And sweet dreams.”

Pushing back the covers, Filben immediately cast a light spell, hoping to see what this Lucien looked like, but by the time the spell has been cast, there was no sign of the man.

Getting back to the Imperial city the following afternoon, Filben immediately headed for the Arch-Mage. She found him pacing inside the Council chambers on the second floor of the Arch-Mage’s building. She quickly explained to him what she learned at Nenyond Twyll.

“This is most disturbing. Mucianus was our best chance to find out more about the Necromancers’ organization. I agree with your theory that someone inside the Mages guild has been providing them with information. I would rather not consider this, but to willfully turn aside from the truth is treason to oneself.”

“You did well Filben. I’m promoting you to Warlock for your efforts. And I have a new assignment for you. As you saw downstairs, both Raminus Polus and Tar-Meena have returned from their mission to warn the cities. Unfortunately both Caranya and Irlav Jarol have not. I’ve received no word from them since sending them out, nor any word from four of the chapters. Skingrad has confirmed Irlav came there, but nothing after that. It’s as if both of them disappeared.”

“It is vital that you find both of them. Each one is not only a member of the Council of Mages, but also guardian of a powerful magical artifact. Caranya guards the Necromancer’s amulet, and Irlav guards the Bloodworm helm. Should the artifacts fall into the hands of the Necromancers, it will increase their power immensely.”

“I want you to travel to Bruma first. See if Caranya was able to reach it. If you find her, travel on to seek Irlav. If not, report back to me before you continue. Do you understand?”

“I do. I’ll leave as soon as I am able to.”

I think you know what I'm about to say... Great stuff, this is really nice to read, it flows well and is good and complex. I liked the necromancer being used to speak with the dead, nice touch, I wander if we'll be seeing him again.

So good I annouce cake all round.

Chapter 9 Morrowind revis(it)ed.

Morrowind in recent years had undergone quite a few changes. At the border with Cyrodiil, as well as the other provinces, a giant Ghostfence now made sure no one could enter the province without the Dunmer or other inhabitants knowing about it. Baurus snuck into the province on the tail of a Caravan

The recent war that had culminated in the creation of the new Ghostfence had seriously changed the balance of power in the province. Where once House Hlaalu was the dominant force, mainly thanks to Imperial backing and their vast network of spies, now it was reduced to a second rate House.

Even though the new leaders of the house had declared they were in full support of the undisputed ruler, the Lady Barenziah, other Houses still looked at them with distrust. One does not shake the stench of betrayal easily. That was how the other Houses perceived it anyway, as a betrayal. How could you not know your king was in reality a battle mage, the son of one of the Empire’s greatest enemies?

Baurus thought the difference was not hard to notice. Walking through Balmora, once arguably the center of Hlaalu power on Vvardenfall, he thought it looked more like a slum than the prosperous city it had been when he had been there once before. But his mission did not allow him time to dwell on the changes- he had come to get directions. He wasn’t too certain where Galom Daeus was, but no one in Balmora seemed to have heard of it, or if they had, they weren’t saying anything.

On the other hand, when he came into Suran the difference was even greater. It had once been a Hlaalu town, but had been captured by the Telvanni during the war, and never returned. It now served as gateway into the Telvanni parts of Vvardenfall. One could still see the original Hlaalu architecture, but now it was intermixed with Telvanni Tels. Where once the manor of the local Hlaalu leader had stood, a giant Tel now rose out of the ground to loom over the town. It had also grown a lot since Baurus had last seen it, and was now at least twice as large as before. In fact, it appeared there was only one building in the town that had fallen into disrepair, with a weathered sign that named it the former slave market. Baurus assumed it was a none-too-subtle sign to all visitors- a reminder of Telvanni power and of the force of Nerevar’s will.

Fortunately, someone in Suran did have directions to Galom Daeus. After asking around for some time, an old man came up to Baurus, a Breton, if Baurus was any judge. He used a staff to help him walk and had long white hair and an almost equally long beard. He looked none too strong, and looked better suited for lying in bed, but he explained to Baurus he was going in the direction of Galom Daeus himself. Apparently the old man lived in the middle of nowhere and only came to town once a month for some fresh provisions. Baurus was happy to have him along, to serve as guide and companion. It was better then trying to find his own way in the Molag Amur region , where everything looked alike and the next hill of dust looked exactly like the last, and the one three hills over.

Setting off early the next morning, the Blade found the old man had no trouble keeping up with the pace Baurus set. He was also very talkative; keeping up a constant stream of comments during the entire trip, occasionally asking Baurus about this or that, although, thinking back, Baurus couldn’t really remember the questions. They must have been trivial if he’d forgotten them so soon.

Midday found them looking up at the shapes of Galom Daeus. Baurus turned to the old man,
“Well, I guess we’re here. Thank you for showing me the way. I think I’d better enter alone, though; you never know what might be waiting inside such ruins.”
For some reason the old man giggled at that. “You’re right young master; of course you’re right. But I feel tired, and my legs are killing me, so I think I’ll take a little nap around here before moving on. Good luck inside, and maybe I’ll be here still when you get back. I always like a good story.”

At that the old man lay down, turned around and within seconds was snoring away contentedly.

Baurus smiled at the sight; he hoped he was still moving as well himself when he got to that age. Turning around, he now looked at the entrance to Galom Daeus. It looked menacing, an old Dwemer door leading into what would likely be a nest of vampires. Baurus had made sure to stock enough restore health and cure common disease potions to be ready for most anything, but wondered if it might still prove to be more than he could handle.

Setting aside his doubt, he put his hand on the crank that opened the door and pushed. With a creak the door slowly opened inwards.

Galom Daeus turned out to be a great disappointment for Baurus. It was deserted. He looked everywhere, and saw signs that people had lived there, but judging by the spider webs and rats scouring the empty halls, he judged no vampire had lived there in many years. When he came to the observatory, he was glad to see everything Vicente had said was true- he saw the Dwemer telescope Vicente had described, and even looked through it to see a marvelous view of the stars in the sky. But there was no Raxle Berne, and no other vampire he could question. Seeing little sense in remaining inside, Baurus walked back out to find the old man sitting up and enjoying some lunch.

“You look disappointed, young master. Didn’t find what you were looking for?”

“No sir, it seems the place has been abandoned for years.”

“Well sure, I could have told you that, if it was the vampires you’re looking for I could have told you they weren’t here anymore. Back during the war a struggle between vampires took place here. One clan won, one lost. All of them moved away.”

“But then do you know what happened to Raxle Berne?”

“No, young master, I’m afraid I don’t, but a friend of mine who lives not far from here might know. We could go and ask her if you’d like?”

“Please, let’s go see her.” The old man got up and started moving east. Baurus followed and soon the old man started chatting away again. Before long, in the distance Baurus noticed another giant Tel; a Telvanni tower. As they got closer Baurus saw a large town was built around it, but probably the most peculiar part of it was that all around the tower, instead of the dusty ground he’d seen so far, there was a lush green land. Entering through a large gate, Baurus barely registered that the Telvanni guards at either side bowed down to greet him, or was it really him they greeted? In the distance he saw a beautiful tree unlike any he’d ever seen before. The old man must have seen him staring because he explained; “That tree is said to have sprung from a seed of a gigantic tree on the continent of Akavir; it is said to represent the physical form of the god Epyon, but no one living has ever seen him.”

Walking through the town, Baurus noticed they seemed to be headed towards the Tel itself, not any smaller house or building. He had assumed it was some servant of the lord they were going to see. He was therefore surprised when they were admitted into the Tel without being questioned by any of the guards standing at the ready both inside and outside. Suddenly it dawned on him that something here was out of place. This was all a bit too easy. He stopped in mid-stride and looked at the old man, who suddenly appeared quite a bit less old. “Wait a moment here, who are you taking me to see? Who are you really?”

Baurus saw the old man stop as well, and then turn around. He smiled at Baurus, a most disarming smile that made him feel more at ease. “I don’t believe I ever told you my name, did I Baurus? I’m called Relien Geles, perchance you’ve heard of me?”

Baurus felt light-headed; of course he’d heard of Relien Geles. Everyone in the Blades had heard of him, everyone who had ever known Varvur Sarethi had heard of the name Relien Geles. Relien Geles, the lord Nerevar incarnate, the Nerevarine, Archmagister of House Telvanni and mastermind behind the victory of the Telvanni alliance in the recent war and considered by most members of the Elder Council the single biggest reason why the Empire should never try and retake Morrowind, not until he died anyway, and being a Telvanni lord, that date was likely many millennia away.

“I’m sorry Lord Geles, I did not recognize you; but then Varvur always described you as much younger.”

“Ha ha ha, something you’ll learn soon around us Telvanni Baurus, is that not everything is as it appears.” He hadn’t finished speaking the words when a change came over him. His stooped posture straightened, his white hair turned golden, his beard disappeared and many of the lines that marked his face vanished. Now before Baurus stood the real Relien Geles, of whom he had heard so much already from Varvur.

“My lord, I’m afraid I have terrible news.”

“I know Baurus, during our trip you already filled me in on it, which is why you didn’t really explore Galom Daeus, only an illusion of it. Had you gone into the real Dwemer fortress, I don’t think even with your skills you would have been able to get out in one piece. Come Baurus, please follow me. We’re going to see my friend Reynel Uvirith; we need to have a talk with her before we can move on.”

An illusion? Galom Daeus had been an illusion? The feel of the walls, the heat from the lava, the touch of spider webs on Baurus’ skin, the view through the telescope... Baurus found himself in awe. If this man could conjure up something like that, seemingly at the snap of his fingers, he was glad Lord Geles appeared to want to help him, and also completely understood the Elder Council’s hesitance to move into Morrowind with him still alive.

“Please, lead the way, Lord Geles.”

“I will, but only if you promise to call me Relien. I’ve heard about you from Varvur, and anyone that close to Varvur doesn’t have to call me lord.” Baurus might have blushed at that had he not been a Redguard.

Moving through the Tel, Baurus soon found himself a large hall giving access to the upper parts of the tower. He saw a beautiful Dunmer woman float down from one of the upper sections, land before Relien and give him a kiss. “Hello Relien. I see you’ve brought a guest.”

Baurus assumed she was Reynel Uvirith, the friend Relien spoke about. Though he was hesitant to speak out for fear of being seen as presumptuous.

“Yes Reynel, this is Baurus, the friend of Varvur I’ve told you about.”

“Hello Baurus, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“My lady.” Baurus replied.

“Relien, your arrival is most timely. I’ve just received a communication from Mournhold. Lady Barenziah has asked you to come see her. Apparently a small delegation from Cyrodiil has made its way to Mournhold asking her for an audience. She wishes for you to be there when she grants it.”

“Hm, I see.” Turning towards Baurus, the Archmagister spoke; “Baurus, I’m afraid I have to travel to Mournhold for a bit. I’d like to ask you to remain here. I’m sure Reynel can make sure you have suitable quarters. I won’t be gone long, no more than a day or two I assume, and it will give me a chance to discuss what we know so far of Varvur with Lady Barenziah. Then when I get back, I’ll likely know more, and we’ll consider your next steps.”

Seeing little choice, Baurus agreed. A Telvanni guard was called who showed Baurus to his room, a large suite on the ground floor of the Tel. Baurus was happy for that. Few people knew it, but though Baurus was one of the best Redguards with a blade, he was also one of few who didn’t take kindly to heights.

Wha??!!

My computer breaks down, I'm offline for a few weeks...and this is when you start posting??!!

Gah!!

Looks like I have a lot of reading to do A.S.A.P.

Good timing neh?

Chapter 10 An unlikely meeting.

Lady Barenziah was nearing the end of her patience. Ambassador Moven had been wearing at her patience since arriving half a year before. He kept submitting the same proposal over and over again. To be sure, each time he submitted it, it was worded differently, clauses had been intermingled, sometimes entire parts had been rewritten, but in the end it was still the same piece.

Looking up Lady Barenziah saw Ambassador Moven was still droning on; he had the uncanny ability to speak for hours on end, without ever tiring, either physically or of his own voice. Looking to her right, she saw the seated form of Divayth Fyr resting comfortably in his seat. He was slowly breathing in and out and to all appearances, had been lulled to sleep by Ambassador Moven’s endless droning. Barenziah knew better though; there was nothing Divayth missed, no matter how long a boring person had been droning on.

Resigning herself to at least another hour of this, Barenziah sat back in her chair and hoped time would somehow be sped up. If she had known she would have to listen to people as boring as Ambassador Moven, she might never have become ruler of Morrowind, well at least ruler in name.

A knock on the door caught her attention, followed by a familiar figure entering the throne room. Barenziah knew who it was before she saw his face. There was but one person who entered the throne room without leave from her, and without setting off Divayth Fyr’s alarms; Lord Nerevar. Even though she knew him as well as a family member by now, she could never get used to calling him Relien. As a Dunmer, it was always a thrill for her, seeing lord Nerevar alive and well, if in a different body, standing before her.

As always, she made a bow from the waist, honoring him. He might have seen fit to persuade everyone that the proper ruler of Morrowind should be Lady Barenziah, but she definitely had a different view on that. “Lord Nerevar, welcome, and thank you for coming.”

“The honor is mine, Lady Barenziah,” was the reply, followed by a bow of his own. “Hehe, when are we going to cease this formality, Barenziah?” He said with a smile.

Barenziah smiled back and replied; “Likely when Azura starts coming to our meetings, then we can both defer to her.”

“Hahaha, well spoken Barenziah. Well spoken. I believe...” A cough behind Barenziah interrupted what he was about to say.

“Ah, erhm Lady Barenziah, my apologies for disturbing, but I believe there is still a proposition on the table.” Annoyed, Lady Barenziah turned around to face Ambassador Moven, “No Moven, the matter is off the table.”

“Ah, but if I may point out, milady...”

“No you may not, Ambassador; for weeks now you’ve been in here nearly every day, and every time with a so-called new proposal. I rejected the previous ones, reject this one and will reject the following ones. You wish for me to make House Indoril whole again with the stroke of my pen, and I will not. As far as I’m concerned Gahprovihn Drules is still the undisputed leader of House Indoril, and if and when he accepts you and the rest of your kin back into his House is his choice. I will not take any side in the matter.”

Looking like he’d just been struck, the ambassador for once seemed speechless. He stiffly bowed, turned around and left the throne room.

Turning back to Lord Nerevar, she noticed he was failing miserably at stifling a laugh. “Well done, Barenziah, though not entirely tactful, was it?”

“I’d say he had it coming though, Relien.” Turning around, both Relien and Barenziah smiled at the words of Divayth Fyr.

“Good to see you again Divayth.”

“Likewise Relien”

“Now, Barenziah, I understand there was something you wanted to discuss.”

“Yes, yesterday a small caravan came here from Cyrodiil. I first assumed it was a caravan similar to ones we always get, but then late yesterday evening I received a message from one of the Blades operatives inside this palace. That by itself was unusual; a spy exposing himself for the sole purpose of delivering a message. But the contents of the message were even more unexpected; it identified two ranking members of the Blades, including their grandmaster, as traders of the caravan and asked us for a private audience. With everything that’s been going on in Cyrodiil in recent years, I thought it best to ask you to be there.”

“Thank you, Barenziah, I’m as curious as you are to find out the reason behind this. While I’m here though, I’d like to ask your opinion on something else. Perhaps we can have a seat and a drink while we discuss it; I’m afraid it’s quite a story.”

After Lord Nerevar had told Divayth and Barenziah everything Baurus had told him, they sat for a moment in silence, all thinking over where to go from there. It was Divayth who spoke first; “While this may be too obvious, have you tried visiting Oblivion yourself yet?”

“Yes, I remember your lessons Divayth, those doors leading into Oblivion though, have been shut alongside the other ones we knew.”

“Hm, this is a problem then.”

“Have you considered taking the matter before Lady Azura?” Barenziah interjected, “Who better to offer a solution to this, then a Daedra prince?”

For a moment Lord Nerevar just looked at her, then he said with a smile and a wink, “I could kiss you, if I didn’t know Reynel would become jealous.” For some reason that made Barenziah feel very warm inside.

“Now then, now that we’ve helped you find an answer to your problem Lord Nerevar, will you help us find an answer to ours? Let’s ask these emissaries into the palace and see what they want shall we?”

After seeing both Lord Nerevar and Divayth nod, she sent a servant to locate the Blades and ask them into the palace.

Choosing the throne room for what might be the first formal meeting since the informal secession of Morrowind from the Empire, Barenziah watched as the three emissaries entered the room. Lord Nerevar whispered the names into her ear, “The one on the left is Captain Steffan, usually charged with command over Cloud Ruler Temple, what passes as the Blades headquarters in Cyrodiil. The one on the right is Grandmaster Jauffre, the head of the entire Blades organization in Tamriel, and arguably the most well informed man in Cyrodiil.”

The man in the middle was wearing a brown travelers robe, and Barenziah understood from the hesitation that Lord Nerevar was not entirely certain just yet who this was. She sensed a spell emanating from him, after which he chuckled and spoke up.

“Chancellor Ocato, I had no idea you were gracing our province with a visit, else I would have met you at the border.”

The hooded figure lowered his hood and sure enough, there was Chancellor Ocato in the flesh. “Lord Nerevar, I must admit I was not expecting your presence here, either. Greetings to you, Lady Barenziah, Master Fyr.” He nodded to each of them.

Barenziah looked at Lord Nerevar questioningly, but he nodded to her as a signal that as always he deferred to her.

“Chancellor Ocato, on behalf of all of Morrowind, welcome to Mournhold. I trust you find the city to your liking?”

“Yes Lady Barenziah, it is a fair city, and a fair land. And I must say, your new Ghostfence is very impressive.”

“It is isn’t it; Lord Nerevar did a remarkable job constructing it. But I’m sure you haven’t traveled all this way just to chat about the Ghostfence, have you?”

“No milady, I have not. This might sound odd, but I believe I was visited in a dream by the avatar of Talos- an old man who called himself Wulf and who offered me a solution to the current crisis, if I would promise to do something for him in the future.”

At the name of Wulf, Barenziah looked sideways to Lord Nerevar, who nodded, indicating that he caught it too. “And what, pray tell, did Wulf tell you in your dream, Chancellor?”

“He told me there is one more descendant of the Septim bloodline, one even better hidden then Martin, because this one was hidden by Talos himself. Talos told me; ’In naming him, he will know himself.’ Now this might sound odd, but I was told he is masquerading as a Jester in Ebonheart.”

Barenziah and Divayth both looked at Lord Nerevar, waiting for him to speak. Chancellor Ocato caught the look and also looked questioningly at Lord Nerevar.

“There is such a person in Ebonheart. I don’t know his name, nor does anyone else. Everyone simply calls him Jester. Are you sure that’s what Talos said, Chancellor? Because I’ve been around the Jester many times, and I’ve never noticed anything out of the ordinary with him; besides, he’s not very bright, if you know what I mean.”

The Chancellor looked disturbed by that. “Talos can’t expect us to put a token emperor on the throne. Why bother to go through all this when we can never expect him to rule anyway?”

“Knowing Talos as I do, I’m sure there is a good reason for everything, and with him, things are often not as they appear.”

“I would like to ask a favor then from you Lady Barenziah, that we be allowed to travel to Ebonheart and take this Jester with us back to Cyrodiil. If he is to be the next emperor, I understand if you’ll want a steep price in exchange.”

Barenziah didn’t even have to confer with Lord Nerevar to answer that; “Chancellor Ocato, we require nothing in return, well, nearly nothing really. Merely a confirmation of our independence after he ascends the throne, and a non-aggression pact or even an alliance between the Empire and Morrowind would be most welcome as well.”

“So be it Lady Barenziah, if that is what it takes to preserve the rest of the Empire, I reckon we have little choice. I agree on behalf of the Empire.”

“I’m glad of this, Chancellor. I hope this will be a very big step towards eternal peace between our two nations. Now, let’s see if we can’t shorten the trip to Ebonheart somewhat. If you don’t mind leaving the rest of the caravan here, I’m sure I can persuade either of these two men standing next to me to teleport you three to Ebonheart.”

“Actually,” Lord Nerevar started, “if Divayth doesn’t mind, I’ll take you three there myself. I’m fascinated by this latest ploy of Talos’.”

“Before we go Lord Nerevar, I’d like to have a moment to send a messenger by fast horse to Cyrodiil. He can send word to my retainer for an escort to meet us shortly after we cross back into Cyrodiil. Safety at that point will be most important.”

Traveling to Ebonheart had felt unusual to Ocato. He was used to teleporting spells, but being able to teleport anywhere, anytime, without the use of a mark and recall combination, divine intervention or one of the other commonly used spells felt strange to even him. If Jauffre and Steffan felt the same they certainly did not show it. They looked as confident as ever.

Ocato had only been to Ebonheart once, but he recognized the council chambers there from his last visit. From what he was told by Jauffre, the chambers were hardly ever used now. Most of the meetings were held either at Mournhold, or in a great house stronghold somewhere.

Thinking back to a while ago, if he had to be honest with himself, he was happy rather than disappointed to formally recognize Morrowind as a separate nation. While his every instinct was aimed at keeping the Empire together, he also realized conquering Morrowind at this time, when the Great Houses could be united as easily as Lord Nerevar had shown in the last war, and where Wizards as powerful as Lord Nerevar, Divayth Fyr and reportedly Reynel Uvirith took a personal hand in everything that mattered to the province, would do more damage to the Empire than good. Even if they succeeded, which Ocato did not think likely, the cost would be stupendous. No, an alliance with such powerful people was a far better option…… for now.

Walking behind Lord Nerevar he asked; “What can you tell us about the Jester, Lord Nerevar?”

“Not much to be honest; like I said, he’s not too bright. He washed ashore one day a few years back without even a stitch of clothing on his body, and no shipwreck in sight. The Argonian mission found him and nursed him back to health. Afterwards, knowing he could not stay there, they asked me if I had work for him. He seemed to enjoy juggling and other acrobatic stunts, so I made him a Jester. Considering his lack of intelligence I thought it was the best and most harmless place for him.”

And one of convenience for you later on, Ocato thought. Lord Nerevar stopped in front of a door in a lower level of the Ebonheart council hall, and knocked. A bumbling sound inside told them the occupant of the room was in.
“Eh- e- enter.” A voice hesitantly sounded.

Opening the door, Lord Nerevar walked inside. As he stood to the side of the door Ocato first looked at the Jester. He was a spitting image of the Jester from his dream, only where the dream Jester had had a look of intelligence on him, this one did not. When Lord Nerevar had called him not too bright, it had been a serious understatement.

Lord Nerevar must have caught his thoughts from his face for he turned to the Jester and asked; “Jester, what can you tell us about yourself before you came to Ebonheart?”

“Be- b- before? I’s always been here, you’s knows this.”

“You don’t remember anything from before you came to Ebonheart?”

“There’s nothing before.”

Turning to Ocato, Lord Nerevar spoke; “Something isn’t right here. There has to be something we’re missing. What was it Talos said to you in your dream again, Ocato?”

“He said: ’In naming him, he will know himself” but do you think that means something, Lord Nerevar?”

“Hm, in naming him, he will know himself. Hm. What if, before sending him here, and to protect him from those who would do him harm, Talos wiped this young man’s memory? It would explain why I never caught up to the fact that he’s more than he appears to be. Come to think of it though, I never really did bother to look into it further, never even went through the trouble of having people ask around, see if someone might have known something. I guess that was a little subconscious suggestion from Talos.”

“So you think that by calling him by his name we could restore his memory? But if he washed ashore no one knows his name. What if it’s not his name, what if it’s something else?”

“A good point, Ocato, naming him; why do I assume naming him means calling him by his name? It could just as well mean naming him Emperor.” Turning around, Lord Nerevar bowed before the Jester who throughout all this had been looking at them with big eyes filled with curiosity, and spoke “Your highness.” Nothing happened, “My emperor,” still nothing.

Ocato thought about this and then had to laugh. “I’m sorry for laughing Lord Nerevar, but haven’t we just established the fact that both Morrowind and yourself, no longer belong to the Empire? He wouldn’t really be your Emperor then, would he?”

“Ha, you have me there, Ocato,” Lord Nerevar replied with a smile. He got up and moved away from the door further into the room. Chancellor Ocato took his place, and went to one knee, bowed his head and spoke the same words Lord Nerevar had started with; “Your highness.”

A broad beam of white light broke through the solid ceiling and enveloped the Jester. Slowly, a change seemed to come over him; intelligence seemed to dawn in his eyes. The beam disappeared and the Jester slumped down into a chair. He lifted his head and looked at Ocato kneeling before him. “You must be Chancellor Ocato. Wulf told me you would come for me.”

Chancellor Ocato looked from the face of the Jester to Lord Nerevar and back, and smiled. Lord Nerevar smiled as well. Wulf had done it to them again. No matter how clever and powerful they ever were, Wulf, no, Talos, would always be one step ahead of them.

Chapter 11. More puzzles.

Early the next morning, after Baurus had eaten the food that had been left in front of his door, he decided to have a look around the Tel. In the main hall , while he was skimming through a very rare book, one of the volumes of the Wolf Queen, he heard someone say behind him;

“Nice copy isn’t it?“

Startled, he spun around to see Reynel Uvirith standing there. Taking the book from him, she turned back to one of the first pages, “Look, do you see the dates in the book? This is one of the oldest copies of the story still surviving . I brought the set back with me after I’d gone to Akavir to study magic there. They were some of the things that were left behind after the disastrous attempt by Emperor Uriel V to add parts or all of Akavir to the empire.”

Baurus was impressed; he assumed the only places that might have older copies than this would be the Temple of the Ancestor Moths and perhaps the Imperial Library, high in the palace in the Imperial city.

“Lady Reynel, I’m sorry, but I’ve been wondering something. How is it that the Archmagister of House Telvanni, someone with such an exalted position, has the time to wander around the Molag Amur region with me? I mean he must be overwhelmed with work, right? Whenever I look at Chancellor Ocato, or even Grandmaster Jauffre, they’re always drowning in work.”

Baurus couldn’t have been more surprised as Reynel shook with laughter. “My dear young man, you obviously don’t know much about the Telvanni, do you?” she said with a smile. “Let me explain.”

“After the war, the Telvanni claimed all the lands they had conquered, which actually isn’t much. We hold claim to the entire Molag Amur region, the Red Mountain region, the north of the Ashlands region,. and everything east of there. We also now hold Suran and Dagon Fel. Telvanni have never needed a government in the conventional sense of the word. Whenever a Telvanni reaches the rank of Wizard, he receives his Tel, and often a city around it. The wizard rules that Tel anyway he or she sees fit. Few Telvanni would even consider telling another Telvanni what to do in their own territory. Relien is very content to let that practice go on as it has been for many thousands of years now. It’s worked for so long, and he sees no reason to change it. All the councilors of the house get together maybe once a year, and have a meeting. However, hardly anything ever comes up and the rest of the time we all rule as we have ruled for centuries, and some of us for millennia. Other than a few ground rules, like the prohibition against slavery and the prohibition against one old practice- killing each other to get ahead, Relien lets us do as we please. And to be honest, as for that practice of killing each other off, we’re all in favor of seeing it abolished. If nothing else, it lets us sleep better at night.”

Baurus considered that. “But what about the other Houses; surely disputes arise between Houses and such.”

“Sometimes they do, yes, but few of them involve House Telvanni. After the war, every other House is content to just let us be. And most of the other disputes are solved by Lady Barenziah. She rules once again from Mournhold, only now the people protecting her are not Hlaalu, but a combination of guards from four Houses. Everyone listens to her and abides by her judgment, usually because she makes sound judgments but also because everyone knows she has Relien and others like him to call upon should someone not abide by her rulings.”

In any other province, Baurus assumed, such an extreme segregation of factions could only have resulted in chaos, but apparently for Morrowind it worked perfectly. Baurus was just about to say something to Reynel, but her eyes seemed distant, as if she was hearing something, though Baurus was sure he heard nothing.

“Ah, Relien is back. He’ll join us momentarily. Shall we go on ahead to the dining room, Baurus?”

Without realizing it, they had talked through most of the afternoon, or rather Baurus had mostly listened. Following Reynel, they made their way to a smaller room. Already seated at the table was Relien. “Well Baurus, I just spoke to Jauffre and Steffan. They send their regards. Apparently quite a bit has been going on in Cyrodiil while you’ve been away.”

During the rest of the dinner Relien filled Baurus in about everything that had happened in Cyrodiil. As the last plates were being taken away by servants, Relien spoke again;

Now then, when I was in Mournhold, I spoke with Lady Barenziah and another old friend, about Varvur. During the war, Raxle Berne was killed. Without a doubt. If he did have a way into Oblivion, I fear it’s lost along with him.”

“However, while we were discussing things, Lady Barenziah had an idea. Since our problem is dealing with a Daedra prince, why not ask another Daedra prince for a solution? Or a princess in this case. We believe the best thing to do right now is to travel to Azura’s shrine and appeal for guidance. I’ve had many dealings with Azura in the past, and I believe it is once again our best hope for success.”

“So tomorrow morning we shall travel to Azura’s shrine. Make sure you’re well rested.”

Early the next morning, Baurus found Relien as he was getting ready. He didn’t carry a staff as he had carried when posing as an old man, but instead he had a blade strapped on. “Ah, ready Baurus? I assume you’ve eaten already?”

When Baurus answered he was and he had, Relien asked him to come stand next to him. Baurus suddenly felt an odd sensation in his stomach, and saw a bright light blinding him. He closed his eyes. The feeling lasted little more then a few minutes, and then ebbed away. He slowly opened his eyes again and found himself a long way away from where he had been before. Looking up, he saw the face of the Daedric prince Azura on what had to be the largest statue of her he had ever seen.

Behind the statue though, he caught a glimpse of a creature unlike any he’d ever seen before. It was covered with thick fur and seemed to be more at home in some snow covered area then in Morrowind. Before Baurus could even shout out, one of the creatures had attacked Relien and bit him in the leg.

Apparently more annoyed then hurt, Relien shook off the creature and cast a lightning bolt at it and it’s companion who had been trying to get close to Baurus. Both of the creatures disappeared in a puff of smoke. “Have you ever seen it’s like before Baurus?

“Never, nor have I heard mention of it anywhere.”

“I thought so.” Relien seemed in thought for a moment, but apparently dismissed whatever he was considering shortly as he looked up and started moving towards the statue.

He put his hand on it and spoke; “Lady Azura, hear our plight, please come to us in our hour of need and help our cause as you’ve helped in the past. Lady Azura, your Nerevarine has need of you.”

What Baurus heard next he could only describe as a voice seemingly sounding inside him. “Nerevarine, Hortator, why has thou summoned me?”

“Lady Azura, a friend has been taken into Oblivion by Mehrunes Dagon. Can you help us get him out?”

“Nay Nerevarine, that I cannot. Martin’s transformation has closed shut the gates to Oblivion, and I may not break what he hath created.”

Baurus felt a wave of despair. Was this it then? If even a Daedric prince as powerful as Azura could not help them, who could?
“Nerevarine, beware. As we speak, evil is once again closing in on the Empire, and Morrowind with it, for will ye or nil ye, Morrowind shall be linked with the Empire in the coming crisis. Should one fall, then so shall the other.”

“What can we do to stop this, Lady Azura?” Relien asked.

“It is imperative that you find entry into Oblivion, for only there shall thy true enemy reveal itself.”

“Hear my words now. One can help you, one can grant you entry into Oblivion, but for restrictions placed even on myself, I can not name the one. Instead I say this: in years past, a great mind of your world once said; ’The only difference between Genius and Insanity, is that genius has its limits.’ Hearken to my words, but pray, do not take them too literally. This is all I can do to aid your cause. Good luck.”

Baurus looked at Relien, and Relien looked back. Both men were surprised by Azura’s warning, and puzzled by her riddle.

Chapter 12. Betrayal.

Chancellor Ocato, Grandmaster of the Blades Jauffre, Captain of the Blades Steffan and Emperor to be, Dilbor Septim, previously known as Dilbor Mornard; were traveling back to Cyrodiil in the company of two dozen of the finest Redoran elite warriors. The last thing Lord Nerevar had done before he had to leave them was arrange for this escort. He personally vouched for all of them, so Ocato found himself traveling easy.

His first impression of the Emperor to be was that he was a very serious, intelligent young man, though he had a very colorful background. Apparently he had been a rising star in the Thieves guild of Cyrodiil. He had already made it to Shadowfoot, second highest rank in the guild, and was charged with leading the local Kvatch contingent of the guild. From what Ocato learned, he gathered he might even have been the person who had given Jauffre and him quite a scare several years previous.

They had, through meticulous work, finally found who they believed could very well be the successor to the Grey Fox. He was a cat burglar back then, and active in Bruma. They continued to follow him and, judging by the story Dilbor told, he was the one. They registered him becoming Shadowfoot, and achieve increasingly difficult thefts. They were certain he had been able to steal a precious artifact from the ancestor moth priests and were almost entirely certain it had been him that had been behind the theft of one of the Elder Scrolls, though officially no Elder Scroll had been stolen of course.

If the assumptions were right, then he was the man who had delivered the Elder Scroll into the hands of Corvus Umbranox, allowing him to cast aside his Grey Fox persona and return to his wife. But then all of a sudden, about a year before Kvatch was destroyed by Daedra and only days after the Grey Fox had once again become Corvus Umbranox, the man they had been following vanished. They always assumed somehow someone had found the tail they put on him, but apparently there was a different reason.

“Sir,” one of the Redoran guards called to Ocato, “Look ahead.” Looking ahead, Ocato saw a large band of riders closing fast. Good, he thought to himself; Evangeline has sent an escort. Turning to the lead Redoran, a nobleman himself from what he understood, “Balen Sarethi, I thank you for your trouble. I believe my guards will be able to manage the rest of the way.”

“Ah, Chancellor, I wish not to be disrespectful with this question, but is it often the practice for you to send an all-Argonian contingent?”

Looking back to the approaching horsemen Ocato found Balen was right. He used a spell of farsight to double check it, and he found the group in front of him was indeed all Argonian, not only that, two other groups of Argonian riders were approaching from both flanks.

“To arms!” Ocato shouted, then turning to Balen quickly explained; “Those are not my men; we believe them to be mercenaries, and seeing them here I can think of nothing but that they know we have the Emperor, and they wish him harm.”

“Then first they will have to come through me and my men,” came the reply. Balen quickly shouted orders to the other Redoran; one of them hurried away back to Morrowind, which was still in sight, while all the others dismounted, sent the horses away and got into formation.

The whole group formed a circle around Jauffre, Steffan and Ocato who in turn formed a circle around Dilbor.

The brave Redoran beat their swords against their shields as if daring the Argonians to come. Such a determined group of people was likely not what the mercenaries were used to facing, for they halted shortly before connecting with any of the defenders, and what Ocato assumed was their leader spoke;

“One greets the one in charge here.” Balen replied, obviously not wanting to give away Ocato and the others as more important, “Be gone with you, fetcher; you have no business here.”

“One does, one surely does. The rest of you need not die though; all we come for is the one called Jester. One and his will leave the others alive.”

Balen turned to face the other Redoran, “What say you boys, give up our charge or fight these N’wahs?” “Fight! Fight! Fight!” came the reply as one voice.

“Kill them all!” came the command from the Argonian. And the battle was on.

The Argonians tried to crush the Redoran, but many of the Morrowind fighters had long swords that could easily cut in underneath an Argonians cover, or bow and arrow with which they shot them from their horses. Still though, they were outnumbered at least seven to one. Ocato used a calculating look to assess the situation; whenever he saw an opening he sent through a spell taking down one or several Argonians. He also used his limited healing abilities to help the Redoran where he could. Despite all their effort and heart though, slowly but surely the Redoran were falling. Here one was lying with a sword still sticking out of him, trying to use his dying breath to pierce the underside of a horse. There a Redoran warrior was attacked by three mounted Argonians, while one dismounted and came unseen from the side and stabbed him.

Ocato realized the battle was going wrong. They could not win; during the past few minutes he’d already found several Argonians facing him, where gaps had appeared in the outer circle of Redorans. Still though, everyone fought with unbelievable courage. A moment ago he had seen Balen go down, but a bit later he was up again and battling two Argonians; his face was bloody and Ocato realized the blood was mostly Balen’s.

This is excellent, but the cliffhanger. I need to know more now (and not just on this story line, they're all intreaging). It also comes at a fair old rate which is great.

No criticisms just now.

At an unseen sign there came a lull in the battle as the Argonians withdrew a bit to confer with their leader. Ocato estimated their losses had been as high as 40%; he also knew, looking at the few Redoran warriors that remained, none of them unhurt, that it would not be enough. They had held bravely, but at the next attack he knew they would surely be swarmed under.

A flash caught his attention, and when the flash vanished, two Redoran troops he could have sworn were not there before were standing. Another flash and this time three Redoran appeared. Several more flashes and even more Redoran appeared; these were mounted even. Ocato turned to Balen who, with a bloody grin, explained; “The man I sent back carried a bag of recall amulets all linked with this,” he held up his hand showing a sparkling ring. “A gift from Lord Nerevar to our Archmaster. They prove invaluable for just such an occasion, and need no mages to set or cast a spell.”

All around him now, more and more men, both mounted and dismounted, appeared. Balen started shouting again, and everyone who was there quickly formed a battle line, not a defensive circle this time, but shaped like an arrow. “Get Ready…. Charge!”

The Redoran attacked the Argonians with full force, and within minutes it became clear the Argonians were greatly outmatched by this Redoran force of equal numbers. First one, then a second, turned and rode away, then all the remaining Argonians were riding fast and as far away as possible.

The Redoran chased them a short way, but quickly came back realizing the important task was keeping the Emperor safe, rather than killing all the Argonians.

The backup Redoran had also thought to bring as many restore health potions as they could, so that every Redoran who still lived was soon back on his feet.

“I must admit Chancellor, when we left Kragenmoor, I arranged for a larger force of warriors to stand ready just over the border into Morrowind, you know, just to be safe.”

“A wise precaution, Lord Balen. I can only assume the messenger I sent ahead out from Mournhold was intercepted by the Argonians, or whomever they’re working for.”

“Have you any idea for whom they’re working, Chancellor?”

“I have some idea, but no proof yet unfortunately.”

“That may be about to change; my men have found one Argonian still alive. From his markings he was second in command. He should be able to answer a few questions.”

“Thank you Lord Balen, and I hate to ask this, but it seems unlikely that we’ll get that escort, nor am I sure I entirely trust them even should they come.”

“No need to ask Chancellor; I promised Lord Nerevar to aid you in whatever way I could, even if that means besieging the Imperial Palace. My men and I are at your disposal until you tell me otherwise.”

“Thank you. I suggest we ride to Cheydinhal first, drop off our prisoner and add some of the Count’s men to our escort, and then ride on. I have a feeling we’re going to need all the men we can get before long. Actually, you might know the Count of Cheydinhal; he’s a Dunmer like yourself, and was once a nobleman in Morrowind, as well, I hear.”

“Yes, a Hlaalu. But then nobody’s perfect, right?

Chapter 13

The journey to Bruma had been uneventful, a few wolves and later even some trolls apparently objected to her passing through their areas, but it was nothing a good Chameleon spell couldn’t fix.

After stabling her horse at the Wildeye stables, Filben wasted no time in making her way to the Mages guild chapter there. As she neared it though, she sensed something was wrong. It was strangely quiet on the streets, and there were few sounds coming from inside.

Opening the door she soon learned the reason for it; the Mages guild looked like a powerful fire spell had just gone off. Stacks of books and cabinets were burning, and the floor was riddled with bodies. Some were the mages she had met when she completed the recommendation quest here, but most were undead. skeletons, zombies and the remains of wraiths were scattered throughout the place.

Walking through the guild house, she found several zombies were still animate, but she quickly solved that. Upstairs she encountered one Necromancer still alive, but before Filben even had time to cast a silence spell on her or try to capture her, the Necromancer cast a silence spell of her own on Filben and came after her. It was a desperate swing from her staff that brought the Necromancer down.

Nearly at the same time as she killed the Necromancer, behind her a new sound could be heard. It was that of a Khajiit whimpering in fear. Looking behind her, Filben saw the source of the sound; J’skar. Apparently he had pulled the same trick as he did during her recommendation quest. Only this time no one discovered him.

“J’skar, what happened here?”

“It was awful, he was here, actually here standing in this very room.”

“Who was J’skar? Who did this to them?”

“This morning we were disturbed by noises coming from the basement. We don’t know how but a large gang of undead- zombies, skeletons and the like- had found their way into the basement. They attacked us. At first we were able to fend them off, but then from the attic Necromancers came pouring down. And then he came. We didn’t stand a chance.”

“But who, who lead them?”

“It was the King of Worms himself leading them, Mannimarco. I couldn’t believe my eyes, I think the only reason I’m alive was because I was invisible… but even so, I think he saw me. He killed them one by one, Volanaro was last. I think he was trying to run away, but he didn’t make it did he?”

“No, it doesn’t look like he did.”

“I can still picture it. The King of Worms stood over him, right before he died and he… well, it looked like he sucked out Volanaro’s soul. He said something about a meeting at Kvatch, and destroying the Mages Guild. Then he looked right at me and grinned. You’ve got to do something; you’ve got to tell Arch-Mage Traven!”

“I will; I’ll leave for the Imperial city at once. Will you be able to manage here?”

“I’ll hire people to clean all this up, but then I’m coming to the Imperial City as well. I think the Arch-Mage is the only one who can protect me.”

“Good luck, J’skar.”

J’skar stopped her just before she went downstairs, “Filben, there is one more thing; I saw someone I know with Mannimarco. Caranya was there.”

“You mean she tried to fight Mannimarco?”

“No, she led the Necromancers until Mannimarco took over for her.”

So one of the two missing Master-Wizards was a necromancer. And Filben had to wonder- would the other prove to be one as well?



The Arch-Mage was understandably upset at the news; an entire chapter destroyed just like that, and Caranya a traitor.

“How could I have not seen this? I must be going blind to miss it. And now Filben, we also know who betrayed Mucianus; I did. If I hadn’t named him that day at the meeting he might still be alive and able to give us vital information regarding the Necromancers.”

“But Caranya being a traitor is nothing compared to the news that the King of Worms has returned. This is grave indeed.” He seemed to consider something for a moment. “Filben, I’m sorry it comes in such dire circumstances, but I wish to promote you to Wizard. I also have a new assignment for you, but it will likely be the most dangerous assignment you’ve ever been on. I want you to travel to Kvatch and spy on this meeting between the King of Worms and his minions. Perhaps from the meeting we’ll be able to gather vital information on what his plans are and what we can do to stop him.”

“I understand your concerns Arch-Mage, but I accept the task. I will do what I can.”

The only stop Filben made on her journey to Kvatch was at Skingrad, where she sought out Count Hassildor and told him all that had transpired. She knew it would be important for as many people to know about this as possible, so that everyone could be vigilant. At last though she came to the foot of the mountain upon which Kvatch was built. The first thing she noticed was the refugee camp; it had been erected during the Oblivion crisis, but it was now still there.

Walking up to the first man she saw, an Imperial, she asked, “Excuse me sir, why are you still here? Has your home not been restored by now?”

“We are all doomed. Kvatch is lost and so is the Empire. Mehrunes Dagon will feed us to his Dremora. We are all now in Oblivion.”

The man kept going on, until a Redguard came up to him and gently escorted the Imperial into one of the tents. He motioned to Filben to wait and came back after the man had likely been put to bed. “You must excuse him, milady. His name is Ilav Dralgoner; he was a priest at the chapel before the Oblivion crisis, but even after the city was saved he’s never really been the same again. My name is Boldon; how may I serve you?”

“Boldon, my name is Filben, and I was wondering why you are all still out here. Haven’t the roads and houses been cleared in the city yet?”

“Filben, it’s a pleasure to meet you. And no, very few houses have been restored so far. The new steward of the city, Mercator, came to us right after he arrived, and assured us that all we need to do is sit tight, and the city will soon be restored. He say that he’s bringing in all sorts of workers, and that he’s doing everything in his power to rebuild the city.”

“I take it you don’t believe him, Boldon?”

“My apologies, but no. Some of the others have gone into the city a few times to see if they could find some belongings, but each time they went in they saw no one working. In fact, they saw no one at all during the day. But then each night we hear strange and eerie sounds coming from the city, seemingly concentrated around the palace and the old arena. It sounds like chanting and strange grunts and moans. None of us know what they do, but we are certain they don’t rebuild the city.”

“We’ve brought our concerns before Steward Mercator, but he waves them away and assures us they’re doing their utmost. Some of us wanted to go east to complain to Count Hassildor about it, but those that went never returned. Nor has any word from Count Hassildor reached us.”

“I don’t believe the Count knows about it. I saw him just the other day and I’m sure he would have mentioned something like this if he had heard about it. When next I see him, I’ll personally convey your message.”

“Thank you Filben, thank you so much.”

Getting into the city proved easier than Filben had expected; there were no guards posted at the gates, nor any patrolling guards that she noticed inside. She was unsure where to go to, but from what Boldon had told her, her best chance at getting information was to go to one of the two reported sites of the chanting- the arena or the castle. She thought it more likely that the higher ranking Necromancers would be at the castle, so she made her way there.

Before she came into view of the castle, though she suddenly ducked behind some rubble. She had a heard a familiar voice. Slowly peering over the rubble she saw a group of three people walk across the square outside the palace and head towards it. Caranya was one of the people. Filben only caught a scrap of the conversation, but it sounded like “ritual and summon him.”

Who were they going to summon? Probably Mannimarco, and that surely would be something the Arch-mage would want to know about. Casting a powerful invisibility spell, Filben followed the three as close as she dared, doing her best to remain quiet.

After the group, with her in tow, had made it across the drawbridge, to Filben’s shock the drawbridge was raised. Now she had no way of getting out should she need to in a hurry. But if she was shocked at that, what she saw next in the courtyard of the castle shocked her more than anything. She had to put her hands over her mouth to keep from screaming. Staked out on the ground was the body of Irlav Jarol. She only recognized him because his face was intact; the rest of him though was an awful sight to behold. It appeared as if someone had scraped off all of the skin from his body, and by the look on his dead face, part of it had happened while he was still alive.

The three people Filben had followed had surrounded the corpse, and now Caranya reached down and picked something up; she couldn’t see what it was but Filben was sure she was better off not seeing. Words started to reach her, “in the name of Mannimarco, the King of Worms, we dedicate this body to his service.”

“Mannimarco, King of Kings, ruler of the dead, please come to us, we are ready for you.”

Filben felt more than saw at first the change that seemed to come over the place. The sky slowly darkened as if a thunderstorm was coming, and the air felt heavy with ill omen.

A ways above the three cultists, an apparition suddenly appeared in the sky, with the face of an Altmer, a long, narrow face with the high forehead and cheekbones on that race, but most striking were the eyes; they bespoke a timelessness one but rarely sees. Worse still was the sound when the phantasm spoke:

“How go things? Are we nearing the completion of our plans?”

“Yes Dread lord; within a week we should be ready to summon an army of dead to conquer, first the province, and then the Empire.”

“Good. You have done well. The fool Ocato and his puppets are still concerned for their precious heir, and when they worry not about that, Countess Valga, that fool, has them running in circles. My agents tell me Valga the fool is getting more deranged by the day. The Divines wouldn’t even cure her of an illness now, but so long as she thinks she is their vessel, she does our work without even knowing it.”

Now the apparition turned its gaze directly upon one of the figures below:

“Falcar.”

“Yes Dread lord.”

“Have you completed your mission?”

“Yes lord; I’ve found the artifact you mentioned, and keep it with me at all times.”

“Good. Make sure no one besides you three will ever know what you have, nor that you have it. It is the only thing those fools can use against me. It must never fall into their hands!”

“I will protect it with my life, Dread lord.”

“Yes, you will Falcar,” came the chilling answer. It obviously made even Falcar shudder in fear.

“I remain at Echo Cave for now. Send word there when all preparations have been made.”

Filben didn’t know what it was that Falcar held, but she knew it would be vital to get it to the Arch-Mage.

She waited until she was sure both the apparition and the three Necromancers had left the courtyard and gone into the castle, before she looked around the wall. Seeing the courtyard was indeed empty, she made her way across it and into the castle. Sneaking around in there, she soon found the sleeping areas. At least the Necromancers seemed to have put some effort into cleaning up the inside of the palace, even if they had done nothing to the rest of the city.

Slowly she crept up to the bed in which she saw Falcar was sleeping, and was happy to see he had hung his robe over a chair. Going through the pockets, the only thing Filben found that seemed out of place was an unusually large black soulgem. She held it close to see if she could see something out of the ordinary inside it but a noise spun her around. Caranya was standing at the exit with an evil smile on her face.

“You didn’t really think a simply invisibility spell could hide you from the master, did you?”

Behind Caranya, Filben saw another man approach, likely Mercator, and Falcar himself was rising up from the bed, obviously wide awake though Filben didn’t think he had been asleep in the first place.

“Caranya, why side with Mannimarco? You know he’s evil, don’t you?”

“Of course I do Filben. Don’t you get it; I’m evil too.” If possible, the evil smile just got wider. “Now then Falcar, fire.”

Two spells came at Filben at once, two nasty combinations of shock damage and weakness to shock. Filben’s body shook from the shock, suspended for a moment in the air, and then she crashed down. She could barely feel her limbs, let alone move them, but found the Black soulgem was still clutched in her hand. Barely able to move her lips, out of desperation she spoke the words of a recall spell. One other reason she had had for visiting Skingrad before she came here was so she could cast a mark spell there.

As her body was teleported away from Kvatch, she could hear the shouts of Falcar and the others for someone to stop her, but it was too late. The next thing she knew she was lying on the cold stones of the Castle Skingrad great hall, and Janus was leaning over her, speaking words of comfort.

Filben knew she did not have much time left; no one could take two spells of such magnitude and live long to tell the tale, and by the time a priest or mages guild healer could be summoned, she would be long gone. With her last remaining strength she told Janus to be silent and told him all that she had learned in Kvatch, making sure he promised he would travel to the Imperial City with all haste and deliver the information unto the Arch-Mage.

Then the pain became too great, and darkness closed in on Filben.

Chapter 14. Dealing with Daedra

Baurus was pacing up and down the library hall. Shortly after Relien and he had come back to Tel Uvirith, they and Reynel had locked themselves in the great library and forbidden everyone else entry.

“ ‘The only difference between Genius and Insanity, is that Genius has its limits.’ Genius has its limits, what limits could she be speaking of?” It was the same question they had been asking themselves and each other for hours now. What limits are there to Genius? None had the answer.

“But then, did she not also say we should not take that too literally? But then which part should we not take too literally? What she said about genius, what she said about insanity, what she said about limits or the lack thereof?” Baurus found it maddening. While he enjoyed reading a good book, and knew quite a bit about the history of the empire, he had never thought of himself as a great thinker. He was baffled by the riddle. So, apparently, were both Reynel and Relien. Relien had gone to look through books trying to find the answer, and Relien just sat there, staring at nothing.

“Ok, let’s look at this from a different perspective for a moment.” Reynel closed the book she was looking in and Baurus likewise looked up at Relien. “Azura told us not to take her words too literally. But she did not say which part not to take too literally. Let’s just for the sake of argument say it’s only a part we should not take too literally. The difference between Genius and Insanity, implies a discrepancy. When you look at both words, Genius and Insanity, you could say they’re opposites in a way. Not taking it literally, does that mean we could replace one of the two words? We could replace insanity with the direct opposite of Genius, which would be stupidity, or retardation, if you will. But does that bring us closer to the answer? No, I think that still makes it as cryptic as ever.”

“But what if we replace Insanity? What’s the opposite of Insanity? Sanity. Someone being sane, or someone being mad. If we look at the entire thing, Azura said; ’The only difference between sanity and insanity, is that sanity has it’s limits.’ Wouldn’t that imply insanity has no limits, or rather insanity is not subject to the limits sane people are subject to? Isn’t that then answer? Sane beings, be they kings, magicians, or even gods, cannot cross the boundary now that Martin has closed it. Does that mean someone who is insane can still do so? And who do we all know that’s entirely insane, yet powerful enough to accomplish such a feat as traveling to a different dimension?”

Baurus, Reynel and Relien all replied in unison; “Sheogorath.”

“Right, there’s no time to waste. Reynel, I‘d like to ask you to assemble Aryon, Divayth, Dhaunayne and Dratha here. I’ll send word to you as soon as I can. If what Azura said is true, and I have no doubt it will be, we’ll likely need to act fast after we’ve found out if there is a way. Baurus and I will travel to Vivec to speak with Sheogorath. Here’s hoping he’s having one of his saner days and, of course, hoping our conclusions are correct.”

“Why Vivec?” Baurus asked as he followed Relien along the corridors inside one of the Cantons in the city.

“Leave it to Sheogorath to go against all conventions. The north part of the island is named after him, so of course he’ll have his main shrine located at the very opposite end .”

Entering a small door in the very bowels of the Canton, Baurus found himself face to face with a statue of the Daedric prince of madness. Again without much ritual, Relien placed his hands onto the statue and spoke, “Lord Sheogorath, Lord of Madness, heed my call. Please answer our summons.” Unlike with Azura, Baurus did not hear a voice inside himself this time; instead the entire room suddenly seemed to be shaking. Baurus saw Relien back away from the statue, and with good reason as the entire statue seemed to be changing shape. It expanded, then shrunk again, then changed color to black, pink, purple and then back to grey. Then with a great boom and a flash of lightning the statue was gone, and in its place, stood the Daedric prince of madness; Sheogorath himself.

He resembled an Imperial, only a bit larger than usual, with grey hair combed back and a small grey pointed beard. What he wore reminded Baurus of nothing so much as a jester’s costume, purple and gold, interlaced with white lines. And in his right hand he had a cane which he presently held under his arm. Slowly looking around the room, his gaze fixed itself on Relien.

“Aren’t you the Nerevarine?” Relien slowly nodded yes. “OH MY LORD, please, can I have your autograph?”
As Baurus heard lord Sheogorath speak those words in such a childish tone, the first thing that sprung to mind was that they had summoned the wrong person, but as Sheogorath continued, Baurus found out just how deranged the lord was.

“Please, your autograph! Or…. Or wait, maybe I should just kill you and write my own autograph with your blood as ink, would that be an even better idea? What do you think? I mean you do think don’t you?”

“Lord Sheogorath, please, we’ve come seeking your help.”

“Ah, my help you say, my help? How can I help you two? Perchance you wish to become as me? That should not be a problem; a few centuries in my madhouse will cure you of any sanity you might have. Ok, it’s arranged then; you’re coming with me.”

“No! No, I’m sorry, but that isn’t what we’re here for Lord Sheogorath. We need to enter Oblivion, the Deadlands to be precise, and we understand you’re the only one that can take us there.”

Sheogorath seemed to be considering this, Baurus was glad the god’s attention was directed at Relien for now; he didn’t think he’d be able to keep as cool as the Nerevarine .

“Deadlands, Deadlands, hm, now that is where Mehrunes lives isn’t it? Yes it is, is it? Probably. But why would I take you there? Impossible, in two words, im-possible. Or possible? I don’t know, taking two mortals into Deadlands, why do it?”

“Something for nothing, nothing for something, no no no no no, that isn’t right, nothing for nothing, something for something, how do the Khajiit say it, you scratch my back, I won’t scratch out your eyes, eh? No no, that isn’t right. But you understand what I mean, yes? No?”

“I believe I do, yes, Lord Sheogorath. I believe I do, but what would you have from us?”

“Hm, what to choose, what to choose? Your eyes maybe? Your tongue? No no, I have a far better idea, but what about him? He’s going to come back anytime now! HE! Oh no, he will disturb our tranquility. No, no, we must not allow that, maybe one of these two, yes, maybe one of these two can scare him off, claw at him, scratch out his eyes. Maybe yes. Ok, it’s settled then. Three words; big crisis. I help you with my crisis, and then you help me with yours, no no, that isn’t right.”

Baurus suddenly saw Sheogorath turn very serious as he looked down at Relien and spoke; “ I’ll help you with your crisis, and then you promise that when the time comes, you’ll help me with mine. Only option, no other way, no backing out, is it a deal?”

“Agreed. I promise I’ll help you with whatever this crisis might be but only if you also promise to help us get Varvur out safe and sound.”

“Excellent! Agreed!” Sheogorath loudly exclaimed, “Excellent. That’s one word, you know.” He spoke while looking to Baurus, and Baurus could have sworn Sheogorath threw him a wink there.

“Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, hold onto your seats, we’re in for a rough ride, keep your hands within the cart at all times and whatever you do, don’t be sane!”

Baurus had no way to describe the journey he made. He wondered if this was how Varvur had felt each time he entered Oblivion when he was going to close another gate.

Walking through a small part of the Deadlands, Baurus found it the most inhospitable landscape he had ever seen. Small islands of black rock among a sea of lava and connected by other small strips of black rock. Screams all around him, and on all sides they were surrounded by a horde of Xivilai and Markynaz and Valkynaz Dremora. Baurus didn’t want to think about what would have happened to Relien and him had they gone here without Sheogorath. Apparently though, the mere presence of the Lord of Madness kept the creatures at bay.

The three of them appeared to be moving towards a large castle in the distance. Countless spires rose over a shapeless block of what appeared to be some metal. A short way before the entrance Sheogorath stopped and looked down at Relien; “Wait for me here; it will be easier to talk to Mehrunes if I’m not with you two. Whatever you do, though, don’t be mean to the Dremora. They’re all kind-hearted souls as you can see from the axes they’re carrying. I mean, if they meant you harm surely they would be carrying battleaxes.”

“I intend no offense, Lord Sheogorath, but the minute you’re gone, the hordes will wash over us and I wonder how long even I can hold off this many of them.”

“Do you really think so, Relien? But they seem harmless.” Looking around at all the bared teeth and bloodshot eyes, Baurus thought harmless was the last word that applied. “Yes, Lord Sheogorath, I really do think so.”

“Oh all right, all right.” Sheogorath raised his hand and snapped his fingers, “There, now they won’t even know you’re here.” Sure enough, looking around, Baurus saw the creatures’ expressions change, and slowly they started moving away again, apparently disappointed that their prey had gotten away.

“Right, now wait here, and whatever you do, don’t touch anything! You never know if it might touch you back.”

Baurus saw Relien turn to him, “We might as well get comfortable; I think we might be sitting here for a while.”




Mehrunes Dagon looked through the void at Varvur. He hadn’t even started the pain and torture; for now, having Varvur know he would be here forever and never have a chance to get out, never see any of the people he cared for again was torture enough for Mehrunes. There would be plenty of time for physical pain yet; he had all eternity for that.

A strange sound made him look away from the island where he kept Varvur, and at the doors of his throne room. What was that, whistling? Someone was whistling in the Deadlands? The nerve. The whistling seemed to increase in volume, getting closer to Mehrunes, who took up a spear from one of the walls and readied it for throwing.

A polite knock sounded, followed by a cheery voice, “Knock knock, who’s there? Are you asking me? Should I? Isn’t Mehrunes supposed to ask that? I don’t know. Shall we go ask him?”

Mehrunes sighed and lowered the spear as Sheogorath opened the door. “What do YOU want?”

“Excuse me, do you know where the bathroom is? Or wait, was that what I wanted to ask? I don’t know. Hm, let me think on this for a moment.”

With a roar Mehrunes threw the spear he was holding at Sheogorath, but he was not surprised when it stopped in midair just a millimeter before piercing Sheogorath’s skin.

“Now now, no need to be grouchy, Mehrunes. I’ve already remembered what I came for; I need you to release your prisoner so I can give him back to his two friends that came with me and are waiting outside, and return them all to Nirn. Yes, that’s what I came to ask.”

Mehrunes stared at Sheogorath in disbelief. Surely he had now gone completely insane, surely he hadn’t helped two mortals gain entry into the Deadlands, surely he wasn’t seriously asking him to give up the one thing that remained from his failed expedition into Nirn.

“Have you finally lost whatever was left of your senses, Sheogorath?”

“No no, this time I’m serious, or am I? Yes I am.”

Expanding his senses outward, Mehrunes sensed something odd just outside his palace gates, something that wasn’t supposed to be there, a bubble of insanity. Penetrating it, he was even more outraged than a moment ago. “You did WHAT? You actually brought MORTALS here, HERE! After everything that happened recently, you brought two mortals HERE? And you want me to release this pitiful Dunmer I hold? Are you INSANE?”

The irony of that last question didn’t really catch Mehrunes until much later. He turned around, picked up his entire throne and threw it across the room. “How dare you!”

“Now, now Mehrunes, calm down, calm down, there’s no need to get excited, or is excited the wrong word? We get excited when we watch our entertainment dance, or yellow, but that was only one time and an entirely different story. Enraged?”

Mehrunes cut him off before he could continue; “I don’t care WHAT you call it! Have you any idea of what’s been going on here the last few years, any idea what almost happened, any idea what could have happened had it not been for this one Dunmer, have you any grasp of the situation whatsoever?”

“Grasp? Yes, yes, I do grasp the situation, grasp the situation you ask? Ha! I grasp it all too well. Do you grasp the situation Mehrunes? Do YOU? This little invasion, this attempt at a coup, it’s nothing, nothing, I say, compared to my situation.”

“And what situation would that be, Sheogorath?

Sheogorath advanced towards Mehrunes until he was but a hair’s length away. “Two words Mehrunes” then he leaned even further towards Mehrunes and whispered in his ear-

“Jyggalag.”

Mehrunes stepped back, stared at Sheogorath unbelievingly. “Is it his time again? Already?”

“Yes, yes yes yes yes yes, HE is coming. So I need the Dunmer, because if I get them the Dunmer, one of the friends will help me, and if he helps me, he helps all of us. If I don’t get the Dunmer, and he doesn’t help me, then he won’t help any of us, and HE will become ME. I will be him, he will be me, and you will be in trouble.”

Mehrunes roared and punched several holes in the floor. Then he willed Varvur to appear in the throne room. “TAKE HIM, AND BEGONE FROM THIS PLACE!”



Outside, Baurus watched the door to the palace open, and saw Sheogorath walk out. For a moment he despaired, thinking it had failed, but then behind Sheogorath he saw Varvur walk out of the palace. “Varvur!” he exclaimed.

“Baurus!”

Baurus ran up to Varvur, and stared into his eyes. Varvur stared back. Finally they were back together. Both had thought they’d never see each other again. For now, just being together would suffice. There would be time for more later, after they’d gotten home.

“Touching as this may be, let me give you one more service, a glimpse if you will, of what is to come.”

Sounding so serious and normal, if anything, made Sheogorath sound more dangerous than when he was his insane incoherent self.

A flash of light, and Varvur, Baurus and Relien were looking at Cyrodiil, only it looked nothing like it had before. Short flashes of visions from different parts of the province, Cloud Ruler Temple sporting a large gateway through which thousands of Akavirii demons and Tsaesci- snake people- were coming. The Imperial city in ruins, men being driven together to be sold as slaves, un-Nirnly rituals.

“So that was what Azura was speaking of, wasn’t it, Sheogorath?”

“Yes Relien. It’s not too late though to prevent it, but in two days, the gateway will open and after that, you have almost no chance.”

“Why help us, why show us this?”

“Because dumpling, if you’re dead, you can’t honor our bargain now can you?”

“One last request. Can you teleport us to the Imperial city, Lord Sheogorath?”

“Of course, that’s easier said than done, no wait, actually it’s easier done than said.” And with a wink from the Lord of Madness, and a flash, the three were on their way to the Imperial city.