Great chapter. I really appreciated the way you handle the mechanics of the Fighters' Guild arming its members and dealing with the expense. First thing I always did in my games was head to Chorrol, join the Fighters' Guild, and grab some steel weaponry. The fact that it doesn't cost me anything was a bit off for an organization that claims to operate as a sanctioned mercenary outfit.

One question. Why does Teresa not eat terrestrial vertebrates (deer, boar, etc.) but is fine with consuming fish or crab? I ask because with 50 pages or so, I'm having a tough time pin-pointing the part where that's explained, and even things I've read a week ago will lose their details in my memory (things I've written, though, I can recall with ease). I know that she doesn't keep the Green Pact like most Bosmer in Valenwood will do, but is there a particular reason that I missed or have forgotten?

Kudos to Hammer for getting the 1000th post!

A very fun, energetic read. It speaks volumes about how Pappy runs his guild, he keeps a tight ship, that's for sure!

Yikes! Does that mean... you know, since he didn't have a shirt on his back....

mALX: Pappy is always fun to write. These chapters now show the long-term effects of Bruma, and his commitment to prevent that from ever happening again.



haute ecole cat: Pappy's rules are one of those things inspired by the tv show. I still remember his line: "I like rules, I like to break them."


ghastley: As a street urchin, Teresa has never been much for rules. So Pappy's rule-breaking is one of the things she likes about him. She is still trying to figure out the whole concept of making up her own rules to live by. But thanks to rogues like Pappy, she is getting there.

Teresa likes beans! In fact, they are one of Bravil's main crops, which we will see more of in chapters 31 & 33, where we get a closer view of life on Bravil's farms. Teresa also likes fish as well, so lots of (non-male created) protein in her diet.


Olen: I did work quite a bit on the new Bravil FG. I was mainly looking for a cast of unusual characters, to reinforce the idea that Pappy always gets the oddballs. Even Tadrose, who seems to conventional and dependable, has more than her share of skeletons in the closet that make her that way.

No eggs for Teresa. Those are babies!


Acadian: Thank you for wrangling up my wandering 'as'. Sometimes it takes someone who rides, shoots straight, and speaks the truth to rustle up those words that break off from the herd.

You have pretty much picked up on all the salient points in the last episode. Pappy will not have to guess about The Teresa Dinner Doctrine, as this next episode will reveal.


D.Foxy: Thank you fox. As ever, your Blades topic in the old forum was lots of help in portraying Teresa's use of the parrying dagger.


Captain Hammer: The Mages Guild is the same way. You join up, and can immediately start taking alchemy equipment off the shelves, food from the tables (to make into potions, which you can in turn sell), even silver daggers in some of the halls. All without having to ever do anything in return for the guild. Both of the guilds in the TF are much different. They are about making money, even though they go about it in very different ways.

Teresa has not formally laid down her Dinner Doctrine, although she will in chapter 31. She became a vegetarian way back in the misty dawn of chapter 3, when she first ventured into the depths of the Great Forest. She found the deer and other animals too beautiful to kill, let alone eat. She has slowly been refining her ideas since then, although not consciously, as she has spent more time around animals in the forest. But suffice to say, she will not eat land or air animals. Rather only seafood is on her menu. This is something that will have real effects in the future btw.

I am not using the Green Pact in the TF, as there is no way I could portray it as existing in a realistic world. If the Bosmer had been presented as a nomadic horse culture keeping vast herds of goats, cattle, and other animals on a wide open steppe it might work. Although even nomadic horse societies still ate some fruits and vegetables that they either gathered, bartered, or raided to get. But a forest people would never make it as pure hunters/pastoralists. In Hunter/Gatherer societies hunting only accounts for 20% of the food at best. Hunting alone simply cannot maintain a large population, especially not one that lives in cities, as the Bosmer must, since they have them on the maps. That is why predators are always in the far minority to prey animals in the wild. Most of the Bosmer would die of starvation in short order if they tried to follow it, and the small remnant would be easy picking for their neighbors, not to mention the orcs and intelligent apes that live in Valenwood's borders.

Instead the Bosmer of the TF follow a philosophy of conservation that is based upon a reverence of nature.


Thomas Kaira: Pappy has certainly changed how he runs that guild since Bruma. Before I am sure it was as loosey-goosey as the other FG Chapters. We will see more of that when Teresa visits the IC guild in a few chapters.


Next: After a morning spent in exercises and training, it is time for a bath!


Chapter 29.4 - A Day In The Life

A long soak in the guild's massive cedar tub followed, and eased the stiffness of the morning's workout from the wood elf's body. She had to wait until the men had taken their turn, but it was well worth having the deep tub all to herself.

Unlike the portable metal baths that most inns possessed, where one sat with legs stretched out and the water only came up to the waist, this was a massive construction built into a room whose sole purpose was to house it. The wide, barrel-shaped basin was so deep that the water came right to her neck, and she had to climb steps alongside it to get in. It also had seats built into its walls, so she sat as if in a chair. Perhaps best of all however were the heat stones beneath the double-bottomed bronze floor, which made the water steam with warmth.

Tadrose had told her that it was based on Akaviri design, something the original Blades of Emperor Reman I had brought with them to Cyrodiil. They must certainly love water in Akavir, she thought as she closed her eyes and floated away in the hot liquid.

The sound of the door brought the wood elf back to reality, and she opened her eyes to see Tadrose stripping off the thick tunic she wore beneath her armor. Teresa tried not to stare at the dark elf's naked body as she sponged herself clean with soap and rinsed herself off with water from a bucket, the dross falling into a grate in the floor beside the tub. Only then did Tadrose climb the steps to the top of bath and ease herself within alongside Teresa.

"Greetings Tadrose," the wood elf smiled faintly. She could not help but to notice the bands of hard muscle that encased the other woman's frame, and the white lines of old scars. The dark elf's body was far from the soft hourglass that women were supposed to possess. Yet Teresa could not get the sight of it from her mind. She was glad when she could only see the other woman's face after she had submerged herself in the tub beside her.

"Well met Teresa." The other woman closed her eyes for a moment, and Teresa imagined that she must be reveling in the heat of the water surrounding her body. "How do you feel after your first week in the guild, and your first contract?"

"I am so glad I joined," Teresa breathed honestly. Part of her wanted to say that she actually had two contracts now, but the first with Henantier was not something she could talk about. "It is worth it just for this tub!"

The dark elf chuckled then, and took a moment to duck her head below the water. Emerging a moment later, she pulled her wet hair from her face and laid her head back against the rim of the tub. "In Morrowind I had a bath made from a giant crabshell," she said, "but I have to admit I prefer this one. The smell of the cedar is almost as soothing as the hot water."

"You used to live in Morrowind?" Teresa asked. After what Pappy had said earlier in the morning, she had started to think the Dunmer had lived in Bravil all of her life.

The other woman did not say anything for long moments. "That was a long time ago," she finally replied, her features darkening like the ashlands her homeland was known for.

"Oh," Teresa breathed. She wondered why the other woman left, but was not about to ask, given the sudden shift in her mood. Instead she tried to change the topic to something closer. "So how long have you been in Bravil? Everyone in the Imperial City says this place is awful, but I think it's beautiful."

"It has been almost a decade now," Tadrose sighed, her eyes fixed upon something far away in her mind. "The years certainly go by. Faster than you expect them to."

"Have you been in the guild all that time?" Teresa wondered aloud, not sure if she should just leave the other woman to her thoughts. "Or were you a fighter before you came?"

"I joined soon after coming here," the other woman said, turning her eyes to meet Teresa's. "Actually, we have something in common, because I joined so that I could learn to fight as well. I mean really fight. Not the nice, neat, sword lessons that spoiled children receive, where no one ever cheats, and no one gets hurt."

"Did Pappy teach you then?" Teresa asked, wondering about the Dunmer's last remark. What kind of children received swordsmanship lessons? she wondered. Rich ones, her mind instantly answered, noble ones.

"No, I was here before him," the other woman replied. "He was still in the Imperial Legion back then. Gaius only came to Bravil a few years ago, after he wore out his welcome in the Imperial City chapter."

"He has a habit of doing that, from what I'm told," Teresa said. "I heard he was run out of the legion too."

"Yes," the other woman breathed. "He is a good leader. The best one I have ever been under, to be honest. He knows more about fighting and motivating people than anyone in the guild. But his prick always seems to get in the way of his brain. A problem many men seem to have. He has gotten better though, since Bruma."

Teresa stifled a giggle. She had not known that many men, but the latter part certainly described many of them!

A loud rumble came from her stomach, reminding her of how long it had been since she had eaten. She felt her cheeks flush with more warmth than was provided by the water and looked sheepishly at Tadrose.

"You had better go eat lunch," the other woman replied, a smile as faint of one of Teresa's own playing across her dark features.

Teresa nodded and rose from the tub. She briefly found herself wondering if the other woman liked what she saw, at least as much as Teresa had when their positions had been reversed. Yet if the dark elf did, she gave no sign of it as Teresa dried herself and dashed her body with vanilla and rubbed a gel of lavender, chamomile, and apricots into her hair. The latter was a new creation of hers, based on the combined advice of both Ardaline and Nerussa, and would both hold her hair in place when it dried, and keep it smelling divine.

"Do not forget dinner," the Dunmer reminded Teresa after she reached for the door. "I reminded Gaius that you do not eat meat, so do not worry about it being awkward this time."

"Thank you Tadrose," Teresa smiled faintly, looking back to the vice-commander. The dark elf had remembered that she liked milk this morning as well. Did the Dunmer do these little things for everyone else in the guild?

* * *

Rather than putting her armor back on, Teresa changed into a sleeveless dress of dark green linen layered over a brown chemise, in the same fashion she had learned from Ardaline. Normally she would head out into the woods surrounding the city at this time, or visit Silverbridge. She still had much to learn about her new surroundings, and every day that she explored she found something new.

But today she was only going to see the inside of the Mages Guild, she frowned as she strode through the streets. It was not such a bad thing however, at least she might be able to talk Ardaline into having lunch with her again after all.

That is when she noticed Aia standing alone in one of the graveyards next to the Benevolence of Mara. The shoeless beggar had her back to the street, and seemed to be staring down at the battered and chipped headstones.

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"Good afternoon Aia!" Teresa called out. The old woman nearly jumped, and Teresa bit her lip in self-reproach. People always said she had a habit of sneaking up on them with her quiet footsteps, so she had wanted to announce herself. Sometimes she just could not do anything right...

"Oh Teresa dearie!" the old woman breathed in a high, thin voice. She laid a hand over her heart as the wood elf walked over to her. "Quite a start you gave me. Lost in thought I suppose I was."

Teresa glanced down at the markers lying scattered around their feet. Worn by wind and rain, and many playing host to creeping moss, she could not make out any of the names carved into their stone faces. For a moment she thought to ask if they were anyone that Aia knew, but after remembering Tadrose's reaction to her question about Morrowind, she changed her mind.

"I'm sorry," Teresa said, looking back up into the Imperial woman's dark eyes, "how about I buy you lunch to make up for it?"

"You don't have to be doing that dearie," Aia said. "Out with your friends, a young thing like yourself ought to be."

"Absolutely," Teresa agreed with a faint smile. Taking the old woman's arm in her own, she led her away from the graveyard and out onto Chapel Way. "Now where should we go? Nilawen has wonderful Redguard wraps. Or maybe some Argonian noodles? I found a man down on the docks who makes them for the sailors and stevedores."

"Too good to me, you are Teresa," the Imperial woman said in a voice that may have cracked with more than age. Yet she allowed the wood elf to lead her through the streets. In the end it was the noodle vendor they settled upon, and the pair sat on the docks beside the Argonian's stand slurping up cold somen noodles spiced with ginger.

"So do you know Tadrose Helas?" Teresa found herself asking when they were done.

"That dark elf she is, from the Fighters Guild?" the old woman nodded. They began to climb the long flights of wooden steps that rose from the river up to the rest of the city on the bank above. "Aye, a bit of her I know, why?"

"I was just curious about her is all," Teresa explained, biting her lip. "She told me she is not from Bravil, but she came here ten years ago."

"About right that is," Aia said, pausing on one of the landings between flights of steps to think. "Such a pretty young thing she was, just like you. Come to think of it, she was a stranger to a smile then too."

"I smile!" Teresa's eyes opened with surprise, and she could not contain the ghost of one as the old woman grinned at her through her own broken teeth. "See!"

"Sure girlie, and the Countess of Bravil I am too." The old woman made her way back up the stairs. Teresa laid a gentle hand at her back, just in case the creaking legs of the beggar had trouble with the rise.

"So back to Tadrose," Teresa asked. "What does she do?"

"Spends all of her time in that guild house she does." The old woman leaned into Teresa as she made her way up the riverbank. "Workin' on armor and teachin' folks to fight. Has lunch by the Lucky Lady most days though. Sits and watches the kids play she does. Goes to the big chapel o' Mara every Sundas. Sometimes other days too. Hardly ever see the dun-folk there."

Teresa nodded. The first part certainly sounded like the Tadrose she knew. It also explained where she disappeared to every day at noon. She never imagined the other woman for a chapelgoer though. "So does she have any children of her own?" the Bosmer asked, "or family here in Bravil?"

"Not a one," the old woman replied as they reached the top of the steps and stood in the main street running along the middle branch of the Larsius. "Not even a man, and more than few sniffed her skirt since she first got here, did they."

Teresa thanked the old woman for sharing lunch, and her observations, and made her way to the Mages Guild. Quite the mystery you are Tadrose, she thought along the way. What was it about Bravil the dark elf liked so much that she did not want to leave, Teresa wondered, when there seemed to be nothing here for her? Why did she spend nearly all of her time alone, throwing herself into her work? What had happened in Morrowind, that made her leave?

Then she was standing on the front steps of the Mages Guild, and the fiery-eyed Dunmer slipped from her mind. She found herself hoping that Henantier was around to teach her that spell, because she doubted she could stand another cup of Delphine's tea!

On the subject of eggs - hens don't need a rooster around to lay eggs - they do it all on their own. Of course, without that rooster, the eggs are sterile - just yolk and white, no embryo. That's why the factory farm eggs we find in the grocery store never have a chick growing in them. Now the ones we buy from the farms along the back roads are a different matter . . . So if these are the kinds of eggs one sees in Nirn, then Teresa is wise to avoid them. But if they come from a Nirn style factory farm, nope, no babies there!

I absolutely loved this chapter the first time around, and enjoyed it even more the second time around.

That bath was divine! Ahh! Since moving to the new house, I find myself missing the old cast iron tub in the old house. Now that could keep a bath hot until I was pruned up! The acrylic tubs here aren't much good for that.

And what a lovely conversation with Aia. A great way to learn more about what could be one of the most mysterious ladies in the TF!

Oh, and the only thing Bravil is missing is a streetside soju bar! Yum!

She had to wait until the men had taken their turn, but it was well worth having the deep tub all to herself.

Darn it! I’m sure you didn’t have to wait, Teresa! The more we learn about Tadrose, the more mysterious and fascinating she becomes.


"You don't have to be doing that dearie," Aia said. "Out with your friends, a young thing like yourself ought to be."

"Absolutely," Teresa agreed with a faint smile. Taking the old woman's arm in her own, she led her away from the graveyard and out onto Chapel Way.

Teresa is so sweet! I love how she has befriended Aia, and how Aia shows her worth over lunch.

Now I have a hankering for a cedar bath and some gingery Argonian noodles.

Vanilla, chamomile, apricots? You've written a much better ingredient store into your Bravil than I've ever found there. I wonder if they sell the lemons for Weebam-Na's rat and wild rice recipe?

It makes sense that the men would bathe first. They probably need it more urgently.

I was more thinking the blokes would bathe first because they wouldn't be much fussed who was in there...

Good part, Teresa is certainly fascinated by Tadrose, is the opposite true? Ten years is quite a while so I suspect there's more there than just not being interested at the skirt sniffers (which is a great metaphor).


And Teresa begins to turn a new leaf in her confidence. She's becoming happy with who she is, rather than aspiring to be someone else. Soon she'll be fine with stringy (or perahps wiry). It all fits with the prograssion since she headed south and had space to think apart from pressures to be who people think she is, I suspect her return will be quite eventful.


That should sort the aching muscles.


Tadrose really stepped out of the page in this part, before she was as developed as the rest of the Bravil guild but you very quickly fleshed her out (pun vaguly intended) into a full character with hints of background. I suspect the reason to the above, however, isn't about what Bravil is but rather what it isn't, and that's Morrowind.

Nit: the heat stones beneath the double-bottomed bronze floor, which made the water steam with heat - repetition of heat was a little jarring.

A wonderfully relaxing episode after the intense, sweat-building training.



Going Far-eastern, then are we? I would've thought the Argonians would be more into things like Cacao or Papaya (and of course, bugs; they are lizards, after all). But of course, this is your story, and your meal! Nothing wrong with some nice rice noodles with a mild kick.

Speaking of which, Have you seen these guys in action? It's mighty impressive.

Not a nit, but an observation:

The ashlands are exclusive to Vvardenfell. Morrowind is actually quite varied when it comes to terrain, you have the dry steppes and rocky mountain ranges of Molagreahd peninsula, to the snow-capped peaks of the Skyrim border, and finally descending into a hot, stuffy jungle environment as you travel southward to Black Marsh.

Still, since Vvardenfell makes up half of the province anyways, there's really no point in changing that quote.

Another lovely segment in the 'day in the life'!

You presented a lot of information, but it all flowed with perfect pacing from one event to the next. That tub makes joining the FG well worth it!

I quite like the unique speech patterns you have given Aia. Her manner of speech just fits her so well.

And more mystery about the Dunmeri lass from Morrowind.

hen ecole rider: I forgot that about hens! Thank you, I worked that into chapter 31. It does make sense to me that Cyrodiilians would do that, and selectively control the breeding.

You also inspired me to have Pappy set up a soju still in the FG alchemy lab! I already mention in Chapter 31 what they get rice by the sack from Leyawiin, so it is perfect.


Grits: She had to wait. Teresa can live without seeing a room full of sweaty, naked men! It is nice to portray Teresa's good side with Aia, after seeing as much of her temper as we have.


ghastley: Mmmmm, rat and wild rice... I wonder if TK has a recipe for that!

I am sure the men do need it more, but I think Olen hit the head on the real reason the men go first. They would just go in there anyway.


Olen: Is Tadrose fascinated by Teresa? Now that is the million septim question. Sooner or later, we will find out (more likely later though ) There will be plenty of hints along the way however.

Good eye on the heating, it has been de-heated, without cooling off the bath.


Thomas Kaira: Wow, that guy really knows how to pound his dough! I always figured the Agronian cooking as being a mix of Cajun and Thai. Really spicy, with seafood and lots of noodles. I do not know why the latter, I just easily picture Argonians slurping up noodles.

I went with the ashlands because it seems like it is something unique to Morrowind when compared to other provinces. Not just because of the whole volcanic origin, but the Dagoth Ur origin as well.


Acadian: I wish I had that tub too! Not to mention the mysterious dark elf that goes with it! Aia is always great fun to write, even if making her backwards speech creates extra work for me (I write it out normal in the first draft, then go back and start reversing words and phrases in the following edits).


Next: After a long soak in the tub and lunch with Aia, Teresa is off to learn a new spell, and have dinner.


Chapter 29.5 - A Day In The Life


"Forgive me for saying so Teresa, but I believe your mind may be elsewhere."

Teresa blinked, and looked up at the slender Altmer before her. Clad in a plain blue mage's robe, his angular features were capped by a widow's peak of brown hair. His almond eyes stared back at the wood elf, and she wondered if it was impatience she saw within them, or perhaps a hint of humor?

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"I'm sorry Henantier." The forester bit her lip. "I just cannot wrap my brain around this shock symbol."

"Well, that does happen sometimes," the Altmer magician shrugged. "Some people are naturally aspected to certain forms of magic, and just as unsuited to others. Magic is as much about intuition and personal affinity as it is about study and practice."

"Maybe we should just try a fire spell instead," Teresa offered, picturing the burning eyes of Tadrose Helas in her mind. "I already know a Flare spell, so that should be easier."

"Yes indeed," the high elf agreed. "I had hoped that by learning a shock spell it would nicely complement that. But that does not appear to be in your stars. On the other hand, when we are finished you will be able to cook your meals with your fingers!"

That brought a faint smile to Teresa's lips, and Henantier took away the instruction pamphlet for the lightning spell and brought her one based on flame. The high elf stepped beside her, laying a soft hand on her back and using the other to point out the similarities between her Flare and this new spell, which he called Burning Hand.

Under his patient direction, she felt the spell quickly forming in her mind. Quick for her at least, she thought. She imagined that a wizard like Henantier would have been able to learn such a simple magic in a few minutes. Yet it was only after an hour had passed that she had finally mastered the spell. She was never going to be a mage, she thought, not a real one like he was at least. Still, she was thankful that she could at least use some magic, unlike poor Ancondil.

After demonstrating her newfound ability for Ardaline, and spending some time in small talk with the other elf, Teresa made her way back to her own guild hall. The sun was well into the west by then, a red-gold crown gracing the mountains along the border of Elsweyr.

Teresa paused a moment to stare up at those forested peaks, and found herself wishing she could be there within the trees. The view must be lovely, she thought wistfully, with the Nibenay Valley spread out below. The wood elf sighed, and reached out to lay her fingers upon a cottonwood tree in the street, surrounded by an ankle-high barrier of stones to keep wagons and carts from blundering into it. The living wood against her skin was as soothing as the warm bath in the guild hall, and Teresa closed her eyes to relish the feeling of the firm bark under her fingers.

Tomorrow she would get out to the forest west of the city, the wood elf resolved, no matter what else Pappy might want her to do. The Colovian had already joked about her frolicking in the woods, but it was her afternoon sojourns into the wilderness around Bravil that were the best parts of her days, more peaceful even than her early morning runs.

Silently bidding the cottonwood goodbye, the wood elf scouted a path through the city streets to the looming edifice of the Fighters Guild. There she spent some time sitting with Ancondil and reading The Last King Of The Ayleids. The velvet-clad Orisimer practiced his lute while Teresa read Herminia's book about the final days of the Arimer, until it was finally time for Pappy's latest masterpiece.

The two of them made their way to the dining room and sat together at the round table within. Teresa was oddly pleased when Tadrose entered next and sat beside her. The dark elf was clad in a simple brown bodice and white chemise that left her shoulders bare. A tan-colored skirt of the elvish style - which was to say it fell to only her knees - showed off her legs, which were sheathed in stockings that matched the blue shade of her skin. Once again it was the blazing infernos of her eyes that caught Teresa however, and the wood elf wondered what it was about the other woman that made her heart quicken so?

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"Everyone here?" Pappy entered the room from the door to the kitchen, buttoning up the white shirt he wore over his dark pants. Tavian scampered into the room behind him, moving to a cupboard and producing an armload of plates and utensils.

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"We seem to be missing our newest member," Ancondil observed, rising to take some of the porter's cargo and lay it across the table.

"CHANCE!" Pappy's voice rang through Teresa's ears like a Minotaur's bellow, and she was certain that the wineglasses nearly cracked.

"If you keep doing that in the hall you are going to bring down the roof," Tadrose said dryly.

"Hey, it works," Pappy winked as the young Redguard strutted into the room, still in the same dark attire that he had worn that morning.

"I'm not late am I?" Chance asked as he took a seat. "I met some of the chambermaids from the castle, and I sort of lost track of time…"

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Teresa rolled her eyes, and found Tadrose doing the same beside her. Pappy just laughed as he walked back into the kitchen, only to return a few moments later with a platter laden with boiled crab, fried salmon, and breaded shrimp. Along with the seafood was a large bowl of rice that was doused with a dark brown sauce and mixed with sliced carrots, green onions, celery, and bean sprouts. Teresa felt her stomach leap with anticipation as the Colovian laid the steaming meal down before her, and had to resist the urge to reach out and snatch a leg of the giant crab.

Tadrose stood and retrieved a bottle of Tamika's wine and another of Surilie Brothers brandy from a rack along one wall of the dining room. She poured glasses for everyone at the table while Pappy loaded their plates. Finally, when everyone was served, the commander and vice-commander sat. Without further ceremony they both dug into their meals, and Teresa followed suit with the rest.

"This is marvelous!" Ancondil exclaimed after swallowing a bite. "What kind of crab is this?"

"Mudcrab," Tadrose answered, and Teresa fought to restrain a faint smile as the finely-clad Orismer blanched. Then he shrugged his shoulders and took another piece in his mouth. Teresa noted how he took his time to chew, savoring the taste of the meat, before finally swallowing. Exactly as Nerussa did when she ate.

"Well, they certainly taste better than they look!" the orc finally declared.

"We used to eat them all the time on the Waterfront," Teresa offered after taking a bite herself. "They were never as good as this though."

"It's all in the spices kid," the Colovian explained, with a real smile lighting his features. "I'm glad to see you like it. I use some Argonian seasonings that really bring out the flavor."

"How on Nirn did you learn to cook so well?" Ancondil asked the guild commander. "I never would have imagined a man from the army being a master chef."

"The Imperial Legion is what taught me," Pappy laughed, taking a sip of the brandy before continuing. "I spent almost my entire fourteen years in the service stuck in godsforsaken holes. You either learn to like biscuits that are hard as iron and filled with weevils, or you start making your own food. Me, I could never get used to weevils…"

"Weevils!" Teresa made a face, picturing the tiny vermin in her mind. "People eat that?"

"You'll eat anything when you're hungry enough kid," Pappy explained. "We used to eat it at night, so you didn't have to look at them. You'd dip your hardtack into hot tea, and the scrape them off the top of the cup. Some men got to like it though, the weevils were a lot softer than the biscuits after all."

"So is someone else coming?" Chance asked, looking at the empty chair beside him, and the plate loaded with food in front of it.

The rest of the table fell silent, and Teresa looked down at her own plate as Tadrose cleared her throat.

"That is a guild tradition," the vice-commander explained. "It is how we remember our brothers and sisters who are no longer with us."

"Oh," the Redguard said, now lowering his own gaze to his plate. "I'm sorry, I had no idea…"

"Don't feel bad kid," Pappy said quietly from across the table. "We all made that mistake the first time we sat here."

"I have been writing something about that, in a certain regard," Ancondil said, dispelling the awkward silence that had begun to develop. "I have been working on it ever since Tadrose told me about the Battle of Bruma. I think it might be ready for hearing, at least the part I have finished."

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Pappy bade him to continue with a nod and wave of his hand, and all eyes fell upon the elegant Orisimer, as he cleared his throat, then began to speak.

"Tho' much is taken, much abides; and tho'
We are not now that strength which in old days
Moved Aetherius and Nirn, that which we are, we are,--
One equal temper of heroic hearts,
Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will
To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield"

"That was beautiful," Teresa laid a gentle hand upon the shoulder of the orc beside her, feeling her eyes begin to water. She could see the poem had a similar affect upon Tadrose to her other side. The men all remained stoic of course, but Pappy did lift his brandy snifter to Ancondil.

"Here is to our warrior-poet," he declared. "I never once regretted bringing you on board son."

Teresa raised her glass with the others and savored the fruity taste of the wine as it danced across her tongue. She saw that Ancondil was blushing, and the orc said nothing as he drank his brandy beside her.


Note: Ancondil's poem is Ulysses, by Alfred, Lord Tennyson, modified to be appropriate to the Elder Scrolls.

Luuurved the description of the food! And yes, soju is perfect for Bravil! The anju alone is enough to make Julian stop at one of those street bars!

I enjoyed the magic lesson at the beginning, and the poetry reading at the end. Overall just a great segment of a chapter.

Try heading up into the Valus Mountains and spending a couple of days up there. I could lose a week up there just gazing at the scenery!

Rat and wild rice? Can't say I've tried that... but there is dirty rice (a Cajun classic rice dish that uses chicken gizzards and holy trinity). Speaking of strange foods, you said Thai? I know they love their bugs! There you go, Rosa, Thai and Cajun! Toss 'em together for an Argonian delicacy! Am I good or what?

By the way... Argonian seasonings?

Hmmm the food sounded good. It seems Pappy is quite the chef, though for some reason I'd always imagined Tamika's wine being red... must just be wishful thinking on my part.


Nothing odd about it . I suspect Tadrose might be interested, though how much she knows it is another matter. Quite the enigma there.

What a fabulous day in the life this continues to be!

'you will be able to cook your meals with your fingers!"'
Oh yes, Teresa! And lighting torches and heating bath water. I believe Delphine teaches a 'cooking with destruction' class.

'The living wood against her skin was as soothing as the warm bath in the guild hall,'
One of several passages in her walk back to the FG reminding us (and Teresa) that she is indeed a wood elf. Loving trees and warm baths makes perfect sense!

The empty chair at the table remains a lovely and still currently practiced tradition when warriors gather.

I'm glad I held off on dinner. This was magnificent. I know Teresa was pleased that it suited her diet. Superb choice of wine of course.

I struggle to write dialogue as the participants grow beyond two, so I greatly admire how well that you clearly and naturally presented lovely dinner conversation among a whole table full of hungry fighters.

Excellent pair of chapters for the "Day in the Life" bit. You bring out both the Fighters' Guild Bravil Chapter culture and Teresa as she sees herself fitting in with the strengthening Bravil Chapter.



And now I'm hungry. Curse you, for seemingly summoning a Hunger straight out of the forums to attack me.

That's a beautiful description ♥

I enjoyed the "Day in the Life" chapters. It doesn't focus a ton on the fighting and cave-running aspects, but more of the everyday life, which is likely how the Fighters Guild would really run.

I enjoyed the screenshots, Tadrose is especially lovely.

I love how everyone’s dialog at dinner is specific to their personality. Even if you removed the proper names, we could tell who was saying what by how they say it. A Day in the Life is turning into my favorite chapter.

The awkwardness of trying to get to know someone you are interested in - and the first thing you show curiousity about is an obviously painful subject - you portrayed this ... very real situation perfectly.



What a perfectly immersive sentence - I loved this line !!!


*****

Tadrose is beautiful ... Pappy has man-boobs! GAAAAH !!!





SPEW !!! Uh, ... BWAAAHAAA !!!!






This was the way every female in my family was raised. You make sure everyone is served satisfactorily before you sit down. We had quite a large family, and we rarily saw my mother sitting at the table.






Not sure why this reminded me of Martha Stewart in prison ...



OK, Sage Rosa ... you have recycled that screenie of Ancondil, the less-pig Orc !!! All these screenies recycling ... and NO screenies of Teresa !!! Not fair, even though you did give us two of Tadrose. I don't think you posted the one of her at the Rumare thinking about the Emperor on this site, have you ? It is one of my all time faves ... (hint, hint).

I don't remember these two chapters from the original, but I am definately adding them to my list of favorites - AWESOME WRITE !!! (As it always is !!)

haute ecole rider: Eventually Teresa will get to the Valus Mountains. After all, some say that the Last King of the Ayleids escaped to some hidden valley there...


Thomas Kaira: That looks perfect for Argonian seasonings! Cajuns put their god, his son, and his holy ghost in their rice though? Those Christians are so wacky!


Olen: I never really thought about whether Tamika's or Surile was red or white. I suppose they might make both. My understanding is that the color comes out based on whether the peels are left on the grapes or removed at the start of the wine-making process.

Tadrose might indeed be interested. We shall see, eventually.


Acadian: Delphine's cooking class! *imagines Enemies Explode used on a a bowl of spaghetti* Now that scares me!

I am glad the foresty-parts showed through. I wanted to keep that reminder alive that Teresa is indeed a forest creature, not a city one.


Captain Hammer: Those are not really chapters, just segments. The last five posts and this coming one are a single chapter. It would be too big to put in one post, so I break it up into pieces when I post.

Yes indeed though, Teresa is finding herself feeling at home in the Bravil FG. That was one of the most important things I wanted to show in this chapter.


Jacki Dice: We will be seeing more of those mountains in the future, when Teresa climbs one.


Grits: The dinner talk was hard to write, and I am still not fully satisfied with it. As you and Acadian both noted it is difficult to write dialogue with three or more people present.


mALX: I also noted that I have not put a pic of Teresa in a while. So that will be fixed in this post.

Those aren't man-boobs, those are muscle! Tell her Naughty Haute!

Keep in mind that Pappy served people along with Tadrose. So I guess that goes with his boobs?


Next: In our previous episode Teresa sat down to dinner with the rest of her guild. Next we finish the meal, and meet another fighter.


Chapter 29.6 - A Day In The Life

Screenshot

"Speaking of bringing on board," Tadrose said, turning to look at both Teresa and Ancondil. "We have some good news for the both of you." After a nod from Pappy, the Dunmer continued. "Thanks to a packet ship that came through from the Imperial City this morning, both of your background checks came though early. You are now full members of the Fighters Guild. Congratulations!"

Teresa could not suppress a real smile as the dark elf clapped her on the back. The wood elf wondered if it was just her imagination, or if the Dunmer's hand really did linger for longer than necessary against her flesh. She let her own hand fall casually, and made sure to accidently brush her fingers against the other woman's linen-clad thigh. Exactly as Nerussa would have done.

Out of the corner of her eye she saw Pappy likewise congratulating Ancondil. Yet her mind was still on the memory of Tadrose's touch, and the feeling of the dark elf's skirt beneath her fingers. Another toast followed, and Teresa buried herself in the soft, but potent flavor of the wine as she imagined what it might feel like to hold the vice-commander's hand.

"You never said you had so many friends in high places," Pappy said, looking at Teresa. "It turns out that not only the grandmaster of the Blades has high praise for you, but the legate of the Fifth Legion as well. Even the prefect of the Fifth's training camp sent a glowing letter of recommendation about you."

"The Grandmaster of the Blades?" Chance asked with a raised brow, clearly incredulous. "You mean you know Baurus himself?"

"Well, I only met him a few times really." Teresa squirmed in her chair. "We were both there when the Emperor died. Uriel that is, not his son."

"You were there when the Emperor died?" now it was Ancondil's turn to stare with amazement.

"She was," Pappy said plainly. "I didn't believe it when she first told me either, but I have it all in writing from the grandmaster. She killed the Emperor's assassin in hand-to-hand combat, and carried the Amulet of Kings - through the wilderness alone mind you - to Grandmaster Jauffre at Weynon Priory."

Chance whistled, while the others simply looked in with a mixture of amazement and admiration. None of which made Teresa feel much better. She just wished they would talk about something else, and stop staring at her.

"So what was he like?" Tavian asked eagerly, "the Emperor I mean?"

"Like no one else," Teresa breathed, seeing the old man's face in her memory. It was only with a supreme effort of will that she was able to keep her voice from cracking when she spoke. "It was like his eyes could see into your soul. When he talked to you, there was no one else in the world. He made you feel like you were better than you really were, like there was nothing you couldn't do."

"Yeah," Pappy agreed wistfully, "that was him. He gave me my Grass Crown. He made you feel like you were ten feet tall and could take on the world. They say it's the dragonblood the Emperors have. It makes them different from other mortals."

That left the table in silence for long moments, until Ancondil finally broke the spell. "So how do you know the legate then?" He turned to Teresa. "If I might ask?"

"I send all the inquiries to the cornicularius of the Fifth," Pappy explained as Teresa shrugged her shoulders. "Apparently he remembered her name from some other reports that came across his desk a little while ago, something to do with her pal Volsinius being awarded the Grass Crown… So he passed the background check along to him and the legate."

"It seems you are more famous than you give yourself credit for Teresa," Tadrose smiled beside her. "Apparently you helped the centurion at the end of the Crisis as well as assisting the Blades at the beginning of it."

"Volsinius says that during the battle for the Imperial City, a daedroth was about to pop his head off like a cork. But you stepped up and made a point-blank shot into its mouth." Pappy said around a mouthful of fish. "Put your arrow right through the back of its head and killed it like that!" the Imperial snapped his fingers for emphasis.

"Well, I just did what I had to…" Teresa wanted to sink in her chair, and imagined she must be redder than a lobster. "Vols is the real hero, he saved us all."

"Well, according to the centurion, you are the one who saved him," Tadrose said, still smiling. "Not just that time, but also by making a healing of potion on the spot after the battle was over. He said he would have bled to death if it had not been for you."

"Yeah," Pappy continued, appearing to delight in her discomfort, "your friend Vols said - and I quote - 'Vitellus, you'd be a damn bigger fool than when I knew you on the Waterfront if you don't take that girl. She's a pain in the neck, but worth any ten legionaries in the Fifth.' As soon as he said pain the neck, I knew it was definitely our Teresa he was talking about!"

That brought a chorus of laughter from the table, and a welcoming hand from Tadrose on Teresa's shoulder. The latter almost made up for the embarrassment that she felt. The wood elf practically thanked Raven when Ancondil came to her rescue.

"So you know this Centurion Volsinius then?" the orc asked the guild commander.

"Yeah, we served together when I first mustered in," Pappy explained, turning his gaze to Ancondil. "I was just a hastatus posterior back then, and he was a legionary in my century. Meaner than a Daedric prince, and twice as big, that was him." the Imperial turned his gaze back to Teresa. "I don't know how you got on his good side kid. When I knew that ogre he never had anything good to say about anyone."

"It's a long story," Teresa breathed, her tongue feeling the blank spot between her molars. In her mind's eye she pictured him lying bandaged in the tower, telling her about how he had murdered the man who maimed Simplicia. "Back from before I was even born, really."

"Hey, you won the Grass Crown too right?" Chance filled the silence that had developed after the Bosmer's words, looking at Pappy "So you're a hero too."

"That was a long time ago kid," Pappy said, waving his hand, "ancient history."

"Except when he wants to get into a woman's skirt," Tadrose observed, "then it suddenly becomes much more current…"

That brought another chorus of laughs, including one from Pappy himself. "Well, a good fighter does whatever he has to in order to reach his objective," the Colovian smiled.

"C'mon, I'm serious," Chance continued with a faraway look in his eyes, "you're a real hero, like Julian of Anvil and Emperor Martin. I wish I could be like that. But I never was very good at being noble, or true, or any of the other knightly virtues."

"Knightly virtues…" Pappy snorted. "You've been listening to too many bards son. Just name a hero, and I'll prove he's a bum."

"Oh come now, what about the Emperor?" Ancondil sputtered. "He was a veritable saint!"

"What he means is that our society creates a false image of heroes," Tadrose explained before Pappy could reply, "overemphasizing their good qualities to the point of pure fiction, and hiding their negative sides. The people you hear about in bard's tales do not exist, they never could, because real people are not so perfect."

"Real heroes are ugly," Pappy continued after her. "They're fat, missing teeth, or losing their hair. They cheat on their wives, get in fights with their friends, drink too much, or drown themselves in skooma. They screw up and act like idiots."

"But when the dreck starts, they stand in the line and deliver," Pappy went on. "That's all a hero is, someone you can count on to stand by you, no matter what the cost. If you kids want to see a hero, then look around you. The people sitting at this table are the real heroes, every damn one of you."

"You may not think so," Teresa could not help but to notice how the former centurion's eyes leveled upon her as he spoke those words, "but I know so. Between the legion and the guild I've been in this business for over twenty years. I know the blowhards from the genuine article. That's why you are all sitting here and no one else. You kids all have what it takes, and then some."

"Pappy's been at the Surilie Brothers brandy again!"

Along with everyone else, Teresa turned her head to the door. There stood a young Breton. His wavy brown hair hung down to his shoulders, and his eyes glittered with mirth. He wore a simple green tunic with brown sleeves. A wide belt wrapped around his waist, holding up a pair of brown hunter's pants beneath. An ornately-hilted arming sword hung from one of his hips, and a kite-shaped shield was slung over his shoulder by its strap. He dropped a sack by his feet with a loud clatter of metal, and Teresa imagined it might contain the pieces of a suit of plate armor given the bulges from within.

Screenshot

"Vincent!" Tadrose was the first to exclaim. "We were not expecting you back for another week!"

"Yeah, well instead of taking the old shoe-leather all the way back, I hopped the ferry at Pell's Gate to the Waterfront," the young man said in that soft, almost musical tone that all Bretons seemed to possess. He unslung his shield and sword and laid them against one wall. "Then I hitched a ride on a ship for High Rock as soon I got there, didn't even have time for lunch at The Bloated Float. We just put in here for the night a few minutes ago."

"Well sit down kid and take a load off," Pappy said with a grin. "Say hello to your new guild mates. That shifty pirate over by you is named Chance, 'cause his mother took one." The Colovian winked before gesturing at Ancondil and Teresa. "This big green fella here is Ancondil, our resident poet and musician. Finally that stringy wood elf next to Tadrose is none other than Teresa, a secret agent and preeminent Daedra-slayer from the Imperial City."

"This grinning meathead here is Vincent Galien," Pappy finally said, raising his brandy to the young Breton, "the prodigal son of the Bravil guild himself, returned from three weeks of drunken stupor in the fine city of Skingrad."

"Hey, I am so glad to meet you all!" the Breton clasped a welcoming hand on Chance's shoulder before sitting down beside the Redguard and making himself a plate. "This means I'm not the fetching new guy anymore!"

"Now there is knightly virtue at its finest!" Ancondil chuckled before taking a sip of brandy.

"Hey, I heard this great joke in Skingrad!" the Breton's eyes lit up as he poured himself a glass of the same liquor. "Two ogres are eating a jester. One looks to the other and says 'does this taste funny to you?'"



Note: Pappy statement "Just name a hero, and I'll prove he's a bum." is a real life quote from Gregory "Pappy" Boyington

Good part, I enjoyed Teresa's awkwardness at being the centre of attention. It was done just right, a mixture of not wanting to be pre-judged and a bit of shyness there, but also a hint of enjoyment which might not have been therer a few chapters back. Especially because Tadrose seemed impressed...

There were quite a few good lines there, makes me wonder when you say it is difficult to write dialogue with three or more people present because you do it well. The group dynamic is well captured.

And now a new character, I am interested...


Nice bit of crossover.

On the subject of wine: it would have to be white surely? No one would serve red wine with seafood , they're warriors not barbarians! As far as red and white go it depends. In general white grapes are used for white wine and red varieties for red, though you can make a white from red grapes by removing the skins early on. Maturation, acidity and finishing method have some effect too. As does adding colour which has been done since roman times.

Another great chapter, and a nice recap of Teresa's antics through the Crisis. And we meet yet another member of the Bravil FG. I wonder if he had an encounter with Servilia the Serpent while there?

And Olen, there is no hard and fast rule about which wine to serve with which. Just serve what tastes good. A lot of the Italian table reds (and not a few of the Sicilian ones) are excellent with seafood. Some whites can stand up to a hearty beef dish just fine.

The fact that they're serving wine and not that rotgut called Nordic Whiskey is what sets them apart from barbarians. Now that I've got the Nords all in an uproar, I'm going to quietly sneak away . . .

Yay, Vincent!! Does this taste funny to you?

I loved Vincent recounting his trip from Skingrad. There are so many ways to get around in Teresa’s world other than endlessly running. More great conversation, and Vincent’s arrival injected some fun into an already lively group. Nice to see Teresa get some credit, even though the attention made her uncomfortable.

Hearing Vols’ words makes me miss him.

I'm so pleased that this dinner covered more than one post, as it was such a pleasure to read. Again, you master the natural flowing dialogue of multiple speakers.

I echo my pleasure at hearing of my mate Vols.

I also agree how well you painted Teresa's response to being rather highly praised.

Pappy's leadership shines throughout, ably assisited by the lovely Tadrose of the fiery skirt.

Pappy's comments on each fighter as he introduced them to Vincent were brilliant - each and every one.

I loved the 'it brought a chorus of laughter' line, it was extremely vivid, SubRosa

Spoken like a true fighter. Maybe not an ethicist, maybe not a jurist, and definitely not a politician, but definitely the words of a doer of deeds.

May he always reach his objective in the future...

First, I have to add that screenie of Teresa to my list of faves - that dress is perfect with her coloring - great shot !!!

Your ability to encompass an entire room full of lively conversation is amazing, and inspiring - and capture Teresa's emotions throughout !! HUGE talent !!!



SPEW !!! GASP !!! ROFL !!!


No one can do it like you do, SubRosa. You nailed this chapter as if it was nothing to juggle all those people in one setting and develop their personalities at the same time - you deserve all the kudos you can get on your story, and this chapter proves why !!! - hey, where is that emoticon that bows down "salami" I think Foxy calls it? Well, here is the next best:

It's well-known that Nordic Whiskey is drunk to accompany dishes of offal and boiled grains. Which of the two is supposed to make the other taste acceptable by comparison is open to debate.

Which means that the tea that makes weevils taste OK must be even scarier ... did Delphine make it?

Olen: Tadrose does seem to be pleased with the knowledge of Teresa's antics, doesn't she? That is the only thing that made being the center attention bearable for her. She is a bit too much like a certain white-haired Redguard in that way....


haute ecole rider: If Vincent did spend the night with Servilla, I am sure he will never admit it!
I figure Pappy only breaks out the Mimisbrunnr for special manly occasions. Poker games, hiring people for secret missions, brooding, coming up with a plan to outfox Colonel Lard Moderyn Oreyn, etc...


Grits: The ogres and jester was only the tip of the iceberg. I have a whole list of bad jokes for Vincent to tell.

I am glad you picked up on the details of Vincent's journey. In Teresa ver 1.0, it was the first time I mentioned a ferry from Pell's Gate, or being able to take a ship from the IC to Bravil. Of course in ver 2.0 we know about the ferries across the lake and ships from new chapters I wrote over here at Chorrol.

You will not have to miss Vols for long. Just keep reading!


Acadian: Like the rest of the chapter, the dinner, and its final segment were meant to show the kind of camaraderie and spirit in Pappy's Guild. As you said, his leadership shows through, as the entire tone of the Bravil Chapter is set by him. In the future we will be getting a peek at the IC chapter, and the difference is tremendous.


Zalphon: I always liked that line too. Unfortunately, thanks to the forum swear filter, I had to change the body part I originally meant in "pain in the neck"! But it still works, as it so aptly describes what a pain Teresa can be for the people around her.


Captain Hammer: Pappy is all about reaching those objectives! Be it four hundred year old bottles of flin, or eighteen year old bottles of virginity.


mALX: Mmmmm, salami...


(Sir Graves) ghastley: Offal! Where is the puke icon!


Next: Our previous chapter showed how Teresa is acclimating herself to her new life in the Fighters Guild. This next short chapter (only 2 posts) will take us back to the Imperial City to look in on Vols. This is also the final chapter from Teresa 1.0 on the Beth forums.


Chapter 30.1 - Starting Over

1st Hearthfire, 3E433

Volsinius looped the leather patch around his head, covering the gaping hole where his left eye had once shone. May as well look pretty, he thought as he frowned into the mirror. Not that anyone had ever called him that. Not even before half of his face had been burned off. Now only the blind did not flinch away from him.

"What is done is done," the centurion sighed as he pulled on his gauntlets, made of thick leather backed by pieces of steel. A moment later he grasped the long swagger stick that was propped in one corner of his small room. The twisted staff of oak was hard under his fingers, and the raised pattern of vines that wound along it gave him a solid grip, like the wire that wrapped the hilt of the mithril sword riding his armored hip.

Turning from the mirror, the middle-aged man stared at the simple room in which he stood. A plain rattan bed stood in one corner, beside an equally plain wardrobe. The arming rack where he hung his plate armor stood nearly empty on the other side of the room, with nothing but his transverse-crested helmet gracing its wooden frame. A table sat next to it, holding a neat stack of parchments, quill, and pot of ink to one side. A half-burned candle sat to the other, flanked by a small marble statuette of Akatosh. With wings outstretched and serpentine head reared back in a mighty roar, it was a match for the much larger statue that now dominated the Temple of the One. Hanging from a peg in the wall over it was a laurel wreath made of solid gold. Its leaves glittered like honeyed stars in the beam of sunlight that slanted through the room's single window.

This was it, the centurion thought. His entire life was cramped into this little room, and still it looked empty. Twenty years ago he had left Skyrim to follow in his father's footsteps. To win fame and glory in the service of the Empire. For a moment his hand reached out for the laurel - his Grass Crown. Laid upon his head by the High Chancellor himself.

He drew his hand away before touching it, and instead let his armored fingers fall along the smooth leather of his eye patch and the burned skin of his face around it. What was it Tiber Septim had once said? Glory only comes through sacrifice. Well, sacrifice was something he damn well understood.

Before his mind could wander any further, Volsinius stomped from his room and into the barracks beyond with a clatter of steel. His red cape swirled behind him as he marched with back stiff and head high. The golden scrollwork of a wreath gleamed across the center of his breastplate, announcing the Grass Crown he had been awarded to all.

Most of the bunks he passed were empty. The recruits that owned them were probably out whoring and drinking themselves silly, the centurion thought, as it was the first day they had been given off duty since the camp had gotten into full swing. The few that lingered behind played cards, read quietly in their bunks, or otherwise occupied themselves. More than a few stared as he marched past, but not one opened their mouth to speak to him. They had at least learned better than to address a superior out of turn! he thought with satisfaction.

Shoving his way through the door and out into the open air, the centurion stalked through the network of white-washed barracks and parade grounds that filled the north-west quarter of the Palace District. Soon enough his feet set upon the stones of Green Emperor Way. Across the thoroughfare from him rose the raised stone warehouses of the city's granary, all tucked away behind a tall iron fence that was crowned with spikes.

Stepping into the busy traffic on the street, he turned left and made his way through the gatehouse that separated the Palace District from the Market. Even though it was Sundas, Commerce Street was still crowded with wagons, horses, and people. Everywhere he looked with his single eye, he was greeted by a tide of mortals of all races and social status. Wealthy patricians in velvet, equites in fine linen, pedites in worn flax, and lowly proles in sackcloth, all jostled and darted to and fro on the street.

The mass of citizens parted before him like a wave, as they always did. His size and bulk insured that, if not the heavy legion armor which he wore. More than a few stared at the laurel on his breastplate, eyes widening in wonder, only to fall in horror at the sight of the mass of scars that covered the left side of his face.

Volsinius ignored them, as he always did. Let them stare, he thought. Let them see what a real hero looked like. He had more important things to do.

With that in mind, he turned into the first alley he came across. He knew that what he sought would not to be found in the wide, sunlit streets. It would be here in the narrow lanes between stone insulas. In the places where the light did not reach.

Where in Oblivion was she? he wondered as he hunted through the back alleys and side streets. The beggars and street urchins stared at him with the blank, hard stares they reserved for everyone who wore legion armor. Eyes as empty as those of a doll, he thought, or a slaughterfish. He did not waste his breath trying to speak to any of them. He already knew they had nothing to say to a soldier like himself.

Magnus crawled across the azure sky overhead as he prowled through the streets, until finally in a narrow alley piled with smashed barrels and crates he found his quarry. A pair of bare feet that stuck out from under a small hill of wooden boards and fragments. They were small, the feet of a child, and Volsinius instantly knew who they belonged to.

"Brekke!" he exclaimed, picking up his pace as he approached, nearly breaking out into a run. "Where in the blazes have you been? I have not seen you in-"

The half-Nord, half-Imperial's words trailed away as he stared down into a small recess in the wood pile. Sitting within was a young girl clad in torn and muddy sack cloth. Her brown hair fell around her face, but could not conceal the large black and blue bruises that blossomed across her swollen features, nor the dried scabs that split her lower lip and graced one of her eyebrows.

"Leave me alone!" the young street urchin cried, turning her face away and thrusting out a slender hand to ward him off.

"Damn," the centurion muttered, falling to one knee to get a better look at the girl. "Let me guess, the other kids did this, because of me?"

"Go away!" was the only response from the youthful Breton. She crawled deeper into the shadows of the woodpile and curled into a fetal position.

"And the clothes I bought for you too?" he sighed, unable to prevent the slump in his shoulders. "Even your damn shoes?"

Akatosh's bloody wings! the centurion thought ruefully as he stared at the pavement. How on Nirn had he mucked up something as simple as helping an orphan?

The saddest thing was he was not really surprised. He had been half-expecting something like this might happen. But half-hoping it would not. Especially after what Teresa had told him how her friend from the Waterfront had turned on her.

The thought of the Bosmer triggered another memory deep from the pits of his mind. He saw his hand clamping around her thin, child's wrist after she had stolen a sweet roll. A moment later the steel back of his gauntlet was crashing into her young face. In his mind's eye, he could still see the molar fly from the wood elf's mouth, riding a fountain of blood. Then Simplicia was screaming at him, calling him a monster, good for nothing but killing.

He still did not know what had driven him to backhand Teresa across the face. Something in him had just snapped, and not for the first time. Was Simplicia right? Was he good for nothing but death?

Staring into the darkness that shrouded Brekke's torn and battered frame, he was struck by how similar they looked. They had the same brown hair, the same dirty clothing, the same haunted look in their eyes. Brekke was a few years older, perhaps ten or eleven, and was human rather than elven. Yet there was little difference beyond that. It was almost as if time had rewound, and he stood once more in front of a young Teresa.

How might things have turned out if he had acted differently so many years ago? Would her life have been different? Would his?

"Damnit kid," Volsinius growled, staring into the darkness before him. "Come out of there. You can't hide forever."

"Not until you go," came the thin voice of the Breton.

"If that's the way you want it, then I will," the centurion sighed. Rising to his feet, he planted his hands on his hips and stared down at the wood pile. "But you need to decide what you're going to do, right here, right now. You can spend the rest of your life being a victim, or you can learn how to fight. If you want to fight, step out here and I'll teach you how, just like my mother taught me."

The centurion waited, his heart racing as fast as it had in any battle. Licking his suddenly dry lips, he found himself wishing for a mug of ale. What was it going to be? he wondered. Would it all have been for nothing? Or was there a way to go back and change time?

Teresa had possessed the steel to change her life, he had seen that in more ways than one. Did Brekke have the same? Could she rise above a lifetime of learning that running and hiding was the only way to survive?

The sound of cloth scraping on stone was his answer, and the centurion had to fight to suppress a grin as the girl crawled from the wreckage. Rising to her feet, she stood before him in the dim light that filtered down between the high stone buildings around them. He could see the tears forming in her eyes, but he also saw how the fingers of her hands curled into fists. She had it! Relief coursed through his frame like the Niben in flood as she spoke.

"You'll teach me how to fight?" Her brown eyes stared back up at him without flinching, and the centurion noted the firm set to her jaw.

"Damn straight I will," Volsinius answered. "I got hundreds of meatheads back in the Palace District that aren't half as tough as you are kid. If I can turn them into legionaries there's no fetching reason I can't make you one too. But nothing in life is free. I'm gonna want something from you in return."

"What?" Now the Breton's eyes darted one way and another, and the centurion knew she was looking for places to run.

"As prefect of the Fifth's training camp, I'm entitled to name a benificarius," the soldier explained. "I want you to be it."

"A benif..." the young girl struggled with the word.

"Benificarius," the centurion explained. "It's just a fancy word for an aide. The Imperial Legion loves big words like that, it makes the patricians feel more important. It means you'll run errands for me, clean my armor, that sort of stuff. When you're not working for me, you'll be learning how to fight, and toughening up. Who knows, by the time you're grown you might be as tough as me."

"Really?" Brekke looked up with wide eyes, and Volsinius could see that she was trying to decide if she could take the chance that he was lying or not. He had caught enough people taking advantage of street kids to know that she had good reason to be cautious. He only hoped that he had earned enough of her trust for her to take that gamble on him.

"Really." The centurion held out his hand to the child.

Another wave of relief washed through him as Brekke placed her small fingers in his palm. Gently wrapping his hand around hers, he led the girl down the alley to the main street.

"Do they have girls in the legion?" the Breton suddenly asked.

"Dreck yes we do!" the centurion laughed. "Damn good fighters too. Got more common sense than us men."

"Then I want to be in the legion!" the Breton declared. Staring down at the girl, Volsinius noted the same resolute look in her eyes that he saw in those of Teresa during the Crisis.

"See what I mean!" he laughed. Bending down, he reached an arm around the much smaller Breton and lifted her up onto his shoulder. "That's good sense! Now let's go get you fixed up. There's a little chapel of Arkay around here that has a healer who works cheap."

The Breton wrapped her arm around his head, her fingers splayed across his forehead to steady herself. Volsinius could not restrain a smile as he marched forward into the main street. Perhaps time had indeed unwound itself, giving him the chance to start over again.

And Vols is baaaaack! As baaaad as evah!

Yeah, right. We all know what a big softie he really is. But Sage R, I can't tell you how happy I am to see him again! I loved this chapter back in 1.0, and I'm loving it again here. Here he really shines, and little Brekke just brings it out of him. Sure, he's all crusty and tougher 'n nails, but beneath that scarred exterior, he's all heart. And I just luuurve that heart!

Speaking of scarred exteriors, I think he scared away the 'h' in this:

Dang, where is that twirl emoticon when I want need it?

I'm liking this, Vols is a great character. Very much a mixture - hard but soft in some ways, and real. He does lose his temper, he does make mistakes. I also liked the bitterness he has about how he looks, he doesn't want to feel it and thinks he shouldn't care but does. I wonder what wonders magic can work...

There were some great lines there, and a well placed part with how well everything is going for Teresa it gives a bit of darkness to the piece again.


Wow, what length is it now? So new stuff from here...

And on the subject of whiskey, Haute, I agree. If it has an 'e' it's probably vile. Though I'm going to disagree on smashed up offal and oats, that's perfectly tasty...

nits:
ninja'd on first
darted to and fro before him. // The mass of citizens parted before him like - repetition of before him.

Let's get the nits out of the way first:
Now only the blind did not flinch when they saw met him.
It's just jarring the other way.

Across the thoroughfare from him rose the raised stone warehouses {of the} city's granary,
Lost a couple of words here.

Now back to the story.

Nice description of Vols' room, spare to match the room itself. But it looks like he'll need more space soon.

I thought Brekke's reactions to Vols were perfect, emotions turning on a dime like any resilient little urchin's would. Looking forward to the new stuff with her in it.

@Olen: I'm a Haggis and 'neeps fan myself, but it's one of those dishes that can be really good or really not. In the latter case even a good single malt can't save it.

Yaaaaaaay, Vols! The small statue of Akatosh was a heartwarming touch, and a reminder that some lost more than half their face.

His red cape swirled behind him as he marched with back stiff and head high.

I felt the urge to stand up when I read this!!

His empty barracks room and the mostly empty bunks led nicely to Vols collecting Brekke. Now they both get a new start.

Yay, Vols!!! I'm with Rider. Where is that twirl emoticon?

You snap us right into Vols' character and mindset here. Then the scene with Brekke is adorable. It clearly shows us the impact that Teresa has had on Vols. I really liked that because Vols has certainly had a wonderful impact on Teresa. I fully expect he will do so again with Brekke, only with some newfound experience and hard-earned wisdom.

If only Teresa could put on her Emma hat and work some magic betwixt Vols and Simplicia. Oh well, we can hope.

I agree with Vols. Seeing Brekke is almost like Little Teresa!

A very heartwarming moment between Vols and Brekke!

I must say, you avoided the usual cliche of the tough-as-nails outside, big softie inside quite well, Rosa! Lots of people out there just use that approach to try and have the character write himself, and it almost always doesn't work. You, however, are not using that approach. Instead you made it an actual part of his character. A very deep character he is, as well.

Good work!

I love this chapter - Vols trying to redeem his past mistakes. There is an integral bond between Vols, Simplicia, Teresa, and now Brekke that is a tangible continuum weaving through the story that keeps the reader tied emotionally to them - Huge Character Write, SubRosa. You created Vols and brought him from child-whacker we hated along with Teresa to a deeply sympathetic, emotional, and complex man - written so well that the two times he murdered - we all cheered for him! It is the best character write I've ever seen for a secondary character, AWESOME WRITE !!!!!

Awww Brekke! I love seeing her again. Good thing she'll learn to defend herself. Next kid that throws a punch, she'll be able to have him on his back!

haute ecole rider: I don't know that he's that much of a softie inside. He just still has a conscience is all, plus a boatload of regret. I was watching Rio Bravo a few days ago, and I realized that John Wayne would also be perfect in the role of Vols.

It does look like his scars scared away his h. Thank you for wrangling up that stray calf for me.


Olen: Vols has always been a popular character. I think because he is a manly man in what it otherwise a chick story. That and he really is a classic archetype that makes him easy to grasp onto.

Good eye on the repetition. Fixed.

If you include the next post (which ends this chapter), the total word count for the TF 2.0 is 250,221. Of course 1.0 was a lot smaller, as I added in a lot of chapters in the middle of the old ones when I restarted over here, like Vilverin, The Witch of Lake Trasimene, the Battle of Bruma, etc... Not to mention some of the old chapters received a lot of extra material, like Knight of Swords, which quadrupled in size.


ghastley: Words found, thank you for spotting them.

Vols' room was the most difficult part of this chapter to write. I can look around a modern bedroom and describe what I see. But so much of that vanishes when we change settings. Brekke on the other hand, was easy to write.


Grits: You hit the nail on the head about this chapter. It is all about a new start, for both Vols and Brekke.


Acadian: This is another of those non-Teresa chapters that I did not mind writing, because as you said, you can see the influence she has had on the characters here. And as you said, you can look at Brekke and see Teresa ten years before, and imagine What If?

Teresa will be borrowing Buffy's Emma hat soon, next chapter in fact.


Thomas Kaira: I guess because as I said to h.e.r., I don't really see Vols as being a big softie on the inside. He is simply a man who is old enough to become filled with regret for the coulda', woulda', shoulda's in his life. Unlike when he was younger, he now has enough grit (maybe) to step up and try to break that cycle.


mALX: you hit it in your first sentence. Vols is trying to make up for his past mistakes. Also as you said, the lives of him, Simplicia, Teresa, and now Brekke have all been bound up with one another in a spider's web. So tightly that as you said again, when he committed murder, twice, we all cheered.


Jacki Dice: Imagine Brekke in eight years, when she is all grown up after the tutelage of the meanest Imperial Centurion in Cyrodiil?


Next: Our previous segment followed Vols as he searched for and found Brekke, who has become the target of bullies due to her friendship with him. Next we see Vols take the first step in keeping his promise to teach Brekke to take care of herself.


Chapter 30.2 - Starting Over

"I thought we were going to the chapel?" Brekke asked as Volsinius set her down in a portico lined with shops. Above the pair swung a wooden sign emblazoned with an eye, and the words Mystic Emporium painted over it.

"I had a better idea," the centurion explained, and jerked a thumb toward the door before them. "I know the guy who runs this place. He's ex-legion. He fixed me up after the Daedra attacked."

"He's going to heal me?" the girl asked as Volsinius led her into the shop. The stone walls were decorated with silk tapestries, each adorned with one of the magical star signs. On one wall was the Mage, the figure of a wizened man holding a staff. On another was the Apprentice, this a young man also carrying a staff. The last was the Atronach, a humanoid creature made of rocks that floated around one another.

Between the tapestries, the walls were lined with bookshelves and display cases. Volsinius could see the crystal of magicka gems beneath the glass lids of many, and curled up scrolls in others. A long wooden counter ran half the length of the store, graced by a row of softly glowing welkynd stones perched upon elaborate bases of silver. Hanging from the high ceiling above was a small metal chandelier that supported not candles, but glowing white crystals, bathing the room in their soft light.

"Welcome to the Mystic Emporium, I am Calindil," came the soft, slow voice of the Altmer who towered behind the counter next to the front door. His auburn hair was swept back from his forehead in a pronounced widow's peak, and he was dressed in ordinary russet and blue linens. "Please allow me to offer my personal congratulations on earning the Grass Crown centurion. It is quite a distinction."

Screenshot

Also behind the counter, and sitting by a small table while reading a book, was another Altmer. She had the same auburn hair as Calindil but with skin far smoother, and a frame even more delicate than the man's. Unlike him however, she did not even look up, much less acknowledge their presence. She could be anywhere between twenty and three hundred, Volsinius thought as he stared at her black-clad frame. With elves you never knew, especially the Altmer.

Turning his eye back to the man, Volsinius looked up to meet his gaze, something he was not used to doing. The Altmer did not blanch at the sight of his burns, something else he was not accustomed to, but found welcome nonetheless.

"Thank you sir. I saw you at the presentation ceremony, and I won't forget what you did for me after the Crisis." Without wasting time on more pleasantries, Volsinius gestured to the girl beside him. "Can you teach this kid a healing spell?"

"Well of course I can brother," Calindil said easily, walking around the counter to stand before Brekke. He had to bend a long way in order to lower his eyes to meet those of the Breton. "It looks like you have seen some trouble young lady. Perhaps I should take care of that first..."

The Altmer reached out a hand to Brekke, who flinched away, stepping behind the armored legs of the centurion.

"I think it's better if you just teach her how to do it," Volsinus said, laying a light hand on Brekke's shoulder. "She's seen some hard times, and needs to learn how to take care of herself."

"Hmmm," the Altmer hummed, staring at the young girl for long moments. Then he rose to look at the other high elf behind the counter.

"Eltraena," he said, "please watch the door while I work with our young mage here."

The other Altmer closed her book with a sigh and rose to her feet. Volsinius had the distinct impression that the high elf would rather be somewhere else as she stepped up to the counter.

"My niece, from Cheydinhal," Calindil explained as he led the pair to the back of the shop, where a round table of polished mahogany sat with several chairs. He gestured for the two to sit, and once they had he squatted down beside the Breton.

"My name is Calindil," he said, "and this is my shop. And you are?"

The girl's eyes darted from the high elf to Volsinius, who nodded from where he sat beside her. "Brekke," she finally answered. "Is it true that you were in the legion too, like Vols?"

"Why yes indeed." The Altmer's voice rang with what could only be pride. "I gave forty good years to the Empire. Although not quite in the same manner as our friend the centurion. I was a battlemage you see."

The Breton's eyes widened in surprise, and the magician went on. "Now that we have been properly introduced, let us begin. Do you know any magic already?"

The Breton shook her head violently.

"Alright, I am not surprised," the Altmer continued. "Now, do you know what magic is?"

"Well, it's spells, and potions, and stuff!" the young girl blurted.

"Not exactly," the magician explained with a soft smile. "Those are just expressions of magic, but they are not what magic is. Magic, my young apprentice, is the ability to create change in accordance with will."

"That's it?" the street urchin said under crowded eyebrows.

"Yes indeed," the Altmer shopkeeper insisted, his eyes dancing with mirth. "It is that simple, and that powerful. Magic is the quite literally the ability to reshape the world, and every one of us has it. Including you." The magician tapped a light finger on the street urchin's nose, the corners of his lips upturned in a smile. "In fact, your race has graced Tamriel with many of our greatest magicians. I expect you will be no different."

"I will?" the street urchin said, her doubt clear by the continuing scrunching of her eyebrows.

"Well, let us find out, shall we?" The Altmer rose and took a seat as well. "There are three important things which comprise all magical workings, be they spells, scrolls, potions, or enchantments."

"They are: magicka, a symbol, and the will of the magician." The high elf rose his hand and ticked off a finger as he named each. "Everything a mage does always comes down to these three things. Now, let us talk about each one."

"Magicka is the first. It is the energy that powers all magic, just as pieces of wood are the fuel for a fire." The high elf explained, and Brekke nodded as he spoke. "All beings with souls have magicka within them. It comes down to us from the Aetherius, through the sun and stars, and builds up in our bodies. Our spirits attract magicka, just like you have probably seen flies attracted to garbage. And just as the bigger pile of trash attracts more flies, the more powerful magician learns to store more magicka within them."

Brekke barely stifled a giggle at the elf's comment about the flies, and the magician smiled as he went on. Volsinius could not believe how easy a manner the elf had with children. His soft voice, they way he looked in Brekke's eye, the down-to-nirn analogies of his. He could see how they combined to make her warm up to him. Suddenly the centurion found himself wondering if the former battlemage had any children of his own, or if he was just naturally good with people?

"Now let us start by learning to feel the magicka within ourselves," the high elf went on. "I want you to rub your hands together like this," the Altmer slid his open palms back and forth in a quick motion, as if he were trying to rub the cold out of them. "Now you do it."

Volsinius watched as the Breton rubbed her hands together as the elf had. "Now what?" she asked earnestly.

"Do you feel that tingling in your skin?" the high elf asked, and when the street urchin nodded, he went on. "That is magicka. In time you will learn to feel it within you with only a thought. But for now just rub your hands together like you just did."

"Next is a symbol, which is very important," the magician explained. "This is because magic is not governed by the rational mind, what is called the Middle Self. To use magic, we must speak with your Lower Self, what some call the unconscious. So dreams are the language of magic, mythic poetry buried deeply within ourselves. Which is of course another way of saying symbols."

"The symbol tells your magicka what to do. The only difference between a spell that summons a sylph and another that makes you invisible is this symbol. So learning a spell is really a matter of learning the proper symbol. As you probably guessed, the more powerful the spell, the more complicated the symbol is."

"Now there are all kinds of symbols for spells." The magician edged closer in his chair. "In fact, there are often many different ones to make the same spell. That is because magic is as much about your own personal inclinations as it is about universal rules. What works for one person does not always work for the next."

"For beginner spells, the symbols are usually very straightforward," he said. "Simply imagine the result you desire in your mind, and channel your magicka into making that occur. So for the healing spell we are going to learn today, I want you to picture yourself healthy and whole. No bumps, no bruises, no cuts, just a whole, happy little girl. Now picture that in your mind."

Volsinius saw the street urchin close her eyes tightly and nod.

"Alright, now let's try," the high elf said. "Rub your hands together to feel the magicka, and send it into that picture in your head."

The Breton did as ordered, furiously rubbing her palms. She sat there for long moments, until finally she opened her eyes with a frown.

"It doesn't work!" she cried. "I'm no good at this!"

"Oh you just wait and see my apprentice!" the Altmer's eyes sparkled. "No one gets it right the first time. That is because there is one final ingredient we must speak of: Will. You must make the change happen. It is not enough just to want it, or hope for it, or even believe in it. You must know it. Just as you know the sun will rise tomorrow, you must know your magic will work. If your will is not this absolute, then you will cause your own spell to fail. Now let's try again, and this time focus your will."

The Breton rubbed her hands together once more, and this time Volsinius could see her features scrunched together in concentration.

"That is right," came the soft voice of the Altmer. "You can do it. You have the power within you. You can do anything. You can make it happen. You will do it."

Brekke opened her hands, and a white light burst from her palms. First it rode up her arms, then it washed across the rest of her body. After it had completely bathed her in its glow, it faded away to a memory.

"Akatosh's bloody balls!" Volsinius breathed in amazement. The cuts on her face had completely vanished, without even a scar to mark their passage. The bruises still remained however, like black and blue birthmarks, but it was certainly a start, the soldier thought.

"You did it!" He clapped a light hand on the street urchin's back, and she stared up at him with a mixture of surprise and triumph. Before the centurion knew what was happening, she climbed into his lap and threw her arms around him, pressing her cheek into the cool metal of his gilded breastplate.

"Well done apprentice!" The Altmer slapped a hand on the table with a grin. "Very good indeed. Few people learn a spell, any spell, so quickly, let alone their first!"

"I really did it!" the Breton gushed from Volsinius' lap, now looking back to Calindil. "I could feel it inside me, just like you said!"

"Indeed, you have the makings of a fine magician Brekke. But only if you study and practice." The Altmer shopkeeper rose to his feet and walked to a bookshelf. Tracing a slender finger across a row of leather spines, he drew forth a thin volume named Manual of Spellcraft and returned to the table.

"I want you to take this book and read it, my young apprentice," he said, handing the tome to the Breton. "This will go into more of the basics of magic, and give you a bit of the history of our craft. When you are finished I want you come back and we will talk about it. If you have learned well, I will teach you another spell."

"I want to learn a fireball!" the Breton exclaimed, leaping from the centurion's lap with the book cradled in her arms.

Volsinius could not restrain a smile as the girl darted to the door of the shop, drawing a raised eyebrow from Calindil's niece. "Maybe a shield spell instead," he said loudly, rising to his feet as well. Turning to face the Altmer mage, he reached into the coin pouch at his hip. "How much do I owe you?"

"Nothing at all," Calindil insisted, holding his open hand up to stop the centurion. The elf's gaze traveled to the street urchin by the door, who was now thumbing through the pages of the book with a look of wonder on her face. "It breaks my heart to see them on the streets, with no parents, and no one to look after them. I think it is very commendable, you helping her like this. I would be glad to do anything I can. She truly does have quite a bit of talent."

"You really think so?" Volsinius asked, looking from the high elf to the Breton. All he had hoped for was for Brekke to learn a simple spell, he thought, so that she could take care of her herself. Now Calindil was intimating that she could be a real magician someday, and a damn good one at that?

"Indeed," the Altmer responded. "I have rarely seen a student learn to cast a spell so quickly. It took me nearly half a day my first time! I will wager she was born under the sign of the Mage, or the Apprentice."

Volsinus nodded. It had taken him a week to learn the same spell when he had been in training. Magic was such a damn hard thing to wrap one's brain around. Yet Brekke had learned the spell in just the space of minutes! His mind whirled with the implications of that as he walked to the door with Calindil beside him.

"Now keep casting your spell my young apprentice, even after you are all better," the Altmer said to the Breton. "You will probably have to wait a while between each time, to let your magicka rebuild. But practice is important, without it, talent is wasted."

"Thank you Calindil!" the Breton exclaimed, a smile beaming through the bruises that marred her features. She lifted one hand in the air, in the same pose Volsinius had seen so many mages use. A white light burst from within her fist, and fell about her as she uncurled her fingers. The centurion stared in amazement as half the bruises on her face vanished in the wake of the brilliant glow. "I will!"

"Alright kid," Volsinus grumbled. He led her out of the shop and under the portico outside. "Let's leave the man to his work. Besides, we need to get you some new clothes if you are going to be working in the palace with me."

"I want to be a battlemage!" the young girl declared as they walked in the shade within the columns.

"Damn right you will be kid," Volsinius said, laying a hand on her shoulder. Inside he groaned however, how on Nirn was he going to pay for the Arcane University on a centurion's salary?

That. Right. There. Is. My. Dad.

When I told him I wanted to study to be a veterinarian, he said "Do it." But inside, I'm sure he was bemoaning Oh God, not another college education to pay for?? My older sister was already in college and here I was talking about going for a doctorate degree and I had just begun high school!

I loved this whole scene with Calindil and Vols and little Brekke discovering her innate talents. Quite the world of wonder has opened up for this little street urchin, and it's an amazing thing to make happen. I'm proud of the two men for doing so!

Excellent part, it was really fun to read. Giving her some talent makes her an immediatly more interesting character, I suspect we'll be seeing more of her. Her posing at the end was spot on too


Great lore friendly line. I may even steal it.


This, along with how he spoke to Brekke made me wonder how old she's meant to be. I'd imagined abuot ten but presumably you meant for her to be older otherwise she'd lack the ability to read a book on magic, even a beginners one, even if she was good at reading for her age. It would be a bit like giving 'Fundementals of Physics' to someone, they're going to have to be fairly literate and intelligent even though the concepts are simple. It just seemed a bit mismatched with aspects of her behaviour.


If she's that good a scholarship seems likely. Presumably the legion would pay the fees of a potential battlemage if they joined up similarly to how armies do for officers and engineers in RL. Or a bursary, I imagine some aging mages would be that way inclined...

Olen has a point about the reading, but I imagine Vols can (and will) help with that. He might pick up a few things from the book himself.

I think we've established that Brekke wasn't born under the Atronach, as she's already cast two healing spells in quick succession without remarking on feeling drained. As Calandil said, Mage or Apprentice are the likely ones.

I wonder if she'll learn that fireball spell before she's ready?

...graced by a row {of} softly glowing welkynd stones ...?

I need to come back and read this when the house is a little less noisy so I can focus and absorb - the storms were so bad the last couple days that all the pets have been moved inside ... sharing quarters with each other. Dogs are chasing cats, cats are scratching and hissing at dogs, dogs are yelping...then cats are chasing dogs, making a merrrrooowwww sound, dogs are yelping.

My desk is in the middle of the battlefield. I set up a barricade, but the cats leap over it (landing on me) - then the dogs can't stop quick enough and crash into it (ramming it into me)

Whenever I read your chapters, it is a "Calgon, take me away" moment - but I have to be able to read it to have that experience, lol. I'll be back when things calm down - that's a promise, lol. <333

Sometimes I feel the same way. Our pup Sunshine seems to have made it her sole mission in life to demolish as much as she can. My mom used to let them roam about the house while it was empty, but that was until she destroyed the sofa and my stepdad's sanity one time too many.

I'll comment on the story a little later, as I am a tad bit peckish at the moment.

Lovely! Vols, Calindil and little Brekke all shine here. You did a marvelous job bringing Calindil to life so quickly!

The magic lesson was fun to read as was Brekke's progress to see.

That second spell she cast near the end really drove home that she is indeed a little girl with some apptitude. Next thing you know, she'll be turning Vols into a chicken!

I love all the magical glowing things in Mystic Emporium. Calindil is so warm, elegant, and charming. He is instantly memorable, like Nerussa. Brekke has so much spirit! On her first day she wants to be a fire-slinging battlemage. Go Brekke!! And Vols is already thinking like a dad. Of course you can do it! (Now how am I going to pay for it?)

So please forgive me for not quite getting it, but does this mean the next chapter hasn’t been posted in any form before? That sounds like another new beginning!!

Another heart-warming segue into Brekke's life! She is certainly putting the name of the Bretons to a good example.

Her life has certainly turned around since her meeting Vols, now she has a job, a teacher, and a most pleasant father figure. Let us hope she will grow to follow Teresa's footsteps. She deserves a life of freedom, away from the hellish streets of the Imperial City.

Good show, Vols!

I love these lines, what a great way to explain it !!!





ROFL !!! Love this!! Next time I see a powerful wizard I will be thinking of trash and flies, lol !!







"BWAAA...Snork, snork." These two sections brought tears to my eyes and chill bumps at the same time !!!

AWESOME WRITE !!! I absolutely love this chapter, it has been added to my list of "fave of alls" in my "Teresa - Not A Hero" archive section of my brain !!!! Touching and wonderful !!!

haute ecole rider: Yep, whenever I read that last line I think: "Welcome to fatherhood!"


Olen: I see your point about Brekke's age. I went back and made it more clear that she is about 11 years old. I also went back and put the title of the book. I had in mind one from the game, and you can actually look it up in the wiki. Comparing it to a physics book would not be quite the right analogy though. More like one on poetry, or mythology (or both!) would be right for magic. I also went back to Calindil's discussion of magic to make that more clear.

I figure the Arcane U has several options for scholarships, like ROTC. I already established that the Mages Guild will pay for it if you sign you soul away to them (that is how Ardaline went to the U). There is also the red-haired Bosmer fund...


Sir Graves ghastley: Thank you for firing up my missing of. Probably got scared off by Vols' scars.

I have all the main points of Brekke's history worked out, including her birthsign. I have not had a good place to include any of it though. Not without it feeling like an infodump. Once there is a natural place for it to come out, it will though. Suffice to say she has not been on the street her entire life, and magic is in her stars.


Acadian: Oh noes! Not chicken Vols! At least Brekke will be safe from Vigge!


Grits: The next chapter (starting today) is all new, never before seen in any form. Of course many of the previous chapters were also all new. I added a lot of material when I started version 2.0 here at Chorrol. From here on out though, everything will be brand new.


Thomas Kaira: Vols is a pleasant father figure! I know some legionaries who would not agree!


mALX: I remember "Calgon, take me away!" The first of those descriptions of magic is very similar to how Aliestar Crowley described it: "The science and art of causing change to occur in conformity of Will.". Scott Cunningham said: "Magic is the projection of natural energies to produce needed effects." I usually just say: "Magic is the power to change things." Since that is what it boils down to in the end.


Next: Our previous chapter visited the Imperial City to look in on Vols and Brekke. Now we return to Teresa, and find her preparing dinner in the village of Silverbridge, just outside of Bravil. (btw. Decimus' real estate straits, and the name of his brother, are inspired by a certain piece of literature. Can anyone guess what it is?)


Chapter 31.1 - Inheritance

3rd - 8th Hearthfire, 3E433

"I want horse!"

Teresa looked up from the pan in which she was frying rice, bean sprouts, scallions, celery, and mushrooms in a thin layer of olive oil. At the other end of the single-roomed farmhouse sat a two year-old Imperial, furiously waving his arms in distress. An identical boy crawled along the threadbare carpet nearby, with a horse carved from wood in his hand. He made clopping noises as he bounced the toy along the floor in an imitation of a horse's gallop, and seemed completely oblivious to the other child.

"Mommy's coming Gaius." With that a dark-haired woman rose from her position in front of the gigantic pot hanging over the fireplace. She set down the metal tongs she had been using to stir the mudcrab that boiled merrily within the pot, and walked across the interior of the spacious stone-walled house to where the children played. Opening a chest next to a pair of small, rattan beds, she rummaged through its contents, only to produce another wooden horse a moment later. She gave it to the upset boy, who greedily snatched it out of her hands and began making whinnying noises with it.

"Now what do you say Gaius?" the woman asked, towering over him with hands on her hips.

"Thank you mum," the child sheepish replied before turning back to his play.

Teresa could not restrain a faint smile as she looked at the two boys playing. She could still remember doing the same with the wooden unicorn that Simplicia had given her when she was a child. That same battered and chipped unicorn now graced the nightstand next to her bed in the guild hall in Bravil. She had no idea how the old woman had gotten it. But she imagined it had not been easy. Not for a beggar at least.

"Oh they can be such a handful at times," the olive-skinned Nibenean sighed as she returned to the small kitchen area. "Whenever Flavius has something, Gaius instantly wants it too."

"I think they are wonderful Julia," Teresa breathed. "You are so lucky to have such beautiful children."

"Hah!" the other woman laughed. "You should try training them to use the chamber pot! Or cleaning up after them when they miss."

"I still think they are wonderful, cacat and all." Teresa turned back to her pan and furiously stirred its ingredients. If Pappy had stressed anything, it was to stir the vegetables often to make sure they did not burn. Afterward she turned her attention to the pot of brown sauce that sat next to the rice, and made sure the fire beneath the iron plate upon which it sat had not intensified. "Don't stir sauce." Pappy had told her. "It only makes it take longer to cook. Just keep it at a low simmer and it will never burn."

"You do such a good job of raising them." Teresa turned from the food to her hostess. "I cannot imagine looking after just one child, let alone four!"

"Well, father helps, with him watching Poppea and Quintis. I am so glad he came to stay with Marcus and I after my mother died. I don't know what I'd do without him." The other woman returned to the fireplace and poked at the boiling crab. "This looks about done I think."

"Good," Teresa said, lifting the pan from the iron stove and setting it down on the adjacent wooden counter. "This is done too. Why don't you get the others and I'll start setting the table?"

"You are too good to us Teresa," the Nibenean woman swung the pot out of the fire and gripped its handle with several bunched up hand cloths. Lugging it to the counter with obvious strain, she set the heavy burden down beside the pan of fried rice. "You are supposed to be our guest. You shouldn't be working."

"Nonsense." Teresa spooned the fried rice into a wide, ceramic bowl. "I am the one who should thank you all for enduring my cooking! It's not something I have had much practice at."

"Oh you cook just fine," the other woman said as she walked to the front door. "It's hardly every day we have such a feast! Most days it's just polenta, or cornbread and beans. You have no idea how hard it is to find new ways to cook beans!"

"The Khajiit cook them in a pressure cooker, then fry them, mash them up into a paste, and put them in their wraps with lettuce, onions, peppers, and cheese. Or just eat it plain in a bowl." Teresa poured the sauce from its pot and into a gravy boat. "It's wonderful. There's a street vendor in the Market District who makes it."

"You'll have to show me how they do it," Julia smiled as she reached for the door. "But we can't afford something expensive like a pressure cooker."

"Well I can bring ours from the guild," Teresa said as she lifted the crab from the pot and set it on a platter. "I am sure Pappy won't notice if we only use it for one night."

"Dinner's ready," Julia said, poking her head out the door. "Are you all cleaned up? No one sets foot in this house until you are."

"Yes mum." A male voice came from outside. "All except for my mind of course!"

The author of the sound entered the house a moment later. A Nibenean like Julia, his short hair was black as night, and the skin on his muscular body was a soft olive shade. He wrapped the woman in his arms and lifted her in the air, spinning the two of them around in place. Julia giggled as he set her down, only to kiss her so deeply that Teresa looked away in embarrassment.

"Marcus! If you keep that up we'll have a fifth child, and I am not going to be the one changing its bottom!"

Teresa smiled faintly at the other woman's joke, and carried the platter of crabs to the table.

"Good, the more little scribs the better I always say!" Marcus laughed as the two boys tottered over to him on unsteady feet. Lifting both in his arms, he laughed once more. "And how are my princes today? Have you been good for your mum?"

Teresa did not hear the rest as Decimus entered, followed by young Quintis and Poppea. The six-year olds were squabbling over something she could not quite catch, except that it had something to do with Quintis making faces.

So this was what it was like to have a family, Teresa thought to herself as they sat at the table and began filling their plates with the steaming crab and fried rice. Marcus sat with one of the twins on his lap, and Julia did likewise with the other. Almost as soon as they were seated the two-year olds began grabbing for food, and their parents were obliged to pull their hands away.

"You know we always say grace first," Julia scolded.

"Since we have a guest, I think she should do the honors," her husband suggested from across the table.

Teresa felt her heart beat faster in her chest. Say grace? She had never done that in her life. Yet as the others around the table put their hands together and bowed their heads, she could see no way to get out of it.

"Blessed Mara," she began, hunting for words, "we thank you for all that you have given us."

"Now let's eat!" Marcus declared, lifting a spoon of rice to the mouth of the two-year old in his lap.

"This is delicious," Decimus remarked after taking his first bite of the succulent crab. "The sauce is really good. Spicy."

"I use Argonian seasonings that really bring out the flavor." Teresa stared down at her plate while a familiar sensation of warmth spread through her cheeks.

"You really shouldn't have bought something like this though," Decimus said. "We're farmers. We're used to living simple."

"The rice is from the guild. We get it by the sack from Leyawiin, so we have plenty. Pappy uses it to make soju in the alchemy workshop," Teresa said. "I didn't buy the crab though. I shot it this afternoon."

"See, she is a hunter!" Quintis declared from around a mouthful of rice and vegetables, staring at his sister. "I told you!"

"Only crabs and fish," Teresa breathed as Poppea made a face at her brother.

"Why not other animals?" Decimus asked.

"Because other animals have feelings," Teresa said. "They feel love, they play, they have families, some even work. They're really not much different from us."

"You sound like a priestess," Marcus said after taking a swallow of milk from the stone cup before him.

"Oh listen to you! How long have we had that cow? The one you wouldn't sell last year even though old man Gabinius offered you a good ten drakes more than she is worth?" Julia turned from her husband to Teresa. "I think it's wonderful you have such principles. Granted, we're vegetarians most of the time anyway. It's not like a farmer sees meat very often! But you should try some of our eggs next time. The hens lay even without a rooster. So the eggs don't have a baby chicken in them. It's all white and yolk. I use them to make noodles with, along with the winter wheat."

Teresa thought about that. It would not be hurting an animal. In fact, it sounded just like eating cheese or milk. That meant she could learn to start making more than just cold somen noodles, that did not have egg in them. The idea gave her a faint smile.

"Hey, that cow gives the best milk in the Nibenay Valley!" Marcus laughed while Teresa considered the possibilities of eggs. "Besides, she was your dowry. Your father would kill me if I got rid of her!"

"Damn right I would!" the old man exclaimed, "then I'd be back to working the fields in your place. With the fall harvest just a few weeks away no less!"

"So you can see it is to everyone's advantage," Julia smiled at Teresa as she took a bite of the fried rice. "You really do cook well. I'd never guess you were a beginner."

Teresa looked down to her plate, feeling her cheeks once again turn warm from the praise. "Well I have a good teacher," she finally said, "and very kind subjects to experiment on."

"I still can't believe your guild commander taught you how to cook!" Marcus shook his head. "But this is damn good. If I wasn't married already, I'd be tempted to make you an offer!"

"Marcus! are you saying you only married me because of my cooking!" Julia laughed, and tossed a finger's worth of fried rice at her husband. He tried to catch it in his opened mouth, and failed miserably. Instead the clump of vegetables rolled down the chest of the toddler in his arms, who scooped it up in both hands and gobbled it down. "I thought I was the most beautiful girl you had ever seen!"

"He'd be a damn fool if he married you for that," Decimus asserted. "No man should marry a woman who can't take care of her household, no matter how she looks."

"Well thankfully you are beautiful and a good cook," Teresa found herself saying, laying a warm hand on that of Julia beside her.

"Thank Mara yes." Marcus said, now looking serious as he stared across the table at his wife. "Julia is the best thing that ever happened to me."

Now it was the Nibenean woman's turn to blush and look down awkwardly at her plate.

"So what about you Teresa," Decimus asked, cutting through the silence that had developed around the table. "Is there a husband in your future yet?"

"Umm, no," Teresa said, poking at the food on her plate. And there never will be, she thought. Not a husband at least. The image of Tadrose Helas came to her mind, eyes blazing like the fires of Red Mountain, and she could not contain the sigh that escaped her lips.

"Oh don't worry Teresa," Julia said, laying a hand on her shoulder. "I am sure Mara will bless you with a good man one day."

"So I saw there is a house that is empty in the village," Teresa said to steer the conversation from her love life, or lack thereof. "Did someone leave?"

"No, that is mine," Decimus frowned. "At least for now."

"For now?" Teresa asked, wondering what jar of snakes she had opened up with her question.

"Well, until I die at least," the old man grumbled. "And at my age, it won't be much longer before I go to join my beloved Fausta in Arkay's halls."

"Oh don't talk like that old man!" Marcus declared. "You're tougher than an Elsweyr mule. There's plenty of years left in you."

"So won't Julia inherit your farm when you are gone?" Teresa asked, turning from the old man to the woman beside her. "A long time from now I am sure."

"No," Julia answered.

"My brother Collinsus will inherit it all," the old man said. "He is my nearest male relative. Damn vagabond and wastrel that he is, he'll sell it to cover his gambling and drinking debts. Twenty years I spent working my fingers to the bone on corn, beans, and squash, and he'll just piss it all away. Not that anyone's likely to buy it anyhow."

"What do you mean?" Teresa furrowed her brows in confusion.

"Teresa, surely you have noticed that Bravil is not the most prosperous county in Cyrodiil." Julia explained. "The land is good enough to be sure, but the city…. Well, people all want to live by the Imperial City, or Cheydinhal, or Chorrol. Not out here in the backwoods."

"I think it's wonderful here," Teresa said honestly. "But why did you come here if you'd rather be somewhere else?"

"The silver," Decimus explained. "When they discovered it up the Larsius fifty years ago, a lot of us came here to work the mines. Bravil was just a little town back then, only on one of the islands in the river delta instead of all three, and with plenty of room to spare. The whole city sprang up overnight with the silver. It was something to see."

"So what happened?" Teresa asked.

"The silver played out," Decimus breathed sourly. "Except for a few mines here and there, it's all gone. Never was as much as people first thought I guess. When it went, so did everything else. But I'd met my Fausta here in Silverbridge already. So I went to the Temple of Zenithar and took out a loan to buy a place, and settled down as a farmer. Four thousand drakes. Took me ten years to pay it off. Now it'll all go in that good-for-nothing Collinsus' pocket…"

"So why not just sell the house?" Teresa asked. "Then you could put the money into a trust for your grandchildren."

"Who would buy it?" Marcus said. "Not many people want to come down here anymore. Most ships just sail right past, or anchor in the bay instead of putting into port. We've got his drunkenness the Count swimming in a wine barrel all day, and his son in a fetching skooma jar. They say the Renrijra Krin run the stuff across the border here, and to top it off I've heard of trolls in the woods lately."

"Well someone might want it," Teresa said sheepishly. "Not everyone cares about things like that."

"Well you should buy it then," Marcus declared with a wink. "Then we could have feasts like this every night!"

"Maybe I should," Teresa breathed, looking from him to Julia's father. "Maybe I should…"

Yay, new stuff!

Not that it wasn't fun seeing the old stuff again, only renewed (like the landscape in the spring). But nothing's like forging new territory!

This was a great interlude and a wonderful introduction to family life. The kids were wonderfully cute in their rugrat ways (and made me glad I'm not Julia!).

So far the tale doesn't ring a bell, but then, I've read so much stuff over the years I could simply not be remembering it. I'll keep reading and see if it comes to me.

The conversation was well done from beginning to end, even when introducing additional characters into the dialogue. Seems to me you're getting more comfortable with this sort of thing. Well done!

I did catch a couple of nits:
The horse is all caved in? I believe the 'r' ran off on you.

Pappy uses Teresa to make soju? Somehow I'm sure you meant rice, not our shy redheaded Bosmer!

Well, I managed to find a missing word in the first sentence.

... scallions, celery, and mushrooms in {a} thin layer of olive oil.

But then the story took over and I was reading what you wrote, not how you did it.

I really did a double take to make sure I was reading correctly. Teresa cooking? What a delightful new skill for her! Oh, and thanks for providing such a scrumptious meal!

As I have said before, you have a wonderful management of multiple folks engaged in dialogue. Very natural and flowing.

I chuckled over Teresa's awkwardness when a request to say grace was sprung upon her. With Mara's help, she did wonderfully.

Wonderful history surrounding how Silverbridge fits into Bravil's past and present. I'll lay odds on Teresa getting a house well before getting a husband.

Nits:
'She set down the metal tongs she had been using the stir the mudcrab that boiled merrily within the pot,'
I would replace the bolded word with 'to'.

"Well I can bring ours from the guild," Teresa said she lifted the crab from the pot and set it on a platter.'
I think you want 'as' in between the bolded words.

"And how are my princes today? Have you been good for you mum?"
Replace the bolded word with 'your'?